New Blac Neighbors

"Did you see the new neighbors next door?" my wife Ashley asked from across the table, "It's good to finally get some diversity in this neighborhood."

I looked up from my phone and out the bay window. A black guy was moving a table from the back of a U Haul while a black woman stood near the front door, holding it open so he could get it in the house.

"I told you we needed to leave that sign up," she continued, "Now they know we are good people and can feel comfortable around us. I expect you to be on your best behavior and make them feel welcome."

I nodded and slightly rolled my eyes. My wife, bless her heart, proudly put up this Black Lives Matter sign in the front yard a few years ago. Whenever I asked if it was time to take it down she denied me and said that since it was such a white neighborhood it was more important that we keep it up than if it was a diverse one. I knew she meant well, but the progressive streak she developed in the last few years was a little annoying sometimes. Certain jokes were off limits, other things soundly be talked about, it was all a little strange and new to me. At a minimum though, I knew it meant that we were going to have to hang out with the new neighbors and she wanted to be friends.

"I am going to work out, I think you should go introduce yourself to them," she said in a tone that was more of a command than an ask. "Maybe offer a hand. It looks like it's just the two of them."

I nodded again, then watched her walk out of the living room towards the gym room. Even after 6 years of marriage, she still had a great ass. She kept in shape, and the grey bike shorts she was wearing were skin tight below her bare midriff and loose cutoff shirt. The lack of underwear lines gave away the fact that she was wearing a thong.

My eyes followed her ass until she was out of the room. I then peered out the window to check out the new neighbors. The guy looked tall and fit and was deftly moving the furniture off the back of the truck. Dark skinned, with a white tank top and gym shorts on, he looked strong and was easily moving around large pieces of furniture. The wife was pretty, petite, with long curly hair and a nice body. A great ass and shapely thighs filled out her black yoga pants nicely.

After a few minutes I decided I should at least stick my head outside and see if they wanted a hand. I opened the door, went to the sidewalk and introduced myself. They introduced themselves and we shook hands, but you could kind of tell they felt like I was bothering them, that they thought it was weird I even came of the house to say anything. I just got that vibe. It didn't help that our handshake was super awkward.

Their names were Tyrone and Jenelle. When I asked if they needed a hand they said no, so I headed back inside, saying to ring they bell if the needed anything.

It was a nice, quiet neighborhood. The houses were on the bigger side, and expensive, with a nice school district. They were the first black family I saw move in here since we bought our house about 5 years ago. My mind wandered and i found myself wondering if they would fit in, but then I went back to browsing my phone on the couch.

A little while later my wife came back in, hair and shirt wet with sweat. She asked if I introduced myself and I said I did. I was honest and told her that it came off like I was bothering them, so she went into some lecture I heard before about how black people don't always feel comfortable around white people, and it was probably my fault. She said I needed to "do better" and then said she was going to take a shower.

"Care for me to join you?" I asked, giving her a bit of a wink and nod.

"No, not today," she said, "I just don't feel great. I have a headache. I'll be down in a bit and then we can have dinner."

I was disappointed but not surprised. She never wanted to shower together, and we rarely had sex these days. After she came out of the shower we ate, watched some TV, and went to bed.

A week or so later I was mowing the lawn in the back and saw Tyrone was working in his yard, trimming some hedges and pulling weeds. It was hot out. I was dripping sweat, and he was shirtless. He was jacked. Big arms, shoulders and pecs. I found myself wishing that Ashley never saw this guy like this.

Once that thought crossed my mind, I felt a little emasculated, which quickly turned into resentment towards them moving in. Then Ashley popped into my mind. She wouldn't want me thinking like that. Even though it wasn't a race thing, that kind of thinking wasn't cool. I decided to swallow my pride and try to make friends.

I waved and he awkwardly waved back. He was working hard in the yard, pulling weeds and some other yard yard work. When I got by the fence on his side of the yard, I decided to try to be friendly, like my wife would want.

"Pretty hot out huh," I said, instantly regretting my dumb conversation starter.

