Written, created, conceived, and masturbated to by AKA.
Comments: akaCockBobber(at)yahoo(dot)com
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Disclaimer: This story is intended for adults. If you shouldn't be reading this, then don't. If that actually stopped you, I'm amazed. If you're offended by over-the-top fantasies about wimpy white men, hung black men, and the white girls that bring them together, then I recommend you stop reading. If you like that shit, then stop licking your lips and start reading.
Sweet Cream Cafe - Part 2 of 2
"Don't worry, Wendy. You'll get used to it, soon. This happens to first-timers sometimes, especially when they're natural cumsuckers like you." It was Candy's voice that he suddenly heard, it's reassuring tone instantly making him feel better. A little better, but not much.
"Wh-what's happening ... why ... why did I ... ?" Wendell coughed out.
"Aw, Wendy. It's okay. It's okay. I know you have questions, but you've got to calm down. You enjoyed your lunch, right?"
"Why ... it was delicious, but ... what's the ..." Wendell gasped, but then stopped and took a deep breath. "Candy ... why did I eat all that ...? Am ... am I gay?"
Candy laughed out loud, "Oh, goodness no, Wendy! What you're feeling is a far baser reaction than anything defined as homosexual or heterosexual -- it's totally instinctual. It's one of the few truly instinctual reactions left in modern white men ... you really can't help it."
"In-- ... instinctual?"
"Sure. Instinct. That's why you feel the way you do right now. You're fighting the instinctual urge to dive in and lick up every ounce of black semen in the place. But just like a soldier learns to fight his instinct to flee from danger, you'll soon learn to control your reactions."
"I ... I don't understand."
"I know, Wendy. It'll take some time. I'm sorry to introduce you to your baser instincts with this trial by fire method, but Mr. Roosevelt thought that it was best that you get first hand knowledge as to what it is that makes our business so successful. Plus ... " she leaned in close and ran a hand along his chest, " ... you looked soooo cute slurping down that black sperm with your little polyester accountant pants all tented upward and everything."
Wendell ignored both the mention of business and the beautiful woman's touch -- both of which would normally gain his attention easily. He was obviously still caught up in his unexpected desires. "Ok, I'm not gay. Good. But I ... I really wanted that sperm. I mean, God that was good. I still ... I still don't understand."
"Don't worry, Wendy. A lot of white men have tried in the past to understand their compulsion to suck down that negro cum. It's not exactly widespread knowledge, but a few select minds have done some serious thinking on the subject. Emmett ... that's his bald head you see over there between Brandy's thighs ... is a college professor. He thinks it's a pheromonal thing. Y'see, since the majority of white men -- especially you little dicked fellas -- never truly satisfy a woman, you've never actually been around a woman who's exuding the aura of true sexual ecstasy. Only a man-sized black cock can truly do that."
Wendell twitched slightly at the idea of being called 'little-dicked' ... but realized that he had nothing that could compete with what he'd seen here today.
"When a white woman has been properly blackfucked, her body is just bursting with pheromones that draw in you white boys like moths to a porchlight. It's only natural for you to go straight to the source of her pleasure ... the fuckbattered orifice that's been stretched by black cock and filled with black sperm."
Wendell's body convulsed slightly and his dick ached anew as it swelled just from the sound of her vivid descriptions.
"Emmett also thinks that there's a genetic preference toward semen sucking in you boys. It seems to be passed most strongly along with wiry builds and remarkably small penises. The impulse to swallow black cum exists in nearly all white men, but those with tiny peckers are the most likely to have their women go out seeking a true fucking from a black cock. With me so far?"
Wendell nodded, "But wh--"
"Let me finish, Wendy. Now, given the innate superiority of black sperm, the only chance a little white guy like you has to actually reproduce is to suck those stronger little wigglers out of his woman's cunt. The fact that the act of doing so excites him immensely also helps; it means that he might actually shoot enough of his own miserable juice to actually stand a chance of impregnating her. Therefore, the best white sperm suckers who are most aroused by the act thus become the only ones to pass on their genes. Thus, the natural desire -- the instinct -- to suck down black cum has been reinforced genetically for millennia." She paused for a moment, then added, "You were born to eat Negro sperm, Wendy."
Wendell thought silently for a moment, then nodded in apparent acceptance. "Y-you sure seem to know a lot about this, Candy."
"Oh, well I'm working my way through college. I'm getting a Master's degree in Male Sexuality ... with a minor in African Studies. Emmy over there is my faculty advisor. I've learned a lot from listening to his muffled voice coming from between my legs. So, any more questions?"
Wendell nodded. "I guess what you say makes sense, but ... but I sure liked that #2. It was ... delicious. Th-that's got nothing to do with human reproductive instincts, does it?"
"Well, it could be simply that your instincts aren't all that focused ... and any cum in the general vicinity gets treated the same," Candy explained. Then she leaned in closely again and drew a single finger along Wendell's jawline as she whispered in his ear, "Or it could be that you enjoyed it simply because you're a nasty little white boy who loves sucking and slurping a black man's semen from the well stretched asshole of a young white woman. Just like Wally loved clamping his mouth on me and drinking down my sweet piss." She moved her mouth an inch away from his ear so he could feel her breath as she whispered, "Does that explaination work for you, Wendy?"
"Yeah ..." Wendell swallowed hard as his body shuddered again. He turned to look at her and she looked him dead in the eye, waiting for an answer. "... that ... that sounds good to me."
"Good! So now you understand!" she chirped. "Now, as I said, the arousal of the white male results in a drastic increase in sperm and seminal fluids ... which is evident in the fact that your bag is leaking." Candy glanced at Wendell's lap.
"Bag?" he questioned, looking downward. A small, wet circle in the center of his crotch was obviously what Candy was referring to.
"Oh my. You're such a natural cumsucker, Wendy, I keep forgetting that you're a newcomer. Come with me."
Candy grabbed Wendell by the hand and yanked him off the bar stool. She headed toward the back of the restaurant and right through the Men's room door without even slowing down. Once inside, she tugged something from a dispenser on the wall, turned and immediately reached for Wendell's belt buckle.
"I should have remembered to tell you, Wendy, but leakers like you are required to bag up before dining," Candy calmly explained as she yanked down his pants and boxers. Wendell looked helplessly around the room, but only saw two other patrons standing at the urinals against the far wall. They stiffened noticeably at the sound of Candy's voice, but stared straight ahead, seemingly ignoring what was happening behind them.
Some part of Wendell's brain suddenly realized that the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen was now kneeling down in front of him pulling his pants to his ankles. But before he could think to enjoy or even to react to the moment, he felt a sharp snap around the base of his penis.
"Owwww!!" he cried in obvious pain.
"Oh, sorry Wendy, but it's the only way I can get your bag on there without actually touching that thing."
Wendell looked down and saw that she'd fitted a plastic bag with a tight elastic band built into the opening around the base of his dick and balls. With the tight ring around the juncture of his testicles, the end of the bag was just too short for the length of his erect penis. He winced and looked at Candy pleadingly.
"Don't look at me like that, Wendy. You're the one who's practically creaming his shorts while sucking down a black man's cum. Now, pull up your pants and we'll get back to your tour." Candy then turned around and spoke loudly to the men against the wall, "Whack off all you want, boys, but remember to lick the urinals clean when you're finished."
Seeing the surprised look on Wendell's face as he buckled his belt, she whispered an explaination, "Too much white boy sperm tends to clog the drains, y'know."
Candy took his hand again and Wendell placidly followed her back out to the restaurant. As they walked amongst the rows of white men feasting on the cum-filled crotches of the uniformed young girls, Candy took on a business-like tone once again. "Well, I hope you understand a little better how our business works now, Wendy. It's the oldest business strategy around: Find something that people with money want and charge a lot for it. And heaven knows that you tiny-dicked cumsucking white boys sure can't get enough black man's cum, that's for sure."
Even in its aroused state, Wendell's mind was able to focus once the topic turned to business. He thought about what he'd seen and asked, "B-but, if the girls keep the tips and the, uhh ... 'meal charge' is given to the young black men, how does this place make any money?"
"Good question, Wendy! I can see that Mr. Roosevelt chose you for a reason other than your tiny white weenie. You see, Wendy, Mr. Roosevelt has been indpendently wealthy for years. He's a silent partner in businesses owned by white men all over the city. He didn't start the cafe in order to make more money; he considers it a way of giving back to his community by employing promising young black men and teaching them how things work in the white man's business world. You see, once a white man has eaten black sperm, he's forever addicted. He'll do anything to get it. That's an obvious winning business opportunity for any enterprising black man."
"I ... I'm not sure I understa--"
"Wendell, if that muscled young stud over there offered to come into your office and bang your secretary every day, filling her pussy and ass with daily loads of cum for you to eat, yet only asked for 49% of your company in exchange for his services, would you do it?"
Wendell stared open mouthed at the stud in question as he pumped his huge cock in out out of the upthrust ass of a young blonde, then turned and answered with complete honesty, "Yes."
"You see my point then?"
"God yes, I understand completely."
As Wendell watched the final thrusts into the girl's ass, he shifted uncomfortably, trying to make his crotch less painful without touching it.
"Sorry I had to bag you, Wendy, but we can't have your sickening whiteboy seepage leaking through your pants. It's just unseemly. I can't have that in a family establishment."
Wendell looked around the room. The place was now filled to capacity with white men from every walk of life. It might have been the crowd from any suburban neighborhood bar & grill in America. Except the only thing on the menu was black man's sperm and the only thing on tap was white girl's piss.
His face took on a puzzled look. "I .. I don't mean to criticize, but ... a moment ago ... did you say family establishment?"
"Sure, Wendy. You don't need to sound so surprised. See the little man with his head between Lulu's thighs? The one in the blue sweater vest? Well, that's Walter Middlebury. The one seated next to him with his head between Chelsea's thighs is his son Miles. Miles is headed off to State next year and Wally wanted to get him used to the taste of black sperm. Y'see, even though Miles couldn't hit a basketball with a golf club, his parents expect him to be extremely active in the University athletic program ... if you know what I mean?" She grinned with inquisitive eyebrows.
"I ... I think I do."
"And seated in that booth over there ... where Jasmine is preparing a #4 Extra Fresh ... are three generations of Dickey men," said Candy as she gestured toward the young lady actively sucking off a completely naked black youth. All three men were mesmerized, but the already-glazed faces of the older men told Wendell that this load was for the youngest of the trio. Wendell's pecker strained anew against the confines of the plastic bag as a pair of large, dark hands grasped the girl's head and filled her mouth while she whimpered with pleasure. When she sat in the young white man's lap and clamped her mouth against his, the two older men smiled their best 'That's my boy' smiles.
"See, Wendy? Now that's family bonding, right? And you can tell from the way Jasmine's cum-filled kiss is lingering that's she's a bit sweet on the young Dickey boy there." Candy leaned in closely and said softly, "Don't tell anyone, but I think she's been sneaking him a few 'to go' meals every once in awhile."
"That's allowed?" Wendell asked in an oddly hopeful voice.
"Well, not officially, but it's one of those 'acceptable losses'. Call it an employee discount of sorts. We tolerate it ... especially if it looks like there might be a future for the young couple."
"Future?"
