0 comments/ 183882 views/ 33 favorites Leasa's Graduation By: LeasaJ The way “Big John” looked at me made my skin crawl. He was big, black, and had to be 55--at least ten years older than my father. It was the summer of 1988 and I had just graduated from high school. I felt great about myself because I had been voted “Class Beauty” as well as “Most Likely to Succeed.” My father was very proud that I had achieved a 4.7 grade average. He was also proud of my looks. He always bragged to others about how beautiful I was. Being the President of a mid-sized conglomerate, he also would insert things about my achievements, and looks, in the company newsletter. I’d often thought, when he’d read these comments to our family over dinner, “Gee, did the employees really want to hear about how great I was?” But after thinking it over, I often thought that maybe they did. Maybe all the employees that worked for Daddy were just as excited about me and my achievements as he was. As Captain of the Cheerleading squad, I guess I was a little bit vain, but I always tried to be nice to others. I was brought up that way—with manners. Scenes were to be avoided at all costs! With my smile, and looks, I felt I could always finesse any situation, especially with guys. Rarely did I have to really turn a guy down in high school. Honestly, most were too intimidated to even make an attempt at asking me out. The few who did would get a smile, a “thank you,” and a “rain check.” I was always too busy. But I was always polite. The politely rejected boy would never attempt asking again. He’d know better. Once a black boy even attempted to ask me out. I thought it was cute; I almost started laughing. What would I want to go out with some black guy for? I was dating the quarterback—who was also captain--of the football team. I was already with the best. I was kind of amazed the black boy thought I’d even consider him. Imagine me with some black guy. I just wasn’t that hard up, I’d find myself thinking. Well, school ended, and here I was at seventeen in one of the national chain of paint stores my father’s company owned in Manhattan. Daddy was picking out paint for the large condo he and my mother would be leasing while he got a subsidiary straightened out in New York. I was so glad he invited me to visit with them for a week of my summer vacation; I’d always wanted to see New York. But now it was starting on the wrong note, as I was brazenly eyed up and down by some old, black, retail worker in the mixing department. I thought, this guy has got to be kidding. He better get a clue, this could mean his job if I’d ever complain. But each time I’d look back over his way, he’d have this smirk on his face, just standing there, toothpick in mouth, eyeing me up and down. As he continued checking me out, I could feel my face begin to get red. I was really getting pissed that this animal would have so little respect for my father, just standing a few feet away, that he’d dare look at me so lewdly. But he did. I tried ignoring him, but it didn’t work. Somehow I just couldn’t get out of my mind the crude way he’d just keep running his eyes over my body. At that point, I wished I hadn’t worn the tight tank top I had on. I knew that I was a sight that would get a man’s attention—blonde, blue-eyed, 5’7”, slender, and well proportioned (even then I was 36C-24-35)—but I felt the way this old Black was doing it was just plain gross. He could be my damn grandfather, I fumed inwardly—if he’d been white! Finally, I just let it drop. If he wanted to look, there was no way I could really stop him. And I really didn’t want to cause a scene over something like how some old man was looking at me. It would be so difficult to prove, after the fact. So, even though I couldn’t help but notice his continual staring at me, I tried to pretend that I didn’t. After a few minutes, “Big John” (the name on his name-tag) walked over to me and asked, “So, sweet thang, anything I could help you wit’?” This was my opportunity to put him in his place: “Um...did you know that I’m Mr. M--’s daughter?” I said casually, waiting for the shock to grow over his homely, arrogant face. “Yep,” he said, simply, “But I didn’t know you was so’s...ya know...stacked, so to speak.” I couldn’t believe the audacity that this half-gorilla had. He was speaking to the daughter of the company President, a man that could end his career instantly, yet he blatantly made remarks—right to my face--about my body. Worse yet, as he said this to me he looked down directly at my chest. I was speechless. But what could anyone say to such a pig? So, like an idiot, rather than cause a scene, I clenched my teeth together and said, “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment, even though it’s totally inappropriate.” I expected an apology, but he either didn’t understand the point I was making, or he ignored it. He smiled back at me, “No prob, baby, wit’ a rack like dat, I’m sho’ you gets lots o’ compliments, eh?” He kept looking down at my ”rack” as he spoke to me, and in spite of my anger, my nipples began to respond to his lewd staring. I really wanted to end this disgusting conversation with this disgusting man immediately, but I was having trouble ending it. On the other hand, he obviously wanted to continue it. He was enjoying the view my tight tank top was affording him. Meanwhile, I could only stand there trying to find a reason to excuse myself while my nipples grew larger, more obviously aroused with each passing moment. “Everything OK over here, Princess,” my father said, as he came over to where John and I were talking. “Sure is,” John said confidently, “I’s just admiring your little girl here, Mr. M--. She sho’ is evrythin’ you’d described in yo’ newslettas.” “Why thank you, John,” Daddy said cheerfully. Then he proceeded to tell John about my grade point average, etc., all while John smiled and continued looking me up and down, very obviously staring at my tits. I couldn’t believe Daddy didn’t notice this. It was very blatant. But although Daddy would sometimes appear a little flustered with John’s lewd ogling of my breasts, my father failed to call this old, black letch on it. I was mortified that my father let this go on right in front of him. Was he in denial? I was furious and humiliated. Big John just continued his lewd smirk as he’d respond to my father’s bragging, “Oh, I’m sho’ she really somethin’...no doubt ‘bout it....” All this, while he’d stare at my tits and lean over in an exaggerated way like he was checking out my ass. Finally, my father could see I was upset and ended the conversation, explaining to John that the painters for the condo would be coming the next day. He asked if John could bring over the mixed paints later that night, around 5:00PM or so. John said that, of course, he could. And then, I couldn’t believe it when my father asked him to try to get there by five because otherwise he and my mom would have to leave for an engagement, but of course, “Leasa can let you in.” “Jeez!” I thought, “That’s all I need, to be left alone with this horny old—very black—man!” On the way back to our condo, in my Dad’s limo, he explained that Big John was one of the union leaders in the paint company and my father had just concluded some long and difficult sessions with him. I read between the lines that Big John had apparently outmanuevered and bested my father in the negotiations, pretty badly. Daddy obviously didn’t want any more trouble with the union—or with Big John. I appreciated my father’s predicament, but for god sake, the man was checking out my tits and making vague references to my body, right in front of Daddy. I expected so much more from my father, but I saw for myself how he reacted. He meekly allowed it to go on and pretended nothing was happening. When we got home I changed into a short denim mini skirt, but left my tank top on. For some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about this old, arrogant black man and the way he looked at me that day. It made me feel strange in a way I couldn’t explain to myself. As five o’clock approached, I wondered where Big John was. As I feared, John showed up right around five, just as my parents were leaving. My father nervously invited him in and showed him where to put the cans of paint. I was surprised to see him dressed smartly in khakis, leather belt, loafers, and button-down shirt. Very nice, I thought. Somehow I didn’t expect a black man to dress with so much taste. When John was done setting down the cans of paint, I think my father expected him to leave. But the