The Milf's Savior 01

My inspirations for this story are the interracial works by Cockhole, Stormbringer and st0rmbringer.

My inspiration for writing in general is TheTalkMan.

This is the first of a likely two chapter story, and one that's mainly focused on build-up. Chapter 2 will contain the juicier stuff, and I should have it out relatively soon.

Have fun, and let me know what you think.

***

Life hadn't been easy for Tyrone.

He'd lost both his parents when he were a teenager, and had been taken in by his grandfather to be brought up in a crime-infested ghetto neighborhood of the city. His grandfather had done his best to teach him the importance of school, and the better opportunities in life he could have created for himself by making his way through it and college. However, he'd never taken the old man's words to heart, too young, rebellious and miserable from the passing of his parents for them to ever have a chance of penetrating his young, impressionable mind. He had instead taken to a life of crime - joining local gangs and partaking in drug dealing and trafficking, among other illegal and potentially consequential activities.

The monetary and social rewards of leading such a life were immediate, in contrast to the slow, gradual upsides he'd have eventually seen from a degree. The money was quick and easy, and more importantly, the social cred allowed him to create connections and find a sense of self in his community - something he'd craved for since the passing of his parents. Life seemed good, and despite his grandfather's regular warnings of the consequences that could befall him any day, he kept at it.

Until the day said consequences finally arrived.

The reports of illegal activity in the area had been steadily piling up until they'd crossed a threshold, and he was seventeen when the police raided his neighborhood. There was a standoff between gang members and the officers, and Tyrone, while taking no part in it himself, still witnessed bloodshed and killing for the first time in his life. There were heavy casualties on both sides, and it was that day, after seeing the outcome of the lifestyle he'd chosen to live, that a switch flipped inside Tyrone's head.

His grandfather had been right, and the consequences he'd been warned about had finally befallen him. Quick money or social cred would never be worth the lives lost that day, and Tyrone quickly decided that he wanted no further part to play in any gangs or their proclivities. His change of mind, however, had come too late, as he'd been identified as an active drug trafficker and was tried under adult court, too close to the age limit to be deemed juvenile.

He served three of his five sentenced years in prison, let out early for good behavior but on the condition that he serve the remaining two in community service. His grandfather had worked as a janitor at the local community college his entire life, and had reached retirement age just around the time Tyrone was let out. He offered his grandson his soon-to-be former job, as its janitorial nature would qualify as community service while also paying a liveable wage, and Tyrone gratefully accepted, acknowledging it to be his best and second chance at leading a normal, clean life.

Using the relatively small estate his parents had left behind and one he'd been eligible to receive since he'd turned eighteen, Tyrone bought a small, single bedroom apartment near the southern edge of the college. His grandfather had recommended the decision, and he knew it better to follow the old man's advice after seeing what failing to do so had led to.

And so, at the prime age of twenty, Tyrone began his janitorial career. The hours were long, the cleaning was difficult, and it paid just barely enough to get by. In contrast to the excitement of his former lifestyle, it felt mundane and demeaning, and there were moments he found himself contemplating a potential return to his glory days. But he'd always quickly snap himself out of such thoughts, his promise to himself and his grandfather to stay clean and to make the most of his second chance at life still fresh in his mind. And so he stayed on course and made the most of it, always on time and performing his duties to the best of his abilities.

One aspect of his job he hadn't been prepared for, however, was the sheer amount of college pussy.

Tyrone had spent most of his life in a black, ghetto neighborhood, and he now suddenly found himself in the white part of town. It was his first exposure to white girls in the primes of their bodies, and he couldn't believe just how liberal they could be with clothing. The amount of sizable racks in low-cut tops, or round, jiggling asses in booty shorts he saw on a daily basis was astounding. They'd march their young, lithe and fully ripe bodies all around campus in the flimsiest articles, and all he could do was stare, forced to purchase oversized work-jeans and still having to constantly readjust his raging, black hard-on.

