Dominated by an Older Black Man

A quick disclaimer:

This story contains an obviously unhealthy relationship dynamic and problematic themes of racial fetishisation. It's definitely not intended to be taken seriously - this is just a fantasy, and a very silly one.

If you don't like that kind of content, I advise you against reading this story.

All characters are over 18.

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I was always one of those people whose sex life had been mostly in my head.

You know; shyness, super old-fashioned parents, tame and boring suburban upbringing. In my mind (and online) I was wild and depraved and crazy, but in real life that stuff just... never happened. My really close friends knew I had kind of a dirty mind, but that was it.

Not that I was like, a nun. I was justnormal. I had had a boyfriend, and we had had sex. But of course, it wasn't like I imagined. It was awkward, and timid, and clumsy, and after trying again and again it was still awkward and timid and clumsy.

It wasn't all his fault. I knew I wasn't making it easier. For some reason there was a mental block; I couldn't tell him what I wanted, and Idefinitelycouldn't just do what I want.

Well, actually, I tried telling him about one of my fantasies once, but he just got kind of annoyed and insecure and frightened in the way boys do, and I had to spend ages reassuring him, and hestillbrought it up months and months later. So, understand, it wasn't just paranoia. Most guys actually really do freak out and panic when you show them your slutty side.

Anyway, that was my entire "real life" sexual experience. I was eighteen, and had graduated from high school the year before. For some personal reasons I won't go into here, I was taking a gap year before going to college. I had a part time job (kinda), helping out with my dad's business, but basically that was just answering emails and taking phone calls every now and then. I had a lot of free time, and most of my friends had left town.

So I spent lots of time online, which is where I met Daryl. I won't say the name of the website where I met him (not sure if I'm allowed to mention that kind of stuff on here). But, basically, a place where horny people online talked dirty to each other. You know, silly flirting, cybersex. Nothingreal. I had tried chatting with a few guys before, but none of them had really kept my interest.

But me and Daryl just had a connection right from the first message.

Daryl was fifty, or he said he was fifty. But don't misunderstand - I wasn't some naive girl being manipulated and groomed by an older man. No, Daryl was, after only a little bit of small talk, totally straightforward and direct and what he wanted. He told me he was married. He didn't pretend to be looking for a seriously relationship, he was kinky, and he liked talking to younger women, and that was that.

There was a phrase he used a few times: "That's what I'm offering, take it or leave it."

He never pried too much into my personal life, and I liked that. Even at that age, I knew that most of the guys who tried to make you open up about your vulnerabilities were sharks. Daryl was not a shark. More like... an crocodile basking in the sun. He just sat there, and everyone could see him, and see how dangerous his was. And sometimes brave little birds (e.g. me) flew into his mouth anyway.

Of course, we still learned things about each other. He learned about about my ex-boyfriend, and where I lived, and what happened with my mom, and my health problems, and how close I was with my dad.

And I learned about his life too, which was so very different from mine. He had kids who were older than me; he had been married more than twenty years; he had grown up in a rough public housing project; he had even been in jail once, when he was young, which really shocked me. I knew people had lives like this, but usually I never really talked to them.

When he was younger he had never been with a white girl. Partly because he married young, but mostly because they just didn't really make up much of his world. It wasn't until he was over forty that he had discovered online communities where people had interracial fetishes. That changed things; he discovered that he liked very much playing the dominant, black male figure that so many white people secretly dreamed about. And he found out that he was good at it, too.

Anyway, I... also had that kind of problematic, kinda-racist fetish. So we talked about that.

It started just with flirty messages. Then he started sending porn clips. And he actually hadreallygood taste, so I would ask him for more, and he'd show me more and more extreme stuff...

And it escalated from there.

He asked me to say things; I sent him voice messages. He asked for photos; I sent him photos. He asked for videos; I sent him videos. He even sent me toys (I was terrified that my dad open the packages, but luckily it never happened), and I played with them in the ways he asked.

I had never even had a vibrator before, but soon he had me sending him video clips where I would suck on dildos, or show off the butt plug he got me.

