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James Gang Ch. 03:  Alpha Bitch

By: LordOfHell



Hello readers, this is the third story in my 'The James Gang' series. The first part of the series, Mean Darbie, was a brother-sister incest story. Part two was a father-daughter incest story. This one, however, breaks with the formula and focuses on interracial sex. It also breaks tradition by being two parts.

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it and leave a comment.

******

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck yes, give it to me, baby! Give me more! MORE! Oh GOD!"

I clawed at the carpet as a powerful set of hips pounded into me from behind. Over and over, a solid impact lurched my entire body forward, pushing my tender feminine form with a devastating strength. A strong pair of hands gripped both cheeks of my ass firmly, holding me in place while I was utterly wrecked from behind. As sweat covered my entire body, and my C-cup tits jiggled with each thrust, I gave in to the passion and let myself be used like a total whore.

Who was I being fucked by? Hell if I can remember. I don't think I'd known the guy for more than a few hours, and I was probably kinda drunk anyway. At the time, it didn't make much difference. It didn't matter who he was—he was my cock stud for the night. I let him do anything and everything he wanted to . . . up to and including covering me with his cum after he finished fucking my cunt.

My name is Sarah James. You may or may not have read a couple of other stories written by my younger siblings: Kenneth and Caroline. I'm gonna warn you now: if you're looking for some crazy stuff in this tale, like me fucking my twin brother or sixtysomething father, you're going to be disappointed. I've never fucked a blood relative in my life. That's a family tradition that didn't get started until I had long moved away from Dullsville, I'm afraid.

My story is something a bit different, but I think it should be told regardless. Hell, if my little bro and sis can bare everything to the world, then so can I.

I'll spare most of the details about my family life. Kenneth and Caroline covered it pretty well—things sucked after my older brother Dwight died. My older sister Grace and I had to hold the household together while Daddy was busy drinking himself into liver failure and Mom was running around being a cheat.

Despite the drama at home, I was a very good student. I consistently had the highest marks in the family, aside from Grace. I studied hard for my grades—I'm not a genius or a prodigy of any sort. I just happened to learn early in life that I liked my freedom. I liked being free to do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. So, if I wanted to chat with my girlfriends and spend my day shopping, it was a good idea to get my school and housework out of the way first. That way, nobody could give me any shit about what I did during my personal time.

When I graduated from high school, I pounced on the scholarships that poured in. My older sister Grace had chosen to travel to Europe, and I was tired of my hometown. I chose to go to school in LA, opting for sunny beaches, palm trees, and movie stars.

I made a lot of friends at UCLA. Well, let's face it, when you're young, blonde, and built with a sexy body, it's not difficult to be popular. They say that in every school setting, there's always the "Alpha Bitch"—you've seen her a million times in movies and on television. She's the rich blonde bimbo who leads a pack of female snobs and can't seem to form a sentence without saying the words "like" or "totally". Well, to all of you girls whose lives they made a living hell and to all of those boys who failed to score with them, I'm sorry to inform you that I was that Alpha Bitch. And on behalf of Alpha Bitches everywhere, I'm sorry for how we treated you.

The fact remains, though, that's who I was.

******

"Sarah, you BITCH!"

Perched atop the exercise bike, I turned to look behind me, still sipping my bottled water through a straw. My eyes befell an old acquaintance, Cindy, one of my closest friends in college. Or, rather . . . one of my former closest friends.

"Hey, Cindy," I answered with the sweetest smile I could muster. "What's up?"

"Don't 'what's up' me, you unimaginable whore! I can't believe you! I can't believe you would do something like that!"

"Like what, sweetie?"

"You damn well what, you fucking HARLOT. You fucked my fiancé!"

A number of heads were turning by this point, distracted from their various workouts throughout the gym by the shouting, hysterical woman. For the most part, I was unconcerned. I was quite used to having heads turning in my direction while I exercised, although they were usually focused on my ass or my tits while I bended or flexed. It helped that I wore extremely tight-fitting workout clothes that clung to all of my naughtiest bits whenever I became covered with sweat.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a "shy" individual. In fact, I love attention. I crave it. I keep myself in great shape, and I'm rather good-looking. I'm not delusional enough to believe that I could ever be a supermodel or anything . . . my nose is a bit too big for that, I'm afraid . . . but guys like me. At the end of the day, I've found that regardless of how you look, what people respond to is confidence. Even if you're the most dog-faced male or female to be born, if you're confident in yourself, you'll find no end to the number of people who'll respect you or want you.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Back to the story.

"'Your fiancé?'" I repeated in a confused hush. "Cindy, dear, I thought you and Wesley were broken up."

Her eyes narrowed with disgust. "So you don't even deny it."

"Of course not. Why would I?" I responded casually. "I did indeed fuck Wesley. But, I repeat: the two of you are broken up."

"Yes, because of you!" she sobbed. Her tears beginning to flow steadily now. "You told me that I could do better! You told me I was wasting my time trying to 'domesticate' him!"

"And I meant every word of it," I replied. "Dear, Wesley is a dog. A rabid animal who would no more make a better husband than a wild wildebeest."

Her eyes were wide with shock. "But you fucked him!"

"Yes, I did," I admitted again.

"But . . . but if you think those things about him . . ."

"Sweetie, I don't plan to marry the man. He wanted to fuck, and I admit that he turns me on. So, yeah, I gave him some pussy."

She was crying openly now. I was honestly tempted to try and comfort her in some way. Maybe turn around and give her a hug . . . but I wasn't all that sure she would have been interested. I mean, be honest: in that situation, would you have been?