"Uh yeah," he replied with a forced laugh, looking up from the weeds he was pulling. "Pretty hot out." He went back to what he was doing. Sweat glistened against his dark skin, accentuating his big arms and chest. It dripped off his face and body onto the ground as he worked.

"Uhh do you want to come in and grab a beer in a little bit? Cool off and we can get to know each other a little bit?" I felt so awkward, "New neighbors and all that."

"Yeah, sure. That'd be cool," he replied without looking up. "I need like 20 minutes or so."

"Same here," I said, sounding more enthusiastic than I probably was about it, "I'll meet you in the front in a bit." Ashley was going to be happy, even if I wasn't completely stoked about it. She was out running some errands, but I knew that she would like that I was doing this. Maybe when she came home Tyrone and I would be hanging out like old friends.

I finish mowing, take out the clippings, and go wait on my front step. It took him a little while longer to finish up, so I just sat there on my phone for a bit. I felt awkward. I never introduced myself to any of the other neighbors. I was generally a pretty shy guy that didn't really even like socializing with or even knowing the neighbors. Then I caught a glimpse of the back of the BLM sign on our front step and felt embarrassed for myself. Oh well. At least my wife will appreciate it.

Eventually he came walking up, dabbing his sweaty face with a white t-shirt. He was still shirtless. I started to really regret the whole thing. He was too good looking to be in my house shirtless. Maybe he would put his shirt on. I didn't want Ashley to see what great shape he was in.

"Hey thanks man, I am dying for an ice cold drink right now," he said.

"Come on in, kitchen is this way and the air is on," I said as I led him into the back of our house. The vibe was less awkward than I feared it might be, but his shirt was still off. I thought about telling him to put it on, but decided that was not the right thing to say right now.

We sat on the stools at the peninsula of our granite countertop and I opened two beers for us. We relaxed and talked for a little bit. He had a good corporate job at a bank and his wife was a nurse. She was home decorating and doing stuff around the house. He was around my age, and actually seemed like an overall cool guy. At one point he asked about the yard sign, and I just kind of shrugged and said that my wife put it up. Not that I was racist, I am just not a yard sign guy. He laughed at that one and cracked a couple of jokes himself. I felt like we were developing a rapport and it was actually going pretty well.

I ask if he wants a second and he says yes. As I am going to get it, he knocks over his almost empty beer, spilling the last few ounces of liquid onto the floor. I turn my head from the fridge, see what happened, and tell him to not worry about it, I'll clean it up. He shrugs and says ok.

I grab a couple of paper towels and get on my hands and knees to scrub up the spill. As I am almost done wiping it up, I see him get up out of the corner of my peripheral vision and a shadow blocks where I am cleaning the floor.

"I told you don't worry about it," I said without looking up, "You're the guest. I got this."

He doesn't reply and just stands there. I look up to see what's going on. He just kind of looks down at me, not saying a word.

"Whats going on, are you leaving or something?" I asked curiously, seriously at a loss for what was going on.

"Suck my dick," he said. That caught me way off guard.

A confused "huh?" was all I could muster in the moment.

In one quick motion he grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down. A gigantic, thick, long black dick fell out over the waistband and hung down. It was enormous, swaying between his legs and past his balls, it hung there right in front of my face as I sat there stunned, frozen, staring for a few seconds before gathering my thoughts.

"What the fuck," was all I could find to say. I went to get up but he put his big hand firmly on my shoulder. It seemed to paralyze me.

"No," he said, firmly but calmly, "You heard me. Suck my dick. You're already on your knees."

I couldn't believe what was happening. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. This wasn't even in the realm of possibilities. I felt stuck in time and place, like I couldn't move or say or do anything. His big black dick hung down soft and low a foot away from me. Part of me wanted to get another look. Part of me wanted to kick him out and pretend this never happened. Part of me wanted to just run away. But it was all I could do to just stare meekly at the floor, frozen, seeing the silhouette of his big dick swinging in his shadow on the floor.

"Look at me," he said in a way that made me feel like I had no choice to obey.

I looked up and a big black cock filled my vision. It was unreal, and hard to accept in that moment. I stared for a moment too long on my way up. He let out a laugh.

"I know, I know," he said, chuckling, "You can't believe how big it is right?"

