My Interracial Journey

Chapter 2: Giving In

I thought a lot about what had happened over the next few days. I had told my best friend Abbey about agreeing to the date with Lincoln, and she wanted to know how the night went, naturally. Abbey was on the cross-country team with me, and we had been close since seventh grade. I told her of course, but not everything. I told her we boned and that it was fucking amazing, but I held back on some of the details about how aggressive Lincoln was, the way he talked to me, and how much I had liked those particular aspects of it. I usually told Abbey absolutely everything, but I really didn't know how to explain that part of it in a way she'd understand, and I didn't want to give her the wrong idea. She wanted to hear every detail of course, and was super jealous when I told her about how nice Lincoln's place was and how great the sex was. Typical friend stuff basically. Mostly though, I was thinking about it all in my own head.

I didn't feel bad or guilty or used, that was for sure. That night had revealed a side of myself that I guess I had known was there on some level, but that I'd never expressed. I'd never felt bad about my sexuality, and my parents had always made sure my siblings and I understood our bodies, how they worked, and that sex was a natural, normal thing. The fact that my mom was a PA probably had a lot to do with that, and also the fact that neither of them were religious or anything. I knew I had liked and wanted everything that happened, and if I was being honest with myself, Lincoln probably could have been even rougher and I would have been fine with it. So ok, cool. Did I want it to happen again? Yes, absolutely. I'd masturbated like four times in the last two days thinking about it. So whatever—I decided not to worry about it, and just go with it for now. This was just going to be my senior fling anyway, so I was going to enjoy myself. I mean, for all I knew, Lincoln might not even text me again. I got the answer to that last question pretty quickly, that Tuesday night in fact. I was over at Abbey's working on college application essays with her when I got a text from him.

LINCOLN: Hey girl. You can come out Thursday?

I had to admit I was excited to hear from him. Not in a catching feelings kind of way, just that I'd had a great time Saturday, and I wanted to have sex with him again, for sure. And I wanted to explore this new side of myself even though I wasn't totally sure how I felt about it.

ME: Hi! Yes I should be able to!

LINCOLN: Good. Gonna be coming from LA will get you an Uber for 7 cool?

I didn't do anything for a second, thinking he would text again, with like what he wanted us to do or something, but he didn't. He hadn't even said an Uber to where. I was assuming his place? What the hell? I had to say something though.

ME: Yes perfect!

I really wasn't sure how to handle this conversation. I was kind of glad Abbey was downstairs getting us snacks, because it would have been even more awkward with her asking me what he was saying. He was being so, just, to the point. I mean, he was six years or so older than me, and had a job that kept him busy and made him travel around sometimes, so it wasn't like I expected him to be all flirty texting me, but still. I was just kind of standing there, staring at my phone, wondering if he was even going to respond to my last text—at least give me a thumbs-up emoji or something my dude, do you not understand how texting works? Then I get this:

LINCOLN: Wear a dress.

Really? He was telling me how to dress now? Did he mean we were going somewhere that had a dress code or something? Why just "wear a dress" no explanation? I wasn't even offended, just kind of blown away. Also, I was too busy trying to process how my body was reacting to get mad. I probably don't need to spell that out for you. What was happening to me? The proper response to that text was probably "WTF?" or at least "Why?" That was not where my brain was going, though.

LINCOLN:??

So he expected me to answer. I was still just staring at my phone, at a loss.

ME: Ok

I really didn't know what else to text. I waited and...nothing. It was like he was taking it for granted that he could tell me what to do, and I'd just do it? Or maybe he just really didn't like texting or something? It's probably for the best Abbey chose that moment to pop back in with our snacks. I put my phone down, and she asked me what was up.

"Lincoln wants to hang out again Thursday."

"Oh my god, are you gonna do it?" She asked, peeling an orange.

"Yeah why not?" I replied, trying to sound casual. She smirked at me.

"Are you gonna fuck him again?"

I mean, no point lying."Yeah, probably," I laughed.

"Slut. Take a picture of his dick. I want to see it."

