My first BBC

Aeryn

Female
From
CA, US
Well, I'm just going to start this. I don't know how far I'll get. I ought to say up top that this story is only somewhat true.

This is the fantasy version of what really happened. Oh, it really happened, but I change some details in my head as I relive it in my head (and trust me, I have relived it a bunch of times). Of course these things are always a little clumsier in real life than they are in our heads, right?

This story happened when I was a sophomore at a large Southern California university. There was a guy, black, I'll call him Andre, who I'd had a few classes with. Very built. I'd definitely felt him noticing me, and we'd flirted after class once or twice, but I'd never seen him at a party or anything and he'd never asked me for my number or anything.

Anyway, one day I'm at the gym, and I see him there as I'm heading to the locker room. He's shirtless, and has just been working out, and, well ... anyway, we start chatting, and he says I should come by to his apartment, just a couple of blocks away, for dinner.

"Now?" I ask. I feel sweaty and very unsexy. But he says yes and I do have a change of clothes in my bag, so I say, let me shower, first. He laughs and says it's just him and his roommates cooking up some steaks, no need to get all fancy, and I promise I won't spend too much time on my makeup and I'll just shower at the gym, if he'll wait. He says he will. I honestly don't expect him to still be there when I get out, but he is, and he's showered, too (but not put on a shirt, ha!) and we go back to his place.

He has two roomates, who, well, play a smaller role in this story. I'll call them Michael and Tim. Michael and Andre share a room, and Tim, who is white, has a room to himself. There's also a common room, kitchen, etc.

So anyway, Tim has made up some sangria and we eat the steaks and we're drinking, and the conversation, as it sometimes does when you get a bunch of 20-year-olds in a room, turns to sex. And at one point Michael asks me if I've ever been with a black guy. I tell him, truthfully, that I haven't. Not that I wouldn't, just, you know, I went to a pretty white high school, that kind of stuff. Now, I'm not super experienced at this point or anything, but at the same time I never felt like I should have to shy away from talking about sex.

They tease me about that a bit, and eventually we get to talking about the thing everybody says about black guys. You know. Are they really that much bigger, that kind of stuff.

Knowing looks from Michael and Andre.

I say that in my experience, most cocks are pretty close to the same size. I mean, I've never seen a giant porn dick in real life, you know? Some guys look a little bigger soft but you get 'em hard and they're pretty close to the same.

"That's not the case," Andre assures me.

"Well, sure, I mean, everybody says that ..." I say.

"Is that a dare?"

And for the life of me I don't know why, with three of them there, I said it, but I did. I said, "Yes."

"After dinner," he says. And everyone laughs.

So anyway we finish dinner and put the plates away and I'm mildly buzzed but not too bad, and honestly they're gentlemen about it and nobody brings it up and we're just laughing and having a good time.

And then at a certain point, Andre catches me checking him out (he has great abs. Have I mentioned that great abs are a weakness of mine? Memo to all guys: don't send gals dick pics, send ab pics). And he laughs and brings it up again.

I tease him, "I mean, you're not that big. Maybe a little bit bigger, but ..."

"You really think that?" he challenges me.

"Yes."

I'm not sure why I said that. I mean, it's not like I hadn't seen porn before, and I knew that there were just massive guys out there. But I look him right in the eyes when he said it, and I swear I was daring him.

And he took me up on it. He dropped his shorts.

At which point I had two reactions. The first is that his cock, while soft, was still the biggest I had ever seen, in person. Clearly just much larger than any I had seen before. The second is that it was just beautiful. I don't even know how to explain it and I'm sure some of it was just that he was so beautiful - tall and fit - and I'm sure that in my imagination I've made it better than it was but I just remember how I felt looking at it and honestly, it was the most beautiful cock I'd ever seen.

But damn if I was going to let him know that right away.

So I looked down at it, collected myself, and said something along the lines of, "Well, sure, but what is it about growers and show-ers? It's pretty big, but it's probably not that much bigger when its hard."

One of the other guys - Michael, I think - cracked a joke. "Girl doesn't want to believe what she's looking at," or something like that. But Andre just sort of smiled at me.

"Guess you'll just have to find out."

