Black Man's Girl - Sex Stories

Black Man's Girl

... And washed my hair… I was getting hit on, very aggressively on a constant basis by a lot of guys. One, his name was Marvin, kept telling me he was going to rape me soon and that just wasn’t going to be my choice. He was a real thug, built like an animal, very Mike Tyson but more vulgar and dangerous, if that’s even possible. He scared me. But curiously I found my nipples perk up when he said rape. Hmmm, I don’t know, I guess I thought it was all part of prison life and shrugged it off. Another said he was going to make me his wife and hand me out his homeboys, two others from across my cell kept telling me they had pink thong panties and red lipstick they wanted me to wear. Then there was this black man named Dwayne , I mean he was like 6 foot 8 and at least 285 lbs, all muscle , cut up, with a shaved head who was different, he didn’t say things exactly like that; he was smooth but still very matter of fact, firstly, that either way I would be giving up my little white pussy eventually, that I would need a man, but I’d pretty much belong to him, and that I would learn rules because I was a pretty little white girl and could never be a man. I had to think about that and that’s all I thought about, having a man, being a girl… at first I felt ashamed because I was imagining being that way with black men who , even though they were right, treated me like property and lesser, and given what my dad taught me, I still was really liking the idea! A strange mix of shame and lust ...

... knowing I might be reduced to a simple sperm receptacle, a play toy for black men. Maybe its pheromones or something but since the day I entered prison and saw these big black men I mean how could I possibly act like any kind of man? My whole being seemed to gravitate towards my place as woman in this prison society. I occasionally caught myself walking with a little more shake in my ass, or deliberately jumping up and down so men noticed my boobs bounce. Even my voice responded naturally, moving an octave higher and genuinely sounding female. Still, though I was just fantasizing I was very scared what people would think, particularly my cellie, a snarly white guy with swastikas and other racist tats- he kept telling me to stay away from the niggas, that all they wanted was to fuck me, to put me in daisy dukes, pass me around, make me wear makeup and call me some girls name etc. The white race is superior he insisted. I went along with it. But the more he ran his mouth off, that niggers are beneath us, that their dicks are only bigger than ours because they’re animals, I’m dreaming about sucking that fat twelve-inch black dick I peeked at in the shower. My cellie already looked at me like I was a sissy, and even though he too was forced to suck cock he still claimed to be a hundred percent straight male. A few times he even came on to me, squeezing my breasts while I was sleeping and once even kissing me. But he was repulsive to me, unlike the awesome and intimidating black men ...