How I Wanna Wake Up In the Morning....

I rolled over to see his face peeking up from the pillow. He didn't talk, he just smiled and closed his eyes. I couldn't help but stare at him, letting my eyes wander over his naked body. Last night, we'd barely known each other for a few hours when we stumbled into my apartment, a little tipsy and laughing uproariously. Normally, I have this defense mechanism against guys who try to pick me up in clubs, but it was no match for the game he was bringin' last night. Smooth, confident, sexy, he started talking to me and buying me drinks and 15 minutes turned into two hours which turned into closing time which turned into "why don't we hang out for a while?"

We made small talk while I drove but we both knew what was going to happen. At some point, his dick was going to wind up in my pussy and it was largely because I wanted it there. Wanted his dark, chocolate skin against mine, wanted my hands caressing his muscles, wanted my legs wrapped around the small of his back.

In a little while, he's going to wake up, get dressed and kiss me before saying he has to leave. And I'll watch the curve of his back and his thick, muscular ass as he pulls on his boxers and steps into his jeans. A dull ache will ripple through my body and vibrate between my legs and I'll want him again. I'll want to be underneath him, feeling his weight on top of me and his warm breath on my neck. I'll whimper as his hard, thick cock slides in and out of me until the orgasm runs through my body and makes me cry out, wanting him but at the same time, embarrassed that his fucking me could make me lose control like that. Clutching him and silently smiling as he explodes inside me, filling me with his warm, sticky love.

I feel guilty that in the middle of the night while he was sleeping, I looked through his phone and found the numbers of literally dozens of girls, along with coy text messages promising all kinds of erotic delights. He's a hot guy, I think to myself, you shouldn't be surprised he fucks other girls and they throw themselves at him. You didn't exactly put up a fight last night either.We lie in bed making small talk about what happened last night before he gets dressed to leave.

I tell him how much I enjoyed it and he laughs and says he could tell. We kiss and I look deep in his eyes and say "you better call me" with a smile. He says he will if I promise we can do this again and I promise. We kiss again and I kiss down his neck, to his chest and stomach and slowly move my lips in the direction of his cock. "Damn, girl" he says, laughing, but I want to give him something to remember me by. I want the smell and taste of him again before he goes.

When the door closes behind him, I lie in bed smiling to myself, chewing the end of my fingernail and rolling my eyes at how completely overwhelmed I am by this gorgeous, black man. He knows my door is always open to him, as long as he holds out the promise of my being naked with him in my bed, purring as he touches me and crying out as he enters me. Never in my life have I been so consumed with the idea of giving myself to a man....

Rapture

I came across this video and it completely captivated me. The narration isn't my voice, but it could have been since it captures my imagination as I focus on that strong, black man who becomes the object of my desires....

Sunday morning....

The light came streaming through my window Sunday morning, slowly nudging me to consciousness. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open and I became aware of my surroundings, the cluttered apartment bedroom my parents had begrudgingly agreed to let me share with my roommate, Jennifer. She had given Mike and I disapproving looks when we came home from the clubs last night and shook her head as I lewdly led him upstairs to my room.

Jennifer didn't like the fact that I dated black men. Like me, she'd grown up decidedly upper middle class and the whole hip-hop, street slang culture was lost on her. Even beyond the fact that some of my dates were black men, she disapproved even more that they were athletes on scholarship at the university. She didn't think they were very "sharp" as she termed it and she didn't like the fact that some of them bragged about how hot they were and how all the girls on campus wanted to hook up with them. It rubbed her notions of equality between men and women the wrong way.

I, on the other hand, loved it.

The guys I dated were mostly football jocks and they were funny, sexy and loved to party. That's why I didn't hesitate when Mike asked me out after class one day and why I put in the extra time getting ready so I'd look as hot as he did when he picked me up for our date.

I don't think either of us were suprised when I invited him in later that night and he just smiled when I took his hand and began pulling him up the stairs to my bedroom. He was waaaaay taller than me and sex with him was like a trip to the gym. He wasn't shy about guiding me into the positions he wanted and a few times when he brought the weight of his body down on me, it was all I could do to regain my breath.