And he just held my gaze. I swear I've never been in a moment with so much sexual tension, before or since. I couldn't handle, I was almost shaking. And so I kind of squeaked out:

"What, you want me to do a little strip-tease for you or something?"

"That'd be nice."

"I'm hardly dressed for it."

"It's not about what you're wearing. It's about what you're taking off."

Well, *******. Now we all know if I really wanted to, I could have smiled, laughed it off, told him to put that thing away before somebody gets hurt. I could have made an excuse, gone to the bathroom until the tension died down, left. But the thing is, I wanted to see that thing hard.

...

... to be continued.
 
We turned on some music, turned on some lights, and I started to dance. Honestly, I'm not much of stripper, but my experience is that it's not really skill that guys are interested in.

Andre was on one end of the sofa. Tim was on the other - plenty of space between them - and Michael was on a chair on Andre's other side. Andre had tucked his cock back in his boxer-briefs, but wasn't wearing anything else.

Tim and Michael were fairly raucous. A whooper or a cheer when I took my shirt of, "show up your tits" as I undid the back of my bra, but Andre, he just sat there watching me. Still, calm, confident. Every time I looked at him, I swear, I felt it in my stomach and all the way down into my pussy.

When I was down to my panties, still holding my bra on but with it unbuckled, I looked at him. "Hard yet?" I asked.

"Why don't you find out?"

I tried to play it off, backed against him lap, rubbing my ass against him. He liked it, leaning back and lifting his hips a little. Yeah, he was hard. Not super hard, but well on his way, and I could tell what I was doing was working.

I backed off of him, let my bra drop. Approving cheers from Tim and Michael, still that calm, even gaze from Andre. I spun around, toyed with the edge of my panties, teasing them, was I going to pull them off?

"Do you want to see my pussy?"

Whoops and hollers from Tim and Michael. "Show me," from Andre. It wasn't a request, it was a command. I turned away from him, bent over, and dropped my panties.

"Now come over here," he said. I did. I straddled him on the sofa. He put his hands on my hips, and I began to give him a little lap dance, grinding down, not too hard, on that cloth-covered cock. I'm sure he could feel how hot and wet my pussy was.

"Now take it out."

I don't know how I managed to not do exactly what he told me that second, but I wasn't going to give in quite that easily. I slid down him, rubbing my breasts down his chest, and stomach, until they were pressing against the bulging front of his underwear.

I planted an open-mouth kiss on his stomach, then looked up at him.

"What did you want me to do?" I asked.

"Take. It. Out."

"Say please."

"Please."

And so I did. I slipped his underwear out and that cock, that glorious cock, was sticking straight up. This was, wow. I don't know, nine inches? I didn't have a ruler. But thick. Solid. I knew I wanted it in my mouth.

But I wasn't going to let him know that right away.

I know myself better now. I know that when I see a big beautiful cock I want to suck it. And when I suck it I want to fuck it. But I didn't know that then. I thought I had more control about where this was going ...

I kissed my way down his stomach, along the inside of his hip bone. Down in the crack between his leg and the side of his glorious balls ... but I didn't touch his cock, even as he spread his legs wider. I worked my way with open-mouthed kisses around the inside of his thighs. Darted my tongue out under his balls ... his breath was coming in shallow, tight gasps.

"You're right," I said. "It is big. What do you win?"

Andre didn't answer right away. But Tim did: "Put it in your mouth."

I looked at him and smiled, then looked back up at Andre, that massive cock between my eyes and his. And his just smiled.

Tim again, "Put it in your mouth."

To be continued ...
 
"Put it in your mouth."

There was a war going on inside me in that moment. I mean, I wanted to, so badly. I was fighting the desire to start fingering myself right there between his legs, but I'd also never done anything, well, in front of people before.

I glanced over at Tim and Michael, and they had that look, I mean, we all know that look. So much desire, but almost frozen by it. I looked up at Andre, that gentle, encouraging smile, those beautiful abs, and that glorious fucking cock right in front of my face ...

... and I ran my tongue gently up the little ridge on the underside, keeping my eyes locked with Andre's. I wrapped my hand around it to steady it, slipped my tongue around the head, over it ...

... and finally slipped my mouth around the tip.

A spasm ran through my body from my lips to my cunt. I knew, I just new, in that moment, that I was going to spend a lot of time my that beautiful, glorious black cock in my mouth.