"Well, sure! Can you think of a better way for a young lady to pick out a decent little white cumsucker to keep her clean and happy? Who knows, Wendell ... maybe one of the girls will decide you're the spermlapper of her dreams and bring you a little snack after work sometime."
"Oh, that would be wonde--"
"Oh! I've got one more thing to show you!" said Candy excitedly. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him toward the bathroom door. Wendell groaned slightly, hoping this wouldn't lead to something even more restrictive than the bag already bound tightly around his aching genitals.
"That's good enough, boys," Candy shouted to the two kneeling white men who were licking the white porcelain inside the urinals. "Out. Out! I've got business to attend to." The men jumped up and scurried out the door.
Once they were gone, Candy tugged at the chain around her neck and fished a key out from between her ample breasts. She put it in the hefty-looking lock of the plain brown door marked 'Utility Closet' that sat against the back wall of the restroom. The door opened with a creak. "Hurry, Wendy, before anyone sees!" She pushed him through the door into the darkness. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim surroundings.
"If you had any doubt we were family oriented, wait till you see this!" said Candy as she quickly shut the door again.
"Hi, Candy. What's up? My time's not up already is it?" asked a female voice.
Having been shoved into the room, the source of the voice was now behind Wendell, but he didn't turn to look at her. He was too mesmerized by the scene in front of him.
"No no, you're good for the whole afternoon," said Candy calmly. "I'm just showing the new accountant around."
"Oh, so this is Mr. Nubbin! Mr. Roosevelt mentioned that you two might be stopping by. How nice to meet you."
Wendell didn't move.
Candy started to giggle. "Don't forget, Fiona, he's new, so you'll have to pardon his rudeness." She nudged Wendell in the side with her elbow.
"Huh?" grunted Wendell. "Oh, I'm sorry. Nice to meet you to. It's just that ..." Wendell's eyes were still locked forward.
"Don't worry, Wendy. Anyway, this is tonight's clean up manager Fiona Fulmouth ... and the boys with the black cocks in their mouths are her twin sons, Neville and Nigel."
The scene that had so strongly caught his attention was a row of softball sized holes in the wall ahead of him. Through two of the holes were thrust a pair of large, half-limp black dicks. And kneeling below each dick was a young man suckling and licking along its length.
"After filling an order," Candy explained, "our chefs place their ... 'utensils' in the care of our clean up crew. Each black cock is carefully lapped clean of all residual semen and female juices. The chefs balls are licked and stroked to promote further semen production. Once stiffness begins to return -- which often takes only minutes -- the cock is returned to service in the kitchen. Understand, Wendy?"
"Huh? Oh, yes ... I think so," Wendell mumbled, not quite listening
"Oh, I know it sounds complicated, but you'd be surprised how quickly young white men pick up on it. We constantly bring in new white boys for family training and they almost always just seem to know exactly what to do."
Part of that actually caught Wendell's attention. "Family t-training?"
"Of course. You see, Wendy, in the interest of supporting strong family relationships, Mr. Roosevelt rents out this space for the city's mothers and their sons. Make sense?"
"N-not reall--"
"It's simple, Wendell. Obviously, it's every mother's duty to get her sons ready for married life. And we all know that cleaning sperm and white woman's juices off of a black cock are things that every good husband needs to learn to do well. Another few weeks of this and the boys will be all ready for their respective weddings. And just in time, too. Right, Fiona?"
"Right. Nev's wedding is next week," Fiona replied cheerily.
Candy touched Wendell on the shoulder. "There's quite a waiting list for this spot, of course."
"Of course," he replied absent-mindedly.
"It's a shame, really," Candy continued. "So many white boys are totally unprepared when the half dozen or so black men their new wives invite to the honeymoon suite arrive. Sure, they catch on just as soon as they're presented with their first blackfucked pussy -- just like you did. But a lot of unnecessary kicking & screaming can be avoided by proper training by caring mothers like Fiona here. The ability to properly clean pussy and ass juices off a thick black cock will make the wedding night more enjoyable for everyone. Plus, these boys are now so good at sucking a black man hard again that they're basically ensured 3 or 4 loads from each cock. And more cum means more fun for everyone, don't you agree?"
"Oh hell yeah," mumbled Wendell. "But ... " he turned to the two ladies for the first time with a look of consternation, " ... I didn't see this on the menu."
Fiona snickered, "They always want to head straight for the dick, don't they?"
Candy rolled her eyes. "Wendy, weren't you listening at all? This is a specially reserved dining area. We couldn't put this on the menu. The line would be around the block!"
Wendell shook off the spaced out look on his face as Candy's previous descriptions sunk in. "Right. Ok ... that explains the locks."
"HEY!" came a cry from Fiona. "Nigel, I told you, no pumping!" The young man quickly removed his hand from the cock it had been stroking rapidly. Fiona turned to the two of them. "Excuse me, I've got to keep watch on the boys. You know how they are: Give them an inch ... and they'll try to suck off ten!" She grinned at her own joke. "Now if you'll excuse me," she said as she turned away. "Nigel, so help me, if you milk a single cumload today, you'll be grounded so long ..... "
"That's exactly why we keep the black dick under lock and key," Candy explained. "With all the cumhungry white boys out there, we've got to keep them away from direct access to black cocks. While I'm a firm believer in the idea that every drop of African semen should end up in the belly of a white man, it's our policy that a fine establishment like ours should offer cum that's properly served in the pussy, ass, or mouth of a pretty young white girl. It's a lot more fun for everyone, in my opinion ... plus it keeps the queers away."
Wendell twitched slightly at the mention of the word 'queer' ... especially since he had the biggest hardon of his life watching two young men suck black dick.
"And that's a firm rule here, Wendy. No faggots allowed. Only heterosexual cumsuckers. There will be no faggot action in the men's room. You white boys whacking off into the toilets is expected, but don't let us catch you sucking each other off, Wendy. That's the surest way to get 86'd for good."
Wendell looked shocked. "What?! Me??! No way! I ... I'd never do that!"
Candy's face scrunched up. "Yeah. I feel exactly the same way, Wendy. Wimpy white pricklets are just ... gross. I wouldn't suck one either. But since you've expressed an obvious interest in chowing down on the good, dark stuff, you should know that black cock IS on the dinner menu."
Wendell's face brightened, then changed to a confused expression. "Wait .. I thought you were only open for lunch."
"Oh, true. The cafe itself is open only for lunch because the chefs are busy in the evenings ... with deliveries. See, it's every white wife's responsibility to have dinner waiting for her husband when he gets home. We have very affordable rates for everything from a simple snack to a full 6, 7 or even 10 course meal. And, of course, all our dinner selections come with full cockcleaning privileges for the husband. It's a wonderful service for married white couples."
"But ... I'm not married," said Wendell, sounding truly disappointed.
"Well, Nubby, there are many advantages to married life for a white man ... and the chance to suck a combination of white woman's juices and black man's spent cum off of a long thick black cock is one of them."
Wendell simply nodded and turned back to watch the Fulmouth boys. Fiona was breaking up a squabble over the next cock to appear for cleaning. Fiona awarded it to Neville, apparently because of Nigel's previous bad behavior. His jealousy was very apparent by the look on his face.
The two of them stood in silence for a few minutes ... watching. Whenever one of the young white mouths leapt on a fresh, glistening black cock, Candy let out a slight whimper and Wendell let out a slight groan. Finally, he turned to Candy with a look of discomfort, "Could we maybe leave now? I ... I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Wendy. I realize that you're probably miserable in that bag. We made them to properly fit the 3" fellas. At 3-3/4", your lil pecker is probably pretty cramped, huh?"
"Y-yes. It is." Wendell pondered for a moment, then asked, "Candy, how do you know exactly how long my penis is?"
"Oh, Wendy ... first of all, 3-3/4" is how 'short' your dickie is ... not how 'long' it is. And second, did you think Mr. Roosevelt found you at random? Nurses all over the city know they can win a 10 course meal for their husbands as a finder's fee by reporting exceptionally small white peckers. You really didn't think that the measurements taken last year at your doctor's were really 'for your file', did you?" Candy giggled.
Wendell said nothing, but silently questioned the validity of the 15 minute 'prostate check' he received at the same time.
"As with any product, you've got to find the customers who are most willing to pay for it. Strong market research is key to any successful busi-- ... ooooooh ... that's hot ... "
Candy's attention was diverted momentarily as Nigel crawled up to a massive, shiny, limp, black dick and gobbled its entire length into his mouth and throat. Wendell felt his dick swell further against the restrictive plastic bag. He groaned as he reached a full 4" for the first time in his life.
"I'm just lucky to be able to work here," Candy moaned. "Most women have to get married in order to see such a beatiful sight." She sighed and actually laid her head on Wendell's shoulder, "See, Wendy, there are those purists that believe that only legally married white wives' cunts and husbands' mouths should be permitted the honor of being flooded with negro sperm. But Mr. Roosevelt has a more liberal view. He started the cafe to give every white male -- even unmarried ones -- the chance to perform his natural function of swallowing black cum. Those purists accuse him of being in it just for the money, but he believes strongly in the sanctity of a white marriage ... and that black sperm should be an integral part of daily married life for white couples. Can you see that, Wendy?"
"Uhh, sure. I gue--"
"Sure, we do an active business up front, but we believe that the pleasure of cleaning cum & pussy off a black cock is rightfully a married man's role. But too many white couples are completely missing out! That's exactly the purpose for these training sessions!" Candy became more animated. She obviously had some strong beliefs about this topic. "Once fully trained by their mother, these boys will be eager to find a lovely white girl and introduce her to the pleasures of black cock. It's our way of spreading the word! And white girls' legs! And white boys' lips! Understand?!"
"Yes, I se--"
"And THAT's why we keep the cock locked up, Wendy!" she chocked him on the shoulder for emphasis. "By giving 'em just a little taste of the dark side, we're showing them just how to find years of wedded, cumsucking bliss! Limiting access encourages them to develop the kind of relationships that will lead to future happiness for all involved. That makes sense, right?"
"Exact--"
"It's beautiful, isn't it, Wendy? Makes you want to run out and get married to some black cock loving little slut, doesn't it?" asked Candy. She smiled, finally giving him a real chance to speak.
He turned and looked at her with a longing like he'd never felt. "Yes," said Wendell softly. "Yes, it does." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.
If she heard the unspoken message in his voice, Candy didn't show it. She appeared lost again in the sight of the cleanup chores being performed before her. "Ok, yes ... ok," gasped Candy as she recovered. "We can move on. Sorry, Wendy, but like most white women, I just get mesmerized at the sight of black cock stretching the lips of a white man's mouth. It's just so ... hoo! Let's get out of here before we both cream ourselves."
As they turned to leave, Candy nudged Wendell and pointed at Fiona with a grin. She was seated in a chair with her legs flung up over each arm. Her hands worked furiously between her widespread legs.
"I guess she couldn't hold out any longer," whispered Candy with a wide smile. Wendell doubted that anyone in the room noticed as they closed and relocked the door.
"Oh gawd, Wendy!" exclaimed Candy as they passed back out into the diner. "Speaking of holding out, I'm being so cruel showing you all of this. Your bag must be completely slimy on the inside by now from your dribbling dick. I'm sure your body is simply demanding some more black semen down your gullet right now, right?"
"Yes," he admitted freely.
