I don't really know how to explain what I felt the first time I saw him; it was something almost beyond words. In a series of waves I was struck, first with lust, then love, then a dying longing greater than either. I wanted to be his, a possession just for him. Somewhere deep down while growing up I'd always known I was a masochist, but the minute I saw him it came out in full, powerful with longing. I didn't want to be his girlfriend, that title could never satisfy the type of craving I felt. When I looked into his eyes I became a tool, something for his use at his discretion. I had feelings akin to this whenever I saw black men, large, hard and strong but with Kyle it was different, stronger.
Well first I guess I should explain more about myself before I get too far in, my name is Alex Marshal. I live in the same town I was born in, an upper middle to upper class neighborhood in the suburbs of Chicago called Frankfort. I come from what you'd call a picture perfect home; two parents, Christian, and White. My dad is a high-ranking manager at large business firm and my mother is the typical suburban housewife. She doesn't have to work but since she used to cheer in high school she took on the job of cheer coach at my school, both a model teacher and coach. Like I said we're picture perfect, which I guess makes my obsession with black men all the more bizarre.
I can't tell you when it started, I mean even before puberty I can remember crushing on the black boys in class, looking right past the white ones. Of course back then it was just a preference, it wasn't until after I hit junior high and I began to notice opposition to interracial dating from my family, from my mother, my father, my aunts, my uncles, and grandparents ('m ashamed to admit it but I come from a long line of racist), and that kinda flipped my switch. This coinciding with my budding understanding of sex drew me in completely. I found myself obsessed with sports, watching football, basketball, to the point that I would almost cry when I messed a game. I loved to drool over the hard, muscular bodies of Lebron James, or Lance Briggs and once I got to high school the first thing I did was join the cheer squad. My mom being the coach gave me an easy in and closer than front row access to all the games. I could watch my black studs to my hearts content.
Einstein Academy, my high school, didn't exactly have an abundance of black students so cheering at games was just about the only time I got to see them. To this end I pushed myself, worked harder than anyone else, driven by something stronger than what motivated my peers. Now, in my senior year of high school I was the captain for the third year running and even though my mom was the coach no one held the slightest suspicion I'd had a leg up, my hard work verifying my right to the title. Yeah cheerleading did a lot for me, besides giving me material to masturbate to it kept my body hard and tone. My breasts b cup breasts were perfectly shaped, firm yet soft, my body slim and tone. At 5,1 just about the only thing with any size on me was my behind, not to excess but large enough to poke out with a beautiful round shape, so perfect it was as if Zeus himself had sculpted it for his own pleasure. Just about every white boy in school drooled over me, I got asked to every dance and asked on dates at least five times a month and every time I gave them a sweet yet stern no. I know it was kind of stupid, I mean I never fathomed approaching a black guy, no matter how much I wanted them my family would always reject such progressive thinking but somewhere deep down, I think I was waiting, not for just any black guy, but him.
It was early fall of my senior year, things were...well good. I was maintaining an A+ average and had already been accepted to all my choice schools. Wisconsin Madison, Ohio State, and Yale. I threw in Yale just because I knew it would impress my parents, my real considerations were Wisconsin and Ohio State. They're campus's were brimming with black men. Athletes of course, but I didn't expect to have the luck of catching the attention of any of them, my targets were the day-to-day black students. Away from home I would be free of all restrictions, I could date all the black men I wanted and no one would be able to stop me.
I was content with this plan, even then as I walked down the hallway, on my way to my locker before the start of my morning class. Brittney was there waiting for me. We had been friends since about sixth grade always doing everything together; cheerleading, malling; any and everything, we were inseparable. Physically she was somewhat more appealing them me, taller at just over 5,3 with dark brown hair (long like mine) round butt, large firm, perfectly shaped c cup breast and the sun kissed olive skin. She was my superior in looks though I was more popular, my light golden hair being the main reason and the fact I was nicer. She had a habit of tearing people down with dirty looks and attitude earning her the reputation of being a bitch.
In one hand she held her lavender bag she used only for school, and in the other the form we needed to fill out every year for cheerleading. She noticed me after I was halfway to her; she waved energetically, a bright smile on her face. "Hey Brittney" I greeted when I was close enough. She returned asking me why I was so late. From there we launched into a conversation going anywhere and nowhere until she asked, "What's the real reason you where late."
I blushed sheepishly motioning her in closer. "Last night I had a hot one, a really hot one. With Demetry from the basketball team." Brittney was the only person who knew how much I longed for black guys, after all she was probably worse than me. I'll admit I was the one who got her started, back when we were in junior high I used to go over to her house and look up pictures of interracial sex on the internet (I couldn't do it at my house cause my parents had sites like that blocked), but after that she began to feed her obsession herself. I look at porn maybe two, three times a week if I'm really horny; Brittney looks at it about twice a day, every day. Funny to me since socially she puts up the front of being a prude. Whenever the squad is sitting and talking about their boyfriends Brittney always groans and whines crying about it being wrong and horrible and how she'll never let a man stick his thing in her, when in truth she's been dying to have a hard black dick in her for the last six years.
"Ooo Brittney cooed in reply. Demetry is really dreamy, what happened?"
I started to go into details about my imagined sexual encounter. I told her about how rough he had been in my dream, how demanding, and how large. When I was done she nodded in approval, saying she would imagine that this afternoon when she masturbated before practice.
We started walking toward class, continuing our conversation. "Did you know we're getting a transfer student?" My puzzled look told her I had no idea how this was relevant at all. Kids transferred into Einstein Academy all the time, unlike most high schools it held a fifth year option, a kind of college prep year.
She shook her head woefully, insinuating my stupidity. "He's black," she said.
I know to most that doesn't sound like much to get excited over, but for two black cock hungry whores in the making, stuck in a desert of white needle dicks it was like a gift from God. "Give me the scoop on him...NOW!"
"Well he's a nineteen year old basketball player with a scholarship to Wisconsin Madison. They say he's got like a 3.6 GPA. Word is Madison sent him here to let him finish out growing so he'll be less awkward when he starts his freshman year there next year."
Growing was the word that stuck in my ears; the only thing better than a big strong black guy was a tall strong black guy. Brittney added with emphasis.
He's 6,8.
Six eight I drooled in my mind. I was beginning to question whether or not I could wait for college or not.