Still, I stopped exercising and decided that she deserved my full attention. She also deserved not to be humiliated in front of all of those strangers. I intentionally left my bike and headed toward the locker room, knowing she'd follow.

Yes, I was a bitch. Maybe I still am. But, she was a friend. Well, she was at that point, anyway.

"You only told me to break up with Wes because you wanted him!" she accused.

"No, dear. It was Wes who initiated the sex, not me. Although, if you're accusing me of feeling some lust toward him, you're right. But no, I didn't break you two up just to fuck him."

"I . . . I don't even know if I can believe you anymore. I thought you were my friend . . . but friends don't do what you did to me!"

Now that pissed me off. "What did I do to you!? Wesley isn't your boyfriend anymore. You broke up with him with the expectation that you'd live separate lives from here on, remember?"

"That was before I knew what a scheming, man-stealing bitch you were! You wanted Wesley, so you broke us up! Just admit it, you phony friend!"

I know what you're wondering, and yes—I was telling the truth when I said I'd never planned to fuck Wesley until he asked. I found him attractive, yes—he played goalie for Bruins hockey, after all—but I hadn't planned to steal him from her. Why would I, when I could have any other guy I wanted?

But now that they were broken up, he was fair game. Yeah, most people might have considered it "bad taste" to fuck a friend's ex . . . much less after they'd freshly broken up, but I didn't give less of a fuck about "taste". I was a slut, and didn't pretend to be anything else.

Blame it on being born from a really sheltered life. Of course, if you've read Kenny and CJ's stories, you can probably guess this already, but our family is really old-fashioned. I grew up with a very antiquated sense of values, such as that men were supposed to be hairy-chested he-men that made livings as lumberjacks, handymen and steel workers and women were supposed to do the cooking and the cleaning and the baby-making. But, I was a new-age girl.

It all started when Mom and Dad divorced for a brief time when I was eight years old. Like I said, Dad hit the booze and Mom ran off with another guy. With Dwight dead, and eight kids running around the house, Grace and I came to the conclusion that the two of us needed to take charge. There was no way we would survive otherwise. So, she and I were practically the Mommy and Daddy of the house.

Wait a minute, that sounded . . . dirtier . . . than I intended. Let me rephrase.

Grace and I were the parents and our siblings were like our childr—Oh, Christ . . . you know what, this isn't working. But I think you know what I mean. Forget I said anything.

The point is, I got my first taste of freedom during those months. I liked living my own life, being in charge to do whatever I wanted. Mom eventually came back and remarried Dad, and afterwards life was relatively normal again, but I never forgot that taste of freedom.

In any case, back to my college days. From talking with the rest of my crew, I discovered that Wesley had fucked all six of us. After Cindy broke up with him, I guess Wesley wanted some kind of revenge or something, so he fucked all of us. Me, twice.

"So, Cindy was pissed when she found out, huh?" asked Leslie, the other blond in our group. "Poor girl. I kinda feel bad about what we did."

"For what?" asked Jasmine, the brown-haired brunette. "It's not our fault that she broke his heart."

"Yeah, but we were the ones that suggested she break up with him," stated dark-haired Pearl. "Or rather, Sarah did, and we all went along with it."

"Oh, P, not you, too!" said Layla, the sole black girl in our group. "If anything, we saved her heartbreak down the road. Wesley was always a dog, and he proved it when he fucked all of us as part of some stupid revenge scheme. It proved just what a petty, evil bastard he was. Hell, we're . . . like . . . the best girlfriends ever, because we prevented Cindy from having all kinds of grief."

"And hell, I don't know about the rest of you, but he was just 'okay' to me. He's hot and all, but nothing worth crying home about," added Cassandra, our other dark-haired beauty.

Everybody nodded at once.

"Enough about all that," I declared, reasserting myself as the leader of the group. "Cindy's damage is her own problem. She's decided she doesn't want to be part of our group anymore . . . and frankly, if she decided to come and sit with us anyway, I don't think I'd be interested. We're supposed to be friends, so I thought we understood each other. I mean, it's not like any one of us would expect the same thing if we all had boyfriends, right?"

All of us nodded in agreement.

"Well, Layla here does have a boyfriend," Jasmine stated with an admonishing glance.

"That doesn't count," Leslie protested. "She's dating a porn star, so it's not like they're monogamous or anything."

Layla almost spat up her drink. "Jeez, Les . . . why doncha just broadcast what Sean does for a living to the whole school?!"

"Sorry," Leslie whispered.

"Don't apologize to her," Pearl said. "She's dating someone who has an eleven-inch cock. She doesn't get to be embarrassed about, like, anything. Ever."

Layla shrugged. "It really ain't all that . . ."

We all shared a chuckle. "Yeah, because guys like that just grow on trees, huh?" I said.

"I guess if they're black, they do," Cassie chimed in.

Layla rolled her eyes, but we all shared another friendly laugh. In the meantime, this entire line of conversation had got me thinking.

It occurred to me just then that I had never fucked a black guy in my life. In fact, I had never fucked anyone who wasn't Caucasian. I grew up in a town that was, for all intents and purposes, zero-percent black. We were as stereotypically homogenized as you could get. There were a few black people in neighboring towns and some of the larger cities had a majority black population, so it wasn't like none of us had never laid eyes on a single black person before. Still, most of the families in our town were at least nine or more generations old, and not a lot of new people were moving in.