He told me it was all "practice" for the day when he would come meet me. Sometimes I would daydream about that, but most of the time I never really expected it to happen. He lived two states away - close enough that I could realistically imagine us meeting, but far enough that he felt like he was at a safe distance, and fantasies could remain fantasies. And that's all it was for me, to start; just an nice, dreamy fantasy

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"I'm coming on the 28th."

That was how he announced it. Notice that he didn'taskif I was free. Of course, we'd been talking every day for three months, so he knew I was basically always free, but still, he was presumptuous.

My heart started beating super hard when I read that. My first instinct was to say no. I started drafting a message, trying to find the perfect excuse, but before I could reply something came up. I had to go on a ride with my dad to a building site. Once we got there, I didn't really have anything to do; I just stood around and daydreamed, imagining what it would be like if Daryl really came.

On the ride home, I messaged him back - just "yay".

We made the arrangements. He would be in town about a week. On the first day, we would meet at my house, and then we'd see what happened from there.

I could barely sleep the night before he came; it was like Christmas eve, but if it was also kind of terrifying.

In the morning I picked out my outfit. I chose one I knew he liked. It was simple - a t-shirt and shorts - but he had liked that picture so much and told me it showed off my body really well, and I thought maybe he would remember, and be proud of me for remembering.

As soon as my dad left for work that morning, I texted Daryl telling him he could come.

"On my way. Sit tight and wait for daddy," he replied.

I couldn't relax. For half an hour, I just paced around the house cleaning up little things. Obviously, I couldn't change anything my dad would notice, but for some reason I was very worried about making a good impression, even though I knew Daryl wasn't the kind of person who cared about stuff like that.

I was rearranging items on my desk when he knocked. Sprinting down the hallway, I saw him through the door's frosted glass and froze. He was just a big dark indistinct mass that filled up the whole frame. He must have been able to see me too, and he must have noticed my hesitation, because he knocked again, louder.

When I opened the door I was grinning stupidly, and probably blushing terribly too. It seems silly to admit it, but in that moment I was completely terrified that he wouldn't like me. He had seen photos of me - so many photos and videos and video calls - but I always felt like I was pretending to be someone sexier and more confident than I really was. Now he would be seeing the real me; a totally ordinary eighteen year old girl from the suburbs of a little city no cared about; short, freckled, a little basic. You know; "actual real life" blonde, not "high heels, dye job" blonde.

He was so big. You never really notice how big people are in photos, do you? You almost never notice if an actor is tall or short, but when someone is bigger than you in real life it's all you can think about. I don't know how to describe his build accurately; let's say he looked like a retired player, but like, one of the big defensive players after they'd retired and spent ten years drinking beer. He looked strong, but certainly he wasn't someone who was vain or obsessed with their body.

He had a shaved head. His features were strong and masculine rather than handsome; his head was wide and square, like one of those Olmec statues. I guess, describing him objectively, he was a very ordinary looking guy, and some people might have even called him ugly. But the sight of him thrilled me.

"There's my girl," he said. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"I can't believe you're really here..." I said.

"Shut the fuck up," he said - but his tone was sweet, gentle, almost somehow romantic.

Then he leaned in and kissed me. It was not the timid, hesitant way my ex used to kiss me. Daryl's first kiss was... forceful isn't quite the right word, but it was certainly a kiss he was in charge of, and it lasted a long time.

"Let's go to your room," he said.

I took him by the hand (so much bigger than mine!) and led him down the hallway. He paused to look at the pictures on the wall, and I felt a cringe of embarrassment as he looked at old family photos.

When we got to my room he slammed the door shut, wrapped his hand around my neck and kissed me again.

"Now let's get a look at you, girl."

Without any particular buildup, he started taking my clothes off. There was no hesitation in his hands; firmly, deliberately, he took off my clothing until I stood there in front of him, totally naked except for a pair of little pink socks.

Instinctively, I covered my breasts with my arms. Although he had seen everything before in my pictures, this wasdifferent; in real life, he felt like a stranger, a stranger with an unfamiliar smell, whose every movement was just a little bit foreign and weird to me.

"Nah, none of that," he said, firmly moving my arms away. "Let me get a look at you."

