How I got the fever for BBC

When I was young, in college and first dating. I started seeing a man in the Coast Guard Academy. He was tall and black, nothing like any of the men who I grew up with. In fact where I'm from the idea that someone who was white, even half-white like I am, would date a black man was inconceivable. I guess because I knew nothing about black men, I didn't even know that there was a stereotype about them having big cocks, and so after our third date when we started making out, I was absolutely shocked by the size of the hard-on I felt inside his pants.

At first, I thought he had his hand in his pocket and I was feeling his forearm, but in fact it was his cock. I have to admit, it freaked me out. I didn't want anything to do with him for a couple of weeks because I was frankly afraid of the size of his penis. I DID NOT want that thing anywhere near me. But he was persistent in calling me, and so finally we went out to a dinner and movie. When we were in the theater, he leaned over and started to stroke my thigh, which at first was just pleasant but after ten minutes or so of his gentle touch, especially as it crept little by little with each stroke nearer and nearer my inner thighs, I started to get incredibly swollen and wet.

I was getting a little lightheaded, so much so that I had no idea what was happening on the movie screen, my entire attention was focused on the spot that his fingers were touching my thigh, and each time he got close to my crotch, a tingling ran through my pussy like an electric current. Finally, after what seemed like forever of this gentle stroking, his fingertips gently pushed the sun dress I was wearing up my legs. I could feel the airconditioned air cooly blowing on my inner thighs, and the wetness of my panties suddenly became cold and damp, which was in contrast to the blazing heat of my pussy lips.

He was now touching my bare thigh instead of through the thin fabric of my dress, and even though it shouldn't have made a big difference, it was like shifting into another gear sexually. I was suddenly squirming and as tense as a wire. I WANTED him to touch my pussy, and the fact that he was still going so slowly was driving me ever more desperate for relief. I was panting now, and not even pretending to be watching the movie. My head had slid backwards so that I was resting the back of my head on the seat, and my eyes had closed.

We had sat in the far back of the theater, and it had only been about a third full that night, so there were no other people in our row or in those behind us. I didn't care at that point, but I'm sure that my heavy breathing was attracting attention and that someone must have been annoyed enough to have turned their head and seen what was happening. But my eyes were closed and it didn't matter to me anyway. Finally, after an eternity, his fingers touched my panties, gently stroking up and down the slit between my lips.

He must have immediately have known just how wet I was, since my underwear was soaked, and the first time he caressed my swollen clit, I came immediately. I bucked and moaned, and if anyone had been oblivious to what was happening before that moment, there was no way they could have been ignorant after that. He kept stroking me through my underwear until I came again, and then he pulled the crotch of my panties to the side and slipped his fingertip inside me. His finger was warm and hard, and as he continued to dig his finger inside deeper, I shifted my butt in the seat downward so he could get a better angle.

He began to finger fuck me, first with one finger and then two and three. I was so wet that all I could hear outside of the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears was the wet smacking sounds of his fingers going in and out of my cunt. Finally all of the tension built up into one humongous orgasm that made my back arch and forced an animal grunt out of my spasming lungs. I opened my eyes at the height of my rhythmic contractions and saw that almost everyone in the theater in front of us had turned their heads to look at me. I thought that my face was already flushed and hot from my orgasms, but the shame of seeing everyone staring at me in my moment of total loss of physical control of my body made my face burn.

Whether it was from the humilation or from the force of the orgasm, maybe both, tears squeezed out of my eyes (they were involuntarily squeezing shut...). When the orgasm started to subside, I had a few last involuntary spasms in my legs and arms, almost as if I was an epileptic, and then I melted into the seat exhausted, his fingers still inside me. Someone whispered a loud "Shhhhh" and then a few people laughed and the heads turned back to the movie. I could see some couples whispering to each other in disgusted voices, but plenty of the others pulled closer to each other in their seats and I'm sure they were hot and horny.

After a few minutes recovering, I decided that it was only fair to return the favor, and I started to stroke him through the fabric of his pants. As soon as I touched his hard on, it twitched and seemed to form an obscene tent in his pants. My fingers couldn't even reach all the way around the girth (he must have been almost three inches wide and at least ten inches long, even though it was hard to tell the way his cock was bent to the left side of his pants. I stroked him for a few minutes, until he started to slip down in his seat.

Just like I had, his head lolled back and his eyes closed, and when I squeezed on an up or down stroke he would groan in his throat. I still had a strong sense of fear about the size of his cock, and I couldn't imagine what else I could do with it other than stroking it with my hand, but I was getting horny again (I hadn't stopped being horny, I guess, just regaining my energy...). Impulsively, I unzipped his pants and pulled his cock through the eyehole of his underwear and out of his zipper. It sprung out like a jack in the box, and however big I had imagined it to be, it looked even bigger when it was standing up from his pants.