"What!? No, fuck you!" She was just messing with me now. She had always been a little more sexually adventurous than me, and would occasionally give me shit about basically always having a longer-term boyfriend, while she was more experimental. Abbey liked to hook up with college guys. She seemed to think it was hilarious that now I was the one boning an even older guy I barely knew. She thought it was great, naturally, and was happy for me.

"Fuck you. I want to see it. His big. Black. Cock. I want to know if the rumors are true."

"Wow. Racist," I retorted, just giving her shit. "And I already told you he has a big dick. He's not going to let me take a picture of it, and I'm not asking him. What the fuck."

"Seriously? If you're like, let me take a picture of your big dick, my hot best friend wants to see it, no guy is going to be like, oh no, you can't do that. Guys can't stop taking pics of their own dicks as it is. And especially if he knows he's getting laid, which I think we've established he will be. Because you are totally on this guy's dick."

"Fuck off." We went back and forth like this for a while. We always gave each other shit about stuff like this in a friendly way. I kind of felt bad that I still hadn't told her everything or even figured out how to explain parts of it to her. I was distracted by that and the weird text exchange with Lincoln for the rest of the evening while we were working on our essays, and I really didn't get much done.

I spent a lot of Thursday thinking about seeing Lincoln that night, and how I felt about this whole situation. By the time I got home and started getting ready, I had basically decided fuck it—I said I'd go with it so I will. At this point in the school year, as a senior, I basically only had classes the first half of the day, so I had most of the afternoon to relax and take my time. I picked out a much sexier outfit than the sundress I'd worn before, a short blue sheath dress that I thought complimented my hair and eyes, and some cute, strappy sandals. I decided to wear my hair down again since he seemed to really like that before. I also picked out a sexy thong that I hoped he'd like. I can usually get away with not wearing a bra (that's my way of saying I have small breasts) and I decided to go without. I didn't really feel like unpacking why I was going along with all this right then, so I just enjoyed taking my time washing my hair, shaving, and just relaxing in the hot water. I thought I looked pretty hot by the time I was finished dressing, putting on makeup, etc. to be honest.

The Uber was, as it turned out, for his place. This time, Lincoln was home alone when I got there, and he sure seemed to like what I'd put together for him. He greeted me with a compliment and a long deep kiss that involved a fair amount of groping my ass. It turned out James was traveling for work for a few days, so we had the place to ourselves. We drank a couple of beers and got high downstairs in the living room. I was lying with my head in Lincoln's lap, stoned and just enjoying my buzz. That didn't last long, though.

"Get out of that dress," he abruptly ordered me.

I wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but I was stoned, horny, and definitely turned on by the commanding way he'd spoken. I stood up and tried to take my dress off all cool and slow, but sheath dresses are tight and not exactly easy to slide seductively out of, so I am not sure how sexy I actually looked carrying out that process. Lincoln seemed to like what he saw though, rewarding me with a hard smack on the ass when I finished.

"That too," was his next order.

He meant the thong I'd worn, and I obeyed, sliding it off, starting to pick up that he seemed to really be enjoying the idea of me nude while he was fully dressed. I was enjoying it too. It was a new thing for me, and I was quickly finding the power dynamic was a huge turn on. He turned me back around, running his hands over my tummy, kind of flicked gently at my belly piercing, and then moved to the skin right over my vagina, just teasing, but not touching any lower. I closed my eyes and kind of sighed. Then Lincoln pulled me onto his lap, and his mouth was on my breasts, a little rough on my nipples, but it felt so good. He quickly had me on my back, going down on me. He was just a good at this as he had been at everything else so far, and had me writhing and moaning on the couch in no time. I had never been able to have an orgasm from oral with past boyfriends, who had been kind of clumsy at it, but this was different. He knew how to use his fingers as well as his mouth, which holy shit so good, and I probably had an orgasm within literally a minute. In the back of my mind, I was thinking, some woman taught him how to do this shit right (and also that it was probably a good thing there was a comforter on this really nice sofa). The way his other hand was kind of pinning me down made it feel like he was still totally controlling the situation like always. It was a vibe like he had decided he wanted to eat me out, so he was, and if I enjoyed it great, but it was really about him taking what he wanted. I loved it.

