Dark Awakenings

 

DARK AWAKENINGS

Copyright 2025 by Stormbringer

 

Laura Henderson stood in front of the bedroom mirror, tugging at her skimpy pink bikini with a scowl. The damp fabric clung to her like a second skin after her impulsive pool dip, and she cursed under her breath as she adjusted the top. Her breasts, hovering between a DD and an EE cup, made the task a familiar ordeal—she’d always found it difficult to find a bikini or bra that fit right. This one was no different, the thin material straining against her curves, barely containing her. No wonder Billy’s nerdy little friends had spent the afternoon staring, their jaws slack, eyes popping. It wasn’t just her chest, though it drew plenty of attention. Laura was stunning: long auburn hair cascading down her back, piercing green eyes, and a body still turning heads at thirty-eight. Her toned legs and flat belly, with a hint of abs from jogging, only added to the effect. She was a sexpot, and she hated how it complicated everything.

 

Her upbringing screamed prim and proper—perfect wife, perfect mom for twenty years—but her body craved sin under those layers, and she hated it. Her body didn’t care about manners. It had needs—needs that her husband, Gene, didn’t satisfy even on the rare occasions he was home. When men ogled her breasts or tossed her a flirty line, her nipples stiffened, her thighs grew damp, and she cursed herself for it. Today, those nerdy teens by the pool had been gawking at her all afternoon, and a shameful part of her psyche enjoyed the attention.

 

The reflection in the mirror made her even angrier at her sister; it was Beth’s fault. Beth never returned anything she borrowed, like Laura’s modest one-piece, leaving Laura with only her private tanning bikini—a scrap of fabric she’d never even worn in front of Gene. It was Billy’s eighteenth birthday, and she’d agreed to host this pool party for him and his six best friends. It was so hot there was no way she was going to survive the day without a dip in her pool. Eyes had widened and jaws had dropped the moment she emerged in her tiny pink bikini carrying the pizzas that had just arrived. The delivery man’s eyes and jaw had done the same. Their stares were even worse when she emerged from the pool with her wet bikini snugly embracing her body and she swore some of the gawking teens started sporting little boners under their trunks. She’d wanted to be the cool mom, not the masturbatory fantasy for a pack of horny teens. And then there was Marcus.

 

She didn’t like Marcus—didn’t trust him. He was eighteen, Black, rough around the edges, homeless, and living out of a car with his single mother, staying at shelters when there was room. She didn’t want him in her perfect suburban house. But she owed him. Months back, Billy had stumbled home with a black eye and busted glasses, shaking as he told her about the bullies who’d jumped him. “Would’ve been worse if Marcus hadn’t stepped in,” he’d said. The Black kid had thrown a few punches for her son. Billy gratefully thanked him and asked if there was any way to repay him, but Marcus had told him that he liked punching white kids and Billy didn’t owe him anything. A week later, Marcus overheard Billy talking about his upcoming birthday party and mentioned that he wouldn’t mind some pizza and a dip in a pool. Billy had invited him immediately.

 

“Thanks, Mom,” said Billy, taking a slice of pizza from her. The fading bruise still visible around Billy’s eye gnawed at her, reminding her why she had to let Marcus come today. Didn’t mean she had to like it.

 

Marcus had other plans. He’d clocked Laura when she came to pick Billy up from the nurse’s office wearing a two-piece gym outfit and again at their graduation in a flowery summer dress—tight, short, showing off those killer legs—and damn near lost his mind with lust. Billy’s mom was a MILF straight out of a wet dream. When Billy mentioned the party, Marcus didn’t give a fuck about the pool or pizza. He wanted to see her again, preferably half-naked. Now, seeing her in that wet pink bikini, clinging to hard nipples, tightly hugging her crotch, and disappearing into the crack of a well-rounded, firm white ass, he knew he’d scored big. He accepted a soda from her, grabbing her wrist. “Nice bikini, Mrs. H,” he said, staring her up and down. 

“T-thanks,” she replied, her mouth hanging open, shocked by his audacity.

