I’ve always known what they want before they even open their mouths.
White women look at me different. Not just the quick glance, then look away, pretend they didn’t. No—the real ones let their eyes linger. They trace the taper fade, the tight 360 waves I keep brushed fresh every morning. They slide down my smooth, hairless chest where the black button-up clings just enough to show the six-pack underneath. And when they think I’m not watching, their gaze drops lower, hunting for the outline in my jeans. Eight thick inches that never quite hides, even soft.
They call it fantasy. I call it hunger.
Tonight that hunger pulled me to Velvet Underground.
I’m thirty-two, single, Jamaican-born, raised in Kingston till the world called me Stateside. Six-one, dark as midnight, skin so smooth women want to lick it just to taste the difference. I don’t chase. They come to me—always have. But lately the quick fucks leave me emptier than before I started. I’m not here just to nut anymore. I want to feel something real beneath the sweat and moans. I want to know who the fuck I am when the lights come up and the club empties.
I paid the cover, got my wristband, stepped into the red-purple haze. The air hit me like pussy and perfume mixed with pure sex. My cock twitched in my jeans before I even made it past the coat check.
First stop: the glory hole wall.
I like the anonymity sometimes. No names, no faces, just mouths and need. I chose the middle stall, unzipped slow, fed my heavy semi through the padded hole. The cool air kissed the head, then warm wet lips wrapped around me like they’d been waiting all night.
“Fuck…” I hissed low.
She didn’t speak—just sucked. Deep, sloppy, greedy. I could feel her tongue swirling the underside, lips stretching wide to take more. Saliva ran down my shaft, dripping onto my balls. I leaned my forehead against the partition, voice dropping to that slow, teasing island drawl women lose their minds over.
“That’s it, baby… take that big Jamaican cock down your throat. You been dreamin’ ’bout this, haven’t you? A thick Black dick fillin’ your pretty white mouth till you can’t breathe.”
A muffled moan vibrated around me. She sucked harder, one hand pumping the base she couldn’t reach, the other working between her own legs—I could hear how wet she was.
I kept talking, low and filthy, the way that makes them drip. “Imagine if I pulled you in here… bent that thick ass over and stretched your tight pussy till you screamin’ my name. You’d take every inch, wouldn’t you? My good little white slut…”
She came first—hard. I felt her body shake through the wall, heard the wet squelch of her fingers, felt her throat convulse around my cock as she gagged and swallowed. That pushed me close, but I wasn’t ready to finish like this.
I pulled out slow, let her lips chase me, then zipped up and walked around.... To Be continued Every days a New Part 😉 |
