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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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Bee Cee Ess
by Ulyssa Kincaid (ulyssakincaid@yahoo.com)

***

A mature social worker can't help herself and falls in 
love with a young black man who just got out of prison. 
This leads to an addiction she hadn't foreseen. (MMF, 
intr, preg)

***

After I read some of the stories posted here, I felt 
that I'd found some kindred spirits in people I'd never 
met. I'm a forty-one year old white wife and mother who 
recently decided to move close to the university where 
my youngest son attends, so that we could share an 
apartment. 

I'd been married to the same man since the age of 
eighteen. By now, all of our children were either away 
at college or out on their own. Although my husband 
wasn't my first man, and we'd been affably married for 
twenty-two years, Ray and I recently divorced a few 
months back. This was why I'd asked to move in with my 
youngest son. 

Before then, I'd been working for a privately funded 
social service agency as a caseworker for about nine 
years, when everything in my life changed. As you well 
know, the majority of those who apply for help in this 
country are mothers at or below the poverty line. Most 
of the time, these mothers are black. 

Naturally, we've had mothers as young as thirteen or 
fourteen and grandmothers as old as eighty come to us 
for help with their rent or their heat or merely to ask 
us to lend an ear to a problem or a question. 

One day, Bette, an African American woman in her late 
forties, brought one of her sons along with her. My 
heart nearly stopped when I met him. Tyron was about 
twenty years of age and absolutely the epitome of a 
young masculine black. He'd just gotten out of prison 
for a drug related felony, and he was on parole for at 
least another two years. But I was taken by his self-
assurance and his drive to want to put his past behind 
him. 

The three of us talked for an hour and a half in my 
office that morning, and I literally melted every time 
my light blue eyes met his deep dark brown eyes. 
Finally I pulled out my card to give to each of them. 

After the two of them left, I ran to the ladies room to 
see if what I'd thought had happened to me was real. My 
panties were totally, thoroughly soaked--almost too wet 
to wear any longer. I coated the inside with toilet 
paper and went back to my desk. I kept thinking that I 
had to be walking funny, and my walk would give my 
strange discomfort with what just happened away to my 
co-workers. 

A little while later, my phone rang. It was him! He 
started by saying that he'd called to thank me. I told 
him he was welcome, and that it was all part of my job. 
He asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink with him 
sometime, and I told Tyron that I couldn't as long as 
he was on my caseload--that if I did, I'd lose my job. 

"If I wasn't on your caseload, would you go out with 
me?" 

I didn't even think before I answered. "Yes, I would," 
I told him. 

"I'm glad. Well, the reason I called is I need to set 
up an appointment with the state employment service as 
soon as possible," he said. "Is there any possibility 
that the agency could provide transportation?" 

I told him that we did that all the time. He just had 
to set up a time when he wanted to go, and we'd try to 
accommodate him. Ty asked me if I'd be the one to drive 
him, and I said I'd be happy to. 

Two days later, I picked Tyron up in one of the 
agency's transport vans. He brought a small duffel bag, 
something like an airport flight bag, which he tossed 
it in the back of the van. I asked him what the bag was 
for, and he said we needed to go to the Salvation Army 
store and pick up a few items first. 

I was puzzled, but I drove him there. He told me that 
he wanted to pick out a number of items which all 
together might cost between five and ten dollars, and 
would either the agency or I pay for it? I told him 
that was done all the time; we just needed to keep the 
receipt for agency records. 

We walked through the thrift store together for about 
fifteen minutes while Tyron collected a couple of 
pillows, a comforter, a blanket and few other odds and 
ends. I figured that he must have needed extra 
bedclothes for home, now that he'd moved back in with 
his mother. I stayed very close to him as we roamed the 
store. 

I was surprised at how comfortable I felt strolling 
next to him. Every now and then he'd take hold of my 
arm and pull me over to see one thing or another as if 
he were getting my opinion. Eventually I paid for the 
articles out of my own money, kept the receipt for 
reimbursement, and told him that it would be best for 
us to go on to the employment service. 

He laughed. "We're not gonna have time for that," he 
replied. "Not today." 

I looked at him. "Why not?" 

"Because I need time to line the floor of this van with 
these blankets and comforters. I don't want your back 
hurt by that hard surface on the van bed." 

"My back?" 

"Your back, your butt, your thighs--get the picture?" 

Like a fool, I shook my head. 

He looked at me and smiled that big wide lipped smile 
of his. "Did you think I wouldn't see what's been 
happening with you, Lynda? Tell me, did you ever fuck a 
black man before?" 

