BBC cock? Why do some women love it, and others fear it? A lot of it has to do with the taboo aspect of that venture. Growing up for some of us was that “talk” from our fathers. Do not mix the waters. Some know what that means, and others are repulsed by it. Yes, I was one who heard that very saying growing up. I guess my Dad didn’t realize that made me what to find out why.

My first experience with BBC was by accident. Yes, accident. I spent a summer at camp at a counselor, and one of the tasks we had was cleaning the showers. On my first trip into the shower area I heard the water running. Since I was in the girls area, I thought nothing of it. Well, never trust that just because you’re in the girls restroom that you won’t see dick.

BBC was not something you see in a girls bathroom, or is it?

Moaning, yes moaning, was coming from the last stall. At first I thought maybe someone was hurt, but I realized that was a moan of pleasure, not pain. I knew that sound very well. I was a very skilled masturbator and often pleasured myself. Panting and grunts were the bread crumbs that forced me to take a peek. Well, that was the shock of a lifetime, well, at that age it was a big deal.

Standing in the shower was one of the male counselors and the pretty little white woman who ran the whole camp. She was down on her knees with that BBC stuffed down her throat. JESUS CHRIST, he was massive. When he pulled back, that cock had to be at least 11 inches long and as thick as a coke can. She was a married woman, and this was not her God fearing husband.

I wonder now if he knew what was going on, or was this a big dark secret?

It didn’t take long for the man to cum, but when he did, it was shocking. Have you ever saw a fire hydrant uncapped to release the pressure? I can honestly say after seeing that, I have. He shot all over that face and that poor woman looked like she was covered with white paint splatter. I slipped out before they could see me, but I will never forget my first, but not my last, experience with BBC.

Let’s talk soon. I can’t wait to whisper more filthy details.

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What makes a woman crave BBC? I have never been a fan or sought out a particular race for sexual needs. I know this might sound racist, but it’s the complete opposite. That was all true until I met Michael. His filthy black dick made me a believer.

Bent over the frozen section at the store, the moment I felt someone bump me from behind, I know. I should have slapped Michael, but the meat hit me in the ass instead. Holy Mary, Mother of God! I got slapped on the ass by 10 inches of limp dick. Now I am not saying I approved of this, but it was shocking. Before I looked behind me, I gave my ass a little wiggle. You know, to tease him.

“Excuse me, but your dick is touching my ass!”

Lame line, but it did make me laugh. Michael did too, but not so much that he didn’t give me that look. You know that look. The one that implies that he is going to rip my perfect white cunt wide open. His dark skin made me tingle, and I wanted him. I was even willing to give this man a free ride. We all know that’s saying a lot for me. My pussy might like big dick, but I like money more.

BBC made me swim in a chocolate ocean.

He took my phone and took my number. I didn’t allow this, but he did it anyway. Unable to resist, something about this man had me aching deep inside. It could have been my walls giving me a warning of things to come. I know my pussy was throbbing. I wanted him to hurt me. Make me bleed from the force of his cock against my cervix. Sick and twisted, but I need this right now.

I left the store alone, but when I arrived home and put my food away, he called. His words were demanding. He wanted to punish me for being a stuck up little snow bunny bitch. What the fuck? At a loss for words, I was able to mumble out my address for him, knowing I shouldn’t do this. It was not okay to give a stranger your address. I knew better.

Shaking from fear when the doorbell chimed 15 minutes later, I tried not to open it. Michael pounded when it took too long. I guess this man knew that I would give in. It’s not like I need sex. It was the fact that Micheal wanted to make my whore hole a slave to his BBC.

The door opened. I couldn’t let the neighbors hear his banging. What if they called the cops. I don’t want to explain that I let this strange man come to my house. What would they think of me? What if something happened and it was in the papers? My parents would find out. God forbid the little white girl got dirty by the nasty BBC. 

His hand pressed to the oak door, dominating the wood with that massive appendage. I thought about how it would look around my throat. Would the imprints he left tell the world that my last lover was interracial? No, but a million things go through your head when you’re scared.

“You need to leave. I don’t fuck strangers, and I don’t let cocks that size inside of me,” I whispered. 

 His hand went to the back of my hair as he kicked the front door closed with a loud thud. Not the right response. His fist tightened when I resisted. It was not rape, nor was it abuse. I allowed him into my home. I knew it was wrong, but the pussy is an evil bitch when tempted by the ways of a black dominate male.

“Get the fuck on your knees and open that mouth. You need to suck my fucking dick!”

Dropped to my knees, I fumbled with his zipper, but the beast released itself. Forcing its way from his pants, his hard cock sprang forward and hit me in the face. Never in my life had I seen anything that could compare to the length or girth of that massive monster. He was one for the record books. My hand wrapped halfway round, stretching my fingers to try and meet. No way possible.

“Suck my BBC?” he demanded. 

He asked, and I complied. I flicked the tip of my tongue over the head. The slit was already seeping fluid. Viscous, the liquid was sweet. Maybe the blacker the berry line was real. At least with Michael, it was. Stretching my mouth wide, his member slipped between my lips, leaving a snail trail on my tongue. It was a burst of precum flavor and awakened my senses the moment I tasted it.

 A grasp of my dark strands and the destruction began. Inch by inch, he forced the head into my mouth and eventually down my throat. Did he care about me breathing? Noo! His cock was the one in command here. Michael was brutal with the throat fucking. He ripped into my oral cavity. The head took my breath from me as he pushed deeper into my throat. For a second, I thought I would be the first death by dick.

Gasping, my hands held his thighs as the tears ran down my cheeks. The more I cried, the harder he bucked his hips into my mouth. Mascara staining my cheeks, his cock seeped fluid down my throat, and both hands held my hair as a handle. He was going to not only destroy my pussy, but my throat too. There was a point in the assassination on my throat that I tasted blood. It pooled in my mouth, his cock plunging in with a force that made me swallow it.

“Fucking whore, stick out your goddamn tongue,” he said.

Pulling my head back with one hand, the other stroked over that thick BBC meat. He jacked his dick off. The tip swelled before that first rope of cum hit my mouth. A glob of cream laid on my tongue, but he wasn’t done. Rope after rope, he milked his cock into my mouth, on my face, and even in my hair. The scorch from the seed burned my flesh with a scarlet letter of shame. I had taken the cum of a stranger and all because he had a big black cock.

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