Things seemed to go faster then. Once he was done going down on me, he put me on my knees and ass in front of the sofa while he sat down on it, leaning a little forward, still fully dressed. He undid his jeans and told me to get his cock out. He had such a beautiful penis, and it was already fully hard. I couldn't get over how perfect it was—big, but I could still get it all the way my in mouth without hurting my jaw, which meant I was fine to go for basically as long as he wanted me to. I eagerly started giving him a blowjob. He just kind of laid back and let me take care of him for a while. His mellow mood soon started to turn more aggressive, though. I was learning that the more turned on he got, the more he liked to talk shit, and that was what was happening now. "Yeah suck that big dick white girl. You love that shit."

Yes, we established that Saturday, I kind of brattily thought, but of course he was right. I loved everything about the way he was treating me right then. I looked up at him while I sucked his cock, more and more turned on by this whole situation of me basically being naked and servicing him like I was part of some sort of harem he owned. After several long minutes of that, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me off his cock, standing up. I started to do the same, but he stopped me.

"Stay on your knees, slut. Keep sucking."

That was definitely the most aggro and demeaning thing he'd said to me so far. I for sure should have been offended, but I wasn't. I had to admit I liked it. A lot. I obeyed, now on just my knees looking submissively up at him while taking his cock slowly back into my mouth and stroking his big, heavy balls. He took his shirt off, revealing those perfect abs, and I couldn't help but stop to kiss his stomach a few times. He didn't say a word, just forced me back onto his cock by my hair. He was basically slowly fucking my face now, putting my head where he wanted it to go and making me take him. When I'd given blowjobs before I was always pretty much in control of the situation, but this was the opposite. Somewhere in my brain my competitive side was determined to show him I was up to it, and I concentrated on being able to keep giving him a great blowjob, putting my hands on his thigh to brace myself a little. It was uncomfortable on my knees on the hardwood floor, and I could feel a mixture of tears and mascara running down my cheeks gagging when he went deeper than I could comfortably take him, but I was too hyper-focused on his cock to care. I knew he was enjoying himself because he was absolutely rock hard and I could taste his pre-cum. I could tell I was going to make him cum soon, and I guess he could too because he pulled me off his cock again and forced me onto the couch, onto my back.

I just laid there for a sec, catching my breath, overwhelmed and kind of just enjoying this hot, ripped guy towering over me. I watched as he took the rest of his clothes off. It was clear what was coming next. Lincoln basically just manhandled me, putting me in a half lying/half seated position where my head was just barely leaning up against the back of the couch. He pushed my legs back about as far as they could go and aggressively pushed his cock right into me. Just like before, it didn't hurt at all because I was so fucking turned on and so wet. He had forced my head into a position where I had a perfect view, straight down my body, of his penis entering my vagina, then back and forth as he fucked me. The sight of that and the contrast of his darker skin on mine was so hot. His hand was around my throat again; it was all just, like, raw aggression and I loved that I was making him feel that. This felt as much like him establishing something as just wanting to fuck me, but I was fine with whatever it was. He was also basically forcing me to participate in the talking he liked to do too, which escalated fast.

"Yeah that's right, you like my big dick don't you bitch?"

"Yes I love it, so good."

"Yeah—you getting fucked right. This is my pussy now. Whose pussy is this white girl?"

I was riding a continual wave of little orgasms by now, so I just kind of moaned incoherently at him. Lincoln was fucking me hard, but not particularly fast, and the hand that wasn't on my throat was toying with my clit, contributing significantly to the multiple orgasms I was enjoying.

He again demanded: "Bitch, whose pussy is this?"

I just kind of moaned again, and his grip on my throat tightened a little, to where he was actually choking me. I could feel more of his weight pressing me into the couch as he leaned forward. This was the moment when I would have freaked out if ever I was going to, and I probably should have. After all, I still barely knew this very strong guy who had his hand around my throat. Of course, I didn't freak out. What I did instead was cum again, hard, then panted at him, "Yours, it's yours baby please fuck me, please don't stop." He laughed and kept going, still choking me a little, not enough that I couldn't breathe, but enough that I could tell he was doing it, for sure.

"That's right you're my bitch now. I own your pretty white ass."

