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Sexy Girls Pics. Some suspension follows, her hands and ankles tied to the ceiling and she's again whipped and some dildo play. I have tried many girls here. They were all perfect, supremely fuckable jailbait debutantes, which was more than anyone in Pleasant Hill would say for the teenage girls in Cranshaw. The driver nodded, unconvinced. Clio here is relaxing by the seaside on a dock, letting her sheer top blow open to reveal those big boobs in all their glory!

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If she wanted to get mugged, it was her business. But boy, was it fun watching her leave. The gorgeous blonde teen took a deep breath before walking up to the weathered front door, a paint-chipped horror with the screen askew. The scent of marijuana was thick in the air and the rumble of heavy bass was even more pronounced as she approached the building - it was a party, alright.

I mean, what were black guys for, if not to sell rich kids from St. Croix their weed and uppers? Stacey extended her arm to push the buzzer, but found it broken. She went to knock on the door, but found it ajar. Apparently, guests were supposed to show themselves in. How different it was from one of her high school parties! The inside of the building featured peeling wallpaper, exposed pipes and weathered tile on the floors.

Making sure not to trip and go headlong down, Stacey followed a set of stairs down to where the music seemed to be coming from. The stairs happened to end in a small alcove and metal door. This door did have a buzzer. She pressed it, and a eyeslot in the top half of the door slid open, startling her. The face on the other side was as dark as midnight in Persia.

Stacey tried to avoid looking confused. The door opened, and the sound of the music swelled immediately, Stacey, feeling relieved that she had the right place, walked in…. The basement was decorated lavishly, but not in the same way her palatial home in St. Croix was lavishly decorated.

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There were leopard skin rugs. Silver-played AKs in cases up on the walls. Pewter sculptures of African women.

The music was blaring, and…. Huge, adult black guys. She saw no sign of any of the basketball teams from the Cranshaw tournament, but Stacey did see wall-to-wall ebony flesh. Dozens of black men were reclining in the apartment, playing dice, drinking, arguing, talking on their phones. Their pants were sagging and their white cotton undershirts were stretched over bodies that were carved out of onyx.

There were dreadlocks, fades and shining bald black heads everywhere. Every finger and beck seemed to bristle and glimmer with rings and chains. It was like watching a stone idol move. Stacey made eye contact and had to crane her swan-like neck to do it. A cylindrical python-like bulge that could only be one thing. But that was impossible.

It was fucking huge! The black man scoffed. Stacey fell into his shadow. Their meeting at the door was attracting attention, and other black men were approaching as well. All shirtless, all huge and powerful. They would break her in half with their bare hands. Stacey soon found herself backed against the brick wall, with three huge black men surrounding her.

Her butt pressed up against it, bulging in her dress, and she unconsciously nibbled her lower lip again, unable to process the brutal display of black masculinity that was in front of her. That why you here to get a train run on you? A huge black hand reached out for her left breast and groped it, kneading the pliant flesh powerfully.

Stacey moaned and shuddered, disgusted. There was derisive laughter, and the tallest black man spoke up. You gonna call your bitch-ass boyfriend and his tiny-ass dick to come whip our ass? Bitch, you know you here for the cock, why you got to deny it? The middle black man had just lowered the waistband of his pants and let his penis hang free. Even though it was totally flaccid, it was thicker than her arm, and hung all the way to his knee.

The dark surface was criss-crossed with brutal, powerful veins. The purple head seemed the size of an apple, and…. A-are those his balls? They must be totally stuffed full of his nasty nigger cum! Stacey whimpered. Her tits were still getting groped, and a hand was reaching underneath her too-short skirt to cup her ass-globes and rub them as well. His hands were so large that each one could wrap almost fully around her taut and tight buttocks, causing her tanned assflesh to bulge between his fingers.

Her skirt rode up, revealing the puffy curve of her shaven teenage pussy beneath the white thong of her panties. The music was still booming in the background. On a nearby table, men were cutting up portions of cocaine with playing cards. Her senses, suddenly heightened, seemed to catch a million details she had missed on her immediate arrival.

