[Thanks to Richar for the edition.]
Freyja awoke with a throbbing headache and a deep soreness in her pussy. The pounding in her temples and the dry, sticky weight on her tongue suggested she had one drink too many last night, too. She had never been a heavy drinker, considering her non-existent tolerance. So why did she accept Ogun's offer?
There was a part of her that wished she could say she was drunk last night, that she could blame alcohol for blowing Ogun in front of a camera, and then riding Malik on the couch. But the feeling of being led and not having control had been a massive turn-on. All the boys she had dated before were so timid, so... careful with her. So solicitous that, sometimes, it had gotten on her nerves. But Ogun... he had just taken her. He was unlike any man she had ever met; so rough, confident, and direct... and he saw right through her.
Compounding her unrest was the long, judgmental shadow of her father, an old-fashioned patriarch whose racist views and oppressive stance on women's roles had haunted her since childhood. Even now, from across the Atlantic, his influence lingered. His phone calls were filled with expectations of subservience, disdain for her career, and thinly veiled contempt for anyone outside his narrow world. Freyja had always craved to break free from the chains of his tyrannical expectations, a release that pulsed inside her like a forbidden rhythm. And then her fantasies began. They had started years ago, when she was a teenager, watching the video clips of her hip-hop idols. And recently, they had grown vivid, consuming. Every night, she found herself lost in a fantasy of a black stud, with his muscular frame towering over her, his manly presence commanding and unapologetic.
The college student yawned, stretching out her arms and her huge tits bounced into view. She pushed herself up from the crumpled sheets on the bed, and her gaze roamed the room. A quick look at the alarm clock on the nightstand read '12:30 pm'.
Suddenly, a chat from the door's other side let her know Ogun and Malik were awake. Fuck! Her clothes were abandoned in the living room, so she would have to venture out naked to retrieve them. Frowning, Freyja left the bed and looked in Malik's drawers for something to wear. She found a black, oversized T-shirt, big enough to cover her butt so she didn't have to wear anything else underneath it. The college student was a bit wobbly as she walked through the empty hallway. The room would be right there when she turned the corner.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" A male, familiar voice said from the room. "I get the plan and I understand how much money is at stake." Freyja stopped and leaned against the wall. That's Ogun's voice, she thought. "I've almost got this bitch. Shouldn't take more than a couple of sessions... But it's much too early for something like that."
A phone conversation, Freyja concluded, listening closer. Was he talking about her? Red flags were everywhere, but she was too naive to see them and the headache and hangover were making it hard to think clearly.
"Yeah... I'll call you then." She heard Ogun hang up his cell phone and she made her appearance from around the corner. "How are you holding up, honey?" Ogun said as she walked into.
The room was illuminated by large, floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the glittering Detroit skyline, a dim light spilling onto sleek, BDSM furniture. The brick walls were covered with graffiti and posters of scantily clad women. The young black man was sitting in an office chair, smoking a joint, in front of a computer with two big monitors. Freyja sighed as her gaze wandered to her red dress, which still stood on the couch where she had left it the night before.
"My head is killing me, and my jaw is sore," she complained, rubbing it with her hand, and offered him a polite smile. "It's late. Why didn't you wake me up?"
"I thought you'd want to sleep in after last night... filming," he said with a shrug, while she picked up her discarded clothes from the floor.
Freyja bit her lip, and her soft hazel eyes stared him from beneath thick lashes. The black man was devastatingly handsome. Casually leaning back into the computer seat, one arm dangling off the back and the other propped on the keyboard, he looked as if he were carved out of onyx and sin. Freyja's hazel eyes were drawn to his warm, tattooed, dark skin on display under a tight, white T-shirt and loose jeans.
Alpha males like him weren't good at mornings after, she concluded. They were so honest with their desires when balls deep in a warm, white pussy, but suddenly when the woman was awake the morning after they just didn't know how to behave properly.
The bathroom door opened, and she saw Malik, his curly hair damp and his black torso still glistening from the shower, casually pacing around in nothing but a towel. The water made his dark skin glow, and the fabric he had wrapped around his hips clung to tease the shape of his spectacular cock.
"Good morning," said Malik, passing through the open kitchen, and he offered her a cup of coffee.
"Oh, thanks." Freyja took the cup, carding a hand through ratty reddish blonde hair. Her nipples were cranked up tight, and her full breasts were swaying slightly under the baggy T-shirt. "Delicious".
"I took you for a black coffee kind of girl," Malik teased.
"Black and strong," she answered, yawning and stretching. Her T-shirt rose up and before him was the sight of her immaculately waxed pussy with just a narrow stripe of blonde on her mound. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"
"Oh, it's certainly you," said Malik.
"I'll take that as a compliment." Freyja smiled over her cup as she took a sip of coffee, with Kendrick Lamar's shirt falling down her shoulders. "Sorry, but I didn't bring pajamas or a dressing gown."
"Forget it. You have to get used to being nude around the cast and crew." The cameraman glanced up at Ogun, who was busy with the computer at that very moment. They pretended that last night had been nothing strange. That's just fine by Freyja, but she couldn't help but notice how Malik's eyes went dark as he watched her lick her spoon clean. Then she stared Ogun work for a few moments, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "How's the editing coming along?"
He looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Come here. Look," said Ogun, breathing smoke between his thick lips. Malik watched as she walked away. "Wow! You're a cute little PAWG!"
"What's a PAWG?" Freyja could feel his predatory eyes looking her up and down.
"A PAWG is a 'pretty ass white girl'. Or in your case, a pretty fat-ass white girl. Look at you... damn!" Without warning, Malik reared his left hand back and smacked her booty.
"Ouch!" Freyja complained and laughed. She hated being so submissive, but Malik's raw assertiveness did something weird to her brain.
Sitting in front of the PC, Ogun pushed her onto his lap as if she belonged there. She pressed against his erection, so she could feel his heat through the thin layers of clothes, and a delicious shudder ran down her spine. The Norwegian girl looked at the computer screen, and her heart began racing. Ogun had an open Adobe Premiere project: the oral sex video they recorded the night before.
"How did I perform?" She asked.
"Fantastic for a first-timer, " Ogun answered. "Our promo video is uploaded to the HubPorn website. It hadn't even been two hours, and it has over 100,000 views and just as many likes."
"What about OnlyFans?"