He stepped back, looking at my body while running his hands along my sides, then spun me around slowly, squeezing and playing with whatever parts of me interested him.

"Mmm, good girl, you even shave that pussy like I ask for."

He took me over to my full-length mirror and held me by the waist. How small and pale and exposed I looked next to him! He put his hand to my throat and squeezed, gently but firmly.

"Who you fuckin' belong to?"

"You, daddy," I said quietly.

"You just my little pet, yeah?"

He moved two fingers to my mouth and pushed them inside. Without even thinking about it, I started to suck on them gently as I nodded.

"Ain't nobody know about what I know about you." He spun me around so that my ass faced the mirror, and smacked it. "Bouncy little ass..." He held each cheek in one hand and spread them, smacking and squeezing them while making little mmm-mmm-mmm moans of satisfaction.

I was blushing with embarrassment, but it was also exciting, knowing how much pleasure he was taking in my body.

"On your knees," he commanded, and I knelt.

He took it out. I had seen pictures and knew it was going to be big, but I was still shocked by it somehow; it had been kinda abstract in my head, but this thick dark cock wasrealand it had mass and warmth and a smell and it was right in my face.

I kissed the tip. He was uncircumcised, which was also new.

"You ready to worship this big dick?

"I'm ready, daddy."

I took it in my mouth and he began to moan. He was so big that at first it was hard to avoid scraping him with teeth. It was lucky I had practised a little with the dildo his sent me (at his instruction, of course) or I definitely wouldn't have been able to take him properly.

"That's it, that's it. You suck that big dick. Suck that big dick, girl."

He grunted with pleasure. He was so much louder than my ex. Daryl was so totally unembarrassed about his own pleasure; when he was enjoying himself, he would release deep, animalistic groans with no shame at all.

"Deeper, bitch."

He held me by the back of the head and started to push me down deeper. I could feel the tip brush against the back of my throat, and found my mouth filling with so much saliva that every thrust started to make a wet sound.

"Look at me," he commanded. "Look at me, I want to see those eyes."

I obeyed. Somehow he looked both stern and amused and kind of frenzied at the same time.

"Mmmm, I like those big blue eyes. Shit, that's a pretty face."

Without warning, he took his cock out of my mouth and started to slap it against my cheek. It was covered in my spit, and it felt heavy as it smacked wetly against my face. Then he started to just rub his cock all over my face, just smooshing it against me aggressively. There was a little feminist voice in my head telling me to object, but for some reason I couldn't help laughing as he did it.

"Yeahhhh, that's what you good for," he said, as he lifted up his balls and placed them against my mouth. "Suck these black nuts, girl. Yeah, you like to suck on these old black nuts, don't you girl? Fuckin' worship 'em."

I made a little murmur of agreement into his testicles as I gently sucked and licked them. He started stroking my head affectionately as I worshipped his balls, just like he ordered. Then he reached down and smacked my ass.

"Get on that bed," he ordered, as he started to take off the rest of his clothes.

I got up, so dizzy that my legs were swaying beneath me, and lay down on the bed. He finished undressing and started to straddle me, his huge cock leaking precum onto my stomach.

"Damn, you a single bed girl... bet you got bedtime stories read to you in this thing back in the day..." He grinned as he stroked my saliva-covered cheek with his finger. I knew I was being fetishised for being so much younger than him, but I didn't care - it thrilled me too.

Then he spread my legs, got into position, and pushed his cock inside me.

I moaned. I really expected pain; there was none. Even my ex's not-quite-average cock had hurt the first few times. But I really, genuinely was ready for Daryl. I had never been so wet, and as his cock tip slid inside me I only felt this warm, perfect feeling as he filled me up.

His body was so much bigger than mine that I felt like a little toy underneath him. If someone had walked in, I don't know if they would have even been able to see me from the doorway; maybe just a tiny little flash of pale skin appearing and disappearing under this big dark 280lb mass, too big even for the mattress.

"This pussy belongs to me now," he whispered into my ear.

"Is it better than your wife's?" I whispered back.

"Mmm, my wife ain't got no 18-year-old white girl pussy."

