BLACK POWER (A BWWM COLLECTION)

by Dana Cruise

  Again I took the fingers of my right hand to my mouth, in between sucks of his cock I wet them, before sliding them down towards my hole - my pussy aching for my touch. My fingers danced around my lips as I prodded my clit, a shock-wave of pleasure attacking my senses - causing me to moan as I forced his meaty cock further down my throat.

  He took my head in his hands and held me away from his cock, looking at me eye to eye.

  “What next?” he said breathlessly. “What will you do next?”

  I stood, silently. Turning away from him I lifted my bra over my head, my nipples already hard and begging to be played with. Bending over I pulled my panties over my hips, presenting my bare, black ass to him. I looked over my shoulder, staring into his eyes.

  “Fuck me.” I told him. “I need you inside of me”.

  Daddy sprang up, his manly hands grabbing onto my ass. His fingers dove into my pussy, already soaked, warm, and sensitive to his touch. He brought his thick cock to the entrance of my pussy as I lowered my bend, reaching downwards to grip my ankles once more. He pushed his cock against me, struggling to fit it into my tight hole. His hands roughly parted my ass cheeks, allowing for a wider opening. I put one of my hands on the floor to brace myself as he pushed into me, his size great, his dick mixing with the nectar of my excitement that had welled inside of me.

  “Fuck me!” I gasped, begging for more. “Fuck me hard!”

  He positioned himself inside of me, his thick white cock filling me entirely. Stretching my pussy wide, I gripped onto him - not wanting to release him. He slowly pulled away before ramming back into my defenseless hole, sending a shuddering ripple of pleasure throughout me. His thick fingers held me as he threw me onto his cock, basically lifting me up and slamming me onto his sword. He made few sounds as he fucked me, just his shallow breaths to drown out the increasing moans that came from my mouth. His tempo increasing, he slapped my ass with his thick palms, making me yelp, bringing me closer to orgasm.

  He had one hand on my waist as he fucked me, the other gradually creeping towards my tits. He pawed at my flesh, grabbing my nipples, pinching them heavily. His hand smacking me wherever it could find room, he constantly punished me.

  “You fucking whore!” he said. “I’ll show you how to really be fucked.”

  “Oh god!” I exclaimed, overcome with pleasure. “Fuck me harder, spank me!”

  He shifted his position and withdrew, before putting his hand on the back of my head to force me down to the ground. I now lay flat, with only my ass raised. Straddling me he pushed his dick into my hole, made tighter by the position. My pussy held onto his dick as it streamed into me, his hot breath on the back of my neck sending shivers throughout my body. One of my hands reached forward, clutching the rug to support me, while the other reached backwards to feel his cock as it thrust towards my helpless pussy. I rubbed my clit as he speared me, my sensitive tits rubbing on the floor as he rode me into submission.

  Suddenly he withdrew, slapping my ass as he did, sending me tumbling to my side. I rolled on the floor and looked up to see him waving his cock in front of me, stroking himself as he thrust his fingers back into my wet cunt. Holding my hands to his balls I tugged upon them, looking into his eyes as he jerked himself. As he groaned he sent a shot of his hot cum across my chest, splattering my nipples and my neck with his sticky juice. As I rode his fingers to orgasm he unleashed his final delivery, his salty cum hitting my lips.

  We both dressed, I got his top hat for him and placed it on his head.

  “There” I said, with a nod. “In here, you’re the ringmaster. At home, you’re Daddy.”

  “And the two shall never meet” he said, holding out my money. “The two shall never meet.”

  2

  Hooked

  HOOKED

  By Dana Cruise

  I’ve been dreaming about this day for years. I’ve wanted this so badly, never thinking that it would actually happen. And yet here I am, naked, in my neighbor’s home office, bent over his desk - about to be spanked and fucked by the man who just 10 minutes ago was paying me $10 an hour to watch his kids.

