When I was in high school, I had a part-time job in the mall and I remember our regional manager, Ken, being in an unusually bad mood one week. When I asked my boss about it, he told me this story about something horrible that had just happened to Ken. At the time, I felt sorry for him and shook my head at the cruelty in the world. But now, years later, I think of that story from an entirely different perspective. Here’s the story as I recall it, embellished just a bit but with an entirely different ending than the real one, modified for those of us who get off on this sort of thing. Hollywood would call this “based on actual events.”

Ken threw his heavy bag into the back with a thud and slid into the driver’s seat of the Toyota. He was the Regional Manager for a chain of mall stores, and this week he’d had to deal with one problem after another: thieving employees, two incompetent store managers, and host of technical problems. It had been a tough week, but he’d managed to finish early on a Friday and was looking forward to spending the evening with Tara. They’d been together for over a year now, and a few months ago she’d moved into his apartment with him after he’d proposed. With her inconsistent hours as a waitress and his constant travel, they didn’t see as much of each other as they’d have liked, but things were looking up. He’d been performing well ever since he’d been made Regional Manager a few years ago, and he was certain that another promotion would come soon. He turned the engine over, cranked the radio up, and sped out of the mall lot.

Without the rush hour traffic, Ken’s drive home was quick and uneventful, and he was soon bounding up the thinly carpeted stairs to apartment 4B, seemingly unimpeded by the heavy bag over his shoulder. Tara would be surprised that he was home so early, and he was looking forward to seeing the happy look on her beautiful face, followed by some much-needed afternoon sex. He had his keys out before he rounded the first landing, and when he fell upon the apartment door, it took him no time at all to fling it open, grinning broadly.

Ken stopped, stunned.

For a few moments his brain struggled to piece together the information his senses were delivering. In front of him was Tara’s naked back and ass, her straight blonde hair swaying against her soft skin as she rocked her body rhythmically. But something was underneath those golden locks—something dark between her hair and her skin, gripping her. What was it? The small of her bare back glistened slightly from sweat, and there was something else stuck to it: a dark hand, guiding her, steadying her body as she undulated. Her ass stuck out and jiggled slightly as she moved, thighs apart, rising and falling against a strange pair of black legs jutting out from the chair. In between the strange legs hung an enormous sack, and up from the sack arose a giant, thick, black cock. Ken gazed transfixed as the pink lips of Tara’s little pussy stretched around the hard shaft. As Ken’s fiancé lowered her hips, the dripping cock disappeared inside her folds until her labia crudely caressed the ball sack below it. Tara held herself there for a moment, pushing her ass down against him with all her might. Her moans echoed off the bare walls, and her pussy lips clung greedily to the black snake as she rocked her hips back to withdraw his cock, only to reverse direction and plunge down on it again.

Slowly Ken began to understand what he was seeing. Tara and her lover hadn’t noticed him, and he stood in the doorway, gawking. He watched in horror as Tara gyrated against the black monster. The strange black fingers pressed further into his fiancé’s flesh, and her moans grew in intensity. The chair squeaked each time the man’s legs thrust upward, his hips moving in time with Tara’s bounce, driving his bare cock in and out of her splayed cunt. The slapping of their skin rang in Ken’s ears each time her ass fell against the man’s hips, followed by the sound of a wet, sloppy, flesh massage as she withdrew and then sank again. Tara moved her hands to the arms of the chair to steady herself, and the light from her engagement ring sparkled. The man moved both hands to her ass, spreading it open so wide that Ken could see her puckered asshole, a mere inch away from the taught flesh of her stretched pussy and the black beast invading it. She quickened her pace, and her moans grew so loud that Ken instinctively glanced around the apartment, wondering how much the neighbors could hear.

Suddenly, Tara flung her arms around the man on the chair, whose face Ken still couldn’t see. It was obvious that she was kissing him passionately, her head bobbing and her moans now muffled. She pressed herself down as far as she could, furiously rubbing her pussy lips on the flesh at the base of his shaft, and then let out an enormous guttural moan. Ken watched as Tara’s ass and legs began convulsing uncontrollably, toes curled. Her arms clung to the man on the chair for dear life as her spasms continued, and she began to whimper. When her orgasm subsided, he heard Tara whisper something unintelligible into the man’s ear, and he could tell they were kissing again. The stiff black cock resumed its thrusts in and out of Tara’s pussy, this time very slowly. Ken noticed that the man’s thighs and balls were now wet with his fiancé’s juices. Tara giggled.