big black man just walked into the living room, looked around casually, and again, somewhat arrogantly, as if he owned the place. My parents were running late, and so my father, a little taken back by John’s behavior said, “John, we’d offer you a drink for your trouble, but we’re running a little late.” He answered, “Oh, no problem, Mr. M--, Leasa can make me one.” Then he added, “That is, if it’s alright with you...if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.” My father jumped right in, quickly and nervously, responding, “Well no, of course not, why should it? Leasa, sweetheart, why don’t you make John whatever he likes.” I gave my father a pleading look, begging him not to leave me with this arrogant black man. But, my father tried to avoid eye contact with me, like he was looking around for his hat, and quickly grabbed the articles he was looking for and exited with my mother. I was now left alone with Big John. And this large black man’s face bore a big, glowing, condescending smile on it. “Well, ‘sweetheart’,” he mimicked, “I’d like a whiskey and coke. Oh, and, uh..” he held up his wrist, in an exaggerated stage manner, as if to look at his watch, “I have an important meeting to get to. So, could you get to it--chop-chop?” He stared right into my eyes as he said the last few words, and then just continued staring me down. I couldn’t hold his stare and finally averted my eyes, but in my peripheral vision I could see him slowly drop his gaze, running it over my body, as he’d done earlier that day at the paint store. It was as if in staring me down, and making me be first to look away, he was beginning to assert his dominance over me--his prey. I turned and walked over to the wet bar. As I did, I could feel his stare following me across the room. I began to sway my hips more than I usually do when I walk. As if on its own, my body was responding to this old man’s lewd gaze, despite my negative feelings toward him. “Mmmmm...I like that,” he said crudely as he watched my ass from across the room. “I’d call that some ‘Grade A’ ass you got there, Leasa,” he continued. “Look, if you’re going to behave like this, I’ll have to ask you to leave!” I said. My voice rose, and shook a little, as I was beginning to lose my cool. “Oh, I don’t think you’d want to do that, ’sweetheart’,” he confidently replied, “You don’t want Daddy to have a hell of a time with the union, all because his little Leasa was rude to one of the working men, would you?” I wasn’t sure what to say to this beast. He had me. After letting his comment sink in for a few long moments, I lowered my eyes to the floor and barely whispered, “No.” “What was that, Leasa?” he asked loudly and sarcastically, “Couldn’t here you, ‘sweetheart’.” “I said, ‘no’.” my trembling voice answered. “No what?” he asked, really demanding. “No, I don’t want any trouble for Daddy,” my voice whispered, trembling more. “I have a name, don’t I?” he pressed his advantage. “No, John, I don’t want any trouble for Daddy,” I answered, fully and obediently. “Leasa, don’t you think you should have a little respect for your elders?” he asked rhetorically, “My name is Mr. Robinson!” I knew this was a command, nothing more, nothing less. “N-n-no, Mr. Robinson, I don’t want any trouble for Daddy.” “Well, ok then. Now, let’s get that sorry, little white ass of yours moving, girl, and get that drink over here.” I turned and began to make his drink. My hands trembled terribly. No man had ever spoken to me like that, or had ever taken such control of me like that in a conversation. I struggled to just pour the Seagram’s because my hands shook so badly. But it wasn’t just my hands: my knees felt weak, my mouth was dry and my temples were pounding. I was confused and thought, am I frightened or has this arrogant, black man aroused me? I quickly dispelled this thought. I didn’t even want to consider the possibility. As I approached him with his drink, I noticed what appeared to be a huge cylinder in his pants that stretched from the pit of his groin all the way over to his right hip. It bulged from his pants clearly, and I couldn’t help but stare at it as I approached him. A few feet away my shock made me quickly glance away and try to hand him the drinks without any eye contact. I’d clearly made out this ‘cylinder’ to be an enormous dick with its plum-sized head poking up over the belt line of his right hip. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I thought, no man could be built like that. As I sat down next to him, I thought I’d just glance down at it and see if it was really what I’d thought. As I sipped at my ice tea, I glanced quickly down next to me. It was! The bulbous head stuck up in his pants, past his right hip, and over his belt line. It seemed aimed up at me, just 5 or 6 inches from where my now shaking hands clasped on to my glass. I found myself staring at it. Then, as if waking from a trance, I pulled my eyes from it to look back at John. He had a big smile on his face. His arms spread over the back of the couch. “What’s the matter, Leasa? Cat got your tongue?” I could only shake my head to say no. I had no voice to speak with. I felt that I was in the presence of a very powerful man. And I felt very small. “Noticed you looking at my new belt,” he lied—he knew exactly what I was looking at. “Would you like to feel it? Go ahead, Leasa, it’s leather, feel how soft and smooth it is.” My hand slowly reached out to touch his belt. As it did, he sucked in his stomach and his huge dick slid up under the belt, right where my fingers were running over it. It surprised me and I almost drew my stroking fingers way...but didn’t. As John’s huge member strained away at the belt, seemingly trying to break free, I continued to softly stroke my fingers over the belt that contained it, and in so doing, conveyed the strokes of my fingers to John’s goliathan organ. The dick seemed to struggle against its entrapment, lurching forward and seeking the fingers that were providing it such pleasure. I could see the big egg-sized head, fully stretching up several inches past John’s belt line, poking out under his shirt as if he had a live, throbbing hernia growing from his abdomen. I continued stroking the belt, and through it, Big John’s dick, like a hypnotized participant in some erotic experiment. Finally, John said, “Leasa, why don’t you feel how smooth my belt buckle feels.” I paused and he added, “Go ahead, sweetheart, you’ll like the feel of it.” As I moved my shaking hands to his belt buckle and stroked it, he once again sucked in his stomach and allowed the huge weapon to slide over, right under where his buckle and my stroking fingers were. My fingers now rubbed his cock via the gold buckle positioned between them and the big dick. “See how it opens, Leasa,” he commanded, “It’s got a real interesting way of opening.” I paused much longer this time. My hands trembling at the buckle I was being asked to unfasten. “Go ahead, Leasa,” he goaded. My hands slowly fumbled at the buckle and undid it. As it fell open, John’s organ burst forward against the waistband of his pants, like an angry prisoner fighting against his restraints. I jumped slightly at this, stunned by the strength and size of John’s tool. “Undo my pants, Leasa.” I heard the words as if far away, in a fog. I stared at the billy-club-sized muscle straining under John’s shirt and pants. Long moments seemed to tick away. Then John said, “Leasa...” in an impatient, demanding way. My hands, as if on their own, reached out and clumsily undid his pants. The abnormal gland then struggled forward and half pushed down the zipper to John’s fly. “Unzip it, Leasa,” John ordered. I did. When I was done, I could see he hadn’t even worn any underwear. He knew. He knew what he wanted to do when he came to our home that night. And he knew my father would not be strong enough to stop him. And he knew I would not be strong enough to resist him. John unbuttoned his shirt and the incredible, mahogany weapon stood proudly in front of my face. For long moments I stared at it as John replaced his big arms on the back of the couch, somewhat thrusting his hips forward, showing off his ebony trophy for my admiring gaze. The large muscle stood over twelve inches tall, and at least five inches around. I just stared in disbelief. I never thought a man could possess a member of such size and such power. “Give me your hand, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid to feel it. I know you want to, don’t ya?” John said as he pulled my hand to the throbbing organ. I gave only token