The head of his cock was like a black tennis ball. Even in the dark theater, I could see that the head had a lighter tone than the shaft, but they were just two shades of black. His skin was hot and dry to the touch, and as I lightly stroked his cock, he let out a loud moan. The thought entered my mind that his skin, and my hands, were too dry for me to give him a hand job. I'd given plenty of boys in high school and college hand jobs as a way of relieving their insistent horniness, but this was nothing like those times. It was like his cock was so large, and had such a large surface area, that there was no way I was going to be able to stroke it without some kind of lubrication.

Without consciously thinking or making a decision, I bent down and took the head of his monstrous cock in my mouth. I had to open my jaw much wider than I had even anticipated in order to slip my slips over and beyond the flange of the head, but as soon as I had it felt like I was trying to swallow an apple. The image flashed in my mind of snakes that swallow mice whole, and the way their jaws unhinge. I couldn't get any more of his cock into my mouth, and I didn't even try to get the head into my throat--there was no way it was going to fit. What I did do was swirl my tongue around the head of his cock and let my drool drip out of my lips and down his shaft.

After about two or three minutes of sucking on his knob and letting my saliva flow out onto his cock, I started to stroke his cock with both hands. I felt obscene, as if I was giving a horse a blow job, and as I kept stroking he started to get more and more excited. His hips jabbed upwards, and the first thrust caught me off guard. The end of his cock hit the back of my throat and I choked for a second. I caught myself from gagging, and the next time he thrust upwards I had relaxed my throat and my lips slipped almost an inch down his shaft. Whether he was feeling more aggressive now or just oblivious to whether I would gag, he began thrusting more insistently, with each pumping motion driving the enormous knob of his cock further down my throat.

It felt like I was swallowing my own fist, but somehow after a few minutes of his pistoning in and out almost half of his cock was going in and out. My lips were hitting the top of my right hand, and everytime his hips thrust all the way upwards a loud gurgling was forced out of my throat. I knew no one could see me going down on him, but I'm sure anyone looking back would have no doubts as to where my missing head was. Before I knew what was happening, I felt his cock swell even larger, tightening in my throat, and he began shooting down my throat.

The first spurt almost seemed to make an audible squirting sound, as if I was listening to a sound from the inside of my ears. I could actually feel the vibration of the sound of his coming in the inside of my head, as if he were coming inside my brain. He shot three, four, five more times, and then subsided into his seat. His cock immediately began to soften, pulling out of my throat with a wet plop. A gush of sperm escaped at that moment as well, since I had been unable to swallow with his cock in my throat. Some of his come had gone straight down my throat into my stomach, but a bunch had been caught in my throat and mouth and it came gushing out as soon as his cock left my mouth.

I tried quickly to wipe it off my chin with the back of my hand, but much of it oozed off my chin, dangling in a gooey mess that hit the front of my dress. He did something that utterly surprised me at that moment, kissing me on the lips and tongue kissing me so that he was tasting his own sperm as much as I was. No boy had ever done that before, and so I was shocked, but I quickly responded and we french kissed and our tonges played with his thick sperm. I never bothered looking around to see if people were watching us.

We left the theater because neither of us had the foggiest idea what the movie was about, and even though we slipped out quickly and quietly, I was self conscious that my face and the front of my dress was still covered with sperm. Fortunately, my sun dress was a light color, so it didn't seem to be too noticeable. When he dropped me off at home, I think he might have expected me to invite him up, but I have to admit that I was afraid that the logical next step was for me to let him fuck me, and the thought of taking his monstrous cock inside me was just too terrifying.

In fact, my great regret was that this fear of being torn in two kept me from seeing him again. I kept turning down another date, and he eventually gave up. I'm sure he was disappointed, and I felt shitty for never explaining why it was that I didn't want to see him again. The perverse thing is that I almost immediately began to have fantasies, both when I was asleep and dreaming, and when I was awake and masturbating, about what it would have been like to have that monstrous black cock fucking me. In fact, the fantasy was the motivation for changing my technique while masturbating from just using my fingers on my clitoris.

In order to better imagine what it might have been like to have had his massive shaft inside me, I began to use three and four fingers to fuck myself while rubbing my clit with my other hand. Eventually I was fisting myself, closing my eyes and pretending that my clenched hand was the head of his cock. I came so many times with this fantasy that I can't keep track of the hundreds of orgasms I have had while imagining being fucked by him. It seems crazy that something that inspired such a visceral fear ended up being such a powerful fetish!