Why would they, after all? There was nothing in that town except ducks, a steel mill that had been closed for ten years, and cow shit everywhere.

So yeah, I hadn't had much experience with black people. Layla was my first black friend, and I had never so much as talked to a black guy longer than it took to ask for directions. I had never even given the idea of fucking a black guy much thought in the past.

It wasn't that I thought black guys were unattractive or anything, but . . . it just seemed like a whole different world. Dark skin, dreadlocked hair, baggy jeans, rap music . . . all of those things were so far removed from what I was used to.

But now, the seed had been planted in me. The thought had taken root, and it stuck there. I began to wonder what it was like . . . how would it feel to fuck a big black stud . . . to feel his monster cock inside me . . . to deep throat that cock in my mouth . . .

I became moist immediately every time I thought about it. It was so taboo. Here I was, the blonde, rural belle, thinking about letting a strong, nubile black man take me. Forgive me for sounding bigoted, but I couldn't get the idea of being an Englishwoman, an explorer of some sort, traveling to Darkest Africa and finding myself forced to rely upon the hospitality of the natives. I would let them teach me about their ways and customs, and write a book chronicling their culture. But to convince them to let me, I'd have to spread my pussy lips for the whole village.

One by one, I would let every man in the village take their turn, keeping myself bent over a log while I watched each black man shamble behind me and insert his long, thick shaft slowly into my pussy. I thought about how it feel to have my pussy stretched by a snake that big, to hear them chattering in their native language as they pounded into me. I could feel their balls slapping against the folds of my cunt while they fucked me, and I felt them twitch and tremble as they released their load deep inside me.

There wouldn't be any birth control—like I said, these would be natives, untouched by the civilized world. They wouldn't know a thing about contraceptives. And even if they did, they wouldn't want them. Their purpose wasn't just to fuck me, but to breed me for their village . . . to use the first white visitor to their humble little village as a garden for cultivating their dark-skinned offspring . . .

Well, like I said, it was just a fantasy. I didn't fuck anyone without a rubber unless they gave me a doctor's note, signed within a few days. It was impossible to be too careful these days, with all of the nasty things that exist these days. I may have been a total slut, but I wasn't a stupid slut.

And besides that, there was no way in hell I would let myself get pregnant at present. I was only twenty at the time, and I still had my whole life ahead of me. I wanted to enjoy my freedom and my youth while it lasted. When I was about twenty-six, maybe even later, I would find someone to settle down with while I focused on my career as an agricultural engineer. Kids would become a serious discussion then and only then.

But in the meantime, I was dreaming about big black cock. Lots and lots of big black cock.

******

Perhaps against my better judgment, I allowed Wesley to fuck me a third time. I felt nothing for him, and I wasn't hurting for other guys who wanted to give me a tumble, but I think it was a combination of pity and anger at Cindy that prompted me to do it. Cindy had changed her mind and wanted Wesley back, but he was too busy getting pussy from tons of other girls, including her former friends.

What did I care? She wasn't my friend anymore. Her ex-man was a big boy, capable of making his own decisions, and if he didn't want her, then who was I to argue? Maybe if she had thought before she'd said those stupid things to me, Wesley wouldn't be too busy being a stud to take her back.

Still, I didn't want Wesley to think that I was developing feelings for him or anything. As far as I knew, I was the only girl he'd fucked more than once since the breakup, and I wasn't interested in making it a regular event.

So while he sat in my chair, and I rubbed his slender cock between my tits, I glanced up and said, "You know that this the last time, right?"

He seemed shocked that I'd said that all of a sudden, but thankfully not hurt. "If that's what you want."

"Yeah," I said, taking the time to envelop the dome of his cock with my lips. I sucked fiercely at the head, like I was tasting a frozen popsicle. Eventually, it slipped out with a loud 'POP'. "This has gotta stop."

He shrugged. "Whatever's cool with you, then. I don't really care."

Satisfied, I rubbed my tongue around his cock and squeezed it harder between my tits. I was rather proud of my ability to tit-fuck. My breasts weren't as big as my sister Rachelle's were . . . (seriously, if you're reading this, girl . . . you're a freak of nature) . . . but I was well above the average, and I knew how to use what I had. I'd had lots and lots of practice.

Like I said, I was a slut.

Wesley leaned his head back and let out a low moan, his fingers rubbing through my blonde locks. "God, it's gonna be terrible to give this up, though."

I couldn't resist. "None of your other sluts are as good as me?"

"No," he answered honestly. "The only girl I've fucked with tits like yours is . . ."

He stopped himself from speaking Cindy's name. I saw a twinge of remorse in his eyes.

"I don't want to talk about that right now," he said. "I just want to fuck."

I licked my lips hearing him say that. "Then come on, let's stop wasting time and get used to it."

I knocked all of my UCLA teddy bears and pillows off my bed with one swipe of my arm and positioned myself on all fours. Doggie style is my favorite position, and since this was our last fuck, I wanted to get what I needed from Wes. He had no complaints, and after a few minutes, he was sliding his jacketed cock into my cunt. He slid in easy . . . a combination of my personal wetness and the lubricated condom made it more than slippery enough.

After his hand gripped my shoulder, he started to fuck me with abandon. His thrusts were hard, unloving, which was just how I wanted it. I actually felt my head whiplash back and forth with the vigor that he slammed me, and I had to admit that he had gotten much better each time we'd met.

"I wanted this pussy for years, you know," he said while he slid in and out of me. "Ever since Cindy introduced us."