resistance. I found my hand trying to wrap itself around a club to big for its fingers to encircle. John slowly started pulling my hand up and down on the equine phallus. I offered little or no resistance. Almost like he was training an animal, he’d whisper to me, “Atta girl, you’re doing good, baby...that’s it...don’t stop...” Soon he removed his hand, and my--now well schooled--hand just continued to stroke at the massive cock. It was as if I’d been hypnotized by his strength, his confidence, and his endowment. I seemingly couldn’t stop the momentum of the moment. I turned my head from what my hand was doing, looking out the window behind the couch. I tried to tell myself, “This isn’t happening! This can’t be happening!” The view outside served to distract me from the truth of my slut-like behavior, all while my hand pumped away at John’s increasingly sticky, drooling gland. As my hand worked away furiously, this wicked, black man began to mockingly make small talk with me. “So, Leasa, I hope this boy taking you out tonight is a real gentleman. I’d hate to see a sweet girl like you ever put in a compromising position. Now he is a gentleman, right?” “Yes...” I answered with a trembling whisper, while in the background I could hear the, “squish!” “squish!” “squish!” of my jacking hand on his hard, fat member. “Good, because a lovely girl like you deserves the best.” “Squish!” “Squish!!!” “Squish!” “Thank you..um, uh...Mr. Robinson,” I stupidly responded, not understanding he was just playing with me. “Squish!” “Squish!!!” “Squish!” “So where’s he taking you to dinner, sweetheart? You should really try a steak or beef house here in New York. We got the best, you know. You like steak?” “Squish!” “Squish!” “Squish!” “Yes...” my voice croaked. “Squish!” “Squish!” “Squish!” “You like your meat well done, girl?” “Squish!” “Squish!” “Squish!” “Um, no..usually rare.” “Squish!” “Squish!” “Squish!” “Oh, you one of them that likes her meat raw, huh?” “Squish!” “Squish!” “Squish!” “Well, I guess...” At this, the sounds my jacking hand was making changed, as Big John’s dick began to really leak precum profusely. “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Well, can’t complain about a girl that likes her meat raw, I guess,” John teased, as he casually reached over and, with his finger, pulled down one side of my tank top and bared my right breast. He casually began to squeeze it and tickle my nipple, which stood out stiffly, responding to his play. Leasa's Graduation Ch. 2 An hour before going down to the paint store to see John, I found myself looking into my full-length mirror brushing my long blonde hair. I was naked and began marveling at the pinkness of my ass cheeks from Big John’s spanking of them the day before. I felt so sexy seeing the mark this powerful man had left on me. It made me feel so mastered and so powerless and so owned. I found myself walking around my bedroom with an exaggerated sway to my hips. Looking in the mirror, I could see my pussy lips were swollen, my clitty stiff. My nether lips began to glisten in the mirror, as even the thought of this old black man began to heighten my arousal to the bursting point. As I did the night before, I had to lie on the bed, spread my thighs and relieve my libido a couple of times before getting dressed. I felt light headed, almost drugged, by the sensations brought on from the memory of this dominant, black, stud-horse of a man. I had never known feelings like this for any man before. But then, I had never known an older black man before. I was becoming educated to the effect a middle-aged, black man could have on a young white girl. It was addictive. On the ride down town, I sat in the back of the limo dressed and made up as beautiful as I could adorn myself. I felt like Guinevere to my father’s Arthur, being offered up to the more powerful Sable Knight, as though I had been won as spoils of a battle lost by Camelot. And this Sable Knight would have but one use of his spoils: sexual satisfaction. When I arrived at the paint store, I jumped out of the limousine and brushed by two young black boys trying to sell me a newspaper. I had no interest in buying a paper and no use for their annoying banter. I made that clear to them in my brush off. By the looks on their faces, I could tell they didn’t appreciate it. But what did I care? I had more important things on my mind. Entering the large paint store, I could see Big John across the floor talking to another black co-worker. My heart began pounding as I walked up to the two of them. “So babe, what chew doin’ here?” Big John asked as I walked up. The question threw me. Didn’t he know? Did he forget? “Well...um...I thought we were going to get together today,” I was forced to answer. I could see the shocked look on the face of John’s co-worker, a rotund black man around John’s age. He couldn’t believe this blonde teenager, the President’s daughter, was coming down to the store to meet his 55 year-old buddy, John. “Oh yeah, almost forgot. Sorry babe,” John said as he slung his big arm around me and casually reached down, palming my left ass cheek. “Ya see, Jesse,” John explained to the fat man, “I treated little Leasa here to dinner last night. We had quite a time. Didn’t we sweetheart?” “Uhhh...yes, I guess we did,” I struggled to follow his lead. “ Fact is Jess, Little Leasa here had the biggest piece ‘o meat I ever saw. And man did she wolf it down! Ain’t that right, sweetie?” “Well...I guess I did...” I fumbled, thinking we were putting one over on Fat Jesse—but not really understanding John’s double meaning. In reality, Jesse was the one reading right along with the double entendre John was crudely using, and the corpulent black man was now starting to laugh at me. “Ya know Jess, this little girl likes her meat rare. Ya might even say—raw! Ain’t that right Leasa?” “Yes, yes I do,” I continued the charade, still not understanding why Jesse was snickering and laughing. All this time too, John continued to squeeze and pat and rub my ass cheeks. It was embarrassing me, and I periodically tried to look around behind us to see who might notice this. But John’s fondling of my ass was also getting me hot. I liked it. Part of me wanted him to stop for fear of being seen; part of me wanted the large black man to continue his playing with me. “Well anyways Jess, this little girl washed it all down with a nice long drink...ya might even say she chug-a-lugged it all down too. Ay, Leasa, sweetie?” “Yes, I guess I did.” “Ya knows Jess, Leasa loves dat raw beef. May want to treat her sometime ya self, ay?” John said with an obvious wink to his obese co-worker. “Yeah man, sho’ would like the oppa-tunity,” Jesse said turning to me, “Leasa, will ya let me treat ya to some chow sometime?” “Sure,” I said, still not getting the joke, “I love Chinese.” “Well,” Jesse said, “Ya ever try African?” “Ummm...no, I really haven’t...can you get that here in New York?” “Oh, you bet, baby! I’ll treat ya to a whole 10 course meal in African...kinda like sushi—all raw!!!” With that, both Jesse and John broke out laughing. I tried to laugh along too, although I’m sure to them it was obvious I had no idea what I was laughing about. “Ok, Lease, baby,” John finally continued as the laughter died down, “Here’s my key. Why don’t you goes back to my office and wait fo’ me. I’ll be back in a few minutes when my break starts, k?” “Sure, John,” I said, taking the key from him. As I turned to walk back to his office, he gave me a little swat on the ass, almost for good measure, just to show Jesse his mastery over the President’s blonde, blue-eyed daughter. Walking back to Big John’s office, I finally noticed several white employees staring at me, almost frozen in place, with both shock and...anger, I think...etched all over their faces. They saw John’s arm around me. They saw his hand playing with my ass. It was obvious to them all what was happening, and they couldn’t believe it...didn’t want to believe it...but could see it happening...and couldn’t do a thing to stop it. I waited alone in John’s office for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he entered, closed the door behind him, and faced me expressionless. We just looked across the room at each other for a few long moments until I made the first move, walking up to him, throwing my arms around his neck, and putting my lips to his in a deep, deep kiss. Our tongues explored each other’s mouths, but it was mine that did the most work. At that point, it became apparent to both of us that I wanted him even more than he wanted me. I crushed