Straight White Girls: A Welcoming - Sex Stories

Straight White Girls: A Welcoming

... strength. She had often seen the brief moment of stubborn denial at different points of a seduction and yet almost, without fail, the resistance was short lived…this one shorter than usual. Tamara absentmindedly opened her mouth and took the candy cane in her mouth. She tasted just the slight remnants of Janet's wetness. The taste was indescribable. For a woman who lived a decadent life in all ways including food, this was an exotic taste unlike anything she had ever tasted. She immediately wanted to taste more, so much so she didn't realize she was bobbing on the candy cane slowly. Janet quipped, “It tastes a lot better from the source, my pet.” Tamara felt the burn of shame, yet without further instruction, without any guidance, she returned to the floor, back on her knees. Janet, tugged her skirt off, sat back down on a chair, and said, “I almost should make you wait for such defiance. There is no shortage of white bitches willing to beg to taste my delicacy. Barbie here used to be a police officer before pulling me over for speeding; Mercedes, who you also briefly met, was valedictorian of her school and on a full scholarship to Harvard before deciding to give all that up to be in her natural environment, on her knees serving blacks.” Tamara couldn't believe what she was hearing. Yet, she also couldn't believe that as she sat on her knees, now a few feet from black pussy, that she too would be willing to give up almost anything for the privileged to taste black pussy. ...

... Janet moved her fingers to her pussy lips and spread them open. She asked the white woman on her knees, “What do you see between my pussy lips, my pet?” “Perfection,” Tamara answered, in a hypnotic trance. Janet laughed, “That's a better answer than I was actually expecting. What colour do you see?” “Pink,” Tamara answered, her eyes never leaving the perfect pussy. “Exactly, my pet,” Janet nodded, “you see underneath the black or white is pink, a perfect pink pussy that you are dying to taste aren't you, Mrs. Adler?” Hearing her last name again was another reminder of who she really was. A wealthy white woman, married to a very influential white man, with two exceptional white children. She had a massive house, servants, four cars, a summer house in the Hamptons, she was living every white woman's dream. Yet, all that seemed trivial and inconsequential in comparison to what she wanted now. “Yes, I'm dying to taste your pussy.” “My black cunt?” Janet questioned. Not hesitating, her need to taste her overriding everything else, the white woman answered, “Yes, your black cunt.” “And you’re my whit bitch?” Janet continued. “Yes, dammit, now please, let this white bitch please you,” she begged, clearly frustrated. “You will be my slave?” Janet asked, to clarify, her finger now slowly pumping in and out of her cunt. Another derogatory term, another shot at the racial differences between them…to history…yet at the moment she was a slave, a slave to her desire, her craving, her hunger. ...