I looked at him as if he'd said some word in an alien 
language. "Fuck?" 

He shook his head and smiled again. "Lock up the van." 

I made sure all the doors were locked, and by the time 
I turned back toward the transport area, he had it all 
prepared. The blankets were arranged, the pillows were 
set down, and Ty had his shirt wide open, so that his 
beautiful mahogany colored chest was bared directly at 
me. 

"We're wasting time," he said. "Take off that dress." 

"But I--" I started. 

"Take your clothes off!" he demanded. "Right now! I 
don't plan on telling you again." 

That was it. For some unknown reason, I immediately did 
exactly as I was told. No, wait. I guess I couldn't 
really say the reason was unknown. I'd been enthralled 
with his presence all morning. His bearing, his voice, 
even his odor—in fact, all of Tyron's essence had been 
calling out to me physically; so I began to squirm out 
of my dress. It didn't take long for me to finish 
disrobing. I knew I wanted Tyron.


In about three minutes, I found myself on my back with 
my legs spread, Ty's body carefully jackknifed between 
my thighs, and a massive black dick wonderfully jammed 
straight up my pussy. This young African American man 
was the first man I'd had besides my husband in twenty 
years. For the first time in my life, I understood the 
real magic of what a large black cock could do to a 
woman. After a year or so in prison, Tyron was more 
than ready for a woman as pliant and accommodating as I 
was--and as white as I was. 

"Any black man stuck in stir dreams of fucking a 
married white pussy like yours, Lynda," he said. 

I gulped back a nervous moan, and murmured. "Really?" 

"See, deep inside we black men know that married white 
women want to get..." Ty paused and took a deep breath. 
"Get a real taste of what they can't...Unghhh!" He 
grunted and came immediately. I suddenly felt 
everything go incredibly wet within me. 

I felt a bit disappointed, and I sighed out loud. "Oh…" 

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, as he lifted 
himself up off my belly to look me in the eyes. 

"I was kind of hoping we'd have... a little more time 
before you came." 

"Time!" Tyron chuckled. "Do you see me pulling out? I 
ain't even got started yet." 

With that said, Ty began to thrust in and out of me 
once again. He felt so dominant, so totally in charge 
that I just went with the flow of all that energy 
between us. Nothing could come between us, I thought. 
Suddenly, I realized that his plans had caught me 
totally off guard. There really was nothing between us. 
Ty hadn't bothered to use a condom, and each time I'd 
let him fill my cunt with his living sperm, there 
wasn't any protection. 

"Oh my God, Ty! You didn't use a condom." 

"Now why would I deprive myself of the sensation of 
your soft, lily white cunt by using a condom?" 

"But something might happen." 

"Something did happen," he replied. "And it's gonna 
happen again. Isn't it?" 

I stayed silent. I was still penned down against the 
van bed with a very strong, masculine black presence 
both perched on top of my body and shoved deep inside 
my loins. Tyron had me totally under his power 
physically -- and even though I was loathe to admit it, 
he had me emotionally under control as well. 

My beloved ex-convict got his strength back three more 
times that morning. That's four times the amount of 
semen I'd ever tried to keep in my pussy for my entire 
married life. 

I'd signed out the van for only two hours, but I was 
late getting it back to the agency that day. Tyron put 
all the blankets and pillows into his duffel which he 
took with him when I dropped him off. I had to stop at 
a fast food restaurant, and stuff toilet paper up my 
cunt to keep my pantyhose and skirt from getting any 
messier than they already were. 

That night I went home and dreamed about how wonderful 
it was feeling that huge black cock plunging in and out 
of my loins, and how I should have been worried that he 
hadn't thought to bring along a condom. My husband had 
a vasectomy a while back; so, needless to say, I hadn't 
even bothered to stay on the pill for over two years. I 
had every right to be worried, but I wasn't. I didn't 
know why back then. 

I couldn't help myself. As his caseworker, I called 
Tyron and left messages for him to check in with me as 
soon as possible. I didn't hear from him for over a 
week. A whole week! Finally some nine days later Tyron 
called me again about arranging transportation and told 
me to set it up immediately. I spent that entire 
afternoon naked in the back of an agency van indulging 
in the hardness of his marvelous black cock invading 
the sanctity of my white pussy again and again. Once 
again we were using no protection whatsoever. I started 
to say something. 

"I told you once before that many of the brothers in 
prison dream of fucking married white pussy when they 
finally get out," he repeated to me like an impatient 
teacher. "And deep inside we both know that a woman 
like you wants a taste of the taboo, am I right?" 