my breasts against his chest and ground my pelvis to his. I wanted this old black man more than any white boy I had ever known. As our lips broke, I nuzzled my face into his thick neck and began sucking on it, acting just like the high school girl I was, desperately trying to give him a hickey. He pulled my arms from his neck and roughly pushed me back: “What chew doin’, girl? I cain’t go back on the floor wit chew markin’ me up!” Then he pulled a chair out from behind the office’s desk and plopped it down in the middle of the room. “I wanna see you strip fo’ me, bitch!” he said, bluntly. And then he crossed his arms and waited expectantly. I looked at him stunned. “John...I...I... can’t do that here,” I half pleaded. “Sho’ ya can. The door’s locked,” he demanded. I just stood there trying to think my way out of this situation. Meanwhile, John turned and flicked on the radio which was playing some old ABBA tune (my favorite group), I think it was “Dancing Queen,” and sat, arms folded, waiting. Long seconds ticked away until finally my mind blanked. I began swaying my hips and dancing for my new master. As I danced I slowly reached up behind my shoulder blades and began unzipping the short black dress I had worn for this demanding black man. As I zipped it down and continued dancing, Big John began to smile. His blonde toy was pleasing him. Finally, the dress just slid down my torso, down my legs, and to the floor. As I danced, I stepped out of it and kicked it aside. I was really getting into it now. I pushed my hair up, allowing me to show my body off to this African King who watched happily from his throne. I was his young, blonde ‘Dancing Queen’ and it thrilled me as much as him. I un-hooked my bra and let it slide down my arms revealing my free-swinging breasts. He smiled approvingly, and I noticed the huge swelling taking place again, from between his legs, stretching up under his belt line. I was proud I could make such a powerful weapon come to life. Unlike Helen, I wasn’t launching a 1000 ships, but I was launching one very large and powerful shaft. I turned away from him and peeled down my hose very slowly, so he could admire my ass. In a mirror on the opposite side of the room, I could see my bent over pose was also revealing the rear view of my full, pouting pussy. John’s eyes became wide at the sight of his ultimate object of conquest. Big John’s dick was straining within its confines now, throbbing and lurching, now and again, to get at me. After stepping out of my hose, I slipped my high-heels back on and danced over to where he was sitting. I straddled his chair and squatted down on his massive organ, rubbing my pussy over the writhing, entrapped monster—performing what we now know as a “lap dance”. As I rubbed my pussy up and down his shaft to the beat of the music, I put my arms around his neck again and gave him a deep kiss. When our lips parted, I stood up again and danced away from him. I noticed a large wet streak that I left on the front of his pants where I had rubbed my pussy lips. They were leaking heavily for him. He glanced down and saw it too and whispered: “Shit. Girl is one fuckin’ horny snail!” Then the giant black man stood up, hoisted me in his arms and loaded me onto the desk. He undid and dropped his pants—again, he wore no underwear—and slapped his huge black organ on my belly two or three times. Then he began rubbing the fat head of his dick up and down along the swollen lips of my labia. “John...no...I, uh...please...no, I can’t...” I pleaded for him to stop. As he plunged the immense cock into me, he quickly saw the reason for my alarm. “Shit! Girl, you a virgin?” I turned my head away in embarrassment. I whimpered, “Yes.” “Holy shit!” the evil man exclaimed, “Ain’t had one ‘o these for a long time. Didn’t think none existed no more beyond the age a fifteen.” Then he laughed and continued pushing forward using all his weight and strength. My mind frantically tried to revisit how I could have ever gotten myself in this horrific situation. I had always pictured giving up my virginity to that one beautiful white knight in shining armor—on my wedding night. How could it be happening this way? On my back, on top of a desk, in a seedy back room of a paint store, with a black man older than my father! I had always gossiped and laughed about the “sluts” in high school who would even go to third base. Now here I was, giving my virginity up to an old, pot-bellied black man! I tried to resist the rutting, black brute on top of me, but John was too large and too powerful: the dike burst. I half screamed, trying to stifle myself, in fear that others would find us in the act. As I lay back, wishing this could all be a dream I could wake up from, John continued to methodically saw his fat, black dick into me. “Please God, make this not be happening,” I prayed inwardly. But the slapping sound of John’s pelvis to mine belied the prayer. “Shit, girl. You as tight as dey come,” the laboring black man panted. The slapping of our loins continued and I began to slowly feel a stirring heat building in my pussy and in my hips. The slapping grew louder and I realized it grew louder because my hips were now thrusting back into his. “Dat’s it, girl. I knewed you was gonna like it once I got ya goin’,” the old black man grunted. He was leaning over me now, and I grabbed his muscular biceps to steady myself and work myself back against him. As we worked on, he reached down and brought my legs up under his arms, bending me back onto the desk and spreading my tight channel wider for his ever-deepening penetration. He leaned his head down and sucked a nipple up into his mouth. Soon he was nearly devouring my entire breast into his sucking, chewing maw. I moaned as he fed on me. It made me so hot! Then I began to spasm and cum on his thick, pounding cudgel. “Oh, oh, oh....baby...oh, baby...” I moaned over and again. As I came, John looked down into my glazed over eyes and lectured me: “Yeah, you ain’t got that high and mighty, bullshit attitude anymo’, do ya? Woulda thought you was some kinda superior bein’ when ya walked in hear yesterday! But dats all gone now ain’t it, bitch! Listen up, girl! You just some honky trash dat was born to offer up yo’ lily white, skinny ass to any black men who want it fo’ a while, and dats all you gonna be doin’ from here on in! So’s get used to the idea!” All the while, the powerful Black continued hammering his humongous organ into me as if to emphasize each point he made as he taunted me. But soon he had me answering his taunts with, “yes...yes...yes...” After several more minutes of pounding himself into me, his dick erupted. It seemed as if he were emptying gallons of molten semen into my womb. It kept on spewing and spewing until I could feel it overflowing my cunt and dripping down into the crack of my ass. I winced as the weapon kept expanding and contracting in my channel, stretching and straining my vaginal lips with each venomous spit of African seed. But I struggled to keep him in me. My lust had driven my body to respond in the age old ways that the female of the species has bred into her genetics: to struggle to retain her saddled mate until fertilization can be achieved. My face contorted as I struggled to absorb all of his size, his strength, and his blackness. My body was being seeded with all of the power and darkness of his African heritage. I knew an early dream of mine to bear a family of little blonde children was now gone forever. There would be no blonde children in my future. My offspring were now to be ebony, curly headed children. They were to be the progeny of Big John. When he was done, it took a while to pull out. Like rutting animals we were stuck to each other at the genitals. But finally the black python was pulled from its lair. John shook the slimy thing in my face and said, “Clean me off!” I sat up on the desk and leaned over, as if bowing to my master, and took the fat sloppy dick into my mouth and began washing it off with my tongue. He winced a few times; it was still sensitive from its arousal. I was gentle and loving, cleaning my juices off him. There was a knock on the door and I jumped. John pulled his pants up and went to the door. “You’re not going to let anyone in, are you?” I yelled to him in a loud whisper. