Vegan Interracial Sex
First Person Confessional Sex Story
© Copyright Cupideros, June 10, 2014
Octavia believes every white girl should fuck a black man once to see what all the mystery and magic is all about. One day she decides to do just that. She takes the initiative. She asks out a black man who is her neighbor in a coed dorm at her university.
EYE CATCHING BLURB:
I’m so done with jocks. Tony wears thick rounded-rectangular glasses and sticks mostly to himself and classmates I observed. I don’t have to worry about him blabbing his mouth about how he fucked a cheerleader. Guys who can kiss and not tell are dreamy and classy. I am approaching his dorm door still grinning and shaking my head. I never asked a boy out before so this adventure sparked quite a bit of adrenalin in my one hundred and five pound sexy body.
I am a white, nineteen-college sophomore student living in a coed dorm, Octavia Beacon. I tip the scales at one-hundred and five pounds, and stand five feet five inches tall. I enjoy my banana-shaped figure. I’m on my way to seduce a black guy. I’ve never done this thing before. I’m going to keep track of everything on my Iphone by text. If I put it down, into my little fringe brown shoulder purse, I’ll pick it back up and finished telling you what happened. I am closing my coed dorm room door softly. I do everything softly and with grace. Everyone has a self-concept describing themselves. My self-concept resides in my deep abiding faith in one idea: That every white woman and black man simply thinks about fucking one another all the time, whenever possible. That an opportunity for a hook up, whether for long lasting love, or good-fun-time fling, happened once to every white girl and black man. I have not experienced my opportunity yet.
Today I have decided to take it. I am wearing a white India Kurta blouse with a square collar, curly golden thread designs framed the square collar down the center and back up the hem and sides. I bought the Kurta a size too small. Several bright bracelets of silver, gold, green, red and black adorned both my wrists. My round and big happy blue eyes bat seductively. However, my best feature occurred when I smiled. My big-round-blue eyes closed slightly and do this amazing thing—they formed two short separate lines from my long black eyelashes. The Kurta blouse I wear fit loose as it could with my amble bosom insistently pushing against the fabric. I’m a 32-D. My cream white cheeks glow like two fresh peaches. I am wearing on my hips short-short blue jeans ripped at the hem and the bottom edges of the front white pants pockets hanging down outside. My jeans formed a graceful cameltoe hinting of moist sexual charms Tony Rochester might pluck later on using his thin black lips. I hope Tony notices my cameltoe. It’s not too slutty. Although my cameltoe is sexy enough not to be missed, if the boy has any testosterone in him at all. Giggle. I am grinning and sauntering slow and easy down the dorm hall towards Tony's door ignoring the jealous looks of the other girls. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve never done anything this adventurous before. All my other Kurtas reach past my crotch. I fluffed my straight shoulder-length-sandy-blonde hair one last time and acted as if I and Tony preplanned an outing to the Woodstock Festival and this is the sixties the famed summer of love.
Who is Tony Rochester? He is black, 20, college junior still student living in the dorms. He has short black hair, brown eyes, about five feet, eight inches and one hundred and seventy pounds, a manly shape of an intellectual, not a jock. I’m so done with jocks. He wears thick rounded-rectangular glasses and sticks mostly to himself and classmates I observed. I don’t have to worry about him blabbing his mouth about how he fucked a cheerleader. Guys who can kiss and not tell are dreamy and classy. I am approaching his dorm door still grinning and shaking my head. I never asked a boy out before so this adventure sparked quite a bit of adrenalin in my one hundred and five pound sexy body. Girls should ask guys out more; then guys can get over that whole friend zone nonsense that seems to be passing around like a sick virus. Anyway enough about the loser guys. I fluffed my straight sandy-blonde hair one last time, knocked on his door, and smiled.
Tony opened the door and shook his head in disbelief. He put on his rounded-black rectangular glasses. He looked at my white cheeks glowing like two fresh peaches. His eyes caressed my amble bosoms pushing out the India Kurta blouse. “Nice,” he said. “I have a thing for India Kurta blouses.”
I giggled; I put my hands in the front of my short-short pockets. I was thinking standing there waiting to be invited in, waiting my summer of love is about to begin—maybe I wasn’t born too late after all.
Tony’s eyes followed downward as if magnetized to examine the rest of my hot bod. His amber brown eyes ran into my graceful cameltoe hinting of moist sexual charms he might pluck later on using his thin black lips. He breathed in deeply. “I know you…” He snapped his fingers once, twice, a third time. “Octavia, Octavia Beacon. Ex-cheerleader! Wow!”