I gasped. "Oh, yes," I answered, just as my body began 
to sing a climactic tribute to the motion of his dark 
probing cock. "Ooooo, yessss." 

"All right then," he muttered. "I don't want to hear 
any more shit about condoms or diaphragms or the pill, 
you got that?" 

For some reason I was eager to say it. "Yes," I 
answered. "I understand." 

"All right." Tyron grinned. He flooded my cunt with 
another torrent of liquid heat, and gasped. "All 
right!"

Panting, I lay naked on my back on top of a cheap 
Salvation Army comforter under a black man whose 
marvelous spurting dick was buried deep inside my body. 

Later, as we both rested, he pulled a card from his 
pants pocket. "Now two weeks from tomorrow night you 
are going to meet me at this address, sometime between 
5:30 and 6:00 PM." 

"Two weeks?" I whined. "I'll see you before then, 
right?" 

"You will not see me, call me or try to get a hold of 
me in any way until this time," he said. "Do you 
understand me?" 

I said I did, although I really didn't. Satisfied by my 
answer, Ty positioned his mahogany skinned knees in 
order to part my white thighs once again. In moments he 
was thrusting his huge cock deep inside of me, slowly 
building to an incredible climax. Growling out loud, 
his body cut loose and emptied a massive load of pure 
African American semen directly into my unprotected 
pussy. Thrilled, I squealed under his dominant grasp. 

"That's better." Tyron panted over me as if he'd just 
finished a hundred yard dash. "Much better." 

"Do it again," I pleaded. 

"What do you say, young lady?"

"Please?" I whispered.

Once again I got the van back late.

Tyron had stayed away from me for the full two weeks he 
stated on that Tuesday afternoon, during which I'd 
undergone the disappointing surprise of getting my 
period the very next day. I can't begin to tell you how 
anxious, how relieved I was about the period, and then 
how excited I was to get a message from Ty on my answer 
phone reminding me about my appointment that Wednesday 
evening. 

I informed my husband that I was going out with some of 
my co-workers that Wednesday night, and I drove my car 
to the address Ty gave me. It was a sports complex on 
the edge of the inner city. He was waiting in the 
parking lot for me. 

"Leave your car here, Lynda," he said. "It'll be safe 
here. We're riding with Quiller and Leon." 

This was an unexpected surprise. Who were these men, I 
wondered. But I didn't ask him, I just followed him 
into Leon's burgundy Lincoln and sat in back between 
Tyron and Quiller. I soon discovered that Quiller, a 
huge black man over three hundred pounds--a lot of it 
muscle, some of it big gut and love handles, had met Ty 
in prison. While Leon, who was thin and sinewy, had run 
drugs with Tyron on the street before he went to 
prison. They were all very candid about what their past 
relationships had been. 

"Aren't you breaking probation hanging with these men?" 
I whispered. 

"Doesn't matter any more," he answered. "The only thing 
that matters now is how Quiller and Leon take to you." 

"I don't understand," I said hesitantly. 

"Yes, you do, Lynda," Tyron said slipping his strong 
black hand up under my blouse. "You told me how your 
husband had a vasectomy after your third child. I know 
you haven't been on the pill for ages, and I was with 
you the day before your last period started over two 
weeks ago today. I could smell that trace of blood at 
your pussy."

Omigod! He said it so matter-of-factly that my mouth 
probably dropped wide open.

"You're halfway to a real understanding about what life 
as a black cock slut is about. Now the three of us are 
going to take you the rest of the way." 

"What rest of the way?" I asked. My hands were 
trembling as I reached out to touch him.

All three men laughed. 

"How did you feel the day you got your period?" Ty 
asked. 

"Lousy. Grumpy. Out of sorts," I answered. "You know--
period stuff." 

"Tell me the truth, Lynda. How did you feel when your 
period came after you went through a couple of weeks of 
unprotected sex with me?" 

"Stop it," I said. 

"No, woman," Tyron grabbed my arm and squeezed it hard. 
He didn't hurt me, but I knew he could. "You tell me 
everything. Right now!" 

I trembled in his grasp. "I--I was--I was... 
disappointed." 

"Bee-Cee-Ess!" Leon said, and the other two men 
laughed. 

"What?" I asked. 

"Black cock slut." Quiller broke into a huge grin. I 
looked at him and realized that he had the oversized 
lips of a typical black man, but his top lip was much 
larger than his lower lip. It wasn't an ugly sight by 
any means, just a little disconcerting at first. "You 
gonna discover you'll do anything to get it--to keep 
gettin' it." 

