Summer of Black Cock

And that is where the real story ended (some small changes in certain subplots above having been authorised by the Creative Licence).

What follows now is what my source wishes would have happened... as I slyly include a few more real morsels of truth. (No, I will not tell you which ones they are. Behave!)

I got to work the next day and the surprises began and kept on coming.

LeAnn always dressed in shorts or jeans with a nice blouse. Today she was wearing a skirt and nylons... something you rarely see in Ohio in the summer... just not practical.

I greeted her with a purposeful question, hoping to get her to open up about her secret rendezvous with that black teen, "Dressed up for a date after work?"

She flushed uncomfortably and just shook her head, avoiding eye contact, speaking so softly she was almost mumbling, "Just trying to look nice."

"Well, you look very professional," I complimented, trying to make her feel comfortable.

"Thank you," she replied, her face flushing again.

I instantly wondered if the black guy was here again.

Deciding to just be blunt, although I still hid the fact that I knew about her three AM sodomy... although the more I thought about it the more I couldn't fathom how such a petite young woman as LeAnn could possibly take that thick dick up her ass, I began, "I do have a couple of concerns about last night."

"You do?" She blurted, finally looking up at me with concern showing.

"There were a couple of people in the pool after hours," I began, before adding, "and one of them even had their room comped."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Lee," she apologized, breaking into tears. "I don't want to get fired."

"You're not getting fired, but I do need to know what happened, LeAnn," I asked, dying to know how she had ended up getting ass fucked by some black guy.

"I honestly don't know," she said, between sobs. "The guy was so arrogant, like many of the high school boys, and degrading. Yet, one minute I was asking him to leave, and then before I knew it I was... well, I am..."

She couldn't finish her sentence, utterly embarrassed.

I finished her thought for her, confirming what I had already concluded, "Was that his cum on your blouse?"

"Yes," she admitted, breaking into bigger sobs.

"It's okay," I said, while in truth I was trying to envision her lips wrapped around that thick dick. After a second, realizing I would have to live with the knowledge that I was a terrible person if I had allowed her to be ass raped against her will, I asked her, "Did he force you to suck him?"

She wiped some of the tears from her face as she answered, "No. He didn't leave when I first told him to, but he didn't make me do anything."

"Why did you do it?" I asked, curious, remembering how overwhelmed I had been by his strong persona.

"I don't know," she answered. "He was just so suave and confident, and saying things like, 'How can such a pretty thing like you be happy with white dick?' and 'I'd fuck you so hard you would never want a white dick again,' and 'those pretty red lips in that pretty white face would look so good wrapped around my huge black dick'. And as I glanced down to the sweats he was wearing at the time and saw the huge tent he was making, I got curious. And... and..."

"It's okay," I reassured her, but now with a not-very-reassuring tent in my own trousers. "It won't hurt if you tell me."

"And I ended up taking him into the office and sucking it," she admitted, tears streaming again.

I tried to ease the awkwardness as I joked, "Well, that explains the stain on your blouse and the gleam on your face."

"Yeah," she elaborated, "he pulled out and spewed his cum all over me as he said, all smug, 'the first load to a new white slut always goes on her face. It's a baptism of sorts. Now rub my dominant seed all over that 'pretty face'. I was furious and mortified, my boyfriend has not come on my face ever, learning how sexist and degrading it is from the first and the only time he ever dared to ask. But last night I did as this imperious young man ordered, felt compelled to obey, my strong feminist will somehow nowhere to be found."

"What an asshole," I said, even though I could imagine him saying exactly that.

"I called him one and he just shrugged and said, 'Maybe later' and walked out.

"I was mortified by my actions, so I quickly got up and was about to wash my face when a customer walked in," she continued.

"Did he call you names?" I asked.

"What?" She asked, surprised by the question.

"I caught him with another hotel guest in the pool after hours and he was being very derogatory and racist," I explained, trying to get all the dirty details out of her while still acting casual and supportive.

"Yes," she nodded, "he was a filthy, racist pig."

I wanted to ask what he had said, but had probably already pushed it far enough. Instead, I asked, still confused about one thing, "How did he end up in the pool after hours?"