“That’s me,” I said, waiting for an invite inside his room.
Tony Rochester hesitated for a second trying to figure out if this was his opportunity to experience an interracial sexromp every black man and white woman had once in their lives.
I watched him calculating it quickly using his engineering mind. I closed my big round blue eyes. My eyes formed two short thin lines of only black eyelashes.
“Sure thing…come in, Octavia.” Tony smacked himself on his narrow-dark-black forehead. “How stupid of me.” He stepped to one side and let me pass by. He sniffed the air as my floral hair shampoo teased his olfactory system. “What was I thinking, Octavia. Ex-cheerleader. Heck yeah, you can come in.”
Tony watched me amble into his perfectly neat and Spartan dorm room. He wore black cargo shorts and a red and green shirt that had the continent of Africa on the front in yellow.
“Take a seat anywhere,” he said in his black tone. “The black cotton fabric couch is com-comfortable,” he almost stammered as he closed his door unable to take his eyes off my jeans riding deep inside my small white ass. I skipped wearing any panties since I expected to be taking off my shorts and fucking fairly soon.
I sat down on his couch and remarked, “I like this. No leather. You believe in being nice to the animals.”
“Sure thing,” he came closer and stood there staring at my straight-sandy blonde hair, “Can I get you anything vegan. Vegetarian. I went vegan myself last year.”
“Me too!” I exclaimed in a surprised tone. I meant I started suckingcock and having sex last year. Girls can stay virgin forever, but why. I discovered that sex is fun!
“I’ll go and prepare a fruit salad, blueberries, cut strawberry and mango cubes and kiwi slices.”
“That sounds delicious, Tony.” I giggled and fluffed my straight sandy-blonde hair again. Tony went a small corner. I could still see him. He first washed his large hands. He opened up the small refrigerator on the cabinet. I looked around and saw his cd player. He had a long line of engineering and physics books. A large poster of people of all races standing and singing adorned the front wall facing the couch. Then I saw a stack of magazines about vegetarians and veganism. I love a man who can carefully interact with his environment. It means he’s likely to be kind to women as well. I was glad he didn’t have dread locks. I’m not into drugs or anything like that. Fucking is my only drug of choice. And I intended to get high as possible fucking Tony Rochester this Friday afternoon. Although, it was hard to tell if Tony had a hardon for me yet. Cargo pants are very loose. Those pants just totally mess with a girl’s erotic imagination. I love cargo pants on boys. “Tony,” I said, “You don’t have to feed me first to get me to fuck you! I want to fuck you right now!”
At the time I said that Tony was turning back carrying in his left hand fruit salad in a bright-white cereal bowl. The fork in his right hand dropped along with his handsome sexy narrow jawline of his black oval face. He froze.
Then he recovered his senses and laughed. I loved the look on his black oval face. His lovely friendly amber eyes relaxed me.
“O-k-a-y--I didn’t intend to feed you to fuck you. But eating is nice before sex. Let me show you," as he finally neared the couch. He sat down beside me and said, “Say Ahhhhhhhh!”
I giggled and said, “Ahhhhhhh.”
Tony put a cube of mango on a kiwi slice into my mouth. The fruit was cold and delicious. “Another,” I cooed. This time Tony put a cube of strawberry on a kiwi slice and placed it on my wet eager tongue. I curled my tongue around the fruit and closed my mouth. I chewed as sexy as possible not moving my jawline that much. I made mmmmmmmm and rolled my head a bit. I fluffed my straight-sandy-blonde hair.
Tony said, “Close your eyes beautiful Octavia.”
I knew it was coming—SEX!
”Lay back a bit. Just relax.”
I heard him place the white bowl of fruit down on the brown table in front of the cotton-fabric covered couch. I next felt his hands softly and slowly lifting my Kurta shirt up. “I love Kurta shirts on girls. Your Kurta is really tight, too Octavia. I can see your nipples."
His rich low African tone practically made my cuntflower start to cream. I wanted to peek, but I realized my two straight black line eyelashes would keep him sexually excited until I could engulf his cock between my coral-pink lips.
“Fucking amazing what your eyes do when closed,” he leaned in and upward and kissed gently first my left eye and then my right eye. I knew he was on his knees because the direction of his thin black lips passing my nose. And more importantly, his hard thick cockmeat brushed against first my right calve and then my right knee.
“Two beautiful short black lines eyes. You’re a sexy anime!”