"Admit it, Lynda," Tyron added. "Inwardly you wanted to 
be pregnant." 

"That's not true." I remember shaking my head no as a 
matter of form. Yet, each of my three companions sensed 
that I didn't really mean what I'd said. 

"Listen, whore, we can turn this car around right now, 
and take you back to your car," Leon stated. "Or you 
can cum with the three of us tonight and go home after 
it's all over and done with--it's your choice." 

I stared at the face in the rear view mirror for a 
moment. Finally, his eyes caught mine. Then I spoke 
very softly. "I want to go with you." 

"There's just one thing, slut," Quiller said. "We all 
know it's been exactly two weeks since your last 
period. When we get to my place, all three of us are 
planning to fuck you--all at once and one at a time. 
There ain't gonna be no fuckin' condoms, no fuckin' 
spermicide foam--no nothing. You understand that?" 

I nodded. "Yes," I answered in my meekest voice. "I 
understand." 

"Good." Tyron said. "We're gonna make this one special 
night." 

That night began the first of several weeks' worth of 
notable changes in my life. That night I willingly 
accompanied three horny-as-hell black studs to 
Quiller's small one-bedroom inner city apartment in a 
desperately foolish desire to be gang fucked by three 
men recently released from prison. Three men, all of 
them demanding to be totally dominant over my little 
white married ass, had a way of taking what should have 
occurred in less than sixty minutes and stretching that 
time out for well over six hours. 


For my sake, Tyron went first. Apparently he made the 
others understand that I needed the familiar warmth and 
length of his cock before anything new could happen. 
Surprisingly, he was quite matter-of-fact about his 
lovemaking, quickly spraying a flask full of sperm deep 
inside of me in a matter of four or five minutes. I was 
a bit disappointed. I didn't want to let him go.

The next man in line was Quiller. I don't mind telling 
you that since he weighed well over three hundred 
pounds, I was afraid to have this man climb on top of 
me. But I'd under-estimated myself. Not only could I 
handle his body weight, I discovered that when his dick 
parted the soft tissue of my labia, I welcomed his 
strong erected presence wholeheartedly. 

Quiller may have been an extra large man, but he was an 
excellent fuck. He too took less than five minutes to 
climax. However, when Quiller withdrew, he asked for a 
kiss. Happily, I gave him that kiss, enjoying every 
moment of it. Afterwards, I found my loins were 
swimming in sticky white semen. 

Leon was harder. Not necessarily in the dick, just in 
the way he fucked me, as if I were some full-sized 
inflatable doll and not a real woman. He didn't come as 
quickly as the other two had. I wasn't that lucky. 

Since that time I've learned that men, like any warm 
blooded male animals, respond to mating in a uniquely 
competitive way--a way that was established long ago in 
our mammalian past. When a male watches another male 
mate with a female he desires, he is immediately ready 
to move into her and try to impregnate her himself once 
again. With three black men taking turns fucking me, 
every time one of them finished cumming in me, either 
of the other two were more than ready to take his 
place. 

By the end of that night some six hours later, I was 
sore, and I was tired. I'd engaged time and again in 
pure unprotected sex with three eager young men, each 
one totally intent upon using his black dick to knock 
me up. Strangely enough, I was thrilled by everything 
that happened to me that night. 

Over the next six days, I missed a lot of work. I'd 
leave the house, pull out my cellular phone and call in 
sick to work for a few hours or for the whole day. 
Depending on the day, I might meet all three men at the 
same time. However, Quiller was very much a morning 
man. 

Tyron, of course, peaked in the afternoon, while Leon 
preferred the evening. Sometimes I'd fuck all three men 
in the same day, but at totally different times. I 
remember looking deeply into each man's dark eyes as he 
came into me, and I imagined a very specific moment in 
time in which each and every one of my black lovers 
might have impregnated me. 

After only three weeks, I purchased a home pregnancy 
test, and, as soon I tested positive, I set up an 
urgent appointment with my doctor. 

My husband was furious when he found out I was 
pregnant. He demanded to know who the father was. I 
laughed and asked Ray if he wanted me to bring the 
fathers to our home and introduce him to them. 

"Fathers?" Ray gasped. "Fathers! More than one?" 

I laughed again. "More than one." 

"How many?" 

"Three. You might say I've been successfully gang 
bred."

"Oh, shit! Oh, shit," he continued to repeat. "Oh, 
shit!" 

Wait until he heard the good part, I thought. But I 
didn't say anything. I needed to make some phone calls 
first. 