She sighed, "A few minutes later he came back in and said, 'I got this hot, big tittied, white MILF ready to engulf my thing like a college coed. I want you to let me back into the pool.' I said no, I could lose my job, but he insisted and ordered me to come by when I got off my shift, but I didn't. I was feeling so mortified by my own actions, submitting to such an asshole and cheating on my boyfriend."

I knew she had returned later, but there was no need to share that information with her; she was obviously devastated by her actions and I saw no reason to humiliate her further... although damn I was curious about how she had ended up in his hotel room... and did she willingly allow that huge, thick thing to sodomize her fine ass? Did she come from taking it in the ass? Where did he shoot his load?

I reassured her that I wasn't going to fire her, but I did have one more question. I had been checking out her legs the last ten minutes, and the way she kept sliding one of her stocking-clad toes in and out of her four inch heels (something else she never had worn before and that sure wasn't practical when you had to be on your feet all shift). Although I didn't see much hosiery in the summer, I did find them sexy myself and loved the feel of them on my wife. I asked, "So why the sudden change in attire? I mean you look very nice, but pantyhose are not overly practical for this time of year."

Her face flushed red again. After a pause, she admitted, "He made me wear them."

"Is he here?" I asked.

"I don't know," she answered, "but he stressed that all his sluts wear thigh high stockings for him as a symbol that they are one of his white bitches."

"You don't have to obey him," I said.

"I feel compelled to," she admitted, before adding, with a warning look, "he said he plans to get you, too."

"What?" I gasped, his big dick flashing vividly in my head.

"He said he was surprised that you didn't come to his room last night and beg to suck his dick," LeAnn revealed. Hearing her speaking so frank and nasty was both hot and surreal.

"I'm not gay," I pointed out.

"I wasn't a cheater either," she said, "but I couldn't resist no matter how much I tried and trust me, I tried."

"Well, I did resist," I said firmly, implying this conversation was done.

Hearing my tone shift, she apologized, "I'm sorry. I wasn't implying you would, I was just telling you what he said."

"It's okay, I understand," I reassured her, calming down before asking a question I already knew the answer to, "When did he tell you this?"

"Um, I, um," she began going beet red again.

I laughed, "It's okay. I think we've talked about this too long already."

"Well, enjoy your holidays," LeAnn said, snatching her purse, obviously preparing for a quick escape.

"Yes, two weeks away from here will do me good," I nodded, thinking 'and help me avoid this guy if he comes back'.

"Bye," she waved, almost running away, the curves of her ass filling out her tight skirt looking even more amazing than they did in the tight jeans she usually wore... but seeing those legs encased in nylon had my hard cock jerking in my pants again and again. However I did smirk as I noticed she was walking a bit bow-legged... which made perfect sense to me as I was still trying to figure out how she possibly could have taken that monster cock in that petite ass.

But the big question: Was I hard because of the BBC conversation or LeAnn's sexy legs?

I shook my head, thinking that I really did need this two week holiday to get a few loads deposited in my beautiful wife... and to rekindle a sex life that had stagnated badly with our busy work schedules.

As I worked that night, still trying to recreate the scenario where LeAnn had ended up giving into lust over reason, I recalled eavesdropping on LeAnn chatting with another female employee, a bar waitress named Jenna. I can't recall the exact play by play, but it was something like this.

Jenna: The things I do for a good tip.

LeAnn: Hit on again by some creep?

Jenna: A two-handed monster on my tits and ass.

LeAnn: Drunk?

Jenna: Hammered, but he was drooling over my ass the minute he walked in.

LeAnn: The outfits they make you wear are magnets to perverts.

Jenna: Very strong magnets, and he thought he was suave as he told me how much he would rock my world.

LeAnn: Oh God. Some men act like they are God's gift to women and we should be grateful that they're willing to have sex with us, as if men were more than drooling horn dogs who can't control themselves! You won't ever see a woman... a self-respecting woman anyway... begging for sex!

Ironic if what I had overheard from the hallway was really LeAnn begging Jamal for his big black cock.

Although I kept expecting him to show up, he never did, and the last day before my holidays was blessedly uneventful.