 

The other boys—pale, scrawny white kids like Billy—swarmed her all day, tripping over themselves to help with pizza or cleanup, just to get close to her. Marcus hung back, cool as ice, propped against the patio railing, arms crossed. Laura caught his dark eyes following her, and it disturbed her more than her son’s nerd friends. He had this cocky edge—arrogant for a homeless kid crashing in a car with his mom. She pegged it as a chip on his shoulder, typical Black resentment in her mind. But he was built—muscles rippling under his skin, outshining even the football jocks in Billy’s class. Billy said that Marcus was closer to twenty; being homeless had held him back a couple of years and he was lucky he’d even graduated. Subsequently, Marcus seemed more manly and adult than Billy and his friends. His height, over six feet, had him towering over the smaller boys. He wasn’t a handsome boy—dark with African features such as a flat nose and broad lips. He wore ratty basketball shorts, long and baggy with holes, slung low so the crack of his ass peeked out. No shirt, just his chiseled Black frame glistening with sweat, muscles flexing like coiled steel under the sun, ratty shorts slung low, teasing the V of his hips. And he was always adjusting himself, reaching down to squeeze his sizable bulge, often while staring at her. His dark eyes drilled into her, and her skin crawled—wrong, dirty, too Black for her perfect world—but her nipples stiffened, traitors to her prim facade. Billy’s eyes flicked to her bikini top once, quick and guilty, then away—Marcus caught it, smirking like he’d seen a secret.

 

Marcus ducked inside to take a piss when the phone rang. He grabbed it, leaning on the counter. 

“Who’s this?” said an exasperated voice. 

“Who’s this?” responded Marcus. 

“The owner of the house, kid. Get my wife.” 

Marcus smirked. “She’s busy with the party. What’s up?” 

Gene sighed. “Flight’s delayed. Won’t be home tonight. The phone’s almost dead, no calls. Let Laura know, and wish Billy happy birthday from me—tell him I’ll make it up to him.” 

“Sure thing, Mr. Henderson.” 

“And tell Laura I love her.” 

“Sure, boss, tell Laura I love her.” Marcus hung up. He wasn’t telling either of them shit. A nasty grin spread across his face, and an even nastier idea formed in his mind.

 

The party died down by dusk, kids trickling out. Marcus lingered in the backyard, alone. He changed into a dirty pair of gray sweatpants and a sleeveless white tee, stretched tight around his muscular frame. His large feet were in sliders. Laura, now in sweat shorts and a halter top—showing off her tight midriff and jiggling braless tits—approached him and crossed her arms to hide the hard nipples poking out through the thin material of her top. She’d thought they’d all left and had skipped a bra. “Party’s over. Go home,” she snapped, then winced, catching her screw-up. 

His eyes narrowed. “Mom ain’t coming. Ain’t got nowhere to go,” he said, voice flat. “I can sleep in the alley behind the diner if you give me a lift.” 

Billy looked horrified. “In this heat? Mom, can’t Marcus crash on the couch? He’s got no place to sleep tonight.” 

Her gut twisted—she didn’t want this Black kid here, not with those hungry stares all day. “Billy, no—” she started. 

“Please, just one night,” he pleaded. 

She caved, staring at the fading blue bruise around her son’s eye. “Fine,” she growled. “Come inside.” Marcus followed them into the living room. Laura opened a closet and bent down, her halter hanging down and giving him a glimpse of her breasts. She grabbed a blanket and pillow from the closet and thrust them at Marcus for the couch downstairs. He took them, jaw tight, envy burning—Billy’s cushy life, this big house, while he scraped by. She’d pay for that attitude.

 

“Don’t stay up too late,” said Laura from the kitchen as she finished loading the dishwasher. Billy and Marcus were playing video games on the big screen in the living room. She walked over and hugged Billy from behind the couch. “Love you and happy birthday,” she said, kissing Billy on his head while Marcus looked on jealously. “I’m going to take a shower. Marcus, help yourself to anything in the fridge.” She turned and headed up the stairs. Marcus watched her go, the calves of her fine legs stretching taut with each step she took.