I closed my eyes. My free hand found my cunt. And I swear it was like I was high, flat-out high on the sensation of that thick cock pulsing in my mouth, the pent-up heat of Michael and Andre's gazes, the soft sigh out of Andre's throat.

I worked it gently. A little back-and-forth, a little suction, but nothing rushed, nothing heavy - just loving that moment.

"You like that cock in your mouth, don't you?"

I think the sound that came out of me was almost a whimper.

"You like them watching, don't you? It turns you on."

Another whimper. I sure as hell wasn't going to stop sucking to say anything. I wasn't going to stop sucking that cock for anything.

Or, at least, that's what I thought ...

to be continued....
 
Your story is amazing even if you did embellish a little. I love writing erotic stories myself. Can't wait to hear the rest of your story.....;)
 
So there I was, with that glorious cock in my mouth. Now, I don't really give blow-jobs like you see in porn. If I'm in control, it's not going to be a jackhammering in and out kind of thing. I'm slower, more sensual.

I took it about two inches in my mouth, and just savored it, the texture, the taste, my tongue lightly pressing up against the bottom of it while I gently sucked.

I had to ******* my hand off my own pussy to stop myself from coming right then and there. I glanced up at him, his eyes closed, a beatific smile on his face, and closed my eyes and re-focused on that cock, the warmth of it, the way it felt alive, almost vibrating, in my mouth. One of the hardest things I've ever done is not finger myself to orgasm right then and there, but it was too much, and my free hand (my other was wrapped around his shaft) wrapped around his thigh just so it had something to do.

I would have been happy to suck that cock for hours. I wanted to feel him shoot hot come into my mouth. Probably to this day, that one moment, that time (of many) when I had his cock in my mouth is my #1 fantasy when I play with myself. But there was only one problem.

I wanted it in my pussy.

I didn't know it would fit. (I mean, I knew it should, just ... ) I didn't care that there were people watching. I wanted that cock in my pussy.

One of his hands was wrapped around my head, urging me forward, and I took more, until I needed to come up for air. He felt me pull back, and released his grip, and I smiled up at him.

"Big enough for you?" he asked.

"I'm not sure yet."

I climbed up and straddled his lap, with his hard dick between us. This is one of my favorite things - it drives guys wild and I wanted him to want me as badly as I wanted him. I press my wet pussy against his shaft and slide up and down against it, grinding my click against his cock.

Without that cock in my mouth, this was actually a little less intense for me, even with my pussy getting some attention, but my focus was on him, teasing him. I'd slide up so that the head of his cock was almost but not quite to the opening of my pussy, and then slide back down, letting my web labia slide all over his cock, making it slick.

I looked at his face. His head was rolled back. He was losing his mind. I'd slide up - not quite far enough, and back down. Up again, not quite far enough ...

"Damn, woman ..."

Up again, not quite far enough ... back down. I was soaking that cock. Up again ...

"Please."

The magic word. I slid a tiny fraction higher, the head of his cock slipped against my opening, and I began to push down ...
 
I took a deep breath, locked eyes with Andre, I knew, somehow, that I was going to get that thing in me, but part of my mind rebelled. It was too big, too much -

- but I love that feeling, of my own flesh slowly yielding. I love watching a man's face as he first enters me. Even though part of me wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and give into the sensation, I wanted to see the effect I had on him.

Oh-so-slowly I slid down, a tiny fraction of an inch at a time. His eyes were closed. He had a smile on his lips, with his mouth closed. He was lost in bliss, in my pussy.

Another inch down. It was hard to go slow but at the same time, I didn't feel like I could go any faster. As turned on as I was, my pussy still needed time to catch up, and so down I slid, breathing deep and even, willing my body to relax, to give in, to surrender.

I wish that stroke, the first BBC I ever took, had lasted forever ... but I also wanted it in me in that moment. Even the seconds that stroke took felt like they took too long.

His hips began to lift, and I shushed him -

"Go easy. I'm still getting used to it."

I glanced across the room, and all four of us burst out into a laugh.

"Yeah, okay, it's a little bigger than I expected."

More laughs, and then I turned my attention back to fucking Andre properly ...
 