"Well, I like you, Wendy, so let's see if we can intercept you another order," she whispered. "Let me take a look back here in the ... " She propped the door open with one hand. "Oh, hey! Wendy, come look at this!"
He certainly didn't have to be told twice. The sounds and smells of the kitchen were intoxicating. He moved up and looked in over her shoulder.
"That's my baby sister, Tammy. That's her with that fat 10-incher ramming her tiny ass -- wow, that girl can take it! She's earning a little extra cash before she heads off to college this fa--" Candy's eyes widened and her voice dropped to a whisper, " ... well, damn that girl! Her cunt is already sopped with cum and I don't think there's a #3 on order right now."
Candy looked at the rotating spindle and checked the paper slips containing the current orders. She put her hand to her chin thoughtfully and leaned in close to Wendell.
"Wendell, I'm hoping you can help me out here. The #3 is our most expensive dish and Tammy can get in big trouble for cooking one up that's not on order. Can I talk you into ordering a nice double shot of negro love? I'll even see if I can get Tammy to throw in a free chaser, ok?"
Mesmerized by the sight of Tammy's ass being stretched to nearly impossibly proportions, Wendell simply stammered, "Why y-yes ... that's very k-kind of you."
He didn't blink until Candy finally dragged him away and pushed him toward a seat at the counter. The lunch rush was still in full swing, so Wendell slid between two other eagerly licking patrons and tried not to concentrate on the combined sounds of soft moans and hungry slurps. He stared straight ahead and clamped his hands on his thighs again while Candy disappeared to the back room to check on his order.
After a moment, Candy returned and leaned in from the other side of the counter. "I really appreciate you helping me out here, Wendy." She smiled a sly smile, "I almost hate to take advantage of you. The way your body must be screaming for a taste of semen, I could probably sell you anything right now. But it's a win-win situation, right?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm glad to help," said Wendell as he fumbled with his wallet in preparation for Tammy's arrival. He shifted uncomfortably as the tugging on his back pocket tightened his pants in the front.
"I know you're miserable right now, Wendy, with your dickie straining so hard in your pants. In the past, you might have been tempted to go whack off, but you'll soon learn that the presence of black semen in your mouth will ease that desperate feeling in your crotch much more completely than a mere orgasm would. Following those primal whiteboy instincts is infinitely more satisfying. Think about how you're feeling right now; you want a load of manjuice from the thick cocks you saw much more than a trip to the jackoff stall in the men's room, right?"
"Absolutely," he admitted while shuffling through his remaining cash.
"See? It's simple biology. Your body knows what it needs and rewards you with pleasure when you provide it. Therefore, the longer it's been since your last orgasm, the stronger the pleasure from cumeating is in order to overcome that silly desire to spurt your own juice. That's what's so fantastic about this -- intense pleasure for everyone involved without having to worry about a drop of that icky white boy slime soiling the tender body of a white girl.
Wendell wasn't listening; he was panicking. "Candy, I only have $193," he gasped.
"Oh, don't worry about that, Wendy. We've got sort of a 'table stakes' policy. You've got to at least come close, but none of our girls will turn down your last dollar in exchange for a load of cum."
"Thank goodne--"
He was interrupted by the giggling entrance of Tammy. She deleriously stumbled along behind the counter and nearly collapsed, leaning against Candy for support. "God, I love my job!" she exclaimed.
Candy giggled. "Well, you're about to love it even more, I think. Wendy here is new at this, but I can tell he's going to vacuum you out like no one ever has. Trixie swears he licked her cervix!" said Candy as she helped her sister into position.
As Tammy's leg swung over his head, Wendell quickly pressed the last of his cash into her hand and moved his attention to the swollen flesh of her crotch. As she leaned back far to permit better access to her well-fucked ass, Wendell noticed a tiny straight line that ran horizontally across the bridge between her pussy and asshole. Leaning in closer, he saw that it was a neatly lettered (almost typewritten) tattoo: 'If you can read this, eat me, white boy.'
Wendell smiled and whispered to himself, "Gladly."
As he first felt the warmth of the semen against his tongue, Wendell felt a zing of pleasure shoot from his mouth to his crotch ... then spread throughout his body. It was a wonderful, all enveloping feeling. It wasn't orgasmic, really. It was ... better.
"Can you feel it, Wendy? Can you feel the special pleasure of eating black sperm? It's better than an orgasm, isn't it?" Candy's voice asked softly in his ear.
"Mmm mmmph"
"See? Now that you're all primed up and in need of a good cum, that joy of cumsucking can really take hold. The longer you hold out, the better this will feel, so as you lay in bed tonight fantasizing about black cocks and cum, try to avoid squirting yourself, ok? That way, when you come back tomorrow with a big ol' fresh supply of money, you'll be able to experience even greater pleasure. Will you do that, Wendy? Will you do that for me?"
"Yephmph!" cried Wendell's muffled, ecstatic voice. There was no question he'd be back for more of this. In that instant, this was everything he'd ever wanted. This was right. This was beautiful. This was destiny.
* * *
Wendell sat on the barstool facing outward into the rest of the cafe. He was leaning back against the counter, his elbows supporting him. He looked relaxed. He felt relaxed, in fact. On his face was a wide satified grin ... along with a thin glaze of drying sexual juices. His dick was still throbbing painfully in his pants, but he didn't care. Or more correctly, he didn't mind.
Everything Candy had said was true. He felt a sense of sexual satisfaction like he'd never felt before in his life even though he hadn't cum. Jerking off never felt this good. By god, none of the few, fumbling experiences he'd had with a woman had felt this good. He'd come here today to gain a better understanding of ...
As if on cue, Candy appeared next to him. "Well, don't you look like the cat who ate the canary?"
"Oh no, my dear. I'm not a pussy who's eaten something ... I look this way because I've been eatin' pussy!" he said with a suave grin. It would occur to him later that it was the most 'suave' thing he'd ever said to a woman.
Candy giggled appropriately. "Oh gawd, Wendy! You're too much!" She laid a hand on his arm as she laughed. Wendell looked at his arm where she'd touch him. He liked the way she touched him.
She moved around in front of him, swung her leg over his and sat down straddling his thighs. She wasn't sitting on his dick, per se, but her weight tugged his pants in such a way that the fabric pressed down agonizingly on his rock hard pecker. He ... liked it.
She leaned in inches from his face. "Y'know, you're kinda cute when you smile in that just-sucked-down-four-loads-of-black-sperm way. I may just have to find a way to ..." she placed a finger on his lips and drew it downward over his chin, " ... wipe ... that smile off your face."
"I ... I'd l-like that," said Wendell, returning to his usual stammer.
"You'd better!" chirped Candy. "You made me lose a bet, you natural-born-cumsucker you!"
"A bet?" Wendell asked, ignoring his new title.
"Well," she said with a sigh, "I didn't believe Mr. Roosevelt when he said you'd take a chaser without spilling a drop on your first day. No one's ever done that before, but I should have just assumed that Mr. R knows a talented white throat when he sees one."
"Oh", said Wendell, feeling an odd sense of pride. "What did you bet?"
"Oh, the usual -- my ass," giggled Candy. "See, Wendy, Mr R is so big that none of the girls can take him there. None except me, that is. When he reams me, I cum so hard that I become a blubbering fuck slut, but that monster stretches me something fierce, so ... can I count on you to be around for a week of #2's, Wendy? Will you use that lovely tongue of yours to soothe my black-ravaged asshole?"
Wendell swallowed hard, but before he could answer, the man on the stool next to him suddenly jerked and twitched spasmodically. The man's hips pumped the air twice before his openmouthed glazed stare cleared into a frown. "Dammit!" he muttered.
"Shot your wad early again, eh Cecil?" Candy asked in a concerned voice.
"Yes!" he replied with frustration. "It's my own fault, though. I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Damn, Candy, I ... you sure are ... damn, I'll come back tomorrow."
Candy giggled and whispered into Wendell's ear, "Poor Cecil. I like him, but he'll never feel the full joy of eating black sperm unless he learns to control that hair trigger of his. And I will say, Wendy" she said as she lightly patted his lap, "you're doing very well in that department. Your self control is admirable for a first timer."
Wendell grinned, actually enjoying the added discomfort of her tapping on the head of his already distended penis. His new confident attitude returned, "Well, it's like you said, babe. I'm a natural. I guess I'm just one of the best, undiscovered until now."
"Well! Aren't we cocky?! In once sense of the word, anyway. Well, we'll see how long you can keep your pecker from popping when I tell you the news." She stood up and pulled Wendell to his feet. She raised her voice just enough for those around them to here, "Mr Roosevelt has offered to let you try something from the dessert menu."
The screech of a chair leg against the floor preciptated the least expected sound of all -- silence. The entire room fell quiet as all eyes turned to Wendell. He could feel a new emotion waft through the room -- and that emotion was jealousy.
"Lucky bastard." "No way??!" "Fucker!" "Already?!?" "Holy shit!"
The whispered expletives came from all directions. Wendell knew all attention was suddenly on him, but ... he didn't know why.
"Dessert m-menu?!" he asked nervously.
"Yes! Isn't that great! On your first day!" Candy squealed and tossed her arms around his neck in a congratulatory hug.
Wendell looked over her shoulder. He made eye contact with Trixie who apparently understood his confused look. She raised her hand to her mouth and curled her fingers and thumb into an 'O'. She then pumped the resulting cylinder back and forth a few times while bulging out her cheek with her tongue.
Wendell's body convulsed once as he suddenly understood. He almost came in his pants.
Almost.
* * *
Wendell stared unabashedly at the towering piece of meat that stood straight up from the lap of Mr. Roosevelt's large, atheletic body. He'd never before met the man in person, but now ... he still really didn't know what he looked like. From his kneeling position between the man's powerful thighs, Wendell found it was impossible to take his eyes off the gorgeous black pole before him.
"It's huge. It's ... beautiful." He trembled as he spoke.
"It sure is, huh Wendy? I can tell you're getting better at acknowledging your white boy urges. I didn't have to explain anything to you, did I? You knew exactly where you belonged," Candy beamed while stroking Wendell's hair.
Mr. Roosevelt hadn't yet spoken a word. Wendell hadn't yet looked him in the eye. It was as if he wasn't really human, but simply an altar of black cock at which Wendell felt compelled to worship. And the beautiful girl kneeling next to him was the high priestess.
She'd led him from the cafe up the back stairs to Mr. Roosevelt's office. It was an old-school mohagany palace from a time gone by. It was upstairs from the cafe and gymnasium in what once would have considered a walk-up. It must have belonged to some old tycoon back when this neighborhood was a nice place to live. Back when it was a white neighboorhood, Wendell noted.
When they entered the office, Mr. Roosevelt was seated in a deep-buttoned leather chair. He wore a jacket and tie, but ... he was naked from the waist down. The gorgeous black rod jutted magnificently upward, already erect. Already waiting. There was a small pillow laid on the floor between his legs.
Wendell hadn't asked questions. He hadn't hesitated. He had simply crossed the room and dropped to his knees. It was only as he leaned forward to take the beast into his mouth that Candy knelt beside him and put her hand on his chest to hold him back.