The prison tattoos all over the chiseled bodies of her assailants. The gold teeth, the chains. The drugs and piles of money. Hands the size of baseball mitts gripped her shoulders and encouraged her to drop into a lewd stripper squat by the wall. Now, she had a fat black cock hanging in her face and two more huge bulges on either side, straining at the athletic shorts the men were wearing.

Their crotches were tented out all the way down their thick, powerful thighs. She could smell aftershave, cologne, and weed… but most of all, fat black dicks! He was intimidating, but also brutally handsome in an alpha, musclebound way. Her entire world was filled with the looming back cock hanging in her face. It was at least five times as big! It would have taken both of her small hands to hold them - one for each nut.

This is what my mother was talking about, her inner voice screamed as she squatted with her thighs spread. These black criminals want to have sex with innocent white girls! A huge part of her was utterly humiliated at being accosted by these black thugs, but some part of her, a deep and needy part, wanted to know what it would be like to cross over to the other side.

The black men laughed at her and one of them put a hand in her hair indulgently. It was so long, only the middle could lay on her nose, mouth, and forehead - the end trailed over the back of her blonde head and drooped onto the back of her neck. Stacey reached up with arm and grabbed the shaft, unable to get her small hand all the way around it.

It was like picking up a snake - a heavy, meaty feeling, pulsing with energy. Her mouth made a vacuum blowjob face that was accentuated by her high cheekbones, and her blue eyes blazed as she looked up at him plaintively. Stacey blushed furiously as they talked unabashedly about her cocksucking skills.

Wrapping her mouth around this nigger monster-cock was a whole different ballgame than giving Tyler some oral relief. Her white panties were quickly becoming translucent with her own lubrication, exposing the coral pink of her year-old sex. Oh, this is so wrong! The contrast between the pinkness of her wet, plump teenage lips and the dark brown ebony of the cock was stark.

The front of the shaft was gleaming in the light as she slobbered and spit all over it, slurping as best she could, looking like an year-old blonde baby with her favorite pacifier. Her cheeks were lewdly puffed and her eyes alternatively pleading and hypnotized in their bright blueness. All that glistening black flesh slopping in and out of her white, teenage mouth was so obscene!

Stacey slid her hand down to start fingering her pussy, which was wet and aching from the overpowering sexuality of the situation. These were bad men… niggers, even. And she was on her knees, fingering herself while sucking one of their fat, long cocks! A strand of shining saliva connected her wet lips and the drenched black prick helmet.

Fuck, what a piece of meat! Her hand gripped the bobbing, spit-soaked shaft again, leaving her eye to eye with a pisshole that looked big enough to slide her tongue into. As she watched, a white runner of gooey cum slid from the tip, so thick that it simply hung there like a strand of pasta. She opened her jaw wide and slid her face onto the thick cock again.

Four or five inches jammed into her mouth and the rest of the shaft, still a foot of more, hung enormous in front of her face. She worked her throat, reaching one arm far forward to knead the heavy ballsack that was swaying in front of her. It had a full, hot, smooth texture… she could feel the fat nuts inside, churning, no doubt pumping out a huge load of black sperm!

Stacey fingered herself as she forced her face to take more dick. Six inches disappeared into her mouth, then seven. The arm-thick cock was sliding down her tight teenage throat. Soon, nine inches were gone. God, the feeling of being so sexually overpowered, so sexually satisfied and full….

Stacey was in her own little world her eyes focused on the task at hand. She was too busy awakening to a hunger inside her fresh young body that had gone unsatisfied until then. Ten inches gone. Still half a foot to go! Her hoop earrings jangled and her long lashes flicked. Even more of the arm-thick appendage slid in and Stacey moaned and gurgled on the shaft, wanting more.

Her pussy was dripping on the ground now, right through her panties, soaking her toned inner thighs. The two men at her sides, no longer content with fondling her big teenage rack, reached into their respective shorts and produced their cocks as well. The man on the right jerked off near his tip, and the middle of his cock bowed like a jump-rope. They both had flawless, muscled bodies, totally ripped, from which their black fucksnakes emerged like a weapons of mass destruction.