I reached behind me to feel for his body lying next to me, but there was nothing there. Raising up to my elbows, I could see he wasn't there, but I noticed the sound of water running in the bathroom. As I gently raised myself to a sitting position, I felt the soreness in my muscles and my ribs ached. Damn, I thought, he pounded the crap out of me and I gingerly got up to walk towards the bathroom where I could see him standing at the sink, brushing his teeth.

For a few moments, I stood watching him without him even noticing me, staring at him. God, his ass is gorgeous, I thought. I began to feel a rush through my body as I watched him, thinking about the amazing things he'd done to my body the night before. He smiled as he saw my reflection in the mirror.

"Hey, babygurl," he said.

"Hey," I replied, walking forward and sliding my arms around his waist, pulling myself close to him. The softness of his skin, his masculine smell and the press of his firm, muscular ass against my belly made me want to melt into him and I laid my cheek against his back.

"You okay?" he said.

"Uh huh," I replied, eyes closed.

"I mean, you okay with us? What we did last night?"

I chuckled. "What, was there something about me moaning your name and begging you for more that made you think I was having second thoughts?"

"Naw, I was just trying to be sure you didn't have regrets." He turned to face me and wrapped his large, muscular arms around me. This time it was his cock pressing against my belly, his thick, semi-hard member, lying against me and I could feel its warmth and the ridge that encircled the head of his penis. I thought about how much I loved his cock, loved how it looked when it was hard and how he grunted when he pushed it inside me.

I looked up to his face and he leaned down to kiss me, softly at first, but then more urgently, his tongue pressing into my mouth. After a few minutes, we broke.

"Um, I've got an idea," I said, catching my breath. "Why don't you give up football, drop out of school and move in with me and you're job can just be to fuck me? I'm sure my daddy won't mind us living together and Jennifer will get used to the idea of you being my 'boy toy'...I mean, after a while, she might even want to...."

He laughed and reached down for a pair of boxers lying of the floor. He slipped them on and shook his head as he looked at me. "Girl, you just damn crazy!"

Mike left to walk downstairs. I closed my eyes and memories of the night before flooded my brain and I began to want him again. I began to want his warmth and his breath on my neck and the feel of his hard muscles, my legs wrapped around him as he pounded me into the mattress, leaving me gasping for breath. His deep, sexy voice whispering "you want this, babygurl?" as I felt the smooth, round head of his cock pressing against my pussy lips and my gasp as the pressure built and his enormous cock slipped inside me.

I threw on a robe and came bounding down the stairs, only to find Mike in the kitchen making breakfast. I wanted to push him down onto the kitchen floor and let him fuck me right there but my roommate, Jennifer, was sitting in the living room, studying. She motioned me over towards her, a look of frustration on her face.

"Can't you at least make him put something on before he comes downstairs?" she asked, her face red.

I smiled. "Jen, you're the only woman on this planet who wants to see Mike wearing MORE clothes!" I looked back over my shoulder. "If last night was any indication of what's to come, you're going to be seeing a lot more of Mike the rest of the semester and if I have MY way, he's not going to be wearing a lot of clothes, so, honey, deal with it."

"What if your parents find out? What if your boyfriend finds out??" she hissed.

I sat on the arm of the couch and watched through the kitchen door. "Mmmmmmmm...." I moaned. "Look at him, Jen. There's not a girl on campus who wouldn't have traded places with me last night when I had THAT in my bed, you included. The boy had me climbin' the walls and I ain't givin' him up for NOBODY!"

Chatting with a new friend...

Sorry its been so long since my last post, but life's been incredibly hectic lately. I have, however, found time to chat with a new friend I met on Yahoo. He's from L.A. and he's a little bit older than me, but I think he's really cute and sexy. He's also got these amazingly sexy ideas about what a white girl from Alabama might like to do on a date in L.A.!! Let's just say, it doesn't involve leaving my hotel room much....

Mmmmm, why I'm such a football fan....

When my last class lets out on Thursdays, my walk from Benton Hall across campus to the parking lot and my car usually takes me past the practice field for the football team. Early in the semester, when the temperatures are warm, I can't resist stopping to watch the guys working out, although I try not to be too obvious.


I hate to admit the site of dozens of really cute, buff guys (usually, with their shirts off) is more fun for me to watch than the actual game. I've often wondered if the university charged admission and let the female students sit in bleachers, closer to the players, how many might show up? I'm guessing they might be surprised. I'd buy a season ticket! Soooo much eye candy!