Well, I'm just going to start this. I don't know how far I'll get. I ought to say up top that this story is only somewhat true.

This is the fantasy version of what really happened. Oh, it really happened, but I change some details in my head as I relive it in my head (and trust me, I have relived it a bunch of times). Of course these things are always a little clumsier in real life than they are in our heads, right?

This story happened when I was a sophomore at a large Southern California university. There was a guy, black, I'll call him Andre, who I'd had a few classes with. Very built. I'd definitely felt him noticing me, and we'd flirted after class once or twice, but I'd never seen him at a party or anything and he'd never asked me for my number or anything.

Anyway, one day I'm at the gym, and I see him there as I'm heading to the locker room. He's shirtless, and has just been working out, and, well ... anyway, we start chatting, and he says I should come by to his apartment, just a couple of blocks away, for dinner.

"Now?" I ask. I feel sweaty and very unsexy. But he says yes and I do have a change of clothes in my bag, so I say, let me shower, first. He laughs and says it's just him and his roommates cooking up some steaks, no need to get all fancy, and I promise I won't spend too much time on my makeup and I'll just shower at the gym, if he'll wait. He says he will. I honestly don't expect him to still be there when I get out, but he is, and he's showered, too (but not put on a shirt, ha!) and we go back to his place.

He has two roomates, who, well, play a smaller role in this story. I'll call them Michael and Tim. Michael and Andre share a room, and Tim, who is white, has a room to himself. There's also a common room, kitchen, etc.

So anyway, Tim has made up some sangria and we eat the steaks and we're drinking, and the conversation, as it sometimes does when you get a bunch of 20-year-olds in a room, turns to sex. And at one point Michael asks me if I've ever been with a black guy. I tell him, truthfully, that I haven't. Not that I wouldn't, just, you know, I went to a pretty white high school, that kind of stuff. Now, I'm not super experienced at this point or anything, but at the same time I never felt like I should have to shy away from talking about sex.

They tease me about that a bit, and eventually we get to talking about the thing everybody says about black guys. You know. Are they really that much bigger, that kind of stuff.

Knowing looks from Michael and Andre.

I say that in my experience, most cocks are pretty close to the same size. I mean, I've never seen a giant porn dick in real life, you know? Some guys look a little bigger soft but you get 'em hard and they're pretty close to the same.

"That's not the case," Andre assures me.

"Well, sure, I mean, everybody says that ..." I say.

"Is that a dare?"

And for the life of me I don't know why, with three of them there, I said it, but I did. I said, "Yes."

"After dinner," he says. And everyone laughs.

So anyway we finish dinner and put the plates away and I'm mildly buzzed but not too bad, and honestly they're gentlemen about it and nobody brings it up and we're just laughing and having a good time.

And then at a certain point, Andre catches me checking him out (he has great abs. Have I mentioned that great abs are a weakness of mine? Memo to all guys: don't send gals dick pics, send ab pics). And he laughs and brings it up again.

I tease him, "I mean, you're not that big. Maybe a little bit bigger, but ..."

"You really think that?" he challenges me.

"Yes."

I'm not sure why I said that. I mean, it's not like I hadn't seen porn before, and I knew that there were just massive guys out there. But I look him right in the eyes when he said it, and I swear I was daring him.

And he took me up on it. He dropped his shorts.

At which point I had two reactions. The first is that his cock, while soft, was still the biggest I had ever seen, in person. Clearly just much larger than any I had seen before. The second is that it was just beautiful. I don't even know how to explain it and I'm sure some of it was just that he was so beautiful - tall and fit - and I'm sure that in my imagination I've made it better than it was but I just remember how I felt looking at it and honestly, it was the most beautiful cock I'd ever seen.

But damn if I was going to let him know that right away.

So I looked down at it, collected myself, and said something along the lines of, "Well, sure, but what is it about growers and show-ers? It's pretty big, but it's probably not that much bigger when its hard."

One of the other guys - Michael, I think - cracked a joke. "Girl doesn't want to believe what she's looking at," or something like that. But Andre just sort of smiled at me.

"Guess you'll just have to find out."

And he just held my gaze. I swear I've never been in a moment with so much sexual tension, before or since. I couldn't handle, I was almost shaking. And so I kind of squeaked out:

"What, you want me to do a little strip-tease for you or something?"