The two week break was refreshing, although my wife only got to take the first week off and she was on her period during our trip to Florida... so other than one blow job, our sex life remained non-existent and my reliance on porn only grew... as did my obsession with black cock videos... even watching a few hypno-sissy black cock videos.

When I returned, the surprises began and kept coming. Our regional manager, Marcia Davis, was a stern, cold bitch, one of those business types that push and push and push and accept no failures and had a razor tongue kept honed with cruel comments and the ability to crush 'anyone, anytime, bud'. Although she was physically a beautiful woman, she always hid it with a severe asymmetrical hair style: cut very short... almost shaved... on one side, and combed almost mannishly towards the other side. It looked very professional and attractive without being the least bit feminine. She was blonde, with blue eyes, tall, 5'10", and thin. She had nice biggish tits, with wide hips, and she always, I mean always, wore professional business suits or slacks and on occasion I could tell she had a nice ass, but she usually took effective steps to hide it.

I stress the business suits or slacks because as I entered for my shift, she was talking with LeAnn and was dressed in a black leather skirt... it was still business classy... but it was indeed a skirt... and black hose.

Instantly, my cock hardened.

My first thought was 'had Jamal made her his bitch, too?'

Instantly, I imagined her bent over her big wooden desk in her huge office on the top floor of the largest hotel in town, taking that huge black cock. Or maybe under the desk sucking on that teen dick while he lounged possessively in the comfy chair. Or naked, with her big tits flattened against her large window that overlooks the rear parking lot and the river, being reamed in her tight, skinny ass.

She would show up unannounced, usually about once a month, for hotel 'inspections', basically verifying that our rooms were properly cleaned, paperwork in order etc... She would check into a suite at the hotel, set up a satellite office and spend most of her day in there, emerging periodically to inspect rooms and then to my office to analyze the books, etc.... And not once has she failed to find some issue with a room, or with the books... usually both.

Instantly, I assumed she had noticed the comped room and questioned LeAnn. What had LeAnn said?

My cock raging with fantasy and possibility, I walked over and asked unwisely, "Do we have a new dress code at the hotel?"

"What does that mean?" Marcia snapped, her usual snarky bitch tone in full attack mode.

I quickly got defensive and explained, "Nothing. It's just I've never seen you in a skirt before." I darted a quick glance to LeAnn, who was also in a skirt of course, who gave me a slight nod, confirming my wicked assumption.

"You keep an inventory of my outfits?" Marcia demanded, still on the aggressive.

"What? No," I backpedaled. "It's just that I'm an observant guy."

"Or a pervert," she shot back. "I'm wearing stockings too, is that okay? Have I done that before? Do I have your permission, sir?"

"Um, yeah, sure, I'm sorry, I was just trying to make light conversation," I stammered, not wanting to get fired during the first two minutes back from my holiday or charged with sexual harassment... even though I was dying to ask something really outrageous like, 'How did you like that big black teen cock?' Marcia was married, I only knew that because of the ring on her finger, and I assumed that her husband was one whipped man... it was no doubt who wore the pants in that marriage, and I had never even met the guy.

"Well, don't sound like a disgusting perv when you do," Marcia retorted, turning her back to me and resuming her conversation with LeAnn. That was obviously my unvoiced cue to leave them alone, so I went into my office dreading two weeks of backed up paperwork... my cock raging.

Over the next hour I went through the books and noticed that Room 311 had been comped four more times... the last two by Marcia herself... including one just today. The reasons included 'excessive noise', 'room wasn't clean during check in', 'room wasn't ready by check-in time' and today didn't even have a reason... something I had never seen in all my time here.

I was dying to talk to LeAnn and yet I didn't dare emerge from the office until I knew the dragon lady... no... the new dragon slut... was gone.

I walked out and found LeAnn reading a book. I asked, "So, how were the two weeks without yours truly?"

"She's a fucking condescending bitch," LeAnn replied, both of us knowing we shared a hatred for the boss.

"Tell me something I don't know," I joked.

"I could tell you lots of things you don't know," she smiled wickedly.

"Well, you can't say that and just stop," I protested.

"Where do you think she is at this very moment?"

"No!" I gasped, even though the idea instantly had my cock hard again and also explained today's comped room.

"Oh yes," LeAnn nodded, clearly happy to see the downfall of our queen bee.