"Oh yeah?" I gasped. I had to admit . . . hearing him say that was a huge turn-on at the time.

"Yeah. You're the prettiest of all of them, you know. The little clique you girls belong to, I mean. You're way hotter than those other sluts. And if wasn't for Cindy, I would have fucked you a long time ago."


James Gang Ch. 03:  Alpha Bitch



His thrust got harder, and I was getting closer to orgasm.

"Oh yes, lover," I gasped. "All you had to do was ask. I wanted you for such a long time, too. You're so handsome, so strong. And your cock feels so good."

Okay, some of those things were lies, but it helped to play along. He was picking up a stronger rhythm from my naughty talk, his lust fueled as I played directly to his ego.

"Damn your pussy is so tight, bitch," he growled, pausing to place his hand on my ass while he continued grinding away inside. "You love having this cock inside your tight little cunt, don't you?"

"Oh fuck yes, baby," I cried, still on the cusp of cumming. "Give it to me! Give me that cock! I need it!"

"You're my slut tonight, you hot little whore."

"Fuck yes! I'm your whore tonight, Wes baby. Just fuck me!"

Wes pounded me for close to forty-five minutes, twice as long as our usual sessions. I think he was spurred on by the knowledge that this was our last time together. I came maybe four, five times throughout and I almost reconsidered my decision to stop. But, I knew I needed to. Nothing good could come out of continuing.

"I'm gonna miss a hot piece of ass like you," Wes said as he slapped my ass, just as I finished putting my jeans back on.

I purred my appreciation. "You were very good yourself, lover. Especially this time. Someone's been getting lots of practice, I see. Having fun with your new singlehood, hm?"

He smiled at me, but it seemed bittersweet. "Let me ask you something . . . did you really tell Cindy I was a dog?"

I paused, and hesitated to meet him in the eye for a moment. That question had certainly come from nowhere. Still, he deserved to know the truth, and I wasn't exactly ashamed of my actions.

"I did," I told him.

"That's what I thought," he sighed. "She told me you did. 'You know that blond bitch said you were a dog, right? That you would never be a faithful husband. That's the kind of bitch you're fucking.' That was the text message she sent me."

I shrugged. "I said it, and I meant it. Your actions after the breakup haven't changed my mind."

"Well, I'm not mad. I guess I should be or something, but I'm not. Tell the truth, I was always afraid to become a husband. I mean, I'm just twenty, right? Should I really be trying to make that kind of commitment?"

I shrugged again. "I'm not your psychiatrist. You need a head shrinker, the Student Services building is that-a-way."

He stared at me for a moment, but then chuckled. "She was right about one thing. You are kind of a bitch."

I licked my lips lustfully at him. "And you love it."

"True that," he agreed. "Okay, look, I was planning on asking this before, and even if we're not going to fuck anymore, I might as well ask you anyway." I waited for him to continue. "There's a party a couple of weeks away. Since the semester's almost done, the UCLA Athletics Dept throws a jam for our graduating seniors. It's a good way to end the season, since no team is the same two years in a row. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be my date."

Again, he'd taken me off-guard. "Why me? Don't you have lots of other girls to ask?"

"Yeah, but none of them are as pretty as you. And besides, you're kind of the Alpha Bitch of the campus. You're something of a gold medal for most guys around here. No offense."

I smiled at his directness. "None taken. Look, I don't mind going, but just so you can walk in with me on your arm and show off what a hot piece of ass you showed up with. After I get there, though, I'm my own woman and I can talk to whoever I want. The only way I'm going is if we're clear on that."

"Totally," he agreed. "Thanks."

He almost turned to leave, but then stopped himself and faced me again. His hands reached up to cup my tits through my blouse. "God, I'm gonna miss those," he said before turning and leaving for real.

******

After he was gone, I hopped on my computer and began running searches online. I tried "interracial sex", "big black cock", "black studs", and several others along those lines. I was in pure heat, despite not having been fucked even an hour ago. Wesley had done an adequate job of keeping the lust contained, but now that he was gone again, I was full on into my black cock obsession.

I loved the pictures and videos of white women fucking hot black studs, and there were plenty to be found on the internet . . . both professional and amateur porn. Still, I wasn't satisfied with just searching for random pics and vids. Some of the black guys weren't especially large, and some of the amateur ones were hairy or pudgy.

On a whim, I decided to search for "Sean Dark". I knew that was the handle of Layla's boyfriend, although I didn't know his real name. It was hard to find proper matches—I kept having to refine my search with things like, Sean Dark+porn, Sean Dark+videos, Sean Dark+large cock.

I finally found what I was looking for under the search "Sean Dark+white pussy". There was just one two-minute-long video, posted on a free site. But there he was, the infamous sSean Dark, feeding his cock into some pretty white brunette.

He eased in slowly, and the camera zoomed in right at her pussy, right where you could see both of their faces as they looked down at the black piston slowly sliding into her moist tube. Sean paused partly and then began to withdraw. I was in complete awe as I watched more of that black shaft slide out of her pussy than I thought would. I'd heard that Sean was about eleven inches, but either my sense of measurements was wrong or whoever had told me was trying to under-guesstimate.

When he had pulled nearly all the way back out, with only his head still inside the white woman's pussy, it occurred to me that the part I'd seen sliding into her at the beginning of the video had only been half of his cock. I know that much because only about half of his manhood was glistening with the juices from the girl's cunt. The rest was still completely dry.