"I know you're having difficulty resisting, Wendy, but you'll have to wait just a second. Since you've shown such interest in the whys and wherefores, I thought I should explain some things to you. Now, if you thought the impulse to suck that cum out of a pussy was strong, you're now discovering just how powerful instinct can really be. As a scrawny white guy, the urge to suck black cock -- to completely eliminate competition from black sperm by getting it in your belly and 'off the market' -- is of truly remarkable strength. Pumping and sucking on that huge black cock and swallowing the entire load was the best way your ancestors could think of to keep those powerful little egg-piercing wigglers away from their females' fertile tummies. With me so far?"
"Yes, of course."
"Those that truly enjoyed and excelled at black cocksucking were able to remove more competing sperm from the general pool and thus pass on more of their wimpy white genes. Through simple natural selection, those who found themselves motivated by actual sexual pleasure from getting throatfucked by blacks became concentrated in the white gene pool. Over time, this lead to the irresistible inclination of today's white males to slob on black knob as often as possible. Since you obviously hail from a background filled with tinydicked white boys, I'm certain your body will reward you with immense pleasure as soon as you wrap your mouth around any African cockhead. It's almost as if you boys have grown a clitoris in the back of your throats that's made just for black dicks. Do you understand, Wendy?"
"Absoultely," said Wendell quietly. He felt the impulse just as strongly as Candy described and began to lean forward.
Candy applied more pressure to his chest to hold him back. "Ah ah ahhhh, sweetie. Not quite yet. I told you before -- Mr. Roosevelt believes strongly that sucking black dick is a privilege generally reserved for married white males who willingly surrender their wives to negro cock."
Wendell sagged visibly and almost whimpered with disappointment, "But ... I'm not ... but you said ... but please ... I thought ... didn't you say something about dessert."
"Oh, don't worry, Wendy. Calm down," she soothed, squeezing his hand. "Mr. R is occasionally willing to make exceptions under the right conditions. First off, since your mother apparently neglected to give you any proper 'marriage training' when you came of age, Mr. R feels it's his duty to allow you at least a few lessons at very reasonable prices."
"Oh, that would be wonderful," said Wendell with obvious relief, but then turned to Candy with wide eyes, "but ... I'm all out of money!"
"Not to worry, Wendy!" Candy smiled reassuringly. "Since you'll no longer be charging for your accounting services, this first one's on the house!"
Wendell sighed with relief, "Oh, yes, of course. That will work wonderfully." He began to press forward again.
"Hold on there, Tiny!" Candy giggled. "Before Mr. Roosevelt allows you to get your mouth around his cock, he does have a favor to ask."
"What ... yes ... anything," Wendell mumbled, still drawn toward the jutting rod of chocolate flesh.
Candy grabbed his chin and manually turned head to look at her, "Wendy! This is a business matter. I need you to listen."
With his eyes forcibly removed from his goal, Wendell blinked twice and finally focused his attention on Candy. "I'm sorry. Yes. What can I do?"
"Well, Wendy ... Mr. Roosevelt has a wide portfolio of investments that has come under scrutiny by the local IRS office. We decided that it would be wise to have a few of the local auditors as part of our client base. Unfortunately, our research has told us that nearly ALL IRS employees are tiny-dicked little bastards, so we weren't sure which ones to pick. Therefore, but we were hoping you -- being an accountant in this city for a long time -- would have some extra insight as to who would be most ... understanding."
Wendell looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "Yeah ... ok ... yes, I think I know of a few with the proper ... tastes." He smiled at his own joke.
Candy squeezed his face, causing his lips to purse outward. "Oh, you are so CUTE sometimes, Wendy! But that's wonderful! Perhaps you can 'do lunch' with a different old friend each week, how about that? For each suck-cessful 'contact' you make within the IRS, we'll throw in the right to purchase anything you like off the dessert menu, ok?"
Wendell's eyes flashed over her shoulder to the neatly printed note card on the wall of Mr. Roosevelt's office. There was no mystery or subtlety about this one:
Dessert Menu
A) Sucking Black Cock ........ $200 B) To Completion ............. $300 C) Double Load ............... $500
Tipping Not Required.
"I .. I think that's an equitable exchange," said Wendell quite professionally. She released him and he turned back to Mr. Roosevelt's lap. He felt his salivary glands react as he opened his mouth and leaned forward.
"One more thing, Wendy," said Candy, grabbing him by the hair on the back of his head.
Wendell groaned in frustration.
"Oh, stop! I was simply going to point something out to you, silly." Holding his head back mere inches from the cockhead, she grasped the shaft down low and stroked upward. A droplet of clear pre-cum formed at the tip of his cock. Wendell gasped slightly at the sight.
"Exactly, Wendy. You see, the pleasure reaction you felt earlier when that black sperm hit your mouth was all about action and fury. Mother nature has designed it to put you into a cumsucking frenzy to give you a better chance of getting all those babymakers out a fertile white cunt. But with cocksucking, you'll find that the presence of the clear pre-cum in your mouth is just as pleasureable, but ... different. It will be more soothing and calming. White boys like you find it quite enjoyable. Now, go ahead. Try it."
Wendell leaned in, but then hesitated. "Really?"
"Of course, Wendy! Suck that black cock, if you want to!" she chirped.
Wendell's mouth opened wide and he involuntarily dove his head quickly down upon the massive, apple-sized cockhead. He heard Candy giggle a bit at the distinctive 'Glommph!' noise that came from his mouth and throat.
And then he felt it. As that single, salty droplet touched his tongue, he could swear heard a sizzle. It felt like it was absorbed directly into his blood stream. Instead of the 'zing' that had come from black sperm, this was more like a general warmth that radiated outward from his mouth to encompass his whole body. It was ... like a feeling of joy. Of peace. Of belonging.
"Do you feel it, Wendy?"
"Mmmmph!" was all he could reply, unwilling to remove his mouth from the cock. Ever.
"Goooood. That's a good boy," she purred as she stroked his hair. "You'll find that this feeling will encourage you to suck black cock for long periods, Wendy. Since cocksucking stimulates sperm production in the black male, this makes perfect sense. The longer you suck, stroke, and fondle, the more sperm that ends up down your gullet and as far from a white girl's eggs as possible."
Yes, thought Wendell, I could do this for hours.
"Of course, these good feelings are strongest when your peach-fuzzy balls are swollen and filled with your own weak white sperm. It makes sense in a Darwinian way -- your desire to eliminate competing sperm is strongest when you low-sperm-count boys might have a prayer of actually mating successfully. So always try to go as long as possible without blowing your little load before you come in for a cocksucking appointment, ok?"
"Mmmm hmmmmmmm," Wendell hummed in happy agreement. It had been several days since he'd masturbated. If it felt this good now, he could only imagine how good it would feel after holding off for a few weeks. Or months.
"Oh, Wendy. I knew you'd understand! You are such a natural negro cumgobbler. Boy, it sure is a shame that you've been denied this kind of pleasure up till now, huh?"
For one brief instant, Wendell hated his mother. He hated her for not giving him the chance to learn this kind of joy at a younger age -- like those boys downstairs. He pulled his mouth off the apple-sized cockhead and stroked the shaft upward like Candy had done. As before, a clear, swirled droplet appeared at the tip.
"Yes," he said. "Damn shame." Then he opened wide and took the black monster as far into his mouth as possible ... for a first timer.
"Oh, I'm so glad you see it that way, Wendy, because you're uniquely qualified to help Mr. Roosevelt with his plans to further expand his company's services. You see, Wendy, society today is set up in such a way that most white men either deny these beautiful impulses or simply never put themselves in a situation in which they can discover them. Sucking black cum is one of the best things about being a white boy and most of these poor bastards are missing out! Look at you, for instance -- you're a natural born semen sucker and you didn't have a clue until today, right?"
"Mmmmm," he agreed.
"And you have to admit that this has been one of the best experiences of your poor, tiny-dicked white existence, right?"
"Mmmm hmmmm!"
"Well, don't you want to help introduce more of your white friends to something so undeniably enjoyable? Don't you wish someone had done the same for you long before now?"
"Mmmmm .... mmmph mmm."
"Of course you do! So here's how you can help. Obviously, lunch at the cafe is the best way to introduce a new recruit, but ... there's a problem. We've found that it's the wealthiest of white boys that have the smallest peckers and most desperately need our services. Yet it's rather difficult to get many of them over to this side of town ... especially the richest ones. You understand, right?"
"Yephmph."
She patted his head. "Well, as one of the most successful CPA's in town, you work with some of the richest white business owners around, don't you? If you -- the respected Wendell Nebbin -- were to invite them over to take a look at a small investment worth a few moments of their time, they'd surely come with you, right?"
"Mmm hmmmm," he agreed.
"And Mr. Roosevelt has a distinct preference for the hot trophy wives of all those rich country club golfers. He rarely serves dinner specials himself, except for the richest white throats since they're the only ones who can afford his services. So, for any contacts that result in favorable business, you will earn the right to purchase more desserts. Maybe even a discount. If you play your cards right, you'll be sucking more black dick than any un-married male in town."
Wendell whimpered at the prospect. Almost involuntarily, he increased the rythym of his cocksucking.
"Damn, Wendy ... I can't believe ... how quickly you've ... come along."
Her voice had softened a bit. She was leaning in next to him as he sucked. Wendell could feel her breath on his cheeks.
"I ... I just ..." She suddenly sounded nervous. "... I have to say, though, Wendy ... a white man with your obvious skills really should ... get married."
"Mmmhph?"
"I mean, someday, y'know? To a pretty little white slut? One who really understands what you need, right?"
"Mmmphmph!"
"Oh, Wendy, I think I might have a bit of a ... crush on you. Once your business relationship with Mr. Roosevelt is done, I ... might even have to break my no-more-than-three-inches rule and go out on a date with you sometime."
"Mmm hmmmph!" Wendell agreed. The thought of Candy even going on a date with him thrilled Wendell completely, but ... being married to her? The very idea of it caused him to begin pumping and slobbering and slurping like a madman.
"Oooh, that's it, Wendy," she cooed. "You're ... you're really turning me on. Show Mr. Roosevelt what you can do. Show him that you're a good little white boy cocksucker. Show him that you'll bring him lots and lots of rich white customers in exchange for lots and lots of rich white cum. Show *me*. Show me, baby. Show me what kind of white husband you could be!"
Wendell liked the sound of that. He stroked & sucked for all he was worth. Mr. Roosevelt must have liked the sound of that too, because Wendell soon felt the first blast of hot liquid against the roof of his mouth. He kept pumping the thick shaft as his mouth filled with the salty flavor that was now becoming very familiar. Familiar and welcome.
He heard moaning sounds and realized that they were coming from his own throat. Softer moans were also coming from Candy and he realized that she was fingering herself frantically and cumming hard as he swallowed. And swallowed. As their combined moans died down, he could then hear the deeper breathing of a large black man who'd just been sucked off. He knew he could cum himself in his pants, but shifted in such a way as to avoid it; he wanted to savor this feeling.
Candy's softly panting voice asked an undirected question, "Did you like that?"
As Wendell knelt with the softening cock in his mouth, he heard a single word. The only word Mr. Roosevelt had uttered since Wendell entered:
"Naturally."
End Part 2 of 2
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Copyright (c) November, 2003 - A.K.A.