Tyrone, if not for his janitorial career, would be quite a catch for these college babes. The internet had brought about an unprecedented boost in the popularity of BBC porn, and with it the two social stereotypes of all black men being hung like horses, and the strong preference of black cock over all others by white girls. Many would deny it, or downplay the stigma, but the trend had left white girls all over the world curious, and wondering at the least if it were more than just exactly that - a trend. Subconsciously, most white girls exposed to the adult entertainment world at the barest minimum had at least thought about it, if not entertained the notion directly and physically.

Social stigma aside, Tyrone had a lot else going for him. He was six feet tall, with a head full of braided hair and a broad frame. Through his time in prison, his fellow inmates had introduced him to bodybuilding, and the once skinny seventeen year old had come out of the experience at twenty absolutely jacked. It was one habit he'd continued in secret, visiting the college gym late at night at a time he knew it would be empty. He'd always wear his work clothes, a backup plan of announcing he were just there for janitorial duties ready if he were to ever get caught or recognized. He felt good about himself, and confident to a degree he'd never felt before. He was generally good looking as well, following the classic requirement of 'tall, dark and handsome' and had been very popular with the black girls back in his ghetto neighborhood, despite most of his time invested in drug-dealing. To top it all off, he'd make a great subject for white girls to test the stereotype of all black men being hung, his massive and veiny, black cock an absolute weapon for reaching the most biased of conclusions.

Regardless, none of it seemed to matter, for at the end of the day, he was still a janitor. The most college girls would do in his presence would be to snicker and whisper, commenting on how cute the new janitor boy was, or how jacked and buff, while either paying it no further thought or coupling it with the words he'd grown all too familiar in hearing:

'If only he weren't a janitor.'

For all Tyrone had going for him, his poor decisions had led him to a point in life where his social status and career title alone were responsible for a complete lack of pussy. Had he been a student, he'd be absolutely drowning in it, his good looks, jacked body, tall frame and of course, the stereotype of black men being absolutely hung and preferred by white girls all playing immensely in his favor. He was instead, however, merely a janitor, and one that had seemingly started to gain traction.

He'd become somewhat famous as the hot, jacked janitor, and often found himself in situations where girls would chat him up, or even let him chat them up. Before any interesting developments could occur, however, these girls would quickly back out, too afraid of the social stigma of being involved with the college janitor - something that left Tyrone extremely sexually frustrated.

He was completely surrounded by pussy. White, prime, college pussy. The hottest pieces of ass one could imagine, all just jiggling and bouncing and so near his reach, but never quite attainable. He needed to find a way to relieve all that pent up sexual stress, and to start, took to quickly saving up enough money to get himself a barebones laptop.

And so for a while, Tyrone's daily routine would be to head to work, be involuntarily teased by the generous endowments and chit chat of white college girls, before returning to his apartment and jacking his giant black cock off to interracial porn. The cycle carried on for a bit, but Tyrone soon found that with every passing session, he would find himself further and further sexually frustrated on the daily. Not only was he slowly getting addicted to interracial porn, but the fact that it was all visual and virtual, with none of it being physical, left a dawning realization in his twenty year old head.

He needed the real thing, or he'd be driven to insanity. He could watch the hottest porn in the world, but it wouldn't and could never compare to the real thing, the exposed, soft-looking skin and juicy, sizable tits and asses of real women too tantalizing and alluring for a virtual version to ever hold up a candle. It was then that he finally downloaded dating apps and took his first serious shot at the real deal.

It didn't work.

The reason being that most of the crowd he found on said apps were girls from his own college, and while most of them swiped right to match, he soon found himself experiencing a digital deja vu. The girls, just like in real life, would chat him up, or let themselves be chatted up, but then quickly dropped him when he attempted to move things somewhere more serious. No matter, he'd thought to himself, not letting the repeated lack of attainable pussy demotivate him from his endeavor. If he couldn't land girls from the community college he worked at, all he had to do was target other colleges.