After a few minutes, the stranger began moaning and Tara repositioned herself. She used her left hand to push some fallen hair back behind her ear, and as she did this she glanced briefly over her shoulder. She noticed something odd, and craned her neck to see what it was. To her shock, it was Ken. He was standing there, mouth open, eyes wide, looking straight at her. Tara froze, terrified.

“Oh my God! Honey! I didn’t—” Her words were cut short as the man underneath her unexpectedly bellowed. He slammed his cock into her with a final triumphant thrust. His dark fingertips dug deep into her creamy skin, holding her ass firmly against him. As Ken glanced down to see the man’s balls convulse, Tara felt the monster inside her twitch uncontrollably, releasing jet after jet of warm goo deep inside her. It seemed to go on forever: four, five, six, seven spurts, each as powerful and voluminous as the last. Ken looked up into Tara’s eyes again. She was staring back at him in despair, but with each pump of hot cum her eyes lost a little focus and grew increasingly hollow, until finally another orgasm overcame her. Her body shuddered and tremors engulfed her legs and ass. Tara struggled, but successfully held Ken’s gaze even as she could feel her vaginal walls contracting wildly to milk every last drop from the throbbing member inside her. She knew Ken could tell that she was cumming, but she also knew that trying to hide it was both impossible and useless.

Ken watched as his fiancé’s body responded to another man dumping his load in her unprotected pussy. When he’d found them together, his initial reaction was pain, and he was livid. And at that moment, he could have chosen to give into those emotions; to let this incident ruin his relationship; to put him in a bad mood at work for weeks, even months; to define himself as the victim of a cruel world and a wicked woman. But after watching his beautiful fiancé ride that giant cock in wild abandon for those few minutes, and after watching the wave of ecstasy that had overcome her when the stranger’s cock began to squirt its seed deep into her, an unexpected emotion had begun brewing inside him.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” the stranger groaned, interrupting Ken’s thoughts. The man’s cock was still buried to the hilt in Tara, occasionally jerking to push out a few more drops of cum. “My man Mike was right, you’re one nasty little slut.” He slapped her ass playfully. “Hey, whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Honey, I,” Tara was still looking at Ken, and her focus had returned as her orgasm subsided. “I can explain. Please, Ken. You don’t understand, it’s…” Ken dropped his heavy bag to the floor. He hadn’t realized that his shoulder ached from holding it.

“You…” Ken had started to speak, but then wasn’t sure what to say. He finally moved, and began approaching his freshly fucked fiancé. Tara looked at him beseechingly, still impaled on the stranger’s cock.

“I love you. Really. It’s just…I didn’t mean to…please, let’s talk! Please, Ken!”

Ken said nothing, and reached down to touch the engagement ring on her finger, moving it in the light. He held her hand in his, and looked back at Tara. Her eyes were welling up.

“Please baby, I—” Tara’s pleading was interrupted with Ken’s lips on hers. He kissed her passionately, and could taste the salty tears that now streamed down her face into the corner of her mouth. She was confused, but kissed back. He released her, and then moved her hand to feel the bulge in his own pants.

“…are so fucking hot,” he finished. “Can you do that again?”

I've written about our views on racism as they relate to the extremely popular "Big Black Cock" and "Queen of Spades" fantasies that many people enjoy exploring. [If you missed, it just look at our mission page for an overview.] However, today I thought of something I hadn't considered before.

As a non-black couple, both of us have always thought of this theme as "anti-white" and "pro-black," insofar as it plays upon and exaggerates the stereotype that black men are physically and sexually superior compared to their supposedly weak, small-dicked white counterparts. Many white males obviously find this emasculating and humiliating, but to the extent that this stereotype is perpetuated in society more generally, even those white males not involved in the "scene" may be impacted by the "lowered" expectations women have in terms of their size and performance as compared to black men.

But is the reverse true for blacks? Do black men experience a generally "higher" expectation from women? While a white male who is big, strong, well-endowed, and skillful in bed may find it simple to impress a partner by easily exceeding these "lowered" standards, does an average black male suffer from a corresponding difficulty to impress based on a "higher" expected standard of endowment and performance? In other words, if you're a normal black man, do you find that this stereotype actually works against you by creating unrealistic expectations?

We'd love to hear from any black men on this topic, either way. Please contact us! Or just post to one of our tumblr.