The above is a work of fiction, intended solely for entertainment. Any similarity to actual persons I went to high school with is purely coincidental. Right, Trevor? The characters represented in this story are professionals. Do not try this at home except under the direct supervision of a loving woman willing to feed you daily doses of a black man's semen. AKA
Comments: akaCockBobber(at)yahoo(dot)com
=====================================================
Disclaimer: This story is intended for adults. If you shouldn't be reading this, then don't. If that actually stopped you, I'm amazed. If you're offended by over-the-top fantasies about wimpy white men, hung black men, and the white girls that bring them together, then I recommend you stop reading. If you like that shit, then stop licking your lips and start reading.
Sweet Cream Cafe - Part 2 of 2
"Don't worry, Wendy. You'll get used to it, soon. This happens to first-timers sometimes, especially when they're natural cumsuckers like you." It was Candy's voice that he suddenly heard, it's reassuring tone instantly making him feel better. A little better, but not much.
"Wh-what's happening ... why ... why did I ... ?" Wendell coughed out.
"Aw, Wendy. It's okay. It's okay. I know you have questions, but you've got to calm down. You enjoyed your lunch, right?"
"Why ... it was delicious, but ... what's the ..." Wendell gasped, but then stopped and took a deep breath. "Candy ... why did I eat all that ...? Am ... am I gay?"
Candy laughed out loud, "Oh, goodness no, Wendy! What you're feeling is a far baser reaction than anything defined as homosexual or heterosexual -- it's totally instinctual. It's one of the few truly instinctual reactions left in modern white men ... you really can't help it."
"In-- ... instinctual?"
"Sure. Instinct. That's why you feel the way you do right now. You're fighting the instinctual urge to dive in and lick up every ounce of black semen in the place. But just like a soldier learns to fight his instinct to flee from danger, you'll soon learn to control your reactions."
"I ... I don't understand."
"I know, Wendy. It'll take some time. I'm sorry to introduce you to your baser instincts with this trial by fire method, but Mr. Roosevelt thought that it was best that you get first hand knowledge as to what it is that makes our business so successful. Plus ... " she leaned in close and ran a hand along his chest, " ... you looked soooo cute slurping down that black sperm with your little polyester accountant pants all tented upward and everything."
Wendell ignored both the mention of business and the beautiful woman's touch -- both of which would normally gain his attention easily. He was obviously still caught up in his unexpected desires. "Ok, I'm not gay. Good. But I ... I really wanted that sperm. I mean, God that was good. I still ... I still don't understand."
"Don't worry, Wendy. A lot of white men have tried in the past to understand their compulsion to suck down that negro cum. It's not exactly widespread knowledge, but a few select minds have done some serious thinking on the subject. Emmett ... that's his bald head you see over there between Brandy's thighs ... is a college professor. He thinks it's a pheromonal thing. Y'see, since the majority of white men -- especially you little dicked fellas -- never truly satisfy a woman, you've never actually been around a woman who's exuding the aura of true sexual ecstasy. Only a man-sized black cock can truly do that."
Wendell twitched slightly at the idea of being called 'little-dicked' ... but realized that he had nothing that could compete with what he'd seen here today.
"When a white woman has been properly blackfucked, her body is just bursting with pheromones that draw in you white boys like moths to a porchlight. It's only natural for you to go straight to the source of her pleasure ... the fuckbattered orifice that's been stretched by black cock and filled with black sperm."
Wendell's body convulsed slightly and his dick ached anew as it swelled just from the sound of her vivid descriptions.
"Emmett also thinks that there's a genetic preference toward semen sucking in you boys. It seems to be passed most strongly along with wiry builds and remarkably small penises. The impulse to swallow black cum exists in nearly all white men, but those with tiny peckers are the most likely to have their women go out seeking a true fucking from a black cock. With me so far?"
Wendell nodded, "But wh--"
"Let me finish, Wendy. Now, given the innate superiority of black sperm, the only chance a little white guy like you has to actually reproduce is to suck those stronger little wigglers out of his woman's cunt. The fact that the act of doing so excites him immensely also helps; it means that he might actually shoot enough of his own miserable juice to actually stand a chance of impregnating her. Therefore, the best white sperm suckers who are most aroused by the act thus become the only ones to pass on their genes. Thus, the natural desire -- the instinct -- to suck down black cum has been reinforced genetically for millennia." She paused for a moment, then added, "You were born to eat Negro sperm, Wendy."
Wendell thought silently for a moment, then nodded in apparent acceptance. "Y-you sure seem to know a lot about this, Candy."
"Oh, well I'm working my way through college. I'm getting a Master's degree in Male Sexuality ... with a minor in African Studies. Emmy over there is my faculty advisor. I've learned a lot from listening to his muffled voice coming from between my legs. So, any more questions?"
Wendell nodded. "I guess what you say makes sense, but ... but I sure liked that #2. It was ... delicious. Th-that's got nothing to do with human reproductive instincts, does it?"
"Well, it could be simply that your instincts aren't all that focused ... and any cum in the general vicinity gets treated the same," Candy explained. Then she leaned in closely again and drew a single finger along Wendell's jawline as she whispered in his ear, "Or it could be that you enjoyed it simply because you're a nasty little white boy who loves sucking and slurping a black man's semen from the well stretched asshole of a young white woman. Just like Wally loved clamping his mouth on me and drinking down my sweet piss." She moved her mouth an inch away from his ear so he could feel her breath as she whispered, "Does that explaination work for you, Wendy?"
"Yeah ..." Wendell swallowed hard as his body shuddered again. He turned to look at her and she looked him dead in the eye, waiting for an answer. "... that ... that sounds good to me."
"Good! So now you understand!" she chirped. "Now, as I said, the arousal of the white male results in a drastic increase in sperm and seminal fluids ... which is evident in the fact that your bag is leaking." Candy glanced at Wendell's lap.
"Bag?" he questioned, looking downward. A small, wet circle in the center of his crotch was obviously what Candy was referring to.
"Oh my. You're such a natural cumsucker, Wendy, I keep forgetting that you're a newcomer. Come with me."
Candy grabbed Wendell by the hand and yanked him off the bar stool. She headed toward the back of the restaurant and right through the Men's room door without even slowing down. Once inside, she tugged something from a dispenser on the wall, turned and immediately reached for Wendell's belt buckle.
"I should have remembered to tell you, Wendy, but leakers like you are required to bag up before dining," Candy calmly explained as she yanked down his pants and boxers. Wendell looked helplessly around the room, but only saw two other patrons standing at the urinals against the far wall. They stiffened noticeably at the sound of Candy's voice, but stared straight ahead, seemingly ignoring what was happening behind them.
Some part of Wendell's brain suddenly realized that the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen was now kneeling down in front of him pulling his pants to his ankles. But before he could think to enjoy or even to react to the moment, he felt a sharp snap around the base of his penis.
"Owwww!!" he cried in obvious pain.
"Oh, sorry Wendy, but it's the only way I can get your bag on there without actually touching that thing."
Wendell looked down and saw that she'd fitted a plastic bag with a tight elastic band built into the opening around the base of his dick and balls. With the tight ring around the juncture of his testicles, the end of the bag was just too short for the length of his erect penis. He winced and looked at Candy pleadingly.
"Don't look at me like that, Wendy. You're the one who's practically creaming his shorts while sucking down a black man's cum. Now, pull up your pants and we'll get back to your tour." Candy then turned around and spoke loudly to the men against the wall, "Whack off all you want, boys, but remember to lick the urinals clean when you're finished."
Seeing the surprised look on Wendell's face as he buckled his belt, she whispered an explaination, "Too much white boy sperm tends to clog the drains, y'know."
Candy took his hand again and Wendell placidly followed her back out to the restaurant. As they walked amongst the rows of white men feasting on the cum-filled crotches of the uniformed young girls, Candy took on a business-like tone once again. "Well, I hope you understand a little better how our business works now, Wendy. It's the oldest business strategy around: Find something that people with money want and charge a lot for it. And heaven knows that you tiny-dicked cumsucking white boys sure can't get enough black man's cum, that's for sure."
Even in its aroused state, Wendell's mind was able to focus once the topic turned to business. He thought about what he'd seen and asked, "B-but, if the girls keep the tips and the, uhh ... 'meal charge' is given to the young black men, how does this place make any money?"
"Good question, Wendy! I can see that Mr. Roosevelt chose you for a reason other than your tiny white weenie. You see, Wendy, Mr. Roosevelt has been indpendently wealthy for years. He's a silent partner in businesses owned by white men all over the city. He didn't start the cafe in order to make more money; he considers it a way of giving back to his community by employing promising young black men and teaching them how things work in the white man's business world. You see, once a white man has eaten black sperm, he's forever addicted. He'll do anything to get it. That's an obvious winning business opportunity for any enterprising black man."
"I ... I'm not sure I understa--"
"Wendell, if that muscled young stud over there offered to come into your office and bang your secretary every day, filling her pussy and ass with daily loads of cum for you to eat, yet only asked for 49% of your company in exchange for his services, would you do it?"
Wendell stared open mouthed at the stud in question as he pumped his huge cock in out out of the upthrust ass of a young blonde, then turned and answered with complete honesty, "Yes."
"You see my point then?"
"God yes, I understand completely."
As Wendell watched the final thrusts into the girl's ass, he shifted uncomfortably, trying to make his crotch less painful without touching it.
"Sorry I had to bag you, Wendy, but we can't have your sickening whiteboy seepage leaking through your pants. It's just unseemly. I can't have that in a family establishment."
Wendell looked around the room. The place was now filled to capacity with white men from every walk of life. It might have been the crowd from any suburban neighborhood bar & grill in America. Except the only thing on the menu was black man's sperm and the only thing on tap was white girl's piss.
His face took on a puzzled look. "I .. I don't mean to criticize, but ... a moment ago ... did you say family establishment?"
"Sure, Wendy. You don't need to sound so surprised. See the little man with his head between Lulu's thighs? The one in the blue sweater vest? Well, that's Walter Middlebury. The one seated next to him with his head between Chelsea's thighs is his son Miles. Miles is headed off to State next year and Wally wanted to get him used to the taste of black sperm. Y'see, even though Miles couldn't hit a basketball with a golf club, his parents expect him to be extremely active in the University athletic program ... if you know what I mean?" She grinned with inquisitive eyebrows.
"I ... I think I do."
"And seated in that booth over there ... where Jasmine is preparing a #4 Extra Fresh ... are three generations of Dickey men," said Candy as she gestured toward the young lady actively sucking off a completely naked black youth. All three men were mesmerized, but the already-glazed faces of the older men told Wendell that this load was for the youngest of the trio. Wendell's pecker strained anew against the confines of the plastic bag as a pair of large, dark hands grasped the girl's head and filled her mouth while she whimpered with pleasure. When she sat in the young white man's lap and clamped her mouth against his, the two older men smiled their best 'That's my boy' smiles.
"See, Wendy? Now that's family bonding, right? And you can tell from the way Jasmine's cum-filled kiss is lingering that's she's a bit sweet on the young Dickey boy there." Candy leaned in closely and said softly, "Don't tell anyone, but I think she's been sneaking him a few 'to go' meals every once in awhile."
"That's allowed?" Wendell asked in an oddly hopeful voice.
"Well, not officially, but it's one of those 'acceptable losses'. Call it an employee discount of sorts. We tolerate it ... especially if it looks like there might be a future for the young couple."
"Future?"
"Well, sure! Can you think of a better way for a young lady to pick out a decent little white cumsucker to keep her clean and happy? Who knows, Wendell ... maybe one of the girls will decide you're the spermlapper of her dreams and bring you a little snack after work sometime."