 

Marcus waited a few minutes, then muttered, “Gotta piss.” He headed to the stairs. 

“Use the downstairs bathroom,” said Billy. 

“I’d rather have some privacy.” 

“Fine then. There’s one across from my room.” 

Marcus grinned. Billy was already focused on his game. He climbed the stairs, trying to move quietly, passing Billy’s bedroom and the bathroom across the hall. He was surprised to see the master bedroom’s door half-open. The large bathroom door next to it was closed, light coming from under it. He approached quietly, hearing the sounds of a shower through the door. His hand crept to the knob, wanting to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Henderson’s nude body, but he decided it was too risky, and the door would probably be locked. Instead, he slipped through the half-open master bedroom door. He crept in, spotting her clothes on a chair—sweat shorts, halter top, panties. He snatched the panties, sniffing her musky scent, and edged to the bathroom door inside the bedroom. It wasn’t locked; it wasn’t even shut all the way. He could hear running water and Mrs. Henderson humming. Through the crack, he glimpsed her—fogged glass, wet curves, suds sliding over her tits. His cock jumped as she pressed a breast to the glass, nipple stark, then vanished in the fog. She arched back, water cascading over her, big white titties jutting, ass cheeks just barely touching the glass, slowly obscured by steam.

 

His swollen balls ached for release as he stared, his eyes boring holes into the glass, willing the fog to fade away. Instead of the glass clearing, she turned the shower off, and her hand reached for the door. Marcus stepped back, watching as she stepped out, bare and breathtaking—full tits with swollen nipples, flat stomach, toned legs, pussy shaved smooth except for a thin brown strip. Her unblemished white skin twinkled with water droplets in the bright light of the bathroom. Marcus’s dick swelled hard as she toweled her amazing body dry before wrapping the towel around her torso. She propped a foot on the toilet, and Marcus watched as she shaved her legs, surprised at what an intimate sexual act it was. Finished, smooth legs even smoother, she rubbed baby oil into her legs. She stood, humming as she undid the towel around her torso, opening it up, flashing him with those huge white tits, hard nipples, and well-trimmed crotch. Laura squirted the baby oil on the tops of her tits and rubbed it into her chest, kneading her nipples and covering her big titties till they glistened in the light. Another squirt of baby oil in her palm, and she was rubbing it down her ribs and over her stomach. She reached behind her, rubbing oil into her ass cheeks. His Black cock ached for this white mom, straining his shorts. He reached down, squeezing the huge shaft about to pull it out. 

Laura saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. Her head jerked upward, reaching for the towel and pulling it across her front while staring at the crack in the door, trying to remember if she’d shut it. She stared but saw nothing, and it was quiet. “Hello?” she called. “Billy?” She adjusted the towel so that it covered more as she pushed the door slightly open to stare into her empty bedroom. She must be seeing things, she thought. Having the homeless black teen in her house was making her jittery. Downstairs, she could still hear the sounds of the boys playing their video game. 

“Sorry, piss turned into a shit,” he told Billy, adjusting himself as he sat on the couch. 

Billy grinned. “Long shit.” His eyes fell on the giant tent in Marcus’ sweats, lingering a few seconds before looking away. Billy turned the system off. “Wanna watch TV?” 

“Naw,” said Marcus, faking a yawn. 

Billy turned the TV off. “I’m going to bed.” He stood and turned to Marcus as the Black kid was spreading out on the couch. “Thanks for coming to my party, Marcus.” 

“Thanks for the cool place to sleep.” 