"How? When?" I asked, wanting answers, wanting to know.

"He has a way," LeAnn answered.

I joked, gazing obviously down at her nylon-clad legs, "So I've learned."

"Be careful," she warned, slipping her right foot out of her heel and wiggling her toes suggestively at me... her sexy nylon-clad toes. "He's still saying that you're next."

"No way," I shook my head, even as I was envisioning his big black cock... I hadn't seen that cock in over two weeks and yet I could still visualize it perfectly. I had imagined it many times during my stroke sessions and usually envisioned myself actually sucking his cock. Half the stories I read were now gay interracial stories. I had tried watching gay videos, but watching guys suck cock did nothing for me. So instead I watched hypno-sissy videos which mixed white guys sucking big black cock, with sometimes just the idea of sucking black cock, with female hotties sucking them and getting fucked by them.

"That's exactly what I said and that's what queen bitch said too," LeAnn pointed out before adding, "he made it very clear that every white, regardless of gender or sexual preference, will succumb to black cock or pussy. I really hate to tell you this, but I believe him. You're in trouble."

"I never thought I would hear you say cock or pussy," I joked, doing my best to ignore the last things she had said, and concentrating on the fact that I loved the change in her vocabulary since her own introduction to black cock.

She didn't say anything for a moment. The teen then suggested very quietly, "If you want to go and do a walk-around, maybe you'll stop by Room 311 and take a listen."

"Maybe I should do an evening tour, make sure the pool is properly closed," I nodded with a smile and a teasing reminder of how this had all started. "You okay to stay for a few extra minutes?"

"I like overtime," she admitted, slipping her foot suggestively back into her heel.

"Time in Room 311 doesn't count as overtime," I quipped.

She laughed, "Well, our boss is working overtime at this very moment."

"She's on salary," I countered.

"So are you," LeAnn pointed out.

I shook my head at her implication as I headed out, just as LeAnn called out, "By the way, Room 309 isn't occupied."

I checked the pool first, which was locked and empty, before I headed to the third floor... curious... and hard.

I had never entered a room adjacent to another room simply to eavesdrop, but I couldn't resist. I entered 309 and rested the side of my head against the thin wall that separated 309 and 311.

I didn't hear anything for a good minute and was just about to move away when HE said in a scolding tone, "You still can't deep throat my cock, you dumb bitch."

My mouth dropped open. He was going to get his balls ripped off calling her a 'dumb bitch'.

If my mouth could drop more it would have when I heard Marcia's undeniable voice, although it was missing her usual condescending bitch tone... no, instead it was something I'd never heard from her... meek. "Sorry, Master, your cock is just so much bigger than my small dicked husband's."

"Do I need to send for LeAnn? She has become a perfect little cock sucker," he threatened.

"No, Master," Marcia pleaded with a desperation I couldn't fathom ever coming from her. "Please, let me try again."

"Stand up," he ordered.

"Yes, Master," she obeyed. I couldn't believe she was obeying him, sucking his cock, calling him 'Master'... man, this guy was good.

"Time for your inspection," he said. "You don't get any more of this juicy nigger cock if you don't live up to my expectations."

"I did, Master," she quickly said.

"I'll be the judge of that," he responded with that same strong, confident tone I recalled him using at the pool.

"Understood, Master," my no nonsense boss responded, still sounding the polar opposite of her true self... or what I had always thought was her true self.

I didn't hear any talking for a couple of minutes so I assumed he was inspecting her. I wondered what he had ordered her to do. Obviously to wear stockings... which I also appreciated. But what else?

Finally, he said, "Good slut. You passed your inspection. Did you find it difficult to walk around all day as the pretentious ice queen you are with a butt plug buried up your asshole?"

'Oh my God!!! No way!! That is so fucking hot!' I thought to myself as I grabbed for my cock.

She answered, "I practiced walking all last night so it wouldn't be obvious I was some cheap ass slut for a hot hung black kid."

"But you are a cheap ass slut for big black cock, aren't you?"

"Yes, Master," she answered as if she were in a scripted porn scene... I did think that things like this only happened in porn movies, although I had seen and heard some pretty crazy things in my years working in hotels... but never anything this personal, this powerful.