"Oh, that would be wonde--"
"Oh! I've got one more thing to show you!" said Candy excitedly. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him toward the bathroom door. Wendell groaned slightly, hoping this wouldn't lead to something even more restrictive than the bag already bound tightly around his aching genitals.
"That's good enough, boys," Candy shouted to the two kneeling white men who were licking the white porcelain inside the urinals. "Out. Out! I've got business to attend to." The men jumped up and scurried out the door.
Once they were gone, Candy tugged at the chain around her neck and fished a key out from between her ample breasts. She put it in the hefty-looking lock of the plain brown door marked 'Utility Closet' that sat against the back wall of the restroom. The door opened with a creak. "Hurry, Wendy, before anyone sees!" She pushed him through the door into the darkness. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim surroundings.
"If you had any doubt we were family oriented, wait till you see this!" said Candy as she quickly shut the door again.
"Hi, Candy. What's up? My time's not up already is it?" asked a female voice.
Having been shoved into the room, the source of the voice was now behind Wendell, but he didn't turn to look at her. He was too mesmerized by the scene in front of him.
"No no, you're good for the whole afternoon," said Candy calmly. "I'm just showing the new accountant around."
"Oh, so this is Mr. Nubbin! Mr. Roosevelt mentioned that you two might be stopping by. How nice to meet you."
Wendell didn't move.
Candy started to giggle. "Don't forget, Fiona, he's new, so you'll have to pardon his rudeness." She nudged Wendell in the side with her elbow.
"Huh?" grunted Wendell. "Oh, I'm sorry. Nice to meet you to. It's just that ..." Wendell's eyes were still locked forward.
"Don't worry, Wendy. Anyway, this is tonight's clean up manager Fiona Fulmouth ... and the boys with the black cocks in their mouths are her twin sons, Neville and Nigel."
The scene that had so strongly caught his attention was a row of softball sized holes in the wall ahead of him. Through two of the holes were thrust a pair of large, half-limp black dicks. And kneeling below each dick was a young man suckling and licking along its length.
"After filling an order," Candy explained, "our chefs place their ... 'utensils' in the care of our clean up crew. Each black cock is carefully lapped clean of all residual semen and female juices. The chefs balls are licked and stroked to promote further semen production. Once stiffness begins to return -- which often takes only minutes -- the cock is returned to service in the kitchen. Understand, Wendy?"
"Huh? Oh, yes ... I think so," Wendell mumbled, not quite listening
"Oh, I know it sounds complicated, but you'd be surprised how quickly young white men pick up on it. We constantly bring in new white boys for family training and they almost always just seem to know exactly what to do."
Part of that actually caught Wendell's attention. "Family t-training?"
"Of course. You see, Wendy, in the interest of supporting strong family relationships, Mr. Roosevelt rents out this space for the city's mothers and their sons. Make sense?"
"N-not reall--"
"It's simple, Wendell. Obviously, it's every mother's duty to get her sons ready for married life. And we all know that cleaning sperm and white woman's juices off of a black cock are things that every good husband needs to learn to do well. Another few weeks of this and the boys will be all ready for their respective weddings. And just in time, too. Right, Fiona?"
"Right. Nev's wedding is next week," Fiona replied cheerily.
Candy touched Wendell on the shoulder. "There's quite a waiting list for this spot, of course."
"Of course," he replied absent-mindedly.
"It's a shame, really," Candy continued. "So many white boys are totally unprepared when the half dozen or so black men their new wives invite to the honeymoon suite arrive. Sure, they catch on just as soon as they're presented with their first blackfucked pussy -- just like you did. But a lot of unnecessary kicking & screaming can be avoided by proper training by caring mothers like Fiona here. The ability to properly clean pussy and ass juices off a thick black cock will make the wedding night more enjoyable for everyone. Plus, these boys are now so good at sucking a black man hard again that they're basically ensured 3 or 4 loads from each cock. And more cum means more fun for everyone, don't you agree?"
"Oh hell yeah," mumbled Wendell. "But ... " he turned to the two ladies for the first time with a look of consternation, " ... I didn't see this on the menu."
Fiona snickered, "They always want to head straight for the dick, don't they?"
Candy rolled her eyes. "Wendy, weren't you listening at all? This is a specially reserved dining area. We couldn't put this on the menu. The line would be around the block!"
Wendell shook off the spaced out look on his face as Candy's previous descriptions sunk in. "Right. Ok ... that explains the locks."
"HEY!" came a cry from Fiona. "Nigel, I told you, no pumping!" The young man quickly removed his hand from the cock it had been stroking rapidly. Fiona turned to the two of them. "Excuse me, I've got to keep watch on the boys. You know how they are: Give them an inch ... and they'll try to suck off ten!" She grinned at her own joke. "Now if you'll excuse me," she said as she turned away. "Nigel, so help me, if you milk a single cumload today, you'll be grounded so long ..... "
"That's exactly why we keep the black dick under lock and key," Candy explained. "With all the cumhungry white boys out there, we've got to keep them away from direct access to black cocks. While I'm a firm believer in the idea that every drop of African semen should end up in the belly of a white man, it's our policy that a fine establishment like ours should offer cum that's properly served in the pussy, ass, or mouth of a pretty young white girl. It's a lot more fun for everyone, in my opinion ... plus it keeps the queers away."
Wendell twitched slightly at the mention of the word 'queer' ... especially since he had the biggest hardon of his life watching two young men suck black dick.
"And that's a firm rule here, Wendy. No faggots allowed. Only heterosexual cumsuckers. There will be no faggot action in the men's room. You white boys whacking off into the toilets is expected, but don't let us catch you sucking each other off, Wendy. That's the surest way to get 86'd for good."
Wendell looked shocked. "What?! Me??! No way! I ... I'd never do that!"
Candy's face scrunched up. "Yeah. I feel exactly the same way, Wendy. Wimpy white pricklets are just ... gross. I wouldn't suck one either. But since you've expressed an obvious interest in chowing down on the good, dark stuff, you should know that black cock IS on the dinner menu."
Wendell's face brightened, then changed to a confused expression. "Wait .. I thought you were only open for lunch."
"Oh, true. The cafe itself is open only for lunch because the chefs are busy in the evenings ... with deliveries. See, it's every white wife's responsibility to have dinner waiting for her husband when he gets home. We have very affordable rates for everything from a simple snack to a full 6, 7 or even 10 course meal. And, of course, all our dinner selections come with full cockcleaning privileges for the husband. It's a wonderful service for married white couples."
"But ... I'm not married," said Wendell, sounding truly disappointed.
"Well, Nubby, there are many advantages to married life for a white man ... and the chance to suck a combination of white woman's juices and black man's spent cum off of a long thick black cock is one of them."
Wendell simply nodded and turned back to watch the Fulmouth boys. Fiona was breaking up a squabble over the next cock to appear for cleaning. Fiona awarded it to Neville, apparently because of Nigel's previous bad behavior. His jealousy was very apparent by the look on his face.
The two of them stood in silence for a few minutes ... watching. Whenever one of the young white mouths leapt on a fresh, glistening black cock, Candy let out a slight whimper and Wendell let out a slight groan. Finally, he turned to Candy with a look of discomfort, "Could we maybe leave now? I ... I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Wendy. I realize that you're probably miserable in that bag. We made them to properly fit the 3" fellas. At 3-3/4", your lil pecker is probably pretty cramped, huh?"
"Y-yes. It is." Wendell pondered for a moment, then asked, "Candy, how do you know exactly how long my penis is?"
"Oh, Wendy ... first of all, 3-3/4" is how 'short' your dickie is ... not how 'long' it is. And second, did you think Mr. Roosevelt found you at random? Nurses all over the city know they can win a 10 course meal for their husbands as a finder's fee by reporting exceptionally small white peckers. You really didn't think that the measurements taken last year at your doctor's were really 'for your file', did you?" Candy giggled.
Wendell said nothing, but silently questioned the validity of the 15 minute 'prostate check' he received at the same time.
"As with any product, you've got to find the customers who are most willing to pay for it. Strong market research is key to any successful busi-- ... ooooooh ... that's hot ... "
Candy's attention was diverted momentarily as Nigel crawled up to a massive, shiny, limp, black dick and gobbled its entire length into his mouth and throat. Wendell felt his dick swell further against the restrictive plastic bag. He groaned as he reached a full 4" for the first time in his life.
"I'm just lucky to be able to work here," Candy moaned. "Most women have to get married in order to see such a beatiful sight." She sighed and actually laid her head on Wendell's shoulder, "See, Wendy, there are those purists that believe that only legally married white wives' cunts and husbands' mouths should be permitted the honor of being flooded with negro sperm. But Mr. Roosevelt has a more liberal view. He started the cafe to give every white male -- even unmarried ones -- the chance to perform his natural function of swallowing black cum. Those purists accuse him of being in it just for the money, but he believes strongly in the sanctity of a white marriage ... and that black sperm should be an integral part of daily married life for white couples. Can you see that, Wendy?"
"Uhh, sure. I gue--"
"Sure, we do an active business up front, but we believe that the pleasure of cleaning cum & pussy off a black cock is rightfully a married man's role. But too many white couples are completely missing out! That's exactly the purpose for these training sessions!" Candy became more animated. She obviously had some strong beliefs about this topic. "Once fully trained by their mother, these boys will be eager to find a lovely white girl and introduce her to the pleasures of black cock. It's our way of spreading the word! And white girls' legs! And white boys' lips! Understand?!"
"Yes, I se--"
"And THAT's why we keep the cock locked up, Wendy!" she chocked him on the shoulder for emphasis. "By giving 'em just a little taste of the dark side, we're showing them just how to find years of wedded, cumsucking bliss! Limiting access encourages them to develop the kind of relationships that will lead to future happiness for all involved. That makes sense, right?"
"Exact--"
"It's beautiful, isn't it, Wendy? Makes you want to run out and get married to some black cock loving little slut, doesn't it?" asked Candy. She smiled, finally giving him a real chance to speak.
He turned and looked at her with a longing like he'd never felt. "Yes," said Wendell softly. "Yes, it does." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.
If she heard the unspoken message in his voice, Candy didn't show it. She appeared lost again in the sight of the cleanup chores being performed before her. "Ok, yes ... ok," gasped Candy as she recovered. "We can move on. Sorry, Wendy, but like most white women, I just get mesmerized at the sight of black cock stretching the lips of a white man's mouth. It's just so ... hoo! Let's get out of here before we both cream ourselves."
As they turned to leave, Candy nudged Wendell and pointed at Fiona with a grin. She was seated in a chair with her legs flung up over each arm. Her hands worked furiously between her widespread legs.
"I guess she couldn't hold out any longer," whispered Candy with a wide smile. Wendell doubted that anyone in the room noticed as they closed and relocked the door.
"Oh gawd, Wendy!" exclaimed Candy as they passed back out into the diner. "Speaking of holding out, I'm being so cruel showing you all of this. Your bag must be completely slimy on the inside by now from your dribbling dick. I'm sure your body is simply demanding some more black semen down your gullet right now, right?"
"Yes," he admitted freely.
"Well, I like you, Wendy, so let's see if we can intercept you another order," she whispered. "Let me take a look back here in the ... " She propped the door open with one hand. "Oh, hey! Wendy, come look at this!"