I didn't realize it until I saw my own reflection on the computer screen, but I was smiling brightly, with wide eyes transfixed at how gorgeous it was. I wanted it. I wanted it inside me. I wanted it all the way in. I didn't care how much it hurt, how much it stretched me. I'd had lots of large cocks inside me, and I considered them all to be good practice.

I think that was the point that I began to realize I'd become a size queen.

I paused the video and ran out of the dorm to the nearest sex and fetish shop I could find. I bought the largest dildo they had on stock and raced back home with it. It was actually kinda funny when I had to stand in the elevator with this huge purple dildo in my hands while three other riders eyed me quizzically. But I didn't care—like I said before, I wasn't shy and I don't embarrass easily. I hope I gave their naughty imaginations a good work out.

I got back to my dorm and threw my clothes off immediately, making myself stark naked as I sat before the monitor again. I restarted the video with the head of my substitute black cock rubbing at the head of my soaked clit. I was disappointed to notice at that moment that Sean's cock was actually much larger than the piece I'd bought.

On a second thrust, Sean took his cock back inside, and the white slut began hollering. I watched her face as he sank inside her, and let me say that there's no way she was faking. She was totally gone as he slid inside, and I watched as her entire body went limp and became sheer putty. The sensation of pure ecstasy . . . of pleasure so deep that it takes you to another plane of existence. I hadn't had that feeling in quite a while—probably since the first year after I'd gotten my cherry popped.

The white slut gasped and whined with pleasure as I watched her pussy swallowing inch by inch of that beautiful dark cock like it belonged there . . . belonged inside her. I saw her eyes glaze over, and she was reaching the zenith of her climax . . .

And just like that, the video was over.

Like I said, it was only roughly two minutes long, and this was a free site. It was the only video of him I could find there. There were other interracial videos, but none of the men had the sheer gargantuan length that Sean displayed. They were all lovely, of course, and far longer than any of the white men I'd been with, but after I'd gotten one glance at the monster Sean Dark had been packing, I needed to see more of it.

I watched the video again, and this time I paid attention to the watermark that appeared briefly in the bottom-right corner—the one that said "StallionProductions.com". I was drawn there. Drawn by that thick dark snake.

******

For the rest of the week, when I wasn't at school, working out, or hanging with the girls, I was in my dorm, watching and downloading all of the Sean Dark movies that I could. I had made an account at StallionProductions.com, and became a full member. That site was ridiculously expensive . . . but it was worth it. I found all of the black cock on that website that I could ever want. But Sean remained my favorite—he was the biggest fish in the pond.

I didn't realize it yet, but I had begun a transformation. I was becoming obsessed, thinking about being fucked by a long black cock at all times of the day. For the first time, I even began to turn my head and look whenever I saw a black guy in my immediate area. I was beginning to understand the attraction now—their rich, chocolate skin, their creamy lips, and their deep dark brown eyes. Those features started making me wet almost every time I noticed them.

I was playing with myself several times daily, and I'd saved more than thirty-four gigs worth of interracial pornography on my computer. More than seventy percent of the videos were of Sean.

It wasn't just Sean's chiseled body . . . or his gorgeous babyface . . . or his extremely long and thick cock . . .or his . . .

Wait, sorry. I was going off on a tangent there . . .

It wasn't just any of that stuff. It was his attitude, his demeanor. It was the way he fucked those white girls. Sean took them—claimed them for his own. He tore the clothes off of them, he mauled their tits with his hands. He spun them around and bent them over with sheer control. Turning them into his toys.

And while he fucked them, he kept playing to his dominance. When I would close my eyes, I could hear him calling them—calling ME—his "white bitch", his "white ho" in that thick urban accent of his. I had no idea that a city accent could sound so sexy, but it made me shutter just to hear it. I lost control over and over again.

This eventually came to a head one day when Layla and the other girls came to visit me. We were sitting in my dorm, playing a friendly hand of poker when Layla glanced at her watch.

"Oh shit! Let me use your computer, girl! It's almost eight, and I promised my professor I'd email my paper before nine o'clock!"

I tilted my head toward the computer. "Go ahead, Lay. You know what's mine is yours."

Layla thanked me and climbed into my computer chair. The rest of the girls and I continued chatting and focusing on our game. A few minutes later, though, I was interrupted by a shout from Layla.

"Hey, what the fuck is all this!?"

I turned and saw that she'd open my "Recent Files"; there, she was staring at over a dozen video files.

Sean_Dark_Loves_White_Pussy.mp4

Mona_Milk_and_Sean_Dark.mp4

Sean_Dark_Monster_Cock.mpv

Sean_Dark_Fucks_New_Girl.flv

My entire body became hot, and Layla turned in my chair and with the angriest eyes I had ever seen.

"Why are there so many videos of my boyfriend on your fucking computer!?"

The other girls turned to look at Layla and then at me. My eyes glanced from one to the other as they each waited for me to provide an explanation.

"I . . . well, I . . ." I swallowed hard. "Look, I was just looking at a lot of porn and—"

"Yeah, I can see that," Layla snapped. "And all of it seems to be starring my man! What, are you plannin' to steal him from me next, like you did Wes and Cindy!?"

"Now, wait just a damn minute!" I yelled. "I didn't steal anybody!"

"Right, you just broke the two of them up and then fucked Wesley on pure coincidence. Right."

I grew even angrier. "It's the truth!"

Layla rolled her eyes and turned back to my computer. "Whatever, bitch," she said as she began to type at my keyboard.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. She didn't answer. "What are you DOING?!"