"That'd be nice."

"I'm hardly dressed for it."

"It's not about what you're wearing. It's about what you're taking off."

Well, *******. Now we all know if I really wanted to, I could have smiled, laughed it off, told him to put that thing away before somebody gets hurt. I could have made an excuse, gone to the bathroom until the tension died down, left. But the thing is, I wanted to see that thing hard.

...

... to be continued.
Oh puhlease, you knew you wanted to be fucked even before the gym. Stop fronting, Ms. Lady. Hot story. He could see you wanted your pussy touched that's why he invited you for dinner. It's there and we do notice those things sometimes ya know:)
 
Well, I'm just going to start this. I don't know how far I'll get. I ought to say up top that this story is only somewhat true.

This is the fantasy version of what really happened. Oh, it really happened, but I change some details in my head as I relive it in my head (and trust me, I have relived it a bunch of times). Of course these things are always a little clumsier in real life than they are in our heads, right?

This story happened when I was a sophomore at a large Southern California university. There was a guy, black, I'll call him Andre, who I'd had a few classes with. Very built. I'd definitely felt him noticing me, and we'd flirted after class once or twice, but I'd never seen him at a party or anything and he'd never asked me for my number or anything.

Anyway, one day I'm at the gym, and I see him there as I'm heading to the locker room. He's shirtless, and has just been working out, and, well ... anyway, we start chatting, and he says I should come by to his apartment, just a couple of blocks away, for dinner.

"Now?" I ask. I feel sweaty and very unsexy. But he says yes and I do have a change of clothes in my bag, so I say, let me shower, first. He laughs and says it's just him and his roommates cooking up some steaks, no need to get all fancy, and I promise I won't spend too much time on my makeup and I'll just shower at the gym, if he'll wait. He says he will. I honestly don't expect him to still be there when I get out, but he is, and he's showered, too (but not put on a shirt, ha!) and we go back to his place.

He has two roomates, who, well, play a smaller role in this story. I'll call them Michael and Tim. Michael and Andre share a room, and Tim, who is white, has a room to himself. There's also a common room, kitchen, etc.

So anyway, Tim has made up some sangria and we eat the steaks and we're drinking, and the conversation, as it sometimes does when you get a bunch of 20-year-olds in a room, turns to sex. And at one point Michael asks me if I've ever been with a black guy. I tell him, truthfully, that I haven't. Not that I wouldn't, just, you know, I went to a pretty white high school, that kind of stuff. Now, I'm not super experienced at this point or anything, but at the same time I never felt like I should have to shy away from talking about sex.

They tease me about that a bit, and eventually we get to talking about the thing everybody says about black guys. You know. Are they really that much bigger, that kind of stuff.

Knowing looks from Michael and Andre.

I say that in my experience, most cocks are pretty close to the same size. I mean, I've never seen a giant porn dick in real life, you know? Some guys look a little bigger soft but you get 'em hard and they're pretty close to the same.

"That's not the case," Andre assures me.

"Well, sure, I mean, everybody says that ..." I say.

"Is that a dare?"

And for the life of me I don't know why, with three of them there, I said it, but I did. I said, "Yes."

"After dinner," he says. And everyone laughs.

So anyway we finish dinner and put the plates away and I'm mildly buzzed but not too bad, and honestly they're gentlemen about it and nobody brings it up and we're just laughing and having a good time.

And then at a certain point, Andre catches me checking him out (he has great abs. Have I mentioned that great abs are a weakness of mine? Memo to all guys: don't send gals dick pics, send ab pics). And he laughs and brings it up again.

I tease him, "I mean, you're not that big. Maybe a little bit bigger, but ..."

"You really think that?" he challenges me.

"Yes."

I'm not sure why I said that. I mean, it's not like I hadn't seen porn before, and I knew that there were just massive guys out there. But I look him right in the eyes when he said it, and I swear I was daring him.

And he took me up on it. He dropped his shorts.

At which point I had two reactions. The first is that his cock, while soft, was still the biggest I had ever seen, in person. Clearly just much larger than any I had seen before. The second is that it was just beautiful. I don't even know how to explain it and I'm sure some of it was just that he was so beautiful - tall and fit - and I'm sure that in my imagination I've made it better than it was but I just remember how I felt looking at it and honestly, it was the most beautiful cock I'd ever seen.