That, too, however, didn't work. News of the hot, twenty year old janitor had apparently made its way around town, and even girls outside of his immediate vicinity now knew of his career. They'd match with him, and just a couple messages through the conversation, would drop the inevitable question.

"Hey, aren't you that hot college janitor everyone's talking about?"

He'd immediately unmatch these girls, too aware of the direction of the impending conversation to bother wasting any more of his time or energy. About a month or so of similar attempts later and with a body count of absolutely zero, Tyrone finally gave up, his frustration at an all time high and slowly converting to innate anger. He was angry at himself mostly, full of regret over the decisions he'd made as a teenager. Had he stuck with school, and made his way to college, he'd be drowning in more pussy than he'd maybe be able to handle. His grandfather had been right all along, and he'd mistaken just how encompassing the old man had been when he'd mentioned 'opportunities'.

Along with frustration and anger, Tyrone also felt lonely. The only friends he had in his life were other janitors, but they were all older men, and more work-buddies than actual friends. He had no one his own age to get along with, or to hangout with, or to do any activity other young men his age would often get up to with their kind. The realization would often leave him utterly sad. His intentions so far had been purely physical, his endeavor one solely of sliding his massive black cock into the tight confines of a wet, consenting pussy. He wouldn't at all have minded, however, if it had ended with him landing himself a girlfriend. Or even just a friend, for that matter.

Tyrone craved the social acceptance and connection he'd found back in his ghetto neighborhood, and would often reminisce of the time, before quickly sidelining it at the realization of just how much it had cost him. No, he needed to make new connections, ones that didn't involve illegal activity or potential violence. Most of his day would be spent working, the remaining of his time allocated to porn, dating apps and nightly, secret workouts. He'd reached the point of giving up completely on the apps, and found himself a free spot of time to fill with something else.

It was then that he decided to go old school, and found himself saving up money for his newly planned endeavor. He was still surrounded by and teased on the daily by college babes, so his primary motivation still remained to fuck cunt, but with now a secondary one of potentially developing new connections, Tyrone decided to start clubbing.

If he couldn't get girls on dating apps to take him seriously, maybe he'd have more luck with the local scene. The community college he worked at and resided in was located in the city's downtown area, and the clubs were a mere walking distance from his apartment. Saving up to buy himself a reasonably smart set of semi-formal clothes, Tyrone finally took to initiating his newfound plans.

Wrapping up work before taking a shower and throwing on his new attire, one the likes of he'd never worn before, he made his way to the city, confidence and hope in his stride.

As had been the theme for his life since taking on the janitorial position, however, his luck once again did not pan out. Most of the clubs he attempted to get into had long waiting lines, and when he'd finally get to the front, would often be denied entry by the bouncers, the lack of a woman or multiple in his arms the most frequently provided reason. Other times, the facts that he were completely alone or not a regular were deemed too suspicious, and after four hours of attempted entry, he'd finally given up.

His hopeful plan had come crashing down, and he'd concluded his night without access to a single club. As demotivated as ever, he'd begun his walk back to the college, absolutely sulking and regretting spending all the money he'd saved on the new set of clothes. The clock had just hit midnight, and the streets had started to clear. It was his first time strolling through the city at night, and he took to observing his surroundings, the cold air and chilly weather coupled with the quiet serenity of the emptying streets a sight somewhat beautiful.

He'd taken turns gazing at the clear night sky and the modern city architecture, questioning his sexually and socially frustrated existence while simultaneously attempting to sideline thoughts of his failure, when the unmistakable sound of a woman's scream filled his ears.

Tyrone immediately perked up. The source of the sound was nearby, and its tone was definitely not one of excitement. No, it was one of fear, and he was reminded of the similar screams he'd heard all the way back when the police had raided his neighborhood and a standoff had taken place. The women had howled in horror in a manner all too similar to the sound he'd just heard, and he'd just been mentally reliving the experience when another scream filled his ears.