She group highlighted all of my videos and then pressed delete. Of course, since there was no way files that big could fit in the Recycle Bin, the computer began permanently deleting them from my hard drive.

"NO!!" I yelled, shoving Layla out of my chair and trying to stop the deletion. It was too late, though. In a matter of seconds, it was all gone. All of my black cock porn went up in smoke, including the stuff that didn't star Sean.

"You fucking BITCH!" I growled at Layla.

"Look who's talking, you skank! Who the fuck do you think you are to get off watching my boyfriend?!"

"I'm a paying customer, is what! I paid for every one of those videos, fair and square!"

My answer took her by surprise, but she was too angry to give it much consideration. "Sean is not a gigolo!"

"I didn't say he was, but if he's putting his junk out there for the world to see, then it's fair game. I can watch it as easily as the millions of other people on the internet! Who the fuck do you think you are to walk in here and tell me what I can and can't do?!"

Layla's eyes narrowed and she pointed a long dark finger into my face. "Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, you harlot. You hear me? In fact, stay the fuck away from me, too. I don't need anything to do with scheming, man-stealing friends!"

She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and stormed out of my dorm before I could retort. She slammed my door as hard as she could as she left, knocking some of my things down from their shelves. In the meantime, the other girls were sitting silently and staring at one-another. Then the four of them looked up and stared at me as I seated myself back at the table.

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" I protested.

"Come on, Sarah," Leslie began. "Can't you see how it's a little suspect? First you break up Cindy and Wes and then fuck him, and now you're looking at videos of Layla's boyfriend . . ."

"What, you think I'm a man-stealer, too!?" I demanded. "And how dare you judge me! You all fucked Wesley, too!"

They glanced away, knowing I was right.

Pearl touched my hand. "Hey, Sar, I want to believe you, but you gotta understand how Layla feels. She's the only one in our group with a man now, and you were the architect behind Cindy's breakup. I believe you when you say that you didn't plan to steal him intentionally, but intentional or not, that's pretty much what happened. Layla's just trying to protect what's hers."

"I understand that," I responded, "but she didn't have to be an unbelievable bitch about it." I sighed and folded my arms as I leaned back. "Sorry girls, I'm not in the mood to finish our game now. Could you see yourselves out? I wanna go to bed and sleep this off."

The girls each nodded and stood. They all wished me good night, but Pearl was the only one to look at me on their way out.

******

Maybe out of spite, I downloaded all of my old videos over again. Luckily, I was still a member of the site, so it was free to do so—just time-consuming. It took me the better part of the week to complete my collection again.

Layla never wanted to be around me anymore. When she and the other girls hung out, she would stand and walk away as I approached. The other girls never seemed all that comfortable around me after that, but they tried to hide it. I was certain that the five of them were talking about me when I wasn't around.

That last part was confirmed one day, when Pearl and I were alone.

"Layla's trying to convince all of us that you're bad news," Pearl told me. "She said that you you've shown your 'true colors' and that none of us will be safe to have a man as long as you're around."

Even though I'd known this was probably the case, it still ticked me off. "And what did the other girls say?"

Pearl looked away. "They don't . . . say anything, really."

"They don't defend me!? They don't tell Layla she's out of her goddamn mind?!"

Pearl scratched her head. "They . . . they haven't agreed with her or anything . . . but, well . . . no, they didn't say that."

I was stunned. My four closest friends and all of them were against me. Only Pearl had the nerve to tell me the truth.

Who was showing their 'true colors' again?

I was in a bad mood leading up to the party. My only relief came from watching my black cock porn collection. For a time, I tried to acquiesce and avoid looking at Sean's videos. Not because I thought that bitch Layla was right, but because I wanted to prove that I didn't have the hots for her man or anything. It was black cock I was interested in, not the man it was attached to.

I think I made it all of two days. The other black men just didn't compare. Sean's cock was magnificent in that it was long, straight, thick and veiny. It was like he had been born with the perfect tool . . . as if God wanted to craft a pure masterpiece of a dark pleasuring tool.

I always came instantly whenever I thought of it all fitting inside me.

The day of the party, I fulfilled my promise and went as Wesley's date. I dressed in something moderately skanky—an extremely thin, pink camisole with spaghetti straps and a low neckline carved to show off my bountiful bust. The camisole had been tailored specifically to dangle just above my midriff, allowing the occasional peek at my dainty belly button. Below the waist, I had on an obscenely short skirt, guaranteed to give a glimpse at my thong to any guy that was interested. Topping it all off were my toeless white heels whose sexiness was equal only to how difficult they were to walk in.

Wesley did a double take when he picked me up for our "date", and I could see the gears in his head turning, regretting that he'd already had his last chance to fuck me. I didn't do anything to lead him on—I didn't walk close enough to hold his arm or wait for him to open any doors for me. The only time we did anything remotely resembling a couple is when we walked through the door to the party arm-in-arm, and turned every head in the room.

But, almost as soon as we were inside, my mind had almost forgotten all trace of Wesley. Instead, I was transfixed on something else . . . something which stopped my breath.

. . . The sheer number of tall, muscular black men in the room.

I figured it made sense—this was, after all, a sports party and there were men in blue-and-gold jerseys from all of the UCLA teams: the basketball team, football team, soccer team, hockey team, track and field, baseball . . . just about every sport you could think of. And of course, all of these guys were tall, powerful, and very manly. I had never seen such a collection of huge guys before in my entire life.

But I had especially never been in the presence of so many tall, handsome black men. They were everywhere.