On the day that I scheduled our meeting, I descended 
the staircase of our home totally nude. I'd been 
showering, and all I carried down stairs was my bath 
towel. My husband rushed into the living room to close 
the front drapes, so the neighbors wouldn't see me. But 
I told him: "You might as well leave them open. We're 
having company." 

"Company?" he said. "Who?" 

"My baby's fathers," I said continuing to dry my hair.

"I need a drink." Ray went into the kitchen. I knew 
he'd shit when he discovered all the malt liquor I'd 
purchased and stashed into the refrigerator. His voice 
came crying out of the kitchen. "What the hell is this 
stuff doing here?" 

If Ray had been a touch more astute, he'd have figured 
it out from the clues I left him. But he missed the 
clues entirely. 

Suddenly a sharp rap at the front door startled us. 

"What the hell, Lynda," he said. "Somebody's at the 
door. You go put some clothes on." 

I could hear him racing out of the kitchen, but by the 
time Ray got to the living room, he was too late. I 
stood naked at the front entrance to our home with the 
door flung wide open so that anybody in the 
neighborhood could see everything there was to see. But 
far more important, three hard looking African American 
men casually sauntered into our house, each one giving 
me a long kiss or a kiss and a groping feel on my naked 
body as each man stepped inside. Each of the three men 
cordially made room for the next man as they reached 
out for my naked flesh and clung possessively to me.

"Wh-what is this?" Ray asked timidly. 

Tyron was the last man through the door. He wrapped his 
long arms around my exposed body and gave a tug at my 
buttocks cheeks. 

"These men are my baby's fathers, Ray," I replied, 
still hanging onto each man as they came in. Allowing 
each black man the right to fondle me in return, I 
introduced each man to Ray. "All of them have given me 
the best fuckings I've ever had in my life." 

Carefully, deliberately, Tyron, Quiller and Leon 
grabbed Ray and tied my husband to his easy chair. They 
told him that he was going to be lucky enough to 
witness a total re-enactment of how I'd gotten 
pregnant. Ray, who was nearing fifty years of age, 
suffered through a four hour marathon of his white 
wife, me, bathing in the potent semen of three healthy 
young black men less than half his age. Leon, the 
oldest was hardly in his late twenties. Quiller was 
older than Tyron by a year or so. Shit, at forty-one, I 
was nearly twice the age of my baby's fathers. 

Ray's resentment over my pregnancy and my choice of 
fathers built up over the next few days. When I went 
out at night, his jealousy became a slow burning rage. 
I was forced out of my home a few days later. 

Quiller let me stay at his place for a little while, 
but even though I helped out with money, I also paid 
for my rent with sex. Still he soon tired of having me 
underfoot and growing more and more pregnant all the 
damn time; so, eventually, he kicked me out too, and I 
had to find my own place. 

My child, Kierra, a name meaning small dark one, was 
born last December. Various members of my family, Ray's 
family, and a few of my friends and coworkers came to 
visit me and to gawk at my baby. A few of them may have 
understood, but most of them were appalled. She's a 
beautiful little half black baby girl with skin the 
color of oak and features which look remarkably like 
her father's. Other people have often commented on how 
my baby girl's top lip seems significantly larger than 
her lower lip. 

The divorce proceedings had begun already, and you can 
imagine how upset Ray was to learn that according the 
laws of our home state, he was responsible for child 
support for the child which was conceived during our 
marriage, even though the baby wasn't really his. 

But now, as I said, my baby and I share an apartment in 
the college town where my son lives. Ray's child 
support keeps a roof over our head, and I've been able 
to make ends meet. God! The black students here on 
campus are gorgeous. 

Every time I roll my little girl out in a stroller or 
strap Kierra onto a mommy back pack, I attract the 
attention of some of the sexiest young black studs 
you've ever seen. Somehow one look at my tiny dark-
skinned Kierra and these young men correctly sniff out 
the fact that Mommy's a true slut for black cock. Some 
of the bolder males have learned it first hand. 

But I knew I had to go back to work. I've always been a 
social worker at heart; so lately, I've found part time 
employment working actively with paroled prisoners in a 
halfway house facility. The money's not all that great, 
but the benefits are terrific. 

Even though it looks like my old life fell apart when I 
became a slut for black cock, I wouldn't trade my new 
life for anything.

END

Note: I have never been an advocate of the 
manipulative, misogynistic mind games demonstrated in 
this piece. However, before you accuse me of being 
hypocritical, I understand that many men and women 
share a need to deal with their sexuality in this 
particular way. Besides, Lynda asked me to tell this 
story precisely as she related it to me. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 34