  I’m nineteen now. I’ve been babysitting for the neighbors since I was 14. I feel as though I’ve watched these kids grow up, had a part in their development. The Thomas’s are a family of four, parents Mike and Kelly, kids Evie and Tyler. The kids are twins and are now 7, and still need someone to watch them when their parents go out on their weekly ‘date night’.

  I've always liked the Thomas's. They're about the most liberal people around this neighborhood. A lot of the other families really don't want a black girl like me watching their pretty little white kids. Sure, we're rare here – my dad has a good job and he broke us out of the poverty that we had initially grown up in – but we still stand out. The Thomas's welcomed me into their home when I was 14 years old and still do, to this day. They've always made me feel like a valued member of their society, they're all so nice.

  I’ve grown over this time as well, of course. 5 years ago I was an awkward, early teen - with braces, no tits, and a terrible dress sense. I was a bit of a plain Jane super-brain back then, I always had my head in a book, I always got straight A’s at school, and I’d still never said a rude word to anyone. My dad always told me that I would have to work harder than a white girl to get ahead in life – he told me enough horror stories about how a poor black guy or girl can be treated. I worked hard, and led a pretty boring life.

  That was then, this is now. I wouldn’t describe myself as a woman, but I’m most of the way there. I have 34C breasts and I show them off at every opportunity, wearing tight fitting clothes and low cut tops. I’ve lost some of the puppy fat that defined me when I was younger, I now squeeze my cute fat ass into expensive jeans and prop myself up with dangerously high heels. I wear lipstick and mascara even when I go to the store, I get my hair cut professionally every two weeks and I spend a good hour getting ready to go out.

  Even if I’m just going next door to babysit. Actually, especially when I go next door to babysit.

  Mr. Thomas has been the object of my secret desires for a couple of years now. He started out as a father figure, I respected him and the obvious love that he has for his children. I had never looked twice at a white guy before, but he was different... he was something that I wanted to know better. He and Mrs. Thomas always seem to argue, sometimes I can hear them fighting from next door, and they never seem to come back from their date nights in a particularly good mood. Sometimes it feels like they’re trying too hard, you know? Like the couple who keep professing their love for each other on Facebook, public displays of affection that always seem to be delivered by the people who the following week change their status to ‘it’s complicated’. My parents never go on special ‘date nights’ but they also never seem to fight as loudly as the Thomas’s do.

  I first started to see Mr. Thomas in a different light when I was babysitting one Friday night, when I was 17. The job was so easy, the kids went to bed about a half hour after I went over, I spent the remainder of the evening sitting on their couch, watching their premium cable and snacking on whatever they had in their cupboards and fridge. I made more money doing other jobs, but this was easy, and I liked the chance to get away from my brothers.

  That night I had fallen asleep on the sofa, as I often did. A pile of pretzels in front of me, their cat snuggled against my chest. When Mr. and Mrs. Thomas came home their door slamming and shouting woke me with a start, in a daze I tried to make out what they were saying.

  “Romance? Ha!” Mrs. Thomas had shouted. “You wouldn’t know romance if it slapped you!”

  “Chance would be a fine thing!” Mr. Thomas retorted, at least a slap would be more passionate than the cold shoulder that you’re always giving me! Maybe we should try that, eh? Maybe I should tie you up? Spank you?”

  “You’re disgusting” Mrs. Thomas had responded, her voice clearly displaying her displeasure. “You’re a pig. A disgusting pig. No woman ever wants to
have sex with you, let alone let you spank them. PIG!”

  But she was wrong. I knew that she was wrong. In the living room, just feet from the hallway where they continued their fight was a little black girl who very much wanted to be fucked by Mr. Thomas. A girl who very much wanted to be spanked by Mr. Thomas. A girl who was listening in fear, fear of being caught with her hand in her panties, rubbing her swollen clit, dipping her fingers into her dripping pussy.

  I managed to pull myself together that night, just before they walked into the living room. They both wore fake smiles, greeting me as though I hadn’t just heard them fighting. When Mr. Thomas paid me I made sure to take the money with the same hand that I’d had in my panties moments before, brushing his skin with my fingers, accidentally - of course.

