Fat Rob fucked me four times my first day working for him. It was insane. His cock was insane, insanely fat that is.
There was no seduction. I arrived that morning, hoping I'd be able do
what all the other employees were doing, knowing deep down that working
for Fat Rob, it would happen.
He moved behind me, "Let me stretch you out," he whispered. I could
already feel his bulge poking into my lower back. I spread my legs,
hiked up my dress, and bent over his desk.
I couldn't help but scream when his thick cock entered me. I gripped the
edge of his desk, holding on tightly, while he plowed me from behind.
It hurt, I was stretching, my pussy lips wrapping around his meaty
shaft, but it was so amazing.
He took me to his apartment that night. My pussy was so sore, but hurt so good.
On my back, I sucked at his nipples, while he plowed his huge, fat dick
into me. "So that's why they call you Fat Rob," I observed.
"You got it. Now wrap those pretty little lips around me and get that
cum," he said, pulling out of my gaping pussy. I lay on my tummy,
grabbed his cock with both hands, my mouth stretching over the tip and
sucked as hard as I could.
His cum tasted so, so good. Just like Ulysses'. My mouth overflowed with
semen. Shit, I loved the feeling of my mouth being filled with that
warm, salty, fluid.
"You gonna make so much money this month. As long as you can handle
black dick, you'll be making money for me and for yourself," he told me.
"What does that mean? You'll be pimping me out to your friends?" I asked.
"And clients, yes," he answered.
He meant it too. For the remaining 30 days in July, weekdays, weekends, I
didn't step foot in Elite Magazine's office. Fat Rob had me working at
his various strip clubs across town. I didn't strip, but mostly got
drink orders, and was told to flirt with the patrons.
I was also for sale - $500 for a few hours, $1500 for the entire night. Fat Rob gave me 25% of the share.
All these black men, these gorgeous, styling, classy, black men
purchased me every single night in the month of July. I kept count.
Ulysses and Fat Rob were two. I had sex with 10 of Fat Rob's associates.
For 30 days I had two men pay $500 for a few hours with me - 60 men in
total. I counted eight days in July where a black man bought me for the
entire night; bringing the count up to 80 black men I had sex with in
the months of June and July.
It was like a movie montage playing in my head - night after night, man after man, fucking me.
"Ian who?" I joked, near the end of the month when I undressed for a
sexy, older, black man from out of town. I was back at his hotel that
I loved their dark brown hands on my light skin. I loved how they
grabbed my hips, holding me while I bounced up and down on their dicks. I
loved the deep moan of pleasure they made when they finally, after
hours, ejaculated on my face, or in my mouth, or in my pussy. I loved
the rings they wore. I loved the smell of the cologne. I loved how clean
they were, making me easily want to slobber, lick, slurp all over every
inch of their cock, balls, taint, and even on occasion, a few assholes.
I loved how Fat Rob bought me birth control. I loved how he whipped out
his cock for me each morning after I was given my share of money,
telling me to "get that cum" every time. I loved how he or his
associates would conduct business on the phone in one of the clubs,
while I casually sucked their cocks. I loved how Fat Rob bought me even
more sexy dresses.
Most of all, I loved how I thought of Ian less and less. Or tried to.