On this day, however, I got busted. One of the student assistants saw me leaning against the fence, watching practice and smiled.

"Wanna come in and watch practice?" he said."Uh, no," I stammered. "I'm just supposed to meet my girlfriend here. As soon as she gets here, we're supposed to leave."

"It's okay," he smiled. "She'll still be able to see you when she gets here."I blushed and shrugged. He walked over and opened a gate in the fence and motioned me in. I felt a shiver up my spine as a walked closer and stepped forward onto the spongy, soft grass of the practice field.

I was nervous as a cat and thought somebody would start yelling "hey, what are you doing here?", but nobody paid any attention to me. There was lots of running and yelling, it was all very confusing, but I stood with the guy who'd let me in (his name was DeMontez) and watched as he patiently explained to me what was going on, the purpose of the drills and who the star players were.

It was all very exciting and I wondered if I would end the day with a great story to tell my girlfriends at Happy Hour. A couple of the players would occasionally glance my way and a few of them actually smiled at me, but the level of intensity and focus they devoted to their drills was a little frightening and at the same time very sexy. The warm sun made the sweat glisten on their bodies and I started to feel like a little girl in a candy store. Which one did I like the best.

You could tell a lot about the various guys by how they practiced. Some were slow moving and lackadaisical, some were serious and determined and some were cocky and joking. My guess is about 80% of the guys on the field were black and they were the ones that drew my eye. I couldn't help staring at them. They were so graceful and so comfortable with their physicality. It was all so easy for them! I couldn't understand how they could make such complex moves so easily, while for me, just hitting a tennis ball across a net seemed to require too much physical coordination for such a gawky, little white girl.

After about 30 minutes, my host asked me if I wanted to see what it looked like inside the field house next to the practice field.

"Can I do that?" I asked nervously.

"Sure," he said. "We give tours all the time."

"Okay," I grinned.

We walked inside the large, sunlit atrium of the building where the athletic department offices were located. Down a corridor, DeMontez open doors to show me the auditorium where team meetings were held, classrooms, a video library and a computer lab where the athletes would study or watch tapes of opponents. It was all very sleek and modern.

He looked at me conspiratorially and whispered. "....and this is the locker room..." and ushered me through a double door.

"I can't go in THERE!" I hissed.

"Sure you can," he said. "They're still out on the practice field." We slowly crept into the wide, carpeted room, surrounded by wooden lockers around the edge. Across the upper third of one wall was a mural of the university's name and mascot and on various pillars there were inspirational mottos saying things like "play like a champion" and "if our destination is success, the journey begins now."

Suddenly, there was a rumble of noise behind us and my escort looked at me. I could see the panic in his face as he took my arm and quickly pushed me to a corner of the locker room where a wire cage stood with shelves filled with tape, bandages, pads for various body parts and spare shoes and helmets. The cage was dark and in the shadows, we hid, hoping that no one would see us. But in the brightly lit locker room and the showers beyond, I could see everything clearly. I was shaking as the players began to file in, laughing, joking and begin to strip heavy layers of tape from their hands and ankles.

"Don't make a sound," DeMontez whispered. "If the coaches find out I brought you in here, it's the shit for both of us!"

Slowly, the players began stripping off their practice uniforms and I began to shiver as a succession of men in various states of undress filed past, right in front of me. Some of them laughed and joked in their tight, tiny little spandex bike shorts, the outline of their penises clearly visible through the sweaty, soaked fabric. Others stripped completely naked and simply strutted around the locker room, unabashed, completely comfortable with their nakedness in a way neither I nor any girl I knew would ever be.

I couldn't help but stare. They were big, sexy, muscular guys and I lusted after them like I'd never lusted after a guy before. I wanted to run out of the cage, rip my clothes off and pick the hottest guy I could find, telling him to impregnate me with his sperm, I wanted to have his baby! I could feel my face getting hotter. I could also feel my pussy getting wetter.

Now, I wasn't a virgin, in fact, I'd lost my virginity in high school to my boyfriend in the back seat of a 2006 Toyota Carolla and it wasn't a very pleasurable experience. But, none of the guys in front of me now would even fit in that Carolla and I wasn't sure if any of the penises I was staring at would even fit in me!