Deep inside her, she was feeling things that were so shameful she could barely give them voice, even in her head. It was building inside her, and every inch of black cock that slid into her throat, every huge dangling black dick being jacked in her face, was bringing her close to it. A wave of brutal black cock slid into her body, and suddenly her nose was pressed up against a muscled ebony abdomen, her lower lip sliding against that fat, heavy pair of balls.

The entire thing was inside her mouth and throat - all 17 inches! But more importantly…. The object of her efforts was reaching his climax as well, tossing his head back and holding her pretty white face in a vise-grip with his large hands. Take that seed, ho! Swallow that shit!

She could actually feel it, it was so powerful! She shuddered to another orgasm, her body in ecstasy as she was utterly degraded and dominated by the black meat stuffed inside her, and her mind whirled. I just came while being used as a nigger sperm toilet! She stayed there, squatting, for a minute more, while T-Bone emptied his balls into her white, blonde, teenage body.

At last, the black man pulled his softening dick from her throat, withdrawing it like a dipstick from an oil tank. It was covered with her spit, phlegm and stomach juices. Stacey dry heaved. Her belly was totally stuffed with black seed. She felt almost… pregnant with it. Her hand moved over her taut midriff and felt the warmth there. For some reason, she found that idea strangely exciting.

She had such natural beauty that it was almost impossible to make her look truly bad, even after a deep-throating expedition. Her eyes were a little red, but that was it. She could take a dicking, and keep on ticking. However, the men looming around her shook their heads in unison when she asked her question.

Two of them still had their monster black cocks out. They draped their lengths over her face and head. Then you gonna suck the dick of every nigga here. The dangling dicks flopped and swayed around her wrists, banging against her exposed breasts and leaking runners of hot pre-cum on her nipples.

Stacey could have guessed that Leon was Leon, considering the massive gold nameplate hanging from his neck, encrusted with diamonds, that carried those exact letters. She concentrated on jacking and stroking their two big black dicks, milking from the bases to the tips, an act that took several seconds. The half-hard dicks undulated under her touch as she squeezed and kneaded them, pulling them off, getting them as hard as she could.

Leon was even longer than T-Bone, and Boz had balls that were even bigger… the bottom of his ballsack hung almost to his knee! His nuts looked like they belonged on a horse. She took one massive testicle in her hand, and it was boiling to the touch. Stacey gulped again and her face flushed with embarrassment and guilt.

The pulsating coal snakes were rapidly hardening in her expert hands, and pre-cum was constantly leaking from their tips. These two monsters were leaking more cum before becoming fully hard than Tyler had ever shot in a full ejaculation…. Leon and Boz laughed and their cocks continued to grow ever-harder in her hands.

Stacey moaned… it was one thing to service these gang members, but to be humiliated too…her self-respect told her to get up and leave… but her need to touch, to fondle, to interact with such big black penises was stronger. Stacey felt her stomach flip-flop as she looked at the hanging, heavy black nutsacks surrounding her. Each scrotum as large as her handbag, long forgotten on the ground by the wall, and hanging so grotesquely low due to the weight of each fat, cum-pumping nut.

She exhaled and closed her eyes in frustration, raising her voice from a whimper to an exclamation. Not like your big… big fucking nigger balls! Tyler was white! White was better, right? Her mother had always told her so. They were rock-hard now, two glistening ebony poles that were a foot-and-a-half long and thick as her arm.

And when he cums… it just… it just trickles out a few drops! Heavy, gooey ropes of white-yellow splooge with the consistency of lotion pumped out of his huge pisshole started to cover her, criss-crossing her pretty features in slimy white prison bars. Each strand of nut was like a thick strand of pasta, unbroken and laying on her bee-stung lips, her eyelashes, her nose, her cheeks!

The thick, nasty cum began to pile there. The cum just kept coming, plastering her face, piling on her tongue in a nasty wad, dripping down her chin onto her heavy teen breasts, staining the puffy pink nipples with seed. He cums a hundred times more than Tyler! Fuck, why is this turning me on so much? Why am I becoming such a slut for nasty, monster-cocked, cum-blasting niggers!?