I paused with uncertainty, then nodded my head slightly. He was right.

"Its like you knew about black dicks, but you didn't really know, did you?" he asked. He was right again.

"Now suck. My. Dick." he sounded like he was getting impatient, "I ain't gonna ask again."

"I can't," I protested without getting up or moving away, "My wife will be home soon. And I'm not gay. I never did anything like this before."

"Well you better get started quick then," he sneered, "We don't want your wife to see. I know she won't be able to resist this big black dick. She'll probably call it reparations." He laughed sardonically at his own joke. "And don't think of it as gay. Think of it as what you gotta do, what you owe us. It's what I got coming to me."

I looked up at him, right into his eyes, feeling red in the face, emasculated, and ashamed. Then I looked down and felt even worse. He stood there, shirtless, handsome, muscular, enormous dick, he was like a sexual being in a way which I never felt.

"I told you I wasn't going to ask again," he said, cutting off my train of thought in mid sentence.

Suddenly, he grabbed the back of my head with one hand, the base of his dick with his other, and brought his soft dick up, resting the head on my cheek. I briefly tried to shirk away, but he held me fast, turned my chin slightly, and rested the ebony head of his big dick on my lips.

My mind screamed no, but my body betrayed me. I instinctually opened my mouth and let him slip his dick in between my lips. My mind was full of thoughts, every one of them telling me to get out of there and stop this, but I ignored all of it, knelt there and just took it in my mouth. I had no idea what was happening.

It was strange having another man's flaccid penis in my mouth, but my lips and mouth almost immediately went into a soft sucking motion, like it was on autopilot, disconnected from my brain. He pushed it in almost all the way into my mouth and held me there, but I didn't resist or fight him. Soft and thick, it pressed up against the back of my throat. I fought an urge to gag and accepted the mouthful he was giving me.

I could feel him getting bigger and harder in my mouth. My tongue mindlessly played against his shaft as it grew and shifted in between my lips. The whole situation was so strange. I felt like I was watching myself from a third person view. My mouth and body felt like I didn't control them. My mind, bouncing between screaming for me to stop and trying to justify why I was not, was having a real hard time processing it all.

He slowly was pulled it out as he got bigger, as if not to choke me with what was coming. He started sliding my head rhythmically up and down his shaft, using my mouth to get himself fully hard. I just let him.

Once he was fully erect, all my mind was filled with was a weird sense of awe in how big his dick was. It felt stupidly big in my mouth, firm but soft against my tongue. Thick. My hands, which until this point have been just hanging on my sides, went up and touched his body, at first as a weak, last ditch effort to at least pretend I resisted. I quickly went from helplessly pushing away to slowly rubbing my hands on his abs, chest, and hips. My mind was focused on nothing else at this point but him and his big black dick.

With his guiding assistance, I was sucking the top third, barely, and it felt like it was going to make me gag every other time. My point of view was insane, between his shaft and his abs. I noticed my white hands against his ebony skin. My hands drifted down and one of them ended up wrapped around his thick shaft. It felt so big, I could barely get my fingers closed around it. Even though I already had him in my mouth, that surprised me. Even more surprising to me was the fact that I also had a very, very hard dick pressed up against my shorts. My brain felt like it couldn't handle that, scrambled for excuses as to why sucking a big black dick had me turned on, and then felt like it just shut off.

By this point I had completely given in. I knelt there on my kitchen floor and sucked his dick, one hand on his shaft and the other on his balls, doing my best not to succumb to touching myself. He was guiding me, but I was more than willing to comply at this point, doing my best to pleasure it. My mind felt cleared, empty, almost purified. The only thoughts I had were about his big black dick and how I could pleasure it.

Somewhere in the back of my brain a small part of me still screamed no, still said to stop, but it was completely unheeded by the rest of my mind and body. It was so weird. I found myself liking the predicament I was in, and I couldn't explain or square that thought with the fact that I was a totally straight white man. Here I was, on my knees with a black dick in my mouth, feeling more turned on than I have in a very, very long time.

Eventually I couldn't take it any more, and the hand that was cupping his big balls with found itself down to my own hard dick. When I touched myself the size difference was the first thing that popped into my head. He had a real dick, in a totally different league than mine.