Billy stared again at the tubular shaft raising the material of Marcus’ sweat pants. He left, and Marcus pulled his shirt off and lay back down, staring at the ceiling. He fought the urge to stroke himself and pull his huge black cock out. Instead, he waited, letting the swelling go down and the house go quiet. Marcus slipped off the couch and crept upstairs, passing Billy’s dark room, stopping to listen—all was quiet. He continued toward Mrs. Henderson’s room. The door was still half-open, and the light was on. She was in bed, reading, checking the clock. She tried Gene on her phone—no answer. Sighing, she got up, and Marcus hid. She’d changed into a man’s dress shirt with only a few buttons done in the middle so that she was showing a lot of cleavage, and her sexy little belly button was visible with the shirt flapping open as she walked. The shower, shaved legs, oiled skin, and sexy look had Marcus thinking she was hoping to get laid. Her wish was about to come true. She stuck a Post-it note on the door, the hint of lower ass cheek revealing her lack of panties. This time, she closed the door, and Marcus crept closer just as the light beneath the door went out.

 

“I don’t care how late it is, wake me for sex,” read the note.

 

Marcus pushed his sweats down his legs while standing in the hall. His tighty-whities weren’t white anymore, but they were tight, barely containing his huge coiled cock and balls. A hole torn in the bottom was stretched out around one wrinkled testicle. Marcus pushed it down and stood, his ripped Black body flexing, cock swinging semi-hard, grateful to be freed. He placed his ear on her door. Her soft snores drew him in, turning the doorknob slowly and slipping into the room, slowly closing the door behind him to keep out the ambient light. He shuffled toward the large bed in the dark. He leaned over her sleeping form, reaching down and sliding his hand to the edge of a silky sheet, lifting it off her body. He reached down again, finding her leg; he pulled her ankle down off the bed as he climbed onto the bed. She stirred. “About time you got home,” her voice sleepy. He spread her leg open, kneeling between her feet. She gasped, feeling his hot breath on her pussy. “Gene?” she asked curiously. He didn’t speak, pressing his lips on the furry base of her pubic strip. His tongue licked down, wiggling between her pussy lips and moving up to flicker over her clit. Her hips bucked, forcing his tongue inside her. She gasped in surprise and pleasure. “You know I think oral’s dirty,” she whispered, her tone faltering as it wasn’t unpleasant. Gene had always been reluctant, timid even, but this—this was different. His tongue moved with a forcefulness she’d never felt from him, lapping at her like he was savoring every taste, enjoying himself in a way her normally passive husband never had. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” she moaned, her voice a mix of confusion and reluctant thrill. Her crotch beginning to lift of its own volition into his hungry tongue. He was going down on her pussy like a man possessed, not the hesitant pecks she was used to. “You’re so… forceful,” she panted, her mind grasping for an explanation—maybe the late flight had flipped some switch in him. His tongue sucked her clit hard, two thick fingers curling inside her, drawing a cry from her throat. “Gene, you’re not yourself,” she gasped, squirming under his aggression, her body responding with the promise of a rare orgasm even as her thoughts spun. He paused, teasing, then dove back in, driving her to the edge again. “Put it in,” she whined, desperate. “Fuck me, please!” He kissed her pussy and rose. Laura excitedly felt his penis press against her pussy. “It’s been so long,” she gasped in anticipation.

 

Marcus gripped his massive cock, guiding it into her dripping slit, feeling her open for him, stretching her wide. “God, you’re huge tonight,” she groaned, her body trembling as he pushed deeper than he ever had before. Her mind stumbled—Gene’s prick was small, unremarkable, nothing like this monstrous thing filling her now. “What the hell, Gene?” she gasped, a nervous laugh breaking through her moans. “Why do you feel so… so big?” she asked even as she ground her pussy into the girthy shaft and came with him for the first time in years. He didn’t answer, just tore her shirt open, buttons scattering, and hoisted her legs over his shoulders, slamming into her with a thick, relentless thrust, that pushed even deeper into new territory. “This isn’t you,” she whimpered, pleasure lacing her confusion. “Your dick—it’s too much.” Twice as big. Bigger. Yet it matched the aggression she’d felt earlier, this sudden dominance that didn’t fit her quiet, passive husband. “What’s making you like this?” she moaned, rationalizing it—maybe the trip had unleashed some hidden side of him, a boldness that explained both the size and the way he pounded her, waking every nerve in her body. “You’re fucking me like… like you own me, like I always wanted,” she panted, a sense of unease growing in her womb, stunned by his command, so unlike the gentle, predictable Gene she knew. She needed answers. Her hand darted out, fumbling for the lamp. Light flooded the room, and her green eyes widened—Marcus, not Gene, buried deep inside her. “No!” she screamed, shoving his chest, horror flooding her—disgust at his Black skin on hers, rage at the violation, betrayal of her vows—but her cunt clenched tighter, milking him, hips bucking against her will. “You filthy fucking bastard,” she spat, voice cracking into moans, tears welling as her body craved more. Her mind shrieked—prim wife, perfect mom—while her pussy gushed, soaking his Black cock. “Get off me!” she sobbed, but her hands slid to his hips, pulling him deeper, hating herself as disgust and lust tore her apart. Marcus grunted, burying his cock in balls deep, flooding her womb with thick cum. She came again, shame burning—Gene’s face flashed, then faded into Marcus’ negroid face—as her body flushed with pleasure, sated like never before with the power of her orgasm.