I separated myself from Wesley immediately and got to mingling. I was practically soggy the entire night, and I'm sure that someone must have noticed at some point that the inside of my thighs were leaking. I didn't particularly care. I just positioned myself wherever I was within the field of vision for the largest flock of black men. Most of them noticed and I could see their gazes falling upon me, checking me out like I was a piece of merchandise. It gave me a rush of excitement . . . feeling so many eyes upon me, and knowing that they were undressing me with their imagination.




James Gang Ch. 03:  Alpha Bitch



Finally, one of them, a tall guy with long cornrows, approached me.

"Wassup, baby?" he said to me.

"Hi," I smiled up at him. My friendliness prompted him to take a seat on the stool next to me.

"I hope you ain't came here with nobody, cause I'm tryin' ta hog all your attention tonight."

I giggled. "I came here with a date, but we're not together."

"Fo sho," he nodded, taking a drink. "What's your name, baby girl?"

"Sarah," I told him, my eyes quickly scanning over his body. "Yours?"

"Jamal. Hey, check it out," he said, leaning closer. "This party ain't gonna last past ten. When it's done, me and some of my nigga is gonna hold a party of our own, naw'm sayin? It'd be boring without some sweet little honey like yourself there."

I almost gasped. Another party? With him and some of his . . . 'niggas', he'd said. That meant that there'd be mostly black guys there, right? I mean, why else would he use the N-word?

Me and a bunch of black guys alone together.

I thought about it for all of ten seconds.

"I'm in."

******

I left with Jamal at ten and we drove to a private party off the university campus. I was definitely in a black hood, as I didn't see a face of another color for many, many blocks. Jamal parked his car next to a half-dozen others in front of a two-flat home, and we went inside.

When the door swung open, I was almost blown off my feet by the thumping rhythm of loud rap music and deep smell of incense. Everywhere I looked, there were black faces, all turning to stare at me . . . the only white person in the room. I wasn't the only woman there—several black girls had shown up as well—but I was definitely the only white one.

"Hey all," Jamal said, placing his manly hands on my shoulders. "This is Sarah. She's here to kick it with us."

Everyone nodded and said hi. I smiled at them and looked for a place to sit. Jamal led me to a small den down the hall, where we could watch a marathon of Fast and Furious movies.

We were all sitting around, having a good time. Listening to music, sharing drinks and having casual, meaningless conversation. I felt a bit nervous . . . I'd never been so far out of my element before, and I'd certainly never been in the company of so many black people. And I admit—I was a little worried.

About half an hour passed. Then, one of the guys dropped a bomb of a question on me.

"Hey, Sarah, you ever tried black dick before?"

The man . . . I think his name was Samuel . . . pierced me with his eyes, unfazed by such a direct, bold statement. I stammered for a moment before I could answer.

"No," I replied. I unconsciously licked my lips.

"Well, if you ever had the itch, tonight's your lucky night, girl." He set his drink on a stand beside him, leaving his lap open. "Come and sit over here."

My eyes locked to his, I was compelled to obey. I stood from my seat and went over to him, parking myself on his lap. One of his hands went on my waist and the other to my thigh as he petted me like his property. I was growing wetter by the minute and leaned over to press my ruby lips to his. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I could taste the liquor.

Before I knew it, I was getting more and more worked up. Here I was, sucking the tongue of a black man, letting his dark hands wander all over my body . . . traveling up my thigh, cupping my ass. Me, the blonde belle. What would my parents think if they saw me? Yet, I let him touch me. I let his hands go wherever, and I encouraged it through my wriggling and moaning.

We continued necking for maybe a good twenty minutes when I sensed someone else approaching. I glanced up and saw that it was Jamal, and he'd pulled his pants down to his ankles. I looked down and saw that his large black cock was stiff and pointed directly at my mouth.

"Come on, baby. You know you want to," he said.

I didn't need any more coaching. Like it was instinct, I reached out and grabbed his cock, forcing it into my mouth all the way. With me distracted in this manner, Samuel pulled the straps of my camisole down and slipped my arms out. Then, he pushed my top down to my waist and allowed my tits to come free. I felt his hands begin to cup them and grasp them even while I sucked his friend's cock.

In a matter of minutes, I was barely aware of what was happening around me. All I knew was that I was finally living my fantasy, surrounded by beautiful black cocks. At some point, they must have pulled my skirt down and removed my thong, because when Jamal pushed me back on the sofa, my pussy was laid bare for him. My heels were spread as far as I could make them while I waited for Jamal to strip the remainder of his clothes and slide on a condom.

In an instant, Jamal had mounted me, and I felt his long, dark pole begin to slide into my wet pussy. It was tighter than I'd expected, and it hurt a little as he worked the head in. But, once it was inside, the rest fit easily. He had to be sliding a good eight inches into me, and I took it all with no problem.

He began pumping me, and I sobbed in delight. He took it slow at first, letting my cunt get used to his size. But, I'd had lots of practice—I hadn't bought that extra large dildo for nothing, after all.

"Come on, baby. Fuck me. Fuck me with that big black cock!" I sighed.

Jamal obliged me, fucking me with a faster, more powerful rhythm. In the meantime, I felt a cock poke me in the cheek, and I turned immediately to accept it into my eager mouth. Once my mouth and my pussy were filled, I came almost immediately, with my cries muffled by Samuel's manhood.

Jamal fucked me for close to fifteen minutes before he and Samuel switched places. Then, Samuel fucked me for another twenty. I came twice for each man.

