anonymous4:I have showed my best friend your profile, and have expressed how much I wishu were in Alabama. Its no secret that we would both love having you as our own, maybe even at the same time. So how would you handle having 2 black men in the same room with you. Both stroking at just the sight of your beautiful body, yearning to taste you, fuck you. Please you. I must know. I have so many fantasies about you, this is one of many.
me: as you learn more about my fantasies you will find out ive always wanted to be owned by two best friends or b*****rs. I also adore black men. for part of my twenties i totally abandoned all my white friends and only hung out with my group of sexy black men. It all started when i met this super hot black boy who went by the name pooh bear. My friend told me i would fuck him. I told her i had never been attracted to a black man and if the racist woman that raised me found out i was with a black dude my f****y would disown me. She was right. I met him. I never wanted a man that bad in my life. I fucked him that night.
His cock was so huge he had to be gentle with me but i know how sexy we looked slamming into each other with my pale white skin contrasting against his dark skin. He knew how to own me and even though he was careful not to hurt me with that huge cock he got me off hard being much rougher than any of the white dudes i ever fucked. He told me that i had a big fat pussy. I was so naive that i thought it was a bad thing. He let me know that nothing is sexier than a chick with a big fat pussy mound like i have. We spent every day smoking blunts with our boys. Pooh bear explained that he liked to fuck a chick and treat her like a dirty whore. He was so sexy so young he had black women in his complex pay him to get fucked by that huge cock. After that he decided he wasnt attracted to black women and he got off using dumb skanks. He told me I was too good for that. He was one of many dudes that decided if they could be around me they would rather be talking to me than fucking me. We still fucked sometimes. He let me know i was his number one bitch.
Young white chicks chased his dick constantly. We would be hanging out and they would show up. If they had money to buy us pot we let them stay. Those bitches knew damn well they had to get me a blunt if they wanted to chase my man. I had no problem with him fucking other chicks. I kind of got off seeing them treated like trash when i got treated like a queen. Life was easy. I went to college in the morning then i went to my boy’s house. we had no tv. we would spend all afternoon turning pounds of weed into nick and dime sacks. I smoked for free. They loved me. Instead of watching tv we sat there going back and forth with lyrics. It was rap for them. It was poetry for me. I can rhyme and i know words. They could hit me up for the next lyric and i could bust it out in my sweet white girl southern accent. I have never used the N word in a bad way. I got laughed at because i did learn to use it as a greeting. ‘what up my niggah’ was hello. I got teased because of my accent and the fact i tried to say it and it came out racist pronouncing the ‘er’ It wasn’t on purpose. I just seemed unable to say it without using proper grammar.
I do know exactly what it is like to sit in a room with four black dudes while they all want to stroke their cocks wanting me. That was the problem. Their was jealousy. The dude who owned the apartment was such a good man. His white bitch left him leaving behind her white k** that wasn’t his. It was nearly a bare apartment. That little white baby girl had half the toys in walmart to play with. It was my one chance to be a mother. In my racist backwoods town it’s a big deal for a white chick to be with black men. My cousins also call me a Nword fucker. I had the balls to go to walmart with four black dudes and a white baby on my hip. Of course I got dirty looks. I gave them right back. The babies dad wanted to be with me. He wanted me to be the mother for his baby. I couldn’t do it because i was financially dependent on my aunt who would cut me off if i married a black man. She truly was my real mother. She was my world. I could never choose a man over my aunt. She died and now I can marry a black man if I chose to get married.
One of my boys had a black baby’s momma. She was the problem. Her man was chasing my ass in front of her. Suddenly they were all chasing me but pooh bear. Finally it got so bad the baby’s momma asked me to drive her to the store. I knew what it meant. She didn’t stop explaining the ways she would slit my throat if i took her man. She said it calmly and seriously. I told her I wasn’t interested. She told me she didn’t care she knew he was interested in me. She told me it was time to disappear. It was too much sexual pressure all at once. Her man was after me. He was calling me non stop. When the white girl’s dad tried to fuck me I freaked out. I thought of him as a friend. He wanted something serious. I broke his heart and never went back.
It’s funny. Black boys never hit on me. I look too sweet,young,innocent and upper middle class. One of my favorite memories was the place I used to buy weed. It was after i lost contact with my black boys. I’m totally comfortable in the ghetto. One day buying weed a group of black men started fucking with me. They knew I wasn’t a cop. At the same time I always knew how to prove I was legit. If a man was in doubt I should him my titties and say ‘would a cop do that’ I got my weed and I got a discount. I was always chasing three dimes for a twenty. My white male friends knew I could pull it off every time. All I had to do was take my top off. So when the group of dudes were teasing me about being a cop I just got topless. I don’t get it but a lot of men think i have fake tits. I do get asked if they are real. That day I said ‘fuck yes they are real don’t you see me in a ghetto buying a dime and driving a beat up ford taurus, how on earth could i afford fake titties?’