"Yes, yes." I was just cumming all over his dick, totally overwhelmed at this point.

"Say it Sophia." More pressure on my throat for a second.

"Yes, I'm your bitch, you own me, please, please baby," I whimpered, and I heard that low laugh I was starting to recognize as satisfaction with my responses. He was starting to fuck me faster now, and I had a feeling that I knew what was coming next. Lincoln knew I was on the pill from talking after our first time together, and I felt like he was about to take full advantage of that. And I wanted him to—it felt like the last step in something I'd set in motion that day at the gym.

"I'm gonna cum in that tight pussy! You ready bitch?"

"Yes, yes, cum in me, cum in me please, please baby!"

I really did want it, too. I'd never let anyone do that to me before, but I wanted it badly now. I'd totally surrendered to Lincoln, and it felt so fucking good. I heard him groan, and felt his cock throb inside of me. I couldn't feel him actually cum, but I knew it was happening by the way his body was responding, and it put me even further into that submissive headspace that was quickly becoming the default when I was around this guy. I came hard again too, wrapping my arms tight around him, and whispered "Thank you."

He must have liked that, because he laughed and said, "That's right white girl," and gave my ass a hard smack as he got off me.

He put both knees on the sofa and pulled my head toward his cock by my hair. I kind of knew what he wanted, and if a past boyfriend had tried that, I would have shut it down immediately. Lincoln, though, put me this mindset where I just wanted to let him have his way, anything he wanted. Also Abbey was right, I was obsessed with this guy's cock and right now I just wanted it in my mouth again. He was still mostly hard and covered with both his cum and mine, but I obediently licked, then sucked, cleaning him off, and gave the tip what I hoped was a cute, flirty kiss when I was done. I doubt I exactly looked like some glamorous porn star at that point, but he must have been pleased because he laughed and said, "Good girl."

I feel like I should clarify that swallowing after a blowjob was something I'd done with the handful of other guys I'd been with too. It wasn't a new thing I just started with Lincoln. Some girls are grossed out by it, which I don't understand, but it always felt like the natural thing to do to me. What was different was that in the past it was just a neutral thing for me. I'd seen it in porn, I knew boys liked it, and it felt I guess a little rude, for lack of better word, to like spit it out or whatever. Plus, messy. The difference now, though, was that I actively liked it, a lot. It was probably the intensity of the attraction and sexual chemistry I felt like I had with Lincoln, which was far greater than anything I'd ever experienced before.

Anyway, after that, we were both exhausted. Lincoln got up to get us fresh beers while I went to the bathroom to clean up a little. The beers were so cold and tasted so good. After a few minutes, I looked at him and asked, "So, how'd you know?'

"How'd I know what?" he replied, grinning. I felt like he knew exactly what I meant but was going to make me say it anyway. Whatever. I was hardly in a position to complain given what I'd just let him do—no, let's be honest, pretty much begged him to do.

"How did you know I'd let you do all that—the spanking before, and everything that just happened? How did you know I wasn't going to just, like, freak out or some shit?"

He looked at me for a few seconds, then said, "I felt you out, and I could tell. Then I pushed you a little at first and you were totally into it." He seemed to be kind of pondering for a moment. "Tell you the truth though, I knew just from talking to you. A lot of girls, especially certain white girls, are into that shit and it's cool. I was pretty sure with you from the way you looked at me, how you acted, from the start, so I pushed it and took the chance. I'd have backed off if you said no, but you wanted it. You loved that shit."

It wasn't a question, but I felt like he wanted me to agree. "I did love it." I was curled up next to him on the comforter kind of just stroking his chest. "I never knew that about myself before." It felt weird but good to say that out loud. I wasn't totally sure what to make of the rest of what he'd just said.

"You're gonna keep loving it too." His hand was kind of cupping my ass, and I sort of murmured in agreement. I was pretty sure he wasn't wrong about that. I was still running my hands over the muscles in his chest when my eyes wandered downward.

"Oh my god, you're like half-hard again. How do you do that?" He just laughed and I stroked his penis gently with my hand. Crazy. Dude was a machine. "Want to hear something funny?" I asked.