He'd managed to pinpoint its location more accurately this time, and it seemed to have come from an alleyway about a block from where he stood. The disappointment of his night had taken a backseat in his mind, a need to investigate the source of such a fearful cry now taking priority along with the question of what he could do about it.

The first thing he did was to call 911 and immediately report his discovery, providing a generalized description of the alley's location. The process had taken about a minute's worth of time, and he realized after putting his phone down that no more cries of help were filling his ears. His heart sank at the thought, and he questioned whether he'd done his part in solely reporting it, or if he should investigate personally, ensuring the safety of the unknown woman until the cops arrived.

He thought over it for another few seconds, when he heard the woman scream again, only for the sound to get muffled halfway through, as if someone had forcefully silenced her. Flashbacks of the bloody standoff once again repainted themselves in his mind, the tone of the helpless cry all too similar to the ones he'd heard back then, and Tyrone immediately found himself running in its direction.

He reached the alleyway and peaked inside its corner. His eyes widened at what he saw, and he felt his heart sink further. The silhouettes of four men had cornered the one of a voluptuous looking woman against the alley's wall, with one of them pressing against and pinning her body, his hand sealing her mouth tightly shut to prevent her from calling for help.

"No one's going to hear you, darling, so stop fucking screaming. We're just going to have a little fun, aren't we?" He heard the man say, before he lowered his hand from her mouth.

"Please." Tyrone heard the woman beg, her voice absolutely trembling and the fact that she were a crying mess clear as day. "Please just let me go. I have children. I'll give you money. Please just... please don't do this."

"We don't want your money, babe." He heard one of the other men say, before he reached forward to grope the woman's clearly large, jutting breasts through her dress. "These fucking tits, on the other hand..."

"What a fucking body." A third man spoke out. "What's a bird like you doing, wandering the streets all alone?"

"We're just going to keep you a little company, that's all." The fourth man smirked, before reaching for the hem of the woman's short dress and beginning to slide it up her thigh.

Tyrone watched as she attempted to scream once again, but the first man quickly returned his hand to her mouth, sealing it shut. Only her muffled cries emanated the dark alleyway, coupled with the chuckles of the four predatory men.

Tyrone had seen enough. He was yet to hear a single police siren, and if he didn't step in himself, things would take a turn for the much darker very soon. He sized up the silhouettes of the men, and found them to be average heighted, with builds not particularly impressive. He was taller and stronger, but still outnumbered, which posed a reasonable risk if he were to intervene.

He'd been weighing his options, staring into nothingness when a particularly loud but muffled yelp filled his ears. His eyes once again focused on the scene, and as soon as he saw the four men closing in on the helpless woman and beginning to shamelessly grope her all over, his body moved on its own.

"Stop!" He shouted, standing in the center of the alley's entrance.

The four men quickly pulled away from the woman and turned to face him, eyeing the tall, bulky silhouette of his frame.

"Fuck off!" One of them shouted back.

"Leave her alone, and get the fuck out of here." Tyrone commanded sternly, all the while holding his legs from trembling in anxiety.

His body really had moved on its own, and he found himself in an all too dangerous position. Not only was he outnumbered, but he was completely unaware of whether any if not all of the four men possessed any weapons. The fact that they hadn't pulled one out yet consoled him of that predicament, but didn't answer the question of how he'd deal with multiple threats at once.

"Or what?" The same man questioned, before beginning to walk towards Tyrone. He seemed to be the little group's leader, as the other three immediately took to following in his footsteps.

Tyrone's eyes roamed to the woman at the back. He saw her trembling and whimpering silhouette, the soft sounds of her crying filling the otherwise empty yet intense environment. He acknowledged at her sight that he was at least doing the right thing, despite the cost he may have to very soon pay as a result. His eyes returned to the approaching group, and he raised and tightened his fists, preparing himself for a fight for his life.