 

He pulled it out and she missed its fullness, the plum-sized purple-black head shooting long strands of white semen across her breasts and more onto her stomach. She stared at his swollen cock—huge, veiny, dripping. It was perfect, pure masculinity, sinful-looking, and she was floored by its immense size. “You little shit!” she hissed, leaning up and pushing against his hard, unyielding chest. “No condom?” she asked in horror. 

He pinned her wrists. “Bareback only, bitch.” 

Her mind spun—her fertile window was close, and possibly why she was so horny. He released her wrists when she quit struggling. She lowered her hands to her body, staring at the large amount of black semen debasing her skin. Maybe he hadn’t cum inside her, but a steady trickle of semen was leaking from her pussy and her womb felt full. She ran her fingers into the pool of semen on her stomach, rubbing his seed into her skin, just like she had with the baby oil earlier. She was in a daze, staring at it. “You always cum this much?” 

He smirked. “Every fuckin’ time.”  He smacked his floppy foot-long cock on her crotch and squeezed the last of his cum out of the shaft until the strip of pubic hair on her mound was sticky with it.

She mumbled, “Gene hasn’t cum this much our whole marriage.” She was now smearing it over her hard nipples, face flushed. 

“It’s all for you, Mrs. H,” he said. “You gonna get more Black jizz than you can handle.” 

She jolted awake from her daze. “Out! I gotta clean up before Gene’s home!” 

He grinned, white teeth shining against his Black lips. “He ain’t coming. Plane late. Phone dead. Happy birthday, Billy.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Leave!” she barked, slipping off the bed and shrugging the destroyed nightshirt off her shoulders as she stormed to the shower. Her pussy leaked a trail of semen behind and by the time she’d reached the bathroom, she was waddling and cupping her hand between her legs. She turned the water on, stepping in when it was still cold and gasping at the shock. She scrubbed his spunk off, rinsing between her legs as the water heated. She even pressed her hand against her lower stomach, trying to force his fertile seed from her womb and it seemed to help as more cum trickled to the floor fighting the flow of water like it didn’t want to drain away. The shower door opened, and she stood straight, staring in fear—Marcus loomed over her, crowding the shower, hands on her shoulders, pushing her down. She stumbled, kneeling before his semi-hard cock. He grabbed it by the base, smacking it on her face—wet, heavy slaps on her forehead and nose. “Suck it,” he growled.

 