  Over the next few months I became increasingly aware of Mr. Thomas. I would watch him mowing the lawn from my bedroom window, I’d time my morning runs to coincide with when he left for work, stepping out of our house and doing my stretches in full view of his driveway. I’d make sure that I’d be returning to the neighborhood long after he’d departed - anxious to not let him see me sweaty or breathless. I wanted to look perfect for him, I wanted to look like a fantasy. I wanted to look like his wife didn’t, demure instead of dirty, tantalizing, not tired.

  At night I’d lie awake, wondering if he was thinking about me. Wondering if he even liked black girls. Hoping that he was touching himself, thinking about fucking me while he masturbated. I became obsessed, playing the long game - tying to snare my prey.

  And it seemed to be working. Before long I noticed that he was looking at me. I wore sunglasses to jog so that I could face forwards but glare at his doorway, and soon noticed that he would spend a few seconds on his front step - checking me out, watching me stretch. Within weeks I would have to pretend that I was looking at something else from my bedroom window, whenever he mowed the lawn of his house in the direction of ours he would clearly stare at my window, clearly stare at me.

  I felt so turned on, knowing that he was watching me. Knowing that he was beginning to want me. I started to get more brazen, even though my window was full length I would dress in only my panties and a t-shirt, whenever Mr. Thomas was mowing the lawn, pretending to have just woken from a nap and stumbled from my bed to check the weather, making a mockery of the time that I had actually spent in front of the mirror, making sure that I looked at my very best.

  Fridays, of course, were my time to really shine. As I grew out of adolescence and into the body of a woman I dressed accordingly, telling the Thomas’s that I was going to be hanging out with friends after babysitting. I wasn’t, of course, my only plans were to run back home and lock my bedroom door to rip off my clothes and attack my pussy with my dildo while thinking of Mr. Thomas, but they weren’t to know that. I dressed more and more provocatively, short skirts, low cut shirts, white bras underneath black clothing. Knee high woolen stockings, heels. I applied makeup before going to their house and touched it up in their bathroom before they got home. All for him.

  Tonight was special. Tonight I pulled out all the stops. Tonight I dressed in my sexiest clothes, desperate for him to notice me, to be so turned on by me that he couldn’t help himself. Tonight, my plan worked.

  They were a little late getting back home tonight. I could tell that they had been fighting again, the slamming of car doors and the heavy footsteps of Mrs. Thomas as she stormed into the house and ran upstairs told me that their date night hadn’t exactly gone well. I spent my time alone in their living room while waiting for Mr. Tomas by looking at myself in their giant mirror that was hung over their fireplace, making sure that I looked awesome, making sure that he’d notice me. I wore a terrifically short tartan shirt, white stockings that hugged my knees and looked amazing against my caramel skin, a white shirt that was tied at the waist and which was unbuttoned at the top, affording a generous view of my tits that were nicely cradled by my vivid, white bra. I stood and waited for his entrance, standing with my legs crossed, my hands behind my back.

  After a couple of minutes he came into the room, clearly flustered. As he walked in he stopped a few paces from me, his eyes traveling from my face - down the length of my body, pausing at my feet then back slowly to my gaze. His eyes widened as he took in my outfit, his mouth slightly hanging open as he inspected every inch of my body.

  “Amber… hi” he said, his eyes fixate on my tits. “Nice… nice to see you.”

  “Did you have a good night?” I asked in as sweet a voice as I could manage, my chest flustered, aware of the attention that Mr. Thomas was giving to my clothing.

  “I’ve had better” he said, in a low voice. “It’s getting better now though.”

  Blood raced around my body as he spoke. His actions since entering the room were giving me the clearest indications yet that he wanted me. His words only serving to amplify that fact.

  “I’m glad of that” I said, twirling my frizzy black hair with my fingers. I was going all out, trying to make him want me as much as I wanted him. By the bulge that was growing in his pants, I seemed to be having the desired effect. “Is there anything else that I can do for you tonight?”