Just one man had given her a complete bukkake - she could feel the heat and weight of his seed on her face. She looked up at him with submissive blue eyes and started to gargle his spunk. The thick load was hard to swallow…so she began to chew it, letting him see, opening and closing her mouth while she worked on the gelatinous mass.

Swallowing my seeds like a porn star! Her face was still dripping in seed, she looked like a complete whore, but looking like a whore had never slowed Stacey down. Boz cried out. Boz did just that, and as she held up her breasts, his ropes of sperm painted her tanned skin white, pooling in the valley created by her cleavage, while she kept one arm on the underside of her breasts to provide him with a reservoir to dump his cum into.

Stacey dipped her mouth into the pool of cum like a bird at a birdbath, sucking up a huge mouthful, long strands of it connecting her lips to her titflesh. She gulped and swallowed. Her face and breasts were totally covered in cum and her crotch was soaked with her own lubrication.

There was a chiming then, that could barely be heard over the thump of the bass and the persistent rap music. Without thinking, she reached into her handbag - and looked at the Caller ID. Stacey grimaced, and ignored it. She no longer had any use for Tyler.

Her face was at first pleased, but quickly became concerned, and she paced across the large main floor while engaged in conversation. As was her custom, she was wearing nothing but her bra and panties while alone in the house, for comfort. Her tits and ass jutted like massive edifices of flesh, and her blonde hair poured down her back. A party - Tyler, why would she ever go to a party in Cranshaw?

This is serious, Tyler! Vivian hung up her phone and quickly threw on pajama shorts, a T-shirt, and an overcoat. She made her way to the three-car garage and hopped behind the wheel of her Mercedes. The tires squealed as she floored it down the driveway and out onto the street.

The highway between the Pleasant Hill suburb of St. Croix and Cranshaw, two hours distant, had only sparse traffic. Having slipped the 6-inch heels from her small and delicate feet, Vivian Whiteside was laying heavy on the gas, breaking the speed limit by at least 30 MPH in her sporty silver Mercedes.

She had a mission of a much more serious nature - rescuing her gorgeous blonde daughter from what she now imagined were the ebony clutches of a bunch of randy black men. At the speed she was going, with the headlights cutting through the night like lasers, the road became hypnotic, and it was perhaps for this reason that her mind began to slip into reminiscence.

Not even her husband, Craig. The year had been Vivian Whiteside was eighteen tender years old and stepping off a Greyhound bus in North Hollywood, California, wearing dark aviator glasses and letting her blonde hair glow like a stove burner in the orange tango-light of the setting sun. She was wearing a white blouse with no bra and a pair of daisy-dukes that had more holes than remaining fabric.

Her butt-globes seemed ready to burst from the straining denim mesh. The first week had been the hardest - finding a hotel and getting settled - and during that time, Vivian realized she really had no idea how to go about becoming an actress. How did one get auditions? A tad worried that her cross-country haul might have been folly, the beautiful blonde teen resorted to browsing the newspapers for audition opportunities.

People still read newspapers in Nothing much seemed appropriate given her lack of formal theatre training or, really, training of any kind, but one entry on the back pages, next to the ads for horoscopes and sex aids, did jump out at her: She was white, and blonde, and had always been proud of that fact.

Now, she would be able to put those attributes to use! She called the number, nervously twirling the phone cord between her fingers as she did so many phones had cords in , and a recorded message came on. If you are calling to inquire about employment, press 1.

Lots of traditional-sounding bongo drums and the hoots of primitive wind instruments. After a few seconds, a man with a subtle African accent answered the phone. What are you inquiring about today? He must work for the studio, thought Vivian. Maybe he looks like Denzel Washington! The pay is minimal at first, but you will be provided with an agent and guaranteed work making films, which will be invaluable on your resume.

Is there an… audition, or something? She left the call feeling hopeful for the first time since her arrival in North Hollywood, address in hand. Her nipples were like miniature mountains on the front. The only thing there to greet her was a desk with an ancient-looking computer, behind which was seated a blonde woman with blue eyes and a strange, vacant expression on her face.

Vivian rationalized that people on the West Coast had all sorts of strange names for themselves. It was show business, after all. She might adopt a pseudonym herself. A stage name. Something exotic like… Stella Debonair. Thinking about a new moniker helped calm her nervousness as she walked behind the secretary into main room.