Jordan (my h.s. boyfriend) wasn't even in the same species as these guys. I remembered his cock as being skinny and pink. These guys were big and thick and chocolate brown. I wanted them. I wanted to touch them in the ways a woman touches a man and I wanted to please them in every way I could imagine, making love to their cocks with my fingers, my mouth, my pussy. Maybe even my ass...?

I saw one large guy begin to move closer to the cage and my breathing got heavier the closer he got. When he reached for the door, I couldn't help myself.

"No, wait...." I whimpered.

"Motherfuckin' shit!" he muttered.

A couple of the players looked up. "Whassup, man?"

"Dey's a BITCH in here!" he said.

Slowly, a small group stood up and began moving toward the cage. One of them pulled open the door, grabbed my wrist and pulled me out.

"How'd you get in here, white girl?"

"Um, I'm sorry ...I kinda took a wrong turn..."

"Naw, you took a RIGHT turn, baby..." one said and began reaching around and patting my ass. Another reached for the hem of my tank top and began pulling it up over my head.

"C'mon, girl, 'dis is where we shower, so you got ta shower, too..."

"No, wait...."I said, protesting, but my protests didn't sound all that convincing, even to me.

Quickly, amid gales of laughter, they undressed me, until I found myself standing in the middle of them, stark naked. I looked over to see a large, broad shouldered black guy sitting on a bench to my right. He was staring at me, smiling, wearing his spandex bike shorts. When it stood up, the massive bulge in his shorts protruded, his giant erection straining under the fabric. I thought his cock would poke through the waist band of his shorts.

He was so unlike my boyfriend, it wasn't even funny. A giant, muscular, stud with rippling chest and stomach and thick arms and legs. As he moved toward me, I could see the desire in his eyes. I knew that whatever happened next, he would enjoy it. I wasn't sure I could say the same for me.

"What's yah name, babygurl?" he said.

"Krista," I said. He took my hand and placed in on the front of his shorts. I instinctively grasped his penis, gently massaging him as he looked down on me, smiling.


"You want this, don't yah, babygurl?" he said, caressing my hair.

I hesitated, keeping silent as I continued stroking him.

"Tell me."

"Yeah, I want this," I whispered. "I want your cock inside me." A chorus of "yeah, baby" and "'dat's what I'm talkin' bout," went up around me.

He took my hand off his cock and led me over to a white board against the wall. Wiping it clean, he handed me a marker.

"Write your name and what dorm you're in," he instructed. "And write your phone number, too."

"W-w-what for...?" I stammered.

He smiled. "'Cause I'm gon' fuck you, Krista and when we're done, you gonna be wore out. But, 'dese otha niggas gon' wanna hit it, too and we gon' make sure they know the number to call when they want yo' sweet, little pussy..."

My hand was shaking as I wrote my name, address and phone number on the board for all the world to see. But, I knew it was my public statement, my admission that more than anything, I wanted to make myself available for these beautiful, sexy men. I wanted to be their toy, their plaything, their mascot and I wanted them to use me for their pleasure.

I stared at the floor after writing my name, until he took my hand and led me to the bench in front of his locker where he'd been seated when our eyes first met. He put his hand on the back of my neck and pushed me over into a bent position, my hands braced on the bench in front of me. I looked up to see the clothes hanging in his locker and my eyes saw the nameplate above: #58 Washington.

I took a deep breath as I felt him place one hand on my hip and he began rubbing the head of his enormous cock along my ass and against my pussy lips. I closed my eyes and prepared to receive him and I felt a brief smile spread over my lips.

He reacts like this when he's with me....

I look at his face and I wonder: could I make him react like this? Do I have what it takes to please a beautiful, black man? To make him swoon as I kiss down between his legs, kissing and licking, making love to his gorgeous, thick cock?

I look up at him while he slides his cock into my mouth, his fingers entwined in my hair, my warm, wet tongue sliding along the underside of his penis. "Do you like this, baby?" my eyes seem to say. "Am I as good as all those other girls you've had?"

For a man as strong and sexy as him, its always been easy. Girls flock to his beautiful eyes and his bright "ladykiller" smile. When he asked me out, I was afraid I said "yes" too quickly, that he'd know I had a crush on him and try to take advantage of that.