He certainly didn't have to be told twice. The sounds and smells of the kitchen were intoxicating. He moved up and looked in over her shoulder.
"That's my baby sister, Tammy. That's her with that fat 10-incher ramming her tiny ass -- wow, that girl can take it! She's earning a little extra cash before she heads off to college this fa--" Candy's eyes widened and her voice dropped to a whisper, " ... well, damn that girl! Her cunt is already sopped with cum and I don't think there's a #3 on order right now."
Candy looked at the rotating spindle and checked the paper slips containing the current orders. She put her hand to her chin thoughtfully and leaned in close to Wendell.
"Wendell, I'm hoping you can help me out here. The #3 is our most expensive dish and Tammy can get in big trouble for cooking one up that's not on order. Can I talk you into ordering a nice double shot of negro love? I'll even see if I can get Tammy to throw in a free chaser, ok?"
Mesmerized by the sight of Tammy's ass being stretched to nearly impossibly proportions, Wendell simply stammered, "Why y-yes ... that's very k-kind of you."
He didn't blink until Candy finally dragged him away and pushed him toward a seat at the counter. The lunch rush was still in full swing, so Wendell slid between two other eagerly licking patrons and tried not to concentrate on the combined sounds of soft moans and hungry slurps. He stared straight ahead and clamped his hands on his thighs again while Candy disappeared to the back room to check on his order.
After a moment, Candy returned and leaned in from the other side of the counter. "I really appreciate you helping me out here, Wendy." She smiled a sly smile, "I almost hate to take advantage of you. The way your body must be screaming for a taste of semen, I could probably sell you anything right now. But it's a win-win situation, right?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm glad to help," said Wendell as he fumbled with his wallet in preparation for Tammy's arrival. He shifted uncomfortably as the tugging on his back pocket tightened his pants in the front.
"I know you're miserable right now, Wendy, with your dickie straining so hard in your pants. In the past, you might have been tempted to go whack off, but you'll soon learn that the presence of black semen in your mouth will ease that desperate feeling in your crotch much more completely than a mere orgasm would. Following those primal whiteboy instincts is infinitely more satisfying. Think about how you're feeling right now; you want a load of manjuice from the thick cocks you saw much more than a trip to the jackoff stall in the men's room, right?"
"Absolutely," he admitted while shuffling through his remaining cash.
"See? It's simple biology. Your body knows what it needs and rewards you with pleasure when you provide it. Therefore, the longer it's been since your last orgasm, the stronger the pleasure from cumeating is in order to overcome that silly desire to spurt your own juice. That's what's so fantastic about this -- intense pleasure for everyone involved without having to worry about a drop of that icky white boy slime soiling the tender body of a white girl.
Wendell wasn't listening; he was panicking. "Candy, I only have $193," he gasped.
"Oh, don't worry about that, Wendy. We've got sort of a 'table stakes' policy. You've got to at least come close, but none of our girls will turn down your last dollar in exchange for a load of cum."
"Thank goodne--"
He was interrupted by the giggling entrance of Tammy. She deleriously stumbled along behind the counter and nearly collapsed, leaning against Candy for support. "God, I love my job!" she exclaimed.
Candy giggled. "Well, you're about to love it even more, I think. Wendy here is new at this, but I can tell he's going to vacuum you out like no one ever has. Trixie swears he licked her cervix!" said Candy as she helped her sister into position.
As Tammy's leg swung over his head, Wendell quickly pressed the last of his cash into her hand and moved his attention to the swollen flesh of her crotch. As she leaned back far to permit better access to her well-fucked ass, Wendell noticed a tiny straight line that ran horizontally across the bridge between her pussy and asshole. Leaning in closer, he saw that it was a neatly lettered (almost typewritten) tattoo: 'If you can read this, eat me, white boy.'
Wendell smiled and whispered to himself, "Gladly."
As he first felt the warmth of the semen against his tongue, Wendell felt a zing of pleasure shoot from his mouth to his crotch ... then spread throughout his body. It was a wonderful, all enveloping feeling. It wasn't orgasmic, really. It was ... better.
"Can you feel it, Wendy? Can you feel the special pleasure of eating black sperm? It's better than an orgasm, isn't it?" Candy's voice asked softly in his ear.
"Mmm mmmph"
"See? Now that you're all primed up and in need of a good cum, that joy of cumsucking can really take hold. The longer you hold out, the better this will feel, so as you lay in bed tonight fantasizing about black cocks and cum, try to avoid squirting yourself, ok? That way, when you come back tomorrow with a big ol' fresh supply of money, you'll be able to experience even greater pleasure. Will you do that, Wendy? Will you do that for me?"
"Yephmph!" cried Wendell's muffled, ecstatic voice. There was no question he'd be back for more of this. In that instant, this was everything he'd ever wanted. This was right. This was beautiful. This was destiny.
* * *
Wendell sat on the barstool facing outward into the rest of the cafe. He was leaning back against the counter, his elbows supporting him. He looked relaxed. He felt relaxed, in fact. On his face was a wide satified grin ... along with a thin glaze of drying sexual juices. His dick was still throbbing painfully in his pants, but he didn't care. Or more correctly, he didn't mind.
Everything Candy had said was true. He felt a sense of sexual satisfaction like he'd never felt before in his life even though he hadn't cum. Jerking off never felt this good. By god, none of the few, fumbling experiences he'd had with a woman had felt this good. He'd come here today to gain a better understanding of ...
As if on cue, Candy appeared next to him. "Well, don't you look like the cat who ate the canary?"
"Oh no, my dear. I'm not a pussy who's eaten something ... I look this way because I've been eatin' pussy!" he said with a suave grin. It would occur to him later that it was the most 'suave' thing he'd ever said to a woman.
Candy giggled appropriately. "Oh gawd, Wendy! You're too much!" She laid a hand on his arm as she laughed. Wendell looked at his arm where she'd touch him. He liked the way she touched him.
She moved around in front of him, swung her leg over his and sat down straddling his thighs. She wasn't sitting on his dick, per se, but her weight tugged his pants in such a way that the fabric pressed down agonizingly on his rock hard pecker. He ... liked it.
She leaned in inches from his face. "Y'know, you're kinda cute when you smile in that just-sucked-down-four-loads-of-black-sperm way. I may just have to find a way to ..." she placed a finger on his lips and drew it downward over his chin, " ... wipe ... that smile off your face."
"I ... I'd l-like that," said Wendell, returning to his usual stammer.
"You'd better!" chirped Candy. "You made me lose a bet, you natural-born-cumsucker you!"
"A bet?" Wendell asked, ignoring his new title.
"Well," she said with a sigh, "I didn't believe Mr. Roosevelt when he said you'd take a chaser without spilling a drop on your first day. No one's ever done that before, but I should have just assumed that Mr. R knows a talented white throat when he sees one."
"Oh", said Wendell, feeling an odd sense of pride. "What did you bet?"
"Oh, the usual -- my ass," giggled Candy. "See, Wendy, Mr R is so big that none of the girls can take him there. None except me, that is. When he reams me, I cum so hard that I become a blubbering fuck slut, but that monster stretches me something fierce, so ... can I count on you to be around for a week of #2's, Wendy? Will you use that lovely tongue of yours to soothe my black-ravaged asshole?"
Wendell swallowed hard, but before he could answer, the man on the stool next to him suddenly jerked and twitched spasmodically. The man's hips pumped the air twice before his openmouthed glazed stare cleared into a frown. "Dammit!" he muttered.
"Shot your wad early again, eh Cecil?" Candy asked in a concerned voice.
"Yes!" he replied with frustration. "It's my own fault, though. I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Damn, Candy, I ... you sure are ... damn, I'll come back tomorrow."
Candy giggled and whispered into Wendell's ear, "Poor Cecil. I like him, but he'll never feel the full joy of eating black sperm unless he learns to control that hair trigger of his. And I will say, Wendy" she said as she lightly patted his lap, "you're doing very well in that department. Your self control is admirable for a first timer."
Wendell grinned, actually enjoying the added discomfort of her tapping on the head of his already distended penis. His new confident attitude returned, "Well, it's like you said, babe. I'm a natural. I guess I'm just one of the best, undiscovered until now."
"Well! Aren't we cocky?! In once sense of the word, anyway. Well, we'll see how long you can keep your pecker from popping when I tell you the news." She stood up and pulled Wendell to his feet. She raised her voice just enough for those around them to here, "Mr Roosevelt has offered to let you try something from the dessert menu."
The screech of a chair leg against the floor preciptated the least expected sound of all -- silence. The entire room fell quiet as all eyes turned to Wendell. He could feel a new emotion waft through the room -- and that emotion was jealousy.
"Lucky bastard." "No way??!" "Fucker!" "Already?!?" "Holy shit!"
The whispered expletives came from all directions. Wendell knew all attention was suddenly on him, but ... he didn't know why.
"Dessert m-menu?!" he asked nervously.
"Yes! Isn't that great! On your first day!" Candy squealed and tossed her arms around his neck in a congratulatory hug.
Wendell looked over her shoulder. He made eye contact with Trixie who apparently understood his confused look. She raised her hand to her mouth and curled her fingers and thumb into an 'O'. She then pumped the resulting cylinder back and forth a few times while bulging out her cheek with her tongue.
Wendell's body convulsed once as he suddenly understood. He almost came in his pants.
Almost.
* * *
Wendell stared unabashedly at the towering piece of meat that stood straight up from the lap of Mr. Roosevelt's large, atheletic body. He'd never before met the man in person, but now ... he still really didn't know what he looked like. From his kneeling position between the man's powerful thighs, Wendell found it was impossible to take his eyes off the gorgeous black pole before him.
"It's huge. It's ... beautiful." He trembled as he spoke.
"It sure is, huh Wendy? I can tell you're getting better at acknowledging your white boy urges. I didn't have to explain anything to you, did I? You knew exactly where you belonged," Candy beamed while stroking Wendell's hair.
Mr. Roosevelt hadn't yet spoken a word. Wendell hadn't yet looked him in the eye. It was as if he wasn't really human, but simply an altar of black cock at which Wendell felt compelled to worship. And the beautiful girl kneeling next to him was the high priestess.
She'd led him from the cafe up the back stairs to Mr. Roosevelt's office. It was an old-school mohagany palace from a time gone by. It was upstairs from the cafe and gymnasium in what once would have considered a walk-up. It must have belonged to some old tycoon back when this neighborhood was a nice place to live. Back when it was a white neighboorhood, Wendell noted.
When they entered the office, Mr. Roosevelt was seated in a deep-buttoned leather chair. He wore a jacket and tie, but ... he was naked from the waist down. The gorgeous black rod jutted magnificently upward, already erect. Already waiting. There was a small pillow laid on the floor between his legs.
Wendell hadn't asked questions. He hadn't hesitated. He had simply crossed the room and dropped to his knees. It was only as he leaned forward to take the beast into his mouth that Candy knelt beside him and put her hand on his chest to hold him back.