When both of them were close to their orgasms, I begged them to pull out and cum on my face and tits. I wanted my pretty white body to be totally covered with their hot white jism.

After they were done, I fell exhausted on the couch. But it wasn't over yet.

I looked up to find another three nude, Nubian bodies slowly making their way toward me, their large cocks ready for action. Pretty soon, they had me on all fours, and I was being fucked by strangers I had only known for a few hours. I stayed on my hands and knees and let every black man in the place take his turn and mount me. I was high on pleasure, letting myself be shared the way a bitch is taken by a wolf pack.

In fact, I believe this is the part where you came in.

It was wonderful, of course, being fucked by so many black studs at once. I had finally become the black cock slut like I had dreamed about, but none of the guys really fulfilled my biggest need: size.

At some point, the rest of the party was pretty much all fucking. I tried out several guys, all of them roughly the same size. They were flocking to me, too, of course . . . I was like a blonde-haired, pale-skinned beacon amongst all of the naked brown skin. After a few hours, my pussy became stretched to accommodate them, so the last guy pretty much got the bum deal. By then, my pussy wasn't so tight anymore.

I knew immediately that I'd been spoiled by what I'd seen in Sean's videos. Like I said, I'd become a size queen.

******

Eventually, we were all pretty much fucked out. And I needed to get back to my dorm.

I fished for my clothes, which had somehow been tossed all around the house, even as people were snoozing and some still fucking around me. Eventually, when I'd gotten the whole set, I took a quick trip to the bathroom, prettied myself up, and got dressed again.

Finally recomposed, I began to head for the front door, figuring that I could catch a bus or a cab back to the campus. However, just as I reached for the knob, the door suddenly pulled open as someone else started to walk inside.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone would be standing on the other side," a familiar voice said.

Then I looked up, and I saw him.

Sean.

Even though I'd spent the entire night being a black cock slut, and my pussy was horribly stretched and sore, just seeing him made me instantly go wet all over again. I'd never met him in person, but I'd seen him on video enough times to recognize him anywhere. My knees were weak, and my posture shattered.

"Um, sorry, Miss," he said, stepping out of the way. "Sorry to be rude."

It barely registered that he'd said anything at all. "W-What? Oh . . . no . . . no . . . I was . . . I was just . . . uh . . ."

"Oh shit! T!" a voice said behind me.

Jamal, still naked, jumped up and slapped hands with the new arrival. I was a bit confused, because I had thought I'd heard him call to someone named . . . 'T'.

"Hey, T, what's good man? You here to party?"

"Nah, just coming to get my little sister," 'Sean' replied. "Hey, Monica, let's go!" At his call, one of the black girls in the other room rose out of the pile of sleeping bodies and began frantically looking for her clothes.

'Sean' sighed. "I told her I'd be here at two AM. Why did she wait til now to find her clothes?"

"Sorry," Jamal said with a light chuckle. "We were all having a bit too much fun."

"I can see that." He looked over in my direction. "Um, Miss? Am I still standing in your way? Why are you staring at me like that?"

For the first time, I realized I'd been staring at him. I had been looking directly at the Bruins jersey he wore, indicating that he was a member of a sports team. But as far as I was aware, Sean had never played any sports.

I snapped back to reality and tried to gain my wits. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just . . . daydreaming . . ."

Jamal chuckled. "Sorry, me and Sam might have fucked her too hard. Might have broken her a little bit."

'Sean' shrugged. Finally, his sister Monica came rushing to the door, but hadn't had time to clean herself up.

"Alright, well, good seein' you, Jamal. And nice meeting you, Miss," he said as he turned to exit.

"Peace, brutha. Try to make it to the next one, aiite?!" Jamal called to him.

"Yeah, we'll see," 'Sean' called back.

When Jamal had closed and locked the doors behind him, I took the opportunity to approach.

"Who . . . who was that? He looks like a guy I know . . ."

"Yeah, you prolly seen his brother Sean. They twins, ya know?"

That explained it! I looked back at the door. "And what's his name?"

"Sean."

I blinked. "What . . .?"

He let out a chuckle. "He got the same name, but spelled S-H-A-U-N."

"I see," I nodded. Now it was starting to make sense. "So, why do you call him 'T'?"

"It's his middle initial. Stands for 'Tony'. Shaun Tony Dunn."

It took a moment to hit me. "His initials are S.T.D.?!"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Ha! Damn girl, you the fastest person I ever seen pick up on that! But yeah, that's why he only go by 'Tony' or 'T' these days. He don't hardly mention his first name."

Well, I'd gotten my answers, but could hardly believe it . . . Sean had a twin brother?! An identical twin brother?!!

I just had to meet him again, somehow.

"Who does he play for?" I asked.

Jamal laughed. "Damn . . . you just want all the black cock you can get, don't you?"

And then . . . I blushed. Me! For the first time in my adult life, I was actually embarrassed.

But something flashed in Jamal's eyes. "Tell you what, sweet thang. You give me your digits, and I'll set you up to meet him. But, you gotta do something for me, too."

"Like what?"

"I think you can guess," he answered with a grin.

Well, why the hell not, I figured. It wasn't like Jamal was a bad fuck. Like I'd said, his cock was well above-average, and he gave a strong and powerful fucking. He was a handsome, enticing black stud. And right now, he was my only hope at meeting Tony again.

All in all, it was a win-win situation.

He fetched his cell phone and I gave him my number. Jamal smiled when he was finished and said he'd be in touch.

To Be Continued