It may be wrong but I don’t mind telling the stories. There are different rules in the ghetto. A man made me wait so he could get his son who was probably eight. I listened to the speech he gave his son about my tits. It was a lesson in life about having something for free that money can’t buy. He told his son ‘You will never see another skinny chick with tits that big that are real.’ I watched him use my tits as an example of being poor but still having something better than rich people. That man told me when it came to tits I won the lottery. He told his son that’s what you need to be chasing instead of the skinny bitches on tv with money to buy big tits. That memory will never leave me.
I’ve always had a fantasy about being shared by two men. It began young when I was doing phone sex. I was 14. My uncle was a millionaire with the luxury of the internet. One night with his step daughter we meet two men in a chat room. They were musicians and they wouldn’t tell us who they were. We made them call us long distance to prove it. They did. They sang and played us cover songs like hotel california so damn well we knew they were legit. They latched on to my sexy voice. I was already good at phone sex. I gave them my number. I never had a phone curfew. Our phone never stopped ringing. I could take phone calls at three or four in the morning. I found out who they were when it finally ended. If I name them no one would believe me. I can just say it was a male trio. If I watched MTV or cared about popular music I would have known who they were all along. They were usually on a tour bus or in a hotel right next to each other and they both had a phone. I lied and said I was eighteen. We went on a journey to describe every way two men could tag team one chick. They were bonded so tight. They weren’t gay at all. But a lot of our conversations would involve things like one of them pushing my head down so I could choke on his best friend’s cock while he fucked me. I’m sure they tag teamed groupies. They were just too busy and it was a hassle to do it all the time. They loved me for being innocent and not someone after them for being famous.
I learned from them that when you hit it big and chicks want to fuck you for bragging rights it gives them pressure they didn’t want. After they played a show they wanted to be treated like two normal dudes. Fame kept them isolated and bonded together. One the phone with me they could bitch about what went wrong with a show and then we could play. They were linked sexually in a non gay way. Two best friends or two b*****rs get off making each other cum harder. They wanted double penetration and didn’t care if their dicks touched. They wanted both their dicks stretching out my pussy. If they got a reputation for fucking the same hole and enjoying the feeling of their dicks rubbing it could fuck up their career. Just letting it be known they masturbated right next to each other would tarnish them. They begged me to come on tour. They begged for my address to send me diamonds and autographs. They begged for my picture. To cover the fact our phone bill had weird long distance numbers from all over the over the world I lied and said I had a female friend with a mega rich dad who traveled.
A lot of men got phone sex with me faking it while I painted my nails. They turned me on and they got the real deal. I was playing with myself and enhancing the fantasy. We could all three work up into a frenzy when we came together. They knew something was up when i wouldn’t give them an address and except gifts. My parents would’ve killed me if I started getting mail from out of state. If I got a package from my ‘female friend’ they would want to know what it was. Since they thought I was eighteen they wouldn’t have hesitated to reward me with diamonds and gold. I couldn’t hide that kind of present from my parents. We were so poor I couldn’t send them a picture. I didn’t try because I was hot and it would’ve increased the pressure to get me on a plane. We had a whole summer of phone calls. Finally they decided to taunt me with a name to see if that would make me go. They asked me if I liked one group. I knew that was there way of telling me plain as day who they were. I was shocked. I was also honest. I didn’t like their music that much. Maybe if I was really eighteen I would have. I busted out with ‘I like shit like david bowie’ They were like are you serious. I told them hell yeah. I love david bowie. I also explained I mostly listened to female musicians. I loved Hole, tori amos and lisa loeb.
I let them know that didn’t mean I didn’t want to fuck them. I just told them I was different. I would fuck them as two regular dudes and not for being famous. That was what they wanted to hear. They begged me to come on tour one final time. I had to tell the truth. I busted out with ‘I’m a f******n year old virgin.’ I shocked them speechless. They probably thought I may have been 16 or 17. f******n was so young they freaked out. I told them they got lucky I’m a smart bitch. I explaned I didn’t have a ride to the airport. I told them if I was a dumb girl I would’ve figured out how to get there. When I went missing my parents would report a k**napping and go straight to the phone bill which led straight to them. I explained why I couldn’t get mail. I explained that I did describe myself accurately. I really was a little deviant red headed girl with giant tits. We had one last round of phone sex. It was the best. They talked about all the ways they would violate a sex fiend little virgin. Once they new my age they could never call again. The threat that I was capable of showing those phone records and trying to tell my story was too real. I even taunted them that we built up enough chemistry when I pulled up in a limo we would sttart fucking in a mad frenzy. They wouldn’t have stopped to ask for my driver’s license. I could easily pass for eighteen. I told them I was never going to fuck up a good musicians career. After those conversations I never got over wanting two men at once. I’m scared to do it in real life. Double penetration looks painful. I would’ve done it for them. I would’ve done everything I described. I would’ve landed on mtv. They would do serious jail time. If I had been sixteen I have no doubt we would have stayed in contact until I was legal. I could’ve gotten mail without it being a big deal. At f******n all three of us knew we couldn’t wait four years. So that was not a vivid portrayel of asex fantaasy with you and your best friend. I figured you would get off more knowing about my past with black men and the reason I always fantasize about two best friends or two b*****rs.