The remodeling had left no sign of the pews and altar, if there had ever been one - rather, the interior was a series of claustrophic hallways interspersed with unmarked office doors. Vivian passed several of these, her heels pressing on cheap carpeting that had been laid over the church floor, until she arrived at the first door with any signage on it.

The secretary knocked on the door. The one Vivian recognized from the phone. Quickly, she pulled a small mirror from her purse and made sure her hair and makeup were at their best. After all, you only get one chance to make a first impression. Vivian grabbed the door handle and opened the office door inward. What she saw shocked her.

The office was a square space with a desk and two chairs. On the walls were hung honorary diplomas and African tribal paintings. Behind the desk sat a man who could only be the Reverend Elijah Kongo himself - a massive, muscled black man with a leather kufi hat on his head. His shoulders were wide, his biceps were dark chocolate slabs on arms that seemed to reach on forever.

She had other, even crazier images to consider, because the kufi hat seemed to be the only thing this black man was wearing. Bouncing on the lap of the massive Reverend Kongo was a young white woman, a young blonde dye job with green eyes. His huge hands were gripping her petite waist and lifting her up and down like a child as he sat in his large chair beneath her.

Her face was thrown back in a rictus of penetrative immersion, and with each lift and drop she let out an ecstatic moan. Her large, perky tits were bouncing up and down and the smack of flesh on flesh was audible in the room. Whap, whap, whap. A foot up, a foot down. They were fucking! The only thing stopping Vivian from seeing the entire act was the large mahogany desk in the way… but the extremity of their coitus was nonetheless implied.

Vivian dropped her purse and put her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. As she continued to take in the tawdry scene, the thoroughly-fucked white girl moaned her way to orgasm, beginning to shudder and cry out. Baptize my worthless white womb with your thick nigger load! There were audible spurting sounds as his virile penis exploded into the girl, pumping untold amounts of his black semen into her innocent Caucasian twat.

Vivian was afraid to move, afraid to say anything. Was this really what show business was like? Her mouth opened. How big was the black penis stabbing into her guts? Their movements implied it was more than a foot long! But… how could that be possible? His voice was still calm. Her blue eyes were huge and expressive as she continued to take in the scene.

I thought… I thought you make movies here. We are a new, renegade, avant garde film concern. Film-making is only part of our grand design, true, but there are many projects with which you can be very helpful, Miss Whiteside. The opportunities are here. A small white teenager reclining, sated and satisfied, on the chest of a huge black man… his cock still in her pussy!

Having come closer, Vivian could see the place where his cock entered her. It looked as thick as a Thermos! What a… a huge… black… cock! Vivian unconsciously bit her lower lip, drawing attention to that particular asset of hers… her pretty mouth, plump, bee-stung lips and serpentine facial features.

A tanned, glossy mouth that looked like it could suck the chrome off of a trailer hitch. Vivian had always been rather gullible, and this feature was part of what allowed her to proceed. This must be normal for this place, she reasoned. Vivian saw it emerge, saw the shaft flop out of the widely-stretched and fell-fucked folds, saw the strands of lubrication clinging to it and then breaking as it descending.

Heard the thumping noise as it hit the ground. What a stud! It had been hick white boys with hick white cocks, wall-to-wall, in her hick town. Sure there had been black people, but she and her friends never mixed with them. About the dick part, anyway. They both figured that the part about black men raping innocent white girls was probably true.

Certainly not anything close to the maximum her stunning, curvy body could handle, but… it was white! With Reverend Kongo, her eyes were being opened to a whole new world. Vivian had never seen so much thick, gooey cum in her life! The girl rubbed her belly obscenely as she felt herself evacuate the goo. She looked utterly smitten, and her arm was cradling her cum-filled guts while she said it.

Kongo regarded her with a grin. The way his white teeth seemed to gleam seemed vaguely predatory to Vivian, but his words put her at ease. The physical presence of the man was extraordinary. When he laid his forearm on the desk it seemed like the whole piece of furniture might overturn!