He was fucking me deep now, with long, slow strokes. I could feel his balls slap against me; they felt big and heavy and loose compared to my ex's. His balls were little and compact with no and they felt kind of nervous somehow when they banged against you. For some reason, that was the difference that stuck out in my head in that moment, not their cock; the cock was just incomparable, I guess.

"Look at that face," he said, grabbing my chin. "You ruined already, girl. You ain't going back, you my slut now. Say that shit."

"I'm your slut," I said, smiling while he squished my cheeks.

"Louder!" He gently slapped me.

"I'm your slut!"

He grabbed me by the ankles, lifted up my legs, and started to fuck me even deeper. He was grunting, and I was being loud too, I was screaming and squealing in the most embarrassing way as he fucked me harder and harder.

And without expecting it, I came. I had felt a kind of pressure building up, but I literally didn't realise what it was, because I had never come without my finger on my clit before.

"Ooh, she love that shit," Daryl said, who slowed down so he could pull off my socks. "This called getting your pussy broken in. You a little snowbunny whore for life now. Ain't no going back."

"I don't want to go back," I murmured.

"You need this dick, don't you? What would you for this dick?"

"Anything, daddy"

"Good answer," he said. Without warning, he stopped and sat up. "On the floor, bitch."

My head still spinning and my legs still weak, I got out of bed like I thought he wanted me to.

"Don't stand up!" he yelled, pushing me down to my hands and knees. "All fours, all fours. That's right. Crawl for me. Ass up in the air. Good girl. Your panties on the floor, pick em up. No hands, use your mouth."

I didn't even feel ashamed; I just crawled slowly across the floor and picked up my panties in my mouth, just like asked.

"Damn, that's a pretty sight. Bring em here. Good girl." He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, his huge black cock dangling between his legs.

Like an obedient pet, I crawled back over to him, my laughter muffled by the panties stuffed in my mouth. When I dropped them in his lap, he stroked my hair affectionately.

"I wonder if my wife let me take you back home if I tell her we just gon' make you the family dog. We tell the neighbours you just my little Caucasian Retriever. You gotta be convincing, though. Bark, let me hear it."

"Woof, woof."

"Louder! Bark for me!"

"Woof woof woof!" I had forgotten entirely that I was meant to be worried about things like the neighbours hearing. In that moment, I just wanted to be a good dog for him.

He leaned down and licked my cheek. "Turn around," he commanded, spinning me around so my ass faced him. He gave it a smack. "Raise that ass up. I ain't gonna do no work at all, show me what an enthusiastic little dickrider you can be." He grabbed my hips, lifted me up to line up with cock, and moved me back down onto his cock.

I pushed back on it, slowly moving back and forth, feeling his cock stretch me.

"You can do better than that, you fucking like a white girl! Fuck me like you mean it! Throw it back, throw it back! Faster!"

I pushed faster and faster. All I could hear was the noise of my ass slapping against his skin, and his cheers and his grunts and his encouragement. There was so much sweat running down my face. I felt so overwhelmed it felt like my body was going to shut down, but every "good girl" he said was like a little rush, and I was so proud that I was throwing it back the way he liked, good enough to please him, to meet the standards of someone who was so much more experienced than me.

When I came again, I just about collapsed on the floor. But Daryl pulled me up, turned me around to face him again, and kissed me, an oddly gentle kiss this time.

Then he gestured down to his cock. "Girl, look at this pussy juice you left all over my dick. Work that tongue, clean this shit off."

He was telling the truth; his dark cock was glistening and had little white rings of creamy fluid around it. Like a good girl, I stepped off the bed, got down on my knees, and started to lick it off him. It was my first time tasting my own pussy on someone before.

"Good little dick-washer," he said softly. "Don't miss these nuts, they got some too." He put his hand on my head and started pushing me down to his balls, moaning deep as I tongue-washed them.

Then he kept pushing me down; a gentle hint at first, then firmly he stared pushing my head down to his ass.

"Go on, lick that ass, baby girl."

I'm not exactly proud to say it, but when you're in a really submissive headspace you just kind of... do things. So I did it. Gingerly at first, then with more enthusiasm as he moaned and pushed me down harder.