When I was younger, black guys scared me. I wanted nothing to do with them. Now that I’m thirty, I feel empowered… but only if they are young enough to manage. So, doing the school physicals has changed my perspective about them.
Black boys dominate public school athletics. If you want to see white guys, you have to do physicals for private schools. And the black guys are way more assertive and flirtatious. They generally have more muscular bodies, toned and ripped like a porn star… not afraid to show off their junk… and why should they be? They physically mature quicker than the white guys in general, and they’ve got street smarts and wit you don’t commonly see when it comes to suburban WASPS.
In short, they are kind of alluring and dangerous. Give them an inch, and they take a mile. I’ve had them ask me for sex behind the thinnest exam curtain. Mind you, this stuff is most typically going on in a gym. There are masses of people walking around. Nurses in the next cubicle doing similar evaluations. Students standing less than three feet away, separated from view by barely substantiated walls for privacy. The exam rooms are makeshift partitions.
You are probably thinking that I’ve had guys drop their boxers and show me their dicks on occasion, but it’s usually the other way around. Some black guy comes in and ‘accidentally’ brushes me… gives me a smile and tell me I’m pretty. Sometimes my scrubs are too thin, and they can visualize my panties and bra. Black athletes have a way of taking charge and talking me into things that I should never consider. I’ve had more than a few hands up my shirt.
I’ve had black guys tell me they like my panties when they walked in the room for their exam.
“You can’t see my panties,” I told them.
“Yes ma’am,” they said respectfully. “You wearing a pink thong. I see the floral pattern around the waistband.” All I could do was turn several shades of red and try to redirect the conversation.
I’ve been fingered to orgasm by a quarterback who had the presence of mind to put his hand over my mouth before I screamed. He was incredibly attractive and covered with tats. His body was amazing and his dick was up the crack of my ass the whole time. I could feel it just like we were naked.
I still can’t remember how he talked me into it. In a flash, he had my back to his torso and his paw down the front of my scrubs. He pushed the crotch of my panties to the side rather than cramping his big hand inside the limited space of my underwear. His finger was as big as my husband’s dick, and significantly more skilled at finding my G Spot. He didn’t mess with my clit at all… just finger fucked the shit out of me until my pussy turned sloshy, and you could hear the explicit sounds of the wetness.
I couldn’t say anything by then. I was squealing into his palm, nodding my head up and down as he whispered in my ear, “You wanna come? You wanna come?” I didn’t care who walked in. In a way, it felt like I was being raped… his muscular arms tightly around me with his hand across my face. I loved it. I wanted it. I would have gladly bent over and let him shove that massive dick up my cunt, bury it to the hilt until he splattered my pink, seeping crevice. That’s the first time I’ve ever really craved black sperm.
I pushed down my scrubs in a fit of panic. I was pouring out my juices, just seconds away from squirting a quart in my pants. He acted like it was nothing unexpected… put his foot on my bottoms so I could step out and kick them aside. I made an absolute mess on the floor. He helped me clean it up.
“I wish I could do you, but you’ve got to get going,” I told him. He was hard as fuck, that big chocolate snake towering till the tip touched his umbilicus. Yes, it was way beyond the top of his underwear, seeping out the goo. I remember that his slit was incredibly wide, like a fisheye that was crying this thick, viscous slime. He put his hand on the back of my head and brought me down. I wasn’t going to fight him or resist. I put my mouth on his knob and tasted him. I liked it. He pushed it in deeper but was careful not to choke me. I could only take a couple of inches. He was just so thick… my hands could barely rap around his shaft.
All I could think about was having him inside me. I wasn’t even on the pill at the time. Instead, he sat back on the flimsy exam table and let me bend over in my panties and suck him. People were walking around our cubicle, close enough to hear me breathe… close enough to hear me slurping on his bulbous, black glans. I tried to swirl my tongue around it, but the spongy thing was just too engorged. It took up my whole mouth. I decided to massage his frenulum with my taste buds, and he aided my efforts by stroking his incredible shaft. His balls were so heavy, so huge. I fondled them using both hands, squeezed them and kneaded them till he groaned. God, he groaned! Everyone could hear us.
I couldn’t drink all the cum. I just couldn’t. His jets were too strong, too voluminous. I remember comparing his ejaculation to my husband’s little load, realizing at that moment I was cheating. This was back before Gordon had turned my hubby into a cuck. This was back before I was willing to mess around. The physicals were my eye candy. Now, I was their candy.
Suffice to say someone approached me at the end of the day. They stopped themself short of accusing me. It was a supervisor who simply said that I needed to watch what I was doing. I skipped the next year of physicals, but they asked me back the following. After all, it’s a free service. It isn’t easy to get volunteers. And the boys had been asking for me…