Kongo eventually leaned back, causing his throne-like chair to creak with his weight, and put a hand to his chin as he regarded her. A formality, Miss Whiteside, but necessary nonetheless. Vivian had been a frequent beauty pageant contestant in her youth, and her mother had dragged her to event after event. She knew all about posing and showing off.

Turning around to show him her butt, she arched her back and leaned forward at the waist, thrusting her round bottom outward and letting her boobs hang down while looking back over one shoulder. What an ass! She tossed Kongo a wink with her blue eyes and puckered her lips as well. She could see from the corner of her eye that his penis, which looked like a jungle snake in repose, was beginning to stir again.

How long was it? A foot and a half? Two feet? It was as thick as her bicep, but the blonde was gratified to be getting a reaction out of him. This sort of cockteasing she understood. She had come to California to be a movie star, after all. Vivian had figured some amount of hanky-panky would be required.

With her body, what was she going to do? NOT fuck her way to the top? Sure, Kongo was black, but he was also her ticket to fame and fortune. Clothes off, please. Her small coverage white thong did almost nothing to hide her shaven pussy. She stepped out of shorts, giving Kongo a tantalizing view of her long legs. Her tube top was next to go, and her breasts were so large that they could be seen from directly behind her, hanging heavily at each side of her chest to the bottom of her ribcage, pink nipples swollen.

When she finally removed her underwear, a strand of lubrication from her wet pussy extended to the crotch in a glistening line before breaking. Reverend Kongo made an approving noise. His African accent dropped away when he said it, but Vivian was too engrossed in putting on a show to notice. She was stripping like a slut for this black man, but it would be worth it if she could become a movie star!

The Reverend reached out to grasp her waist with his strong hands, and she gasped. He lifted her like a doll, bringing her onto his lap like a mall Santa picking up a child at Christmas. Her heels fell from her feet onto the floor, and Vivian felt an animalistic twinge in her loins! The disparity in their sizes was as stark as the disparity in their skin colors.

Thick thighs, huge pecs, massive calves and biceps. Which she was! Kongo placed her feet on his barrel-like thighs and let her stand on them, half-crouched. Vivian looked down and saw that his penis had risen like a tower of black marble between his thighs - rugged, thick, and covered with veins, it reached nearly all the way to her pussy even though she had her feet on top of his legs!

If she squatted down, it would be inside! God, it was huge - as thick as both of her birdlike wrists together, and his balls hung over the edge of the chair and a foot down toward the floor! Vivian was utterly dominated by the sight of it, and she felt her wet pussy pulsating with the need to charm that black snake and get into the good graces of her new boss.

She reached out to wrap a hand halfway around the shaft and moaned again at how hot and black it was. She could feel the veins vibrating and the cum pulsing in his piss-pipe! She pulled the shaft back toward his chest, placing the head underneath her pussy… and started to squat lower.

The snow-globe sized dome pressed against her puffy cooze, spreading the lips. She rubbed herself against it, massaging his tip with her shorn sex, biting her lower lip and kneading her erect nipples with her free hand. It seemed to be all there was to say, about a number like that. She put more of her weight on the cock, and gasped. It felt like she was squatting on a baseball bat.

Or two, taped together. It was so thick! Vivian felt her body descend a couple of inches, and moaned at the unspeakable, liquid friction she felt inside herself. There was some pain, but it was good pain, no real discomfort. Her white pussy seemed built for just this task. She rose up a little and felt the sides of her pussy sliding on his shaft. From behind, Kongo had a great view of the pinkness of her insides, clinging to his cock.

She began to move tentatively up and down, up and down, getting lower and lower. Her blonde hair whipped like wheat as she tossed her head back and squeezed her breasts. As she pulled back up and the wet shaft emerged, the walls of her tight teenage cunt gripped it like a vise, becoming visible for a moment as they massaged his length, a perfect bubblegum color.

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So he installs a dental spreader gag and cranks it way open to the point where I thought it looked damned uncomfortable. There was a rule against the model crying. Overall her service was an 7. Miina, dressed in a red kimono, is next seen in a Slave Island cell, where she is chained arms over head and is passed out. The gold teeth, the chains. She is not the type of Porn Star or sexy girl, she is quiet, polite and innocent cute.

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