But when he flashed that smile, I realized he knew before he'd even asked that he'd have no problem getting into my pants. The whole evening, drinks, dinner, dancing at the club was just a pretext to my inviting him back to my place, to his casual confidence as I unlocked the door and let him in, the sensuousness of his kiss and my embarrassment as I took his hand and led him back to my bedroom.

He was so gentle as he stripped me naked and gently guided my lips to his cock. He whispered to me, telling me how good it felt, no other girl had ever made him feel like this. I knew it was all bullshit, but damn, he was good at it! And when he looked into my eyes, I felt the embarrassment melt away, replaced by pure desire for such a gorgeous, sexy man. When I finally said what I'd wanted to say since I first met him, there was a brief smirk on his face. He knew he could get me to say it, he just didn't think he could break down my defenses so quickly, on our very first date.

"Please, baby," I said. "I want you to fuck me."

The guys on the corner are always saying things to me...

I always have to walk through a sketchy neighborhood to get from my apartment just off campus to the building where my last class on M-W-F are held. There are always a group of guys gathered in a parking lot I pass, always gathering around tricked out old cars, looking under the hood or showing off their motorcycles. Most days, there are just half a dozen or so, but on Friday afternoons the crowd is bigger and most have already started drinking, getting ready for the weekend.

On Mondays and Wednesdays, they'll usually just smile and nod, but on Friday's they'll say things. At the start of the semester, they were just trying to make me laugh and more often than not, they succeeded. But as the weeks went by, several of the guys started making bolder comments, trying to make me blush. More often than not, they were successful at that, too.

I'm not sure at what point I started noticing they would take their shirts off when I walked by, but I'd try not to stare too much at their incredible, muscular bodies. Sleek, strong, chocolate brown muscles rippled in the warm sun and despite some of the things they said to me, I couldn't help myself but be attracted to them. Their cockiness and their confidence struck me as sexy and I was drawn to them in a way I'd never been drawn to men before, not any of the white guys I'd dated in high school and especially not my boyfriend back home.

"Yo, blondie, whassup?" they'd yell. "Party startin' here, baby and I know ya wanna start ya weekend.."

"Dayum, girl, y'all be lookin' fine," one would say. "You be lookin' good on the back of my ride and you be lookin' even better back at ma crib..."

I started dressing sexier for my Friday classes, shorter skirts, briefer, tighter tank tops, occasionally a bare midriff. As I walked past, the hoots got louder, the wolf whistles sharper and the comments cruder and if any of my girlfriends teased me that I love the attention, I would've protested loudly, but inside I would've had to admit it was true and that one Friday when I walked past them, then stopped and to their utter amazement, turned around and started walking back towards them, I'm sure they half expected me to bitch them out. But when I smiled and just said "Hey, what's up? My name's Krista" I could see the shock on their faces. About a dozen guys crowded around me and started talking. It was easy chatter, laughing, joking, teasing. They were friendly and polite and curious about why I didn't run off like so many other white girls.

A latecomer walked up to the back of the gathering and, curious about the crowd, asked what was going on.

"White bitch come over here with her game on," said one. "Bitch is down with the brothas."

They showed me their cars and motorcycles, bragging about their own and teasing the others about their rides. After about 20 minutes, one guy, Marcus, said I looked like I needed something to drink. I smiled and said "sure, whatcha got?"

"Babygurl, I got whatever you want." That caused some snickering among the guys gathered around.

I tried think of something they would respect. Not a girly-girl drink, but something serious.

"Gin and juice?" A murmur went up among the crowd.

"Yeah that's what I'm talkin' about..."

"White gurl likes them 'hood drinks, don't ya?"

"My crib's right over there," Marcus said. "C'mon, I'll fix ya up.'

"Sounds good," I said, smiling.

Let me just say I didn't have any illusions about what might happen if I followed Marcus back to his apartment. I knew he'd make a play for me, I just wasn't sure how I'd respond. Would I be putting myself in a situation I couldn't control? Would Marcus be content with some heavy touching and a promise of more later?

Would I be content? I have to admit I was surprised when the question popped into my mind as I followed Marcus along the sidewalk back to his apartment, staring at his muscular back and gorgeous, sexy ass. Was I following this man I'd met less than an hour ago because I wanted to be fucked by him? My mind swooned slightly.