"I know you're having difficulty resisting, Wendy, but you'll have to wait just a second. Since you've shown such interest in the whys and wherefores, I thought I should explain some things to you. Now, if you thought the impulse to suck that cum out of a pussy was strong, you're now discovering just how powerful instinct can really be. As a scrawny white guy, the urge to suck black cock -- to completely eliminate competition from black sperm by getting it in your belly and 'off the market' -- is of truly remarkable strength. Pumping and sucking on that huge black cock and swallowing the entire load was the best way your ancestors could think of to keep those powerful little egg-piercing wigglers away from their females' fertile tummies. With me so far?"
"Yes, of course."
"Those that truly enjoyed and excelled at black cocksucking were able to remove more competing sperm from the general pool and thus pass on more of their wimpy white genes. Through simple natural selection, those who found themselves motivated by actual sexual pleasure from getting throatfucked by blacks became concentrated in the white gene pool. Over time, this lead to the irresistible inclination of today's white males to slob on black knob as often as possible. Since you obviously hail from a background filled with tinydicked white boys, I'm certain your body will reward you with immense pleasure as soon as you wrap your mouth around any African cockhead. It's almost as if you boys have grown a clitoris in the back of your throats that's made just for black dicks. Do you understand, Wendy?"
"Absoultely," said Wendell quietly. He felt the impulse just as strongly as Candy described and began to lean forward.
Candy applied more pressure to his chest to hold him back. "Ah ah ahhhh, sweetie. Not quite yet. I told you before -- Mr. Roosevelt believes strongly that sucking black dick is a privilege generally reserved for married white males who willingly surrender their wives to negro cock."
Wendell sagged visibly and almost whimpered with disappointment, "But ... I'm not ... but you said ... but please ... I thought ... didn't you say something about dessert."
"Oh, don't worry, Wendy. Calm down," she soothed, squeezing his hand. "Mr. R is occasionally willing to make exceptions under the right conditions. First off, since your mother apparently neglected to give you any proper 'marriage training' when you came of age, Mr. R feels it's his duty to allow you at least a few lessons at very reasonable prices."
"Oh, that would be wonderful," said Wendell with obvious relief, but then turned to Candy with wide eyes, "but ... I'm all out of money!"
"Not to worry, Wendy!" Candy smiled reassuringly. "Since you'll no longer be charging for your accounting services, this first one's on the house!"
Wendell sighed with relief, "Oh, yes, of course. That will work wonderfully." He began to press forward again.
"Hold on there, Tiny!" Candy giggled. "Before Mr. Roosevelt allows you to get your mouth around his cock, he does have a favor to ask."
"What ... yes ... anything," Wendell mumbled, still drawn toward the jutting rod of chocolate flesh.
Candy grabbed his chin and manually turned head to look at her, "Wendy! This is a business matter. I need you to listen."
With his eyes forcibly removed from his goal, Wendell blinked twice and finally focused his attention on Candy. "I'm sorry. Yes. What can I do?"
"Well, Wendy ... Mr. Roosevelt has a wide portfolio of investments that has come under scrutiny by the local IRS office. We decided that it would be wise to have a few of the local auditors as part of our client base. Unfortunately, our research has told us that nearly ALL IRS employees are tiny-dicked little bastards, so we weren't sure which ones to pick. Therefore, but we were hoping you -- being an accountant in this city for a long time -- would have some extra insight as to who would be most ... understanding."
Wendell looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "Yeah ... ok ... yes, I think I know of a few with the proper ... tastes." He smiled at his own joke.
Candy squeezed his face, causing his lips to purse outward. "Oh, you are so CUTE sometimes, Wendy! But that's wonderful! Perhaps you can 'do lunch' with a different old friend each week, how about that? For each suck-cessful 'contact' you make within the IRS, we'll throw in the right to purchase anything you like off the dessert menu, ok?"
Wendell's eyes flashed over her shoulder to the neatly printed note card on the wall of Mr. Roosevelt's office. There was no mystery or subtlety about this one:
Dessert Menu
A) Sucking Black Cock ........ $200 B) To Completion ............. $300 C) Double Load ............... $500
Tipping Not Required.
"I .. I think that's an equitable exchange," said Wendell quite professionally. She released him and he turned back to Mr. Roosevelt's lap. He felt his salivary glands react as he opened his mouth and leaned forward.
"One more thing, Wendy," said Candy, grabbing him by the hair on the back of his head.
Wendell groaned in frustration.
"Oh, stop! I was simply going to point something out to you, silly." Holding his head back mere inches from the cockhead, she grasped the shaft down low and stroked upward. A droplet of clear pre-cum formed at the tip of his cock. Wendell gasped slightly at the sight.
"Exactly, Wendy. You see, the pleasure reaction you felt earlier when that black sperm hit your mouth was all about action and fury. Mother nature has designed it to put you into a cumsucking frenzy to give you a better chance of getting all those babymakers out a fertile white cunt. But with cocksucking, you'll find that the presence of the clear pre-cum in your mouth is just as pleasureable, but ... different. It will be more soothing and calming. White boys like you find it quite enjoyable. Now, go ahead. Try it."
Wendell leaned in, but then hesitated. "Really?"
"Of course, Wendy! Suck that black cock, if you want to!" she chirped.
Wendell's mouth opened wide and he involuntarily dove his head quickly down upon the massive, apple-sized cockhead. He heard Candy giggle a bit at the distinctive 'Glommph!' noise that came from his mouth and throat.
And then he felt it. As that single, salty droplet touched his tongue, he could swear heard a sizzle. It felt like it was absorbed directly into his blood stream. Instead of the 'zing' that had come from black sperm, this was more like a general warmth that radiated outward from his mouth to encompass his whole body. It was ... like a feeling of joy. Of peace. Of belonging.
"Do you feel it, Wendy?"
"Mmmmph!" was all he could reply, unwilling to remove his mouth from the cock. Ever.
"Goooood. That's a good boy," she purred as she stroked his hair. "You'll find that this feeling will encourage you to suck black cock for long periods, Wendy. Since cocksucking stimulates sperm production in the black male, this makes perfect sense. The longer you suck, stroke, and fondle, the more sperm that ends up down your gullet and as far from a white girl's eggs as possible."
Yes, thought Wendell, I could do this for hours.
"Of course, these good feelings are strongest when your peach-fuzzy balls are swollen and filled with your own weak white sperm. It makes sense in a Darwinian way -- your desire to eliminate competing sperm is strongest when you low-sperm-count boys might have a prayer of actually mating successfully. So always try to go as long as possible without blowing your little load before you come in for a cocksucking appointment, ok?"
"Mmmm hmmmmmmm," Wendell hummed in happy agreement. It had been several days since he'd masturbated. If it felt this good now, he could only imagine how good it would feel after holding off for a few weeks. Or months.
"Oh, Wendy. I knew you'd understand! You are such a natural negro cumgobbler. Boy, it sure is a shame that you've been denied this kind of pleasure up till now, huh?"
For one brief instant, Wendell hated his mother. He hated her for not giving him the chance to learn this kind of joy at a younger age -- like those boys downstairs. He pulled his mouth off the apple-sized cockhead and stroked the shaft upward like Candy had done. As before, a clear, swirled droplet appeared at the tip.
"Yes," he said. "Damn shame." Then he opened wide and took the black monster as far into his mouth as possible ... for a first timer.
"Oh, I'm so glad you see it that way, Wendy, because you're uniquely qualified to help Mr. Roosevelt with his plans to further expand his company's services. You see, Wendy, society today is set up in such a way that most white men either deny these beautiful impulses or simply never put themselves in a situation in which they can discover them. Sucking black cum is one of the best things about being a white boy and most of these poor bastards are missing out! Look at you, for instance -- you're a natural born semen sucker and you didn't have a clue until today, right?"
"Mmmmm," he agreed.
"And you have to admit that this has been one of the best experiences of your poor, tiny-dicked white existence, right?"
"Mmmm hmmmm!"
"Well, don't you want to help introduce more of your white friends to something so undeniably enjoyable? Don't you wish someone had done the same for you long before now?"
"Mmmmm .... mmmph mmm."
"Of course you do! So here's how you can help. Obviously, lunch at the cafe is the best way to introduce a new recruit, but ... there's a problem. We've found that it's the wealthiest of white boys that have the smallest peckers and most desperately need our services. Yet it's rather difficult to get many of them over to this side of town ... especially the richest ones. You understand, right?"
"Yephmph."
She patted his head. "Well, as one of the most successful CPA's in town, you work with some of the richest white business owners around, don't you? If you -- the respected Wendell Nebbin -- were to invite them over to take a look at a small investment worth a few moments of their time, they'd surely come with you, right?"
"Mmm hmmmm," he agreed.
"And Mr. Roosevelt has a distinct preference for the hot trophy wives of all those rich country club golfers. He rarely serves dinner specials himself, except for the richest white throats since they're the only ones who can afford his services. So, for any contacts that result in favorable business, you will earn the right to purchase more desserts. Maybe even a discount. If you play your cards right, you'll be sucking more black dick than any un-married male in town."
Wendell whimpered at the prospect. Almost involuntarily, he increased the rythym of his cocksucking.
"Damn, Wendy ... I can't believe ... how quickly you've ... come along."
Her voice had softened a bit. She was leaning in next to him as he sucked. Wendell could feel her breath on his cheeks.
"I ... I just ..." She suddenly sounded nervous. "... I have to say, though, Wendy ... a white man with your obvious skills really should ... get married."
"Mmmhph?"
"I mean, someday, y'know? To a pretty little white slut? One who really understands what you need, right?"
"Mmmphmph!"
"Oh, Wendy, I think I might have a bit of a ... crush on you. Once your business relationship with Mr. Roosevelt is done, I ... might even have to break my no-more-than-three-inches rule and go out on a date with you sometime."
"Mmm hmmmph!" Wendell agreed. The thought of Candy even going on a date with him thrilled Wendell completely, but ... being married to her? The very idea of it caused him to begin pumping and slobbering and slurping like a madman.
"Oooh, that's it, Wendy," she cooed. "You're ... you're really turning me on. Show Mr. Roosevelt what you can do. Show him that you're a good little white boy cocksucker. Show him that you'll bring him lots and lots of rich white customers in exchange for lots and lots of rich white cum. Show *me*. Show me, baby. Show me what kind of white husband you could be!"
Wendell liked the sound of that. He stroked & sucked for all he was worth. Mr. Roosevelt must have liked the sound of that too, because Wendell soon felt the first blast of hot liquid against the roof of his mouth. He kept pumping the thick shaft as his mouth filled with the salty flavor that was now becoming very familiar. Familiar and welcome.
He heard moaning sounds and realized that they were coming from his own throat. Softer moans were also coming from Candy and he realized that she was fingering herself frantically and cumming hard as he swallowed. And swallowed. As their combined moans died down, he could then hear the deeper breathing of a large black man who'd just been sucked off. He knew he could cum himself in his pants, but shifted in such a way as to avoid it; he wanted to savor this feeling.
Candy's softly panting voice asked an undirected question, "Did you like that?"
As Wendell knelt with the softening cock in his mouth, he heard a single word. The only word Mr. Roosevelt had uttered since Wendell entered:
"Naturally."
End Part 2 of 2
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Copyright (c) November, 2003 - A.K.A.
The above is a work of fiction, intended solely for entertainment. Any similarity to actual persons I went to high school with is purely coincidental. Right, Trevor? The characters represented in this story are professionals. Do not try this at home except under the direct supervision of a loving woman willing to feed you daily doses of a black man's semen. AKA