  “There’s a couple of things that I can think of” he murmured, to himself but loud enough for me to hear. I grinned at his words, biting my lip to stop myself from audibly laughing. The tension in the room was intense, my desire for this man overwhelming. My pussy quivered as his words left his lips, a rivulet of my nectar gathered at my entrance, dangerously close to breaching the thin fabric of my white lace panties. Suddenly the room felt as though the temperature had risen, my cheeks flushed quickly. “I, um… have no cash on me. There’s some in my home office. Would you come with me while I get it?”

  “Of course” I said, whispering. I was so nervous, my heart trying to leap out of my chest. I felt so filled with anticipation, so much attraction for my neighbor coursing throughout my body. As he turned I followed him, keeping close to him, allowing my breath to hit the back of his neck.

  As we reached the door to his office he held it open for me, allowing me to enter first. I could feel his eyes all over me as I passed him, as I walked to the center of the small room I heard him first close the door, then turn a key in the lock. We were alone, we were not to be disturbed.

  “My wallet is in my desk” he said. “Third drawer down on the left. Would you get it for me?”

  I turned to look at him. He had taken his position at the back wall and was standing tall, his eyes still firmly on my body. I knew exactly what he was playing at, and I was absolutely going to play along.

  “Of course”, I said sweetly, giving him a coy smile. My pussy tingled as I stepped forwards, making sure to move gracefully, sexily.

  I reached the desk quickly, remaining a distance away from the drawers to allow myself the room to bend fully to open the bottom left drawer. With my legs spread wide I bent over, hitching my tiny skirt up, allowing Mr. Thomas a grandstand view of my ample ass. My pussy now drenching my panties, I knew that he was looking up my skirt, I knew that he could see my panties.

  “Oh god” he whispered as I held my pose. I could hardly concentrate on the job in hand as I braced myself against his desk, eager to not tumble and break the mood of the room.

  “I have a question” I said, still bent over, still flashing my cunt at my next door neighbor. “I overheard you telling your wife that you should spank her… Do you like to do that?”

  I kept my head facing forward, amazed that I had spoken those words, unsure how they would be taken by Mr. Thomas. There was a small part of me that still thought he didn’t want me, that any thoughts of attraction were totally one sided. I bit my lip once more as I waited for his response, shamed into thinking that I had said something totally inappropriate.

  “I love spanking” he said in a hushed tone, after a pause that nearly gave me a heart attack. “Would you like to be spanked?”

  Jackpot.

  I kept my pose, my legs spread
- my ass in the air. My quivering pussy now soaking my panties, my nipples swelling. I turned my head over my shoulder to look at him in the eyes, my nerves suddenly overtaken by a brazen confidence that I’ve never before felt. In a strong voice I told him my answer.

  “Spank me.”

  He moved quickly towards me, the bulge in his pants now straining his zipper. His eyes fixed on mine, he traveled as though stalking prey, a trapped animal, his for the taking. He placed one palm onto the small of my back and pressed it down, causing me to jump a little as his cold hands touched bare flesh. With the other he lifted my skirt, revealing my cheeks. His hand ran across my moons, roughly grabbing at my ass, his fingers digging into me, scratching me, pleasing me, turning me on.

  “Face forwards” he commanded. I did as he told me. I leaned further over his desk, my chest touching the table, my heart about ready to explode. His hand continued to feel my skin, running dangerously close to my cunt as his other hand ran up my back, underneath my shirt, quickly and expertly unlatching my bra strap.

  I gasped as he set my tits free, a little shocked at the ease that he had worked, a little apprehensive. I was his for the taking, and fuck me did I want to be taken.

  His hand on my ass made one last pass of my cheeks, sliding towards my pussy, his fingers running along the sodden fabric of my panties to prod roughly at my lips. Swiftly he withdrew his hand, returning a tantalizing second later with the full force of his fury.

  THWACK!