Ohmigod, I thought. I just realized I'm going to fuck this guy!

When we got inside his apartment, Marcus turned and looked at me. "Gin and juice, right?" he said. "That is what you came here for?"

"Um, yeah," I said, snickering. "That'll do for now." Our eyes met, locked in on each other, staring. I figured I'd probably have to wait for that drink.

Marcus walked closer. "Well, now, all you got to do is name what you want, babygurl," he said. "I definitely want to make sure you're satisfied."

I laughed as he brushed my hair with his hands. "Yeah," I said. "I can see your all about makin' me satisfied."

Sliding his hands down my shoulders and sliding gently up and down my arms. "If you don't believe me all you got to do is try me out," he said. "I know you'll be back if you do." He leaned down and gently kissed me, a soft, probing kiss that gradually grew harder, his tongue pressing against my lips, then pushing gently into my mouth. I started wondering if he was this good of a kisser whether he'd be equally as good in bed. I was determined to find out.

I playfully pushed him away, then grabbed the front of his low slung jeans and began pulling him out of the kitchen, down a long hall to a bedroom at the end. It was very much a "thug boy" bedroom, minimal furniture, a poster of Tupac and a Scarface movie poster on the wall. As I turned to kiss him again, he started pulling my tank top up over my head. I reached between my breasts and unsnapped my bra, tossing it to the floor. I hooked my fingers in my denim skirt and pushed down, sliding off my skirt and panties in one motion. As I stepped out of my clothes, he took my hand and pulled me onto the bed.

"Ah'm gon' fuck you girl," he said. "You down wit' 'dat?"

"Uh huh" I said.

"Ain't gon' be like fuckin' those white boys back home. You fuckin' a full grown brotha now, baby and you gon' do what I tell ya."

"Okay."

"Good girl," he said, sliding onto his back. "Now show me how much you love suckin' a black man's dick."

I knelt between his legs and bent over, then started slowly licking around the head of his cock. His skin felt warm and smooth against my tongue. Flicking my tongue across the slit, I lapped up little pearls of pre-cum oozing from his cock, the salty, bitter taste of his semen filling my mouth.

I gazed up at him to see his reaction, his head was back, eyes closed. Slowly, he opened them and looked down at me, smiling, caressing my hair with his hand.

"Day-um, babygurl," he said, softly. "You one cock suckin' little white girl, you know that?"

I smiled, then opened my mouth wide and lowered it onto his cock, taking him deep in my mouth. He inhaled sharply and gasped.

"Fuck, bitch!" he said. "Y'all gon' make a nigga blow a load in ya mouth AND ya pussy."

I took my mouth off him and smiled. "Mmmmm, I'd like that."

"You would, huh? Bet you got a white boy back home don't know nuthin' bout this, do ya?"

I nodded.

"But he don't hit it like a nigga can hit it, does he?"

I shook my head "no."

He laughed. "Day-um!" he said. "You know word's gonna get 'round the neighborhood when we don't show up for a while. All them niggas gonna know you got freaky for me and dey gonna want to hit it, too."

I shrugged. "Whatever..."

He pushed my face back down onto his cock and I continued bobbing up and down on him. A short time later, his breathing got faster and I could tell I was getting to him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Its hard to explain how I felt but I love watching him take his pleasure from my mouth, the sneer on his lips as light beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He was completely and utterly beautiful, masculine, sexy and the smell and taste of him only added to the heat of the situation. He'd only met me a short time ago, didn't know me, didn't know my story. All he knew was that he wanted to fuck me and I wanted him to fuck me, too.

His body tensed and he let out a gasp and I could feel him ejaculating into my mouth, warm, sticky, salty and wonderful. He clasped the back of my head with his hands, then suddenly pulled out of me, pressing his still-oozing cock against my lips as I felt the mixture of saliva and warm semen drooling down my chin. Slowly, he released me and I licked him clean.

I giggled as I looked up at him. "You like that, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah," he whispered. "Lemme rest up, ten minutes. Then, ah'm gonna fuck that sweet, little white pussy you got hidin' down there. You ready for that?"

I spooned the tracks of the cum he'd sprayed across my face with my fingers, scooping it into my mouth. I giggled like a little high school girl. "Ohmigod, yes," I smiled. "I'm soooooo ready for you to fuck me!"