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly. I saw him whispering at the door. Then he stepped back and let an obese figure in, closing the door behind him. It was Jesse. I was in shock that John would let this over weight black man into the room he’d just deflowered me in. He walked over to me and said: “Geez, bad situation here, sweetheart. Ya see I gotta get back to the floor, but now Jesse kinda knows what happened. In order to keep this whole thing quiet, I think ya better make ole’ Jess happy.” My face must have been a mask of growing horror. What could this possibly mean: “make Jess happy”? “But...I...can’t...what do you...” I stuttered. “Well, ya know Jesse’s wife is kinda mean and she don’t, ya know, give him no relief at home,” John knit his brow in phony concern. “I can’t, John, please...” I begged. “Babe, ya don’t want cha Daddy ta know about all this, do ya?” John reasoned, “Besides ya do want ta help a poor guy in the kinda agony he’s in, right?” I sat there dumbfounded. In the back of my mind, I knew I was becoming a used toy of these old black men, but I didn’t want to believe it. I began rationalizing in my own head that maybe John was right. Maybe I should just do what I have to to get out of this and go home. And...maybe it’s even true...that this poor fat man is in pain because he isn’t getting ‘taken care of’ by his mean wife. I was young, naive, and vulnerable. Like a stray doe, I was easy prey for these black wolves that were now licking their thick, black lips and getting ready to pounce. “C’mon babe,” John insisted. I fought to think straight as long moments slid by slowly. I could see the excited and expectant face of the horny, ugly, obese, black Jesse. John looked over to Jesse silently and nodded to him. The fat Black walked over to me as John backed away. The fat man stood directly in front of the chair I was now sitting in, my face even with his fly. I heard the loud zip of him unzipping his pants. He pulled out an incredibly thick dick. It was black, circumcised and thick as a beer can. It was only semi-hard at this point. He shucked it once or twice and murmured softly, “Suck it, Leasa.” I stared at the fat, soft dick. It was slowly growing before my eyes, and I felt mesmerized watching its length and fantastic girth increasing like time-lapsed photography of a flower growing. But this was more like a bulbous, venomous mushroom growing rapidly in front of my face, threatening to reach my lips. “Suck it, Leasa,” the fat man repeated. Time seemed to stop as I stared at the bloated black dick growing out of this old black man’s pants. Slowly, ever so slowly, I felt myself leaning toward it as I watched, mesmerized. I could smell its aroma now. It was musky and heavy. He smelled of male animal. I could feel my nostrils flare slightly in arousal, responding to this man’s sex scent. My lips tingled as I gently felt the soft bulbous flesh of his dick meet the soft pliant flesh of my lips. My lips instinctively puckered and placed their first small kiss on the tip of the rotund black man’s cock. They kissed it again, and I could hear the fat black man’s wheezing, as his breathing grew heavy and excited. At the third kiss, a string of precum from the tip of his dick stuck to my lips and began forming a web that felt like it was slowly pasting the fat dick and full lips to each other, as if nature intended them to be together in just this way: white lips to black dick. My tongue now slipped out and began to sneak little licks at the tip’s precum, like a thirsty kitten licking away at a leaky faucet. Soon my tongue became more aggressive and it stroked long swipes up the barrel and around the head of the bloated black gland. “Shit!” I heard Jesse exclaim in a loud whisper, “She lovin’ it!” “You better believe it, bro’,” John replied, as he slapped Jesse on the back, and walked to the door. “Enjoy,” John laughed, and left me and the fat man alone together. My jaws felt as if they were unhinging as I tried to open wide enough to take thick barrel of Jesse’s dick into my mouth. He placed his hand on the back of my head, guiding it deeper onto his fat piece of meat, whispering: “Dat’s it, babe. Root me...root me...yeh, you lovin’ ole Jesse ain’t cha’?” As the the fat man grew more excited, he grabbed my head with both hands and began pumping his dick in and out of my mouth. While he face-fucked me furiously, he began to lecture: “I’s tired hearin’ bout your perfect little white ass in yo’ daddy’s newslettas, bitch! You ain’t made fo’ nuthin’ but gettin’ on yo’ white knees and beggin’ to suck black dick. Just like you doin’ now!” He continued ramming the swollen meat into my throat, and continued lecturing me: “I spent a lotta nights playin’ wit my willie dreamin’ on you girl! Dat sweet smile and blonde hair! Well, now I ain’t havin to use my hand no mo’, huh? Yo’ mouth gonna do the job, just fine!!!” Then the angry fat man stopped momentarily, pulling my face into the fly of his pants. My nose was pressed deep into his pubic hair, and I gagged for dear life on the bloated 7” of meat he held deep in my throat. In the corner of my eye, I could see he was admiring himself in the opposite wall’s, full length mirror—here he was, old, fat, black Jesse with the President’s beautiful blonde daughter he had only seen from afar, now mashing her face into the fly of his pants while jamming his nasty, fat dick down her once sweet throat. Leasa's Graduation Ch. 2 I continued gagging, thinking this raging man was going to snuff me out any minute if he didn’t let me pull off his cock. Finally, he did. But he only let me slide back to the head of his dick. After I was able to get a few breaths, he continued the face fucking, humping into my mouth with increased energy. “Oh, an Leasa...dis is dat African meal I promised ya. Ha, ha...” he sneered. Then his dick expanded and let go a powerful discharge of an extremely viscous flow of semen. The first volley shot into the back of my throat and I had to swallow hurriedly to contain it. Following that, the fat man’s dick seemed to just ooze out a continuous flow of a thick, gooey, molasses-like jism. When I finally pulled off the deflating monster, my mouth felt like it was full of a very thick, very salty, paste. My lips and tongue kept smacking as I tried to lick it from my lips and swallow it. As I struggled to down his pasty seed, fat Jesse said: “So Leasa, seem like you enjoyin’ yo’ first taste of African cuisine, eh?” I was numb at this point. Like a trained pet, I just nodded in agreement with my new keeper...and feeder. I thought for sure we were done. But at this point, the grotesque black man began to get undressed. “Can’t I go now?” I asked meekly. “No,” he replied. When he was undressed, I could see the layers of fat this gross man carried. His belly wasn’t just huge all the way around, but there were rolls upon rolls of fat flesh layered around him. He grabbed my hair and half dragged me to a couch in the office. He threw me down on my back and began climbing onto me. “Please...” I begged. But he just ignored me and began loading his girth onto me. Instinctively, I parted my thighs very wide to cradle his huge hips. I could feel that the bulbous nozzle of his thick dick was hard again and he began to work it into me. His weight was half crushing me as he leaned forward on top of me in order to reach down to direct his dick into my channel. “Let me!” I said, to relieve him of the effort, and allow him to shift his weight off me somewhat. “Shit, girl. You really do want ole Jesse’s pork, don’t cha?” “ Y-y-yes, Jesse...I do,” I lied. I just wanted to get it over with now. I pressed the head of his dick to my pussy lips and he pushed in. He immediately began pounding what felt like a coke bottle into me. “Uh! Uh! Uh!” I kept grunting as he banged the incredible width of his shaft into my sore pussy. “Tell Jesse how much you want him, babe,” the beastly black bull grunted into my ear. I was frightened of him and just wanted to comply, get him off, and try to go home and...forget...if I ever could. “Yes, Jess. Oh hon, I want you so bad,” I lied to this human grotesque. “Always have, ain’t cha?” he directed me. “Yes, yes Jess. I’ve always wanted you. I’ve heard about you from my Dad for years and I’ve always wanted you just like this, baby!” “Ugh...” he grunted in response to my lies with a guttural lust, “You want ole Jesse’s baby, don’t cha, Leasa babe?” I paused at this...almost unable to even lie about something so gross to me I wanted to gag at the thought. But fear won out; I finally conceded: “Yes Jess. Darling, I do want your baby...I always have and always will...want to carry your child...just for you...” I could feel my words were heightening his excitement as he began grunting like an animal in unison with them—so I continued: “Yes, oh Jess...please, baby...I