She flinched. His cock smacked her face, the bridge of her nose to the top of her head, and she winced—disgusting, Black dick, too big—but she opened wide anyway. Good wives don’t suck dick, especially not Black dick. Yet here she was, a slut on her knees, wrapping her lips around the head of his big Black cock, her tongue licking the underside of a Black penis, tasting black skin. He turned fully hard, and sucking it turned into a challenge, a desire to see how much she could swallow as the head slid in and out of her throat. She looked down the length of his shaft, at his pubic hair, eyes traveling up his hard Black stomach over the ridges of his abs, and up his broad chest, rivulets of shower water running down his muscular body. Her green eyes met his dark ones, his arrogant gaze looking down on the white mom kneeling before him with several inches of Black cock in her mouth. Her body trembled as a wave of lust traveled through her. A submissive itch grew, whispering she was right where she belonged, kneeling before a superior male. She was lucky he was allowing her to taste such a perfect cock. Her lips stretched wide, gagging as he shoved it in deeper, the thick head pushing down her throat. She choked, spit dripping, hands on his thighs. Gene would have been so much easier, but she had no desire to suck his five-inch prick. Laura relaxed her throat, sucking him harder and managing to take half his foot-long cock. “Fuck yeah, you’re a great cocksucker,” he groaned, gripping her hair, shoving his cock in a few inches deeper. That word—cocksucker—flipped a switch. It aroused her more than she’d ever been. It made her want to please him. It made her want to taste his seed. She wanted that cock back in her pussy. Her hands slid between her thighs. She sucked harder, slurping, tongue swirling his shaft, fingers in her cunt as she stared up his chiseled manly body. She moaned in lust for the big black cock in her mouth. It grew, swelling even bigger as she sucked. He came, cock twitching, hot ropes filling her mouth to the limit several times, and she swallowed as fast as she could, some of his seed dribbling down her chin just as her brain realized she loved the taste of him. His rich seed was delicious. Soft moans came from her throat as she felt like an addict getting a long-desired fix. Something she hadn’t even known she’d wanted. She slowly pulled her head back, squeezing a few more shots of his manly seed across her tongue as his cock exited her mouth.

 

He backed away, and Laura stood, turning the shower off. They dried each other off, hands roaming across each other’s bodies. Marcus squeezed her tits, pinching and tugging her swollen nipples while she stared at her white hands running down his hard Black chiseled chest, down to his cock; she grabbed it, tugging and pulling at it, feeling it swell in her hand. 

“Bedroom,” he grunted, slapping her ass. She leaped to obey, exiting back into the master bedroom with Marcus behind her. “Get on all fours,” he commanded. She obeyed, climbing on the bed and wiggling her ass at him as he knelt behind her. She jumped slightly as the powerful cockhead spread her pussy lips open again, working in and out until his balls were slapping her thighs. The sense of fullness within her back. Her big tits dangled pendulously, swaying beneath her, pulling her head down to the pillow while her ass stayed up to receive him. 

“So fucking big!” she moaned in ecstasy into the pillow. 

Marcus grabbed her hips and started slamming into her fertile pussy. “Gotta finish resizing this pussy,” he grunted, thrusting deep, holding his cock still as she pushed back against his girth. 

“Resizing?” she moaned, her voice trembling as he stretched her. 

“Turning you out for the Black man. Making this white pussy Black only.” 

“No,” she whispered in horror even as her pussy expanded and came hard around his cock. “Yes,” she hissed as another powerful orgasm sent tremors through her body. The conflict in her brain—prim wife and mother versus sexual being—evaporating. “Make me your slut,” she gasped. “Make me Black only. Just keep fucking me.” Marcus spanked her ass, calling her a good slut, then pressed his thumb into her tight little sphincter. She pulled away slightly, but quickly pushed back into his thumb as it spread her tight puckered rosebud open. “It’s so fucking big!” She came again, screaming into the pillow, bucking her ass back into his cock as her powerful orgasm wiped her out and left her barely conscious, but completely satisfied.

 

He slowed, pulling his dripping, swollen cock from her cunt, the thick head glistening with her juices. He removed his thumb from her anus and spread her ass cheeks apart. He slid his cock up, pressing the golf-ball-sized tip against her puckered rosebud. She tensed, the pressure building as he pushed, her tight anus resisting but slowly stretching open as Marcus pressed harder. 

Laura snapped out of her semi-comatose state as it felt like her asshole was being torn open. “No, wait—your cock’s too big!” But his glans breached her, popping through, and a jolt of pain flipped to a strange pleasurable feeling. “Oh fuck,” she groaned, pushing back into him, his cock pushing deeper. “YES!” she hissed. 