But damn if I was going to let him know that right away.

So I looked down at it, collected myself, and said something along the lines of, "Well, sure, but what is it about growers and show-ers? It's pretty big, but it's probably not that much bigger when its hard."

One of the other guys - Michael, I think - cracked a joke. "Girl doesn't want to believe what she's looking at," or something like that. But Andre just sort of smiled at me.

"Guess you'll just have to find out."

And he just held my gaze. I swear I've never been in a moment with so much sexual tension, before or since. I couldn't handle, I was almost shaking. And so I kind of squeaked out:

"What, you want me to do a little strip-tease for you or something?"

"That'd be nice."

"I'm hardly dressed for it."

"It's not about what you're wearing. It's about what you're taking off."

Well, *******. Now we all know if I really wanted to, I could have smiled, laughed it off, told him to put that thing away before somebody gets hurt. I could have made an excuse, gone to the bathroom until the tension died down, left. But the thing is, I wanted to see that thing hard.

...

... to be continued.
This was a weak ass story we wanted to hear about her trying to fit that big ass black cock in her mouth and how it streatched her pussy out getting fucked by that BBC
 
So there I was, riding Andre. Slow, at first, but building a nice rhythm as I got used to the size of him. I was locked in on him, ignoring the two other guys in the room - did one of them have his cock out? I don't know - and just slowly easing myself up and down on that monster.

And I started doing one of my favorite things to do. Which is just to go so ... damn ... slow. When I'm on top of a guy, I like to tease him with my pussy, too slow to get him off, too slow to build momentum, but I love watching the expressions on his face as I drive him wild.

And believe me, I was driving Andre wild. I could tell he was loving it, savoring every stroke just as much as I was. Up ... down. His eyes were closed, that soft smile on his kissable lips ...

And then he opened his eyes.

"You like it like that?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"You want me to keep going?"

"Yeah."

I was enjoying the power I felt over him. His pleasure was under my control, and I loved it.

"Not too slow for you?"

"Just right."

"I can do this all night."

A twinkle in his eye. "Can, you, now?"

And then, to this day, I don't know exactly what happened, but in the span of about a third of a second he somebody flipped me off him, around, and, without ever fully pulling out of my pussy, got me bent over the side of the sofa and just started ramming me, hard.

I came before his first full stroke was finished.

Well, for the first time, at least. And it was a monster - waves of pleasure wracking my body. I was vaguely aware of the noises I was making, but it felt like they were coming from somebody else.

But he wasn't finished, and no sooner had my orgasm subsiding than I felt another one buildling. And I was just powerless - he had one hand on my hip, holding me in place, and his other hand grabbed my hair, pulling back - not too hard, but just enough.

All I could do was surrender to the pleasure, and so I did. I don't know how long he pounded me. I know I had more than one orgasm. I don't even know how to describe it, but the women who have been there, they'll no - somehow it's too much, and you can't take any more, and you just need to him stop and yet he doesn't, and somehow it's the best thing in the world. And then again, you think you can't take any more, and you surrender to it, and somehow it's even better. And again, and again ...

I just know, at some point, he said -

"Where do you want it?"

"Any ... any ... anywhere."

And in a flash he pulled out of me, flipped me around and down to my knees, and before I even knew it his cock was in my face, and he was groaning and plastering me with three thick pulses of come. I opened my mouth to catch some of it, and he stuck his cock in, and I sucked, so happy, so grateful, just knowing that I would suck that glorious cock any time he wanted if it meant even a chance to be fucked like that again ...

... but that is a story for another time.

Somebody brought me a towel and I cleaned my face off. Tim brought me a glass of water which I desperately needed. We had a few laughs and eventually I got my clothes back on, and shared a few more kisses with Andre. Smiles and hugs, and it was time for me to go home.

But as I two steps out the door, Andre came out after me. He gave me a long, gentle hug and sweet kiss.

"That was pretty amazing, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes it was." I told him.

"I'd love to see you again sometime."

"I'd like that." I said. I gave him my phone number, went home, and slept like a baby.

And that is the story of my first BBC.
 
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