First my hand was on the the outside of my shorts, then on the inside. I gripped and stroked myself while I did the same to him. It just felt right. Before too long I pulled it out over the top of my shorts and stroked myself in the open air while I sucked his dick.

When I took my own dick out, I took a moment to really appreciate how how big this black dick truly was. I stopped for a moment and looked down at him and and me. I couldn't believe the size differential. He looked twice as long and twice as thick. The dark skin seemed to just dominate my view and cast my small pink dick in stark relief. After a brief pause, I went back to sucking him off, but this time he didn't need to guide me. I felt cut loose and this time I was taking the lead. Now it didn't feel like this was my first time sucking a dick. It felt like I had been doing this a long time, and I felt right at home on my knees with a big black dick in between my lips.

"Not bad, white boy," he said with a low moan, "You're pretty good at this. But I thought you might be. You seemed like the kind of guy that always wanted a black dick in his mouth, but just didn't know how to ask."

That statement sent goosebumps up my spine. I looked up at him with his dick in my mouth and just nodded. I felt some precum drip from the tip of my dick. I was trying so hard not to cum before he did and stopped touching myself, moving my hand back to his body. My dick twitched as it dripped.

Suddenly, I heard the door. A wave of fear washed over me. My wife was home from the store. And I was in the kitchen, sucking a black dick. I was basically cheating on her with our new neighbor, but way way worse. It felt like the world was about to crash down upon me. This was terrible. I started to panic and went to push away. But Tyrone had heard the heard the door as well and had other plans.

"This is where the fun begins," he whispered down to me. My eyes went wide with fear and shame, and I tried to push off again, but to no avail. I knew we only had a few seconds before Ashley made her way to the back of the house.

Instead of letting me up, he put his hands on my head and held me in place, slipping his dick a little bit deeper into my throat. I pushed back with all my might but it was useless, he was so much bigger and stronger than me. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and started fucking my face, working my lips back and forth around his cock. My eyes watered up and I gagged as he pushed it deeper and deeper into my mouth. The thickness and length that I was entranced with earlier now choked and muffled me. I heard her heels on the wood floor and tried to yell out but all that could be heard was a weak and muffled pathetic whimper.

I heard the sound of bags dropped on the floor.

"What the fuck is going on?" Said Ashley. Her voice was a mix of anger, confusion and curiosity.

I looked over and saw her near the doorway to the kitchen. My vision was blurred from the tears. I couldn't make out her face or reaction. I tried to say something, I don't remember what. Not that it mattered. All that could be made out was a muffled sound around the wet slurping noise that was made as he continued to fuck my face.

"What's it look like bitch," he said, giving her a look.

I shook my head and tried to push away. My eyes were wide as I pushed as hard as I could but he went nowhere. Not that it mattered. How could I explain it away. My rock hard dick sticking over the top of my shorts gave me away. Once I realized how horny I still was, it took everything in my power to resist the urge to start stroking myself again. It was all so confusing.

There was a pregnant pause in the room. The only sound was a soft slow sucking, the sound of him using my mouth against my feigned resistance.

"Well don't let me stop you," she said, pulling up a stool, giving herself a good view. From the corner of my eye, I saw her sit down and cross her legs. Oddly, I remember thinking that her legs looked amazing in her shorts. Tyrone just continued to move my head back and forth, fucking my mouth in front of my wife, who just took a seat to watch. While I let him. I couldn't believe what was happening to me.

"Oh you weren't going to," replied Tyrone with a bit of a sneer, "It's ok, white boy. Your wife likes what she sees, trust me. You can go back to sucking this black dick like you were before. You can act like you weren't loving it, but your own little white dick gives you away."

After a moment, Ashley let out a laugh. I looked over at her from my knees.

"Well it is a huge black dick." she giggled, " I guess it has us both feeling some kind of way right now."

A wave of shame and embarrassment washed over me when she said that. As if there was any more shame to be had than getting caught by your wife. Sucking a dick. A big black dick at that. I felt my face turn red. I shut down. Whatever resistance I had left in my just withered up and died in that moment.