beg of you...give me your black baby...I want to carry him...all nine months for you, darling...” At this, the black man slammed his meaty hips into me—almost knocking the wind out of me in the process—and began to grunt and shake and shiver as he unloaded his thick seed into my depths. Strangely, I found myself wrapping my legs around him—as best I could--and holding him to me, dearly. Somehow, all the whispering back and forth of me bearing his child actually excited me. My biology took hold and demanded of me all womanly efforts to use the deposit of life giving seed--which this hideous, old, over-weight black man was delivering into me--for the creation of a new black life. As we lay together, I began spasming on his still thick,but deflating, organ. He felt the clutching of my pussy and grunted a few times: “There ya go...yeh, there ya go...get cha self off on ole Jess, baby.” Then a few minutes passed as we lay in each other’s arms. I seemed to have adapted to supporting Jesse’s weight and girth. I kissed his thick neck. I licked up and around his hairy ear. Tickling the lobe of his ear with my tongue. I couldn’t explain what I was suddenly feeling—even to myself, afterward—but the burst of affection...and lust...I felt for this obese creature must have been due to the afterglow of my orgasm. Jesse put his lips to mine. We frenched, very deeply. When our lips parted, he whispered, “Ya loved that didn’t cha’.” “Yes Jess, I did.” I no longer had any idea if I was lying or not. It didn’t matter anymore. This circus, side show of a man had just fucked me. He had now known me more intimately than any of the all-american white boys I had ever thought I loved. He possessed more of me now, and forever, than any of these past loves ever had, or would. Why not then admit I enjoyed his sexing with me. He slid out of me and let me roll forward facing the door, but still lying back into him on the couch. His big arms wrapped around me, making me feel both secure and partially covered. As I leaned back into the bulky, sweaty mass of him, I again felt strangely erotic. It was almost his ugliness—in a way—that turned me on. I felt so beautiful in the arms of this hideous beast. I reached up behind me and pulled his head down, meeting his lips with mine. We kissed again. Our noses rubbed as we kissed, as lover’s often will. When our lips parted, I sprinkled kisses all across his thick African lips. I let my tongue peek out between these light kisses and tickle his lips—so big and black, I thought. So beautiful! I loved the feel of our bodies sweating together, sweating into each other’s. It was so nasty and so sexy, I felt I was getting horny again. All the while, Jesse’s hands were fondling and pinching my tits. He even began pulling on them as if he were milking me, his prize heifer. Just then the door burst open and two more black men walked in. “Holy shit!!!!” they started shouting as Jesse brought his finger to his lips and vainly tried shushing them. “Holly shit. Jess, yew dawg!!! The Old Man’s fuckin’ daughter!!! Big John told us but we woudn’t believe him. Man!!! Un-Fuckin’-believable!!!” Jesse continued shushing the men with his free hand, while the other one, still wrapped under me, continued casually squeezing and mauling my tit. This was not lost on the bulging eyes and pants of the newly arrived twosome. But what started frightening me even more than being discovered by these store workers was that, as they were saying this, they were unbuckling and removing their pants. Fat Jesse sat up on the couch, leaving me uncovered. He got up and started to put his shirt on. “Shit! She the best ass you’ll ever have, fellas. And, hey, remember who broke her in for ya!” Jesse bragged, and then started laughing along with the two black men. Jesse opened a brown bag the two men had brought in. There was a bottle of scotch in it. They all stood around pantless, pouring themselves shot glasses that Jesse had pulled out of the desk drawer, while eyeing me and casually discussing what they’d wanted from the President’s blonde, naked daughter. “I’m gettin’ me some full-out cocksuckin’ from ‘Our Little Leasa’,” the one man joked to the others as he wagged his large member at me and took a swig of the scotch. He walked up to me, shucked his impressive member a few times, and then just dropped it and let it hang in front of my face. With his hands on his hips, he stood expectantly in front of me while casually turning to the others and discussing the workload they had on the dock that morning. I was becoming a casual sex toy for the black men at the store, almost like a paid, in-store whore to satisfy the staff. I looked at the healthy cock the bronze-colored black man let wag in my face. Numb, worn-down, and beaten, I reached out, pulled on it a few times to begin the process, and then leaned over and sucked it into my mouth. I slid off the couch onto my knees. I really wanted to give this man the cock sucking of his life. In a weird way, I wanted to impress my captors with my ability. I began sucking loudly on the bronze man’s meaty dick. In the back of my mind, I began realizing how much I liked the feel of a thick, juicy dick in my mouth. As I had with Big John the day before, I had to admit to myself that I loved the taste of black men. Their smell, their flavor was intoxicating to me. It made me suck voraciously on the dockworker offering me his delicious “African Cuisine.” “Shit, this bitch is a ‘natural born’,” the bronze man shouted to the others. I was milking his balls as I sucked his meaty prick with more and more fervor. The bronze man now moved back a little helping to position my ass up in the air a bit. At this, the other black dockworker knelt down behind me and started running his cockhead up and down the wet and stretched lips of my slit. He easily slid his weapon into my well-used snatch. “Hell man! Sloppy seconds!” he complained aloud. “Thirds!!!” Jesse shouted back, correcting him. Everyone then broke out laughing. I was lost in the orgiastic sex I was now drowning in, as the one Black sawed his dick into my pussy and the bronze one grabbed my head--as Jesse had done--and began violently face-fucking me for all he was worth. In the back of my mind, I could hear the door opening and closing, louder voices, more voices, entering the room. I could hear buckles unbuckling, zippers unzipping, and clothing being thrown on the floor. The room was filling up with men now. The private party I was to have had with Big John was slowly spilling out of control. I could even hear Big John laughing and talking in the background as my face-fucking drew on. “Ughhhh....!” the bronze man shouted as he let go a shot of his juice deep into my throat. I gagged, but only a little this time, as I was becoming adept at relaxing my throat and letting a man shoot straight down into my belly. The bronze man stepped back and slapped my face twice with his sloppy dick. Meanwhile, the Black behind me slapped my ass and waved his hand as if he were riding a wild bronc. The crowd of men laughed again. “Ride her, Jamal!” one screamed. And he did. He continued slamming away with my tits swaying from each of his bucks from behind. Another man approached me, his long dick bouncing off his thighs. He must have been in his late sixties. He reached down and felt my swaying tits: “Damn!” he said, “This bitch sure do have one fine set a titties on her, don’t she?” Then he squeezed them crudely and began pulling on them as if he were milking a cow. “Shee-it! I’d like ta bring dis one to da State Fair!” he exclaimed. Again, there was boisterous laughter. He then grabbed his inflamed organ and pushed it into my mouth. I sucked on it greedily. “Oh yeah! She a ‘Natural Born Cock Sucka’ alright!!!!” he shouted, “Shit! Looka her go for my balls!!!” He was right. I was milking his balls greedily with my free hand while the other hand fed his cock into my mouth. I pulled off his cock, licked down the barrel of his shaft, and twisted my head under his legs to get at his low slung, sweaty balls. I loved the smell of him down there: so musky, so strong, so black. I held his sagging scrotum at the base and held his big balls up to my mouth. I licked and cleaned the over-sized, sweaty testicles the old man toted. After giving each a kiss, I kissed the large scrotal pouch right between his balls. As my lips pressed themselves deeply into his scrotum, his big ballocks bulged to the sides of my cheeks wetting them with his sweat and my saliva. “Hell,” he said to the group, “Ever heard the joke about the umpire whose