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, Mrs. H. Take that big Black cock up that ass like a good white slut.” 

“Fuck me… fuck my ass!” She begged, her face pushing against her pillow with each thrust of his cock as he pummeled her ass into submission. His thick Black shaft split her ass wide, a burning stretch that turned her guts to jelly, his heavy balls smacking her soaked cunt till she dripped down her thighs. “So fucking big!” she screamed, loving the burn, the fullness. “I love your cock—fuck my ass harder!” 

He growled, “Take it, you white whore,” and flooded her bowels with a hot, thick load of semen, her ass clenching as she came again. 

“So fucking big,” she moaned into the pillow as Marcus slowly pulled out. He collapsed on the bed and she remained face down, ass up while she slowly recovered.

 

Laura cleaned up, showering again, holding her ass cheeks open so that the shower water ran down the crack of her rear end, cleaning out her stretched-out anus. She returned to bed. Marcus lay on his back with a smug, satisfied look on his face, eyes lidded, half asleep. She snuggled beside him, kissing him. “Thanks for integrating me,” she purred, stroking his limp cock till it swelled. “Jesus, Marcus, how many times can this thing get hard?” 

“Let’s find out,” he replied, pulling her on top of him. 

She straddled him, hovering over his massive rod. Staring him in the eyes as she guided the head back to her pussy. “Putting this Black cock where it belongs.” She lowered herself slowly, feeling her fertile pussy expand, lips parting wide as his thick head pushed in, stretching her inch by inch. “Oh Marcus, you’re so fucking big,” she moaned, sinking, her cunt molding to him like it was built for his big Black cock. She felt every vein, every pulse, her walls gripping him tight as he filled her deeper than anything ever had, her pussy resized to maximize both their pleasure. “So fucking big,” she whimpered, bottoming out, his balls pressed against her ass. She rocked her hips. “This white pussy belongs to you—I want to fuck you forever!” She ground her pussy into his cock, leaning against his chest and staring him in the eyes. “Live here,” she gasped excitedly. “Move into the guest room. We can fuck every day.” 

“I ain’t wearin’ no condom.” 

“I wouldn’t ask.” 

“Imma gonna knock you up.” 

“I don’t care. I want… a real man’s baby.” 

“Then let me give you what you want.” He grabbed her hips. “Ride that Black dick, slut,” and she did, bouncing slow then fast, her big tits dangling in his face. “Love these white titties.” He sucked her nipples, lips tugging hard, teeth grazing the swollen tips. 

“Oh Marcus, fill my white pussy—give me that Black seed!” she cried, cumming once, twice, three times, her juices dripping down his shaft. “Love Black cock! Fuck Gene’s pathetic little dick! He can sleep in the guest room.” Laura was filled with a sense that she’d slept through the last twenty years of her life, and now she was awake, wide awake. She needed to make up for lost time. “This pussy belongs to real men—Black men! This is your pussy now, Marcus!” 

He grunted, bucking his hips up into her as she slammed her ass down on his shaft. “Take all my nut, you white slut,” he growled, slamming up into her, flooding her fertile pussy with his voluminous Black seed. 

“Breed me,” she screamed, throwing her head back as she had her biggest orgasm yet. 

Outside the door, Billy jerked his tiny dick dry, his other hand shaking as he recorded the action on his phone. Mom’s screams echoed down the hallway. He’d been obsessed since the gym shower—Marcus’s mighty cock swinging like a fucking sledgehammer, sparking nights of interracial porn, jerking off to fantasies of himself kneeling before Marcus, servicing that magnificent black cock or fantasies of that huge Black meat splitting a woman built like a porn star. Only his mom matched that description, her killer body begging for it, her face more beautiful than any porn star, and now Marcus was nailing her right, using that monster dick to bring out her inner slut. And now he’d have his own porn of them and hopefully many more to come. Billy squeezed the last few drops of semen from his spent dick. His eighteenth birthday would be one he’d never forget.

 

THE END

Note: This story was inspired by Pretty Soccer Mom by Dickcoxxx