girl waved to him between the strikes, but kissed him between the balls! Well, now I knowed how he felt!” At this the group laughed aloud. And as they did, I held his balls to my mouth and did it again. “Must be a bad pitcha today!” he shouted, and they all laughed again. The black dockworker behind me was up on his feet now, squatting behind me, ramming his dick into my sloppy snatch with abandon. He grabbed my mane of blond hair and yanked my head back, continuing to wave one hand, as if he were riding me at a rodeo. Shortly, he started grunting and began to shoot into me. I felt him almost collapse onto my back after his cumming in me. He was thoroughly exhausted from his nearly 10 minutes of riding me. Soon another took his place. And then another. Some mounted me missionary, some doggie. Some wanted blowjobs; others wanted to fuck me, straightaway. After some two hours and nearly 20 men, I was exhausted. They began to bring in even a customer or two. One man who appeared Balinese was brought in by Big John. “Ulsima, got a payback for you lettin’ me have a crack at Ariana,” Big John said to the man, “Ulsima this here is Leasa, the President’s daughter. And, well, she’d like to get to know ya better.” The men chuckled, and the Balinese man, who appeared to be in his late 20’s, approached me. He whistled and said: “Well John, like you said, ‘fair is fair’,” and he pulled down his fly. Stepped up to me casually and just slipped his beautiful dick into my mouth. As he held my head and began fucking himself into my face, incredibly, my Dad came on over the loud speaker. He was giving a pep talk to the workers at the store while he was doing his rounds there. As he got through the beginning of his talk, he turned to the subject of his “wonderful daughter”—me. “And I guess many of you men have gotten to know my Little Leasa during her visit with us...” “And how!” one of the men exclaimed. The whole room broke up, as I, dazed and confused at this point, just continued mechanically sucking the Balinese customer off. “Yes,” Daddy continued over the speaker, “she’s got quite a head on her shoulders!” “On her shoulders?” the Balinese man broke in, “Gee, I thought it was in my pants!” More laughter broke out. And before long there laughter drowned out my father’s talk. I don’t remember it ending. Maybe the men just shut the speaker system to the room off. Shortly, the customer, Ulsima, came. He spurted very heavily into my mouth. When he was done, he grabbed my hair, wiped his cock off, replaced it in his fly, zipped up and said: “Well, thank you, Leasa. You can tell your Daddy that you certainly improved ‘Customer Satisfaction’ today,” and he left with the throng of black men breaking up again. The last act was Jesse’s. He positioned himself behind me while I was on all fours and began rubbing his monstrously thick organ up and down in the crack of my ass. As groggy as I was, I knew what this meant and I panicked. I tried to get up, but Jesse grabbed me, and quickly a few of the men held my hands to the floor. One held me behind the neck and pinned my head to the floor. Two more held my ankles in place, and, in fact, spread them some more for Jesse. I could feel Jesse’s huge gut lay itself on my ass, indeed, half way up my back, as he positioned himself. Then the 6” thick, gargantuan cock began pushing itself against my anus. “Ahhh!” I screamed. “Come on, Leasa. Dey all know how much you was lovin’ what ole Jess gave ya earlier today,” the corpulent man mumbled, “Now ya just have ta finish ya work. Ya gave up ya front hole to Big John...now it’s only fair dat the back one go to ole Jess, right?” He pushed his horse dick futher into my asshole and I thought he was going to ruin me forever. I begged: “Please Jesse, please don’t...” but he wasn’t listening. The elephantine organ finally popped into my ass. The pain was excruciating. I writhed in the confines of these wicked men, but they wouldn’t release me. Once in me, the fat man began banging his hips into my ass. Pounding his inhumanly thick dick into my bowels. As I screamed and began crying under the intense pain Jesse was inflicting, I could hear the fat man lecturing me in front of the other men: “Yeh, you was so pretty and superior walkin’ through here just 24 hours ago, wasn’t ya? Well now you just a street ho’, bitch! A good ole back door girl, Lease babe. Dats what chew are! And now dese holes a yours ain’t gonna be no good no mo’ fo’ some pencil dicked white boys. Nope! Dem whities gonna be useless to you and you gonna be useless to dem, once we get through re-sizin’ our Little Leasa for...well...let’s say ’black men only’.” The men let go of my one hand. One even encouraged me to use it to play with my clit to distract me from the pounding and stretching my rectum was being given. Amazingly, after a few minutes, I began to distract myself, and even find some enjoyment, focusing on my clitty while Jesse worked away widening my asshole. Soon, I began approaching orgasm. It happened so suddenly, I hardly noticed it come on. It hit and my ass clutched down on Jesse’s beer can, pumping into my ass. “Oh yeah, she re-sized now!” Jesse barked to the crowd. “Looka her breakin’ a sweat! The bitch is gettin’ off on havin’ ole Jesse’s dick up her ass. Yep, knew da first time I set eyes on her...’backdoor girl’. Ya know fellas the fancier they dress, the prettier they are—and fo’ sho’ the whiter they are—the bigger da black dick they wants up dey asses!” Jesse continued slapping his hips to my ass, ramming his unnatural gland deep into my guts as he professorially lectured the other men on the carnal nature of white women. When I came the second time, he couldn’t hold off anymore and let go his last wad of thick, rich African semen deep into my ass. He fell over onto me and I had to survive under his weight for several minutes until he got up. As he pulled out, my ass made a disgusting sound. All the men laughed as I struggled to regain control over my sphincter, completely humiliated and embarrassed. Most of the men had gotten dressed at this point and were leaving. I was a mess, and many of them had used me two or three times. I was ‘turned out’ and they were through with me. I would never be thought of the same way by any of them again—nor by myself. The worst of all of this was that all of it was on tape. Before I ever arrived, Big John let the security workers know to tape everything video’d in his office that day. In the months and years to come, that video was copied and distributed many times to many of the company’s workers throughout the country. It caught everything: from my kissing John after the door was shut, to my exotic dancing for the big black man, to my sex with Jesse, and ultimately to the 2 hour gangbang where the President’s darling daughter took on all comers—in all holes--repeatedly! My father was ruined as the tape circulated to higher levels of management. He eventually turned to drink and was fired for public drunkenness on the job. It must have been terrible for him—to have to give lectures and talks before groups of men that were sitting there laughing at him. Obviously, I was never mentioned in his newsletters again. Nor seen on the company Christmas cards. Although there was a card sent out to workers throughout the country that Big John and his mean-spirited friends created. The card had a picture of me on it, one black man with a cock in my mouth, another in me from behind. Underneath the picture the caption read,”Tis the Season for Giving!” And under the caption--as if naming the person the caption quoted—was the name: Leasa's Graduation Ch. 2 “Leasa M—“ ***** I always love to hear from you all. Please vote. And also write and let me know what you think... Leasa's Graduation “Like I said today, down at the store, you sure got some titties, Leasa. Your Daddy sure never put that in the newsletter!” the evil man said caustically. “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Thank you...” I whispered, still trying to stare out the window, while intermittently having to steal a look at the fantastic onyx weapon I was pumping in my hand. “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “No prob, Leasa. You just one big-titted girl...and, you know, I’m surprised your Daddy didn’t print that in his newsletters when he was braggin’ on ya and all. Think he’ll ever write in one of his company Christmas cards, ‘And, hey everyone, Leasa’s titties got even bigger this year!’” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Uh...I don’t know...” I mumbled. “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” At this point, he had pulled down the other side of my tank top, and was leisurely playing with each tit as he cared to: squeezing them, weighing them, and even pulling the nipples out several inches and letting go, watching them bounce back to my chest. “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” Soon, his dick’s precum was drooling to the point of not only covering my hand, but of oozing off my wrist. Even as naive as I was, I knew something would have to give soon. “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” I felt his hand on the back of my neck, “Come here, Leasa. We don’t want to make a mess on Daddy’s couch, do we?” He pulled my head over with little resistance; I felt so weak in this man’s presence. As he pulled my face toward his immense dick, my hand mechanically continued pumping at it, even as I offered perfunctory resistance. But as I came within inches of the nasty appendage, I really tried to stop what I could see was going to happen. But John was too strong. As I placed a hand on his thigh and tried to push back, he brought my lips to the sticky head of his uncut dick. “Mmmpphhh...” I tried to plead with him as he mashed my lips onto the mushroom head of his frothing cock. “Now Leasa, I’m sure your Daddy must have taught you that, ‘Nice girls don’t talk with their mouths full.’ Right sweetheart?” My jaws responded by giving way to the thick organ that Big John was forcing into my mouth. Instinctively, my lips closed around the head, and as John grabbed my hair and began directing me, I began sucking in earnest at this powerful man’s massive dick. As my head began bobbing on his meaty organ, I could hear him grunting and whispering, “That’s it. Go on, girl. Do what you been wantin’ to do since you set eyes on me today. Yeh, that’s it, suck that big, black dick.” I pumped the glistening muscle into my mouth and let my tongue swirl around its head, trying my best to coax out the juice from his mammoth balls. As I pumped away at his dick with the one hand, my other hand began massaging and milking his testicles, almost pleading with them to give forth. I struggled this way for minutes. Meanwhile, John’s hands played with my swaying tits, and then pulled up my skirt and slapped my ass. “Like I said, Leasa. Grade A! Grade A!” he laughed as he slapped my ass loudly. I barely noticed it, though, as I became more and more obsessed with the expanding cock I nursed in my straining mouth. I slid off the couch, down to my knees and knee walked between Big John’s spread legs. I continued sucking and yanking on the big club of meat the dominant man was feeding me. Then, John pulled the dick from my mouth, and, waving it in his hand, commanded, “Kiss it, Leasa. Kiss it like you kiss your Daddy when you haven’t seen him in a long time.” I leaned forward and sloppily kissed the knob of his soaked dick. It made a nasty smacking sound. “That’s good, sweetie. You always gonna kiss this dick like dat. Because it’s your new daddy, got that?” I nodded, obediently. Then he pointed it back at my mouth, indicating for me to continue my work. I did. Within minutes, his cock expanded and he began shooting thick loads of his jizz down my throat. He held the back of my head. But he didn’t need to. I swallowed. And swallowed . And swallowed more. But soon, I was afraid of drowning in his copious discharge, and pulled off as the incredibly potent black man shot three more loads into my face, forehead, and then onto my tits. I fell back into an awkward sitting position on the floor, at his feet. As I supported my self on my sticky hands, they left gooey imprints on the carpet. John’s jizz oozed down my cheeks. A gob from my forehead leaked into my eye, sealing it shut. As I looked down at the strand that was streaked across my tits, I could see the long rubbery band of cum hanging from my chin. I looked up at Big John. He smiled insolently down at me. He abruptly stood up, shook his lanky dick with one hand, ridding it of the excess jizz still clinging to it, and raining more drops all over my face and hair. It was like a man shaking off his dick of excess pee over a urinal. The arrogant black man, then dropped the bungy like organ into his left pant leg, zipped up, and strode to the door. Why, I don’t know, but pathetically, I said, “I was Captain of the Cheerleading Squad.” He stopped at the door, laughed and replied, “Shoulda’ been Captain of the Cocksuckin’ Squad as far as I can see, girl!” I sat dumbfounded by this arrogant, powerful specimen of a man. “I was voted ‘Most Likely to Succeed,’” I offered, feebly. “Hmmm... Seems like you shoulda’ been voted ‘Most Likely to Suck Black Dick the Resta Ya’ Life,’ babe. Because that’s what you gonna be doin’! Understand!” I nodded weakly. As I did, the long rope of cum oozing from my chin, dropped off into the carpet. “Will you..um...uh...” I stumbled for words. “What is it, girl? I gotta get goin’!” he demanded, somewhat exasperated. “You..uh..won’t tell Daddy, will you?” I pleaded, numbly, still in shock from all that had taken place. Of course, telling my father would have been the last thing John would’ve wanted. I was still just a teenager. But at my age, all I could think of was what my father would think of me--and what he might do to me—if he found out. The comment, however, struck John like a light going off in his head. “Hmmm...” he said in an exaggerated manner, holding his fingers to his chin, like a bad stage actor, pondering over the idea. “Tell yo’ daddy, what?” he feigned. “You know..” “Know, what?” he played with me. “That I sucked you off,” I finally confessed, lowering my head, shamefully. The supercilious black man smiled, “ Ohhhh! That.” Then he stroked his chin and pondered again. “Seems like tellin’ yo’ Daddy would be the right thin to do, don’t it?” “Please...” I begged, still looking down into the carpet. “Well, tell ya what. I won’t tell ya daddy...if ya come down to the store tomorrow and..uh..take care of me again. What do ya say? It’s up to you.” I hesitated. But then he seemed impatient, and ready to leave. “Ok,” I surrendered. John’s face smiled broadly. “Oh,’” he confidently added, in a business-like tone, “And be there sharply at two. That’s when my break is. Got it?” I nodded meekly. “And Leasa, sweetheart, I only got a 15 minute break, so you’se gotta be quick about it. Understood?” I nodded again. “ Ok, see ya tomorrow then. At two, sharp! There’s a little office in the back where we...can have a little privacy—if ya know what I mean,” he winked, crudely. Then he exited. But he quickly leaned back in, saying, “Oh and...better get cleaned up before ya date arrives, baby. You a mess!” Then he was gone. I pulled myself to my feet. Picked up the skirt and panties on the floor. I was so involved sucking Big John off, I hadn’t noticed he’d peeled them off me. I walked into the bedroom and looked into the mirror. I was a mess. I took some tissues and wiped the black man’s thick goo from my eye, forehead and neck. But I hesitated at my lips. John’s gelatanous cum dressed my lips and made them appear as thick as his...but whitish. I let my tongue stretch up and swipe the gunk from my upper lip. I washed it around in my mouth and swallowed it. He tasted good, I thought. My tongue repeated itself across my lower lip. I rolled the black man’s semen over my tongue several times: sampling his jism like it was a fine wine. “God! He tastes so good!” I thought, heatedly, “ I wonder if all black men do?” I lay down on the bed and played with my wet, agitated pussy. I came quickly. Much stronger than I could ever remember coming thinking about my boyfriend...or any white boys, for that matter. At this point, I’d nearly forgotten the boy picking me up for dinner. That night, at dinner and elsewise, I could barely pay attention to the boy I was with. My attention was drawn to the black waiters, doormen, and cabbies we were running into all night. I saw them all in a new light. I wondered what they might be like... behind closed doors. Most of all, I was lost in thought over the arrogant, 50-plus, coal-black Othello who had so recently burst into my life—and changed it forever. I wondered what kind of outfit a man like Big John would find attractive on a young, blonde girl. And I wondered what I would wear for him the next day, when I’d come down to the paint store, at his command. This is Part I of a quick two part story I am writing for a friend. It isn’t meant to be part of the longer “Leasa” story. As always, please let me know how you feel about what you’ve read.