I hadn’t considered that I was an anime girl. Maybe I should be fucking a Japanese man. But I wasn’t really into Japanese men. Only black man was my untried and long felt fantasy. I pushed out my breasts and on the way back down Tony’s lips brushed against my hard nipples. He stopped and sucked in on my right nipple. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Tony that feels sweet. Don’t stop.”
He laughed. “I haven’t showed you what I wanted to yet.” His hands deftly unbuckled my jean button. He traced his finger down the zipper line, before zipping my pants down. “Going Amazon?”
“Amazon?” I questioned.’
“Yeah. Girls who don’t wear underwear are said to be going Amazon. Raw. Free. Ready to fuck men for sex or just babies.”
“I’m Amazon all right. Why waste time with something I intended to take off.”
“I thought you were going Amazon, by the ass crease in your short shorts. He laid my short-short jeans open, the flaps. It reminded me of my inner pussyflaps spreading underneath the juncture of my wetthighs. He looked and blew softly on my Venus Mound. Then I felt something cold and wet touch my Venus Mound. “Whooooooooooooooo.”
“That’s nothing. Just wait, ex-cheerleader, Octavia.”
I felt Tony Rochester’s hot breath follow the cold wetness and a hot long slurping lick of his tongue. I wasn’t hairy below, but I wasn’t a bald cunny either. “I feel every sensation on my sex, Tony.” My breath got ragged. "Don’t stop! Keep going.” I raised my hips as he dragged the fruit, which I smelled as mango down further. However, the jean zipper of my short-short jeans pants stopped him. He licked after trailing the fruit on my Venus Mound. Pretty soon I smelled like mango, kiwi and strawberry on my sex. I lifted up high and yanked my short-shorts off my lithe body. "I can’t stand it Tony. Suck it!”
He laughed. His big hands grabbed the band of my short-short blue jeans. I felt his large, strong hands dragging the pants down past my knees. Finally, the short-shorts pooled at my ankles. For some reason this made me think about doing high basket toss mid-air splits during my cheerleading days. Tony removed the pants as I lifted one foot and then the other.
Then I did just that, I spread my legs wide apart, one hundred and eighty degrees apart on the couch.
“Ohhhhhhhh. Ooohhhhhhhh Wowwwwwwwwwwwww! A mid-air basket toss split!” Tony’s large black hands smoothly traced my legs from my wetpussy crotch out to both my ankles. In fact, his arm spread perfectly matched my leg spread.
“You’ve got magic fuck hands, “Tony.”
“Octavia, stop interrupting me with these distractions,” he laughed. “Now where was I?"
I remained super spread eagle on his black cotton couch, breathing heavily. Aware of my naked belly moving up and down as my Kurta top hung just below my covered big 32-D breasts.
Tony took another cube of strawberry and he circled my fucklips. My growing now engorged fucklips. My outerlabia that lubed up the cold wet fruit he traced on my sex. Then he licked around the strawberry oval. He did the same this time with mango. I was quivering and my arms were holding on tight to the back of the couch. I wanted to use my hands to force Tony’s head between my meatycunt lips.
“You’re sweaty and lubing and getting goosloppier by the second, Octavia.” Tony bragged. He then did the same thing. First kiwi and then mango and then strawberry traced ovals around my inner cuntlips. I was a sopping ready to fuck mess. I even smelt my own muskiness mixed in with the savory juices and tongue licks from Tony. “I’m never going back to eating meats after this Tony.”
Tony leaned in real close. “Have some fruit, ex-cheerleader. Gosh this whole scene reminds me of the sixties and the summer of love.”
“MMMMMMmmmm I tasted my own fucksauces on this fruit,” I said, “Tony we may have missed Woodstock but we have each other now. That is all that matters.”
Tony stepped back. “Yes, they say you can’t step into the same river twice, Octavia, but we’ve done just that. Created the summer of love all over again. All the fruit is gone now, baby. I ate all that I traced on your hotpussy except that last bite I gave you. You can open your eyes now.”
I opened my two black line eyelashes and there before me stood the most beautiful dark-black man ever. His scholong sticking straight out, and facing my little coral lips. My blue eyes turned up to see his smiling face. His five feet, eight inch height was perfect for couch lovemaking.
“He said it’s always been a fantasy of mine to fuck a white girl. I didn’t know it’d happen so soon. And with a next-door neighbor girl in a co-ed dorm! I’m one fucking lucky black guy!”
I reached out and carefully grabbed Tony’s seven and half inch dark-purple dongtoy with my square-manicured white fingernails and little white soft hands. “It’s so hot. It’s so hard, Tony. It’s throbbing and pulsating with power.” I pulled him closer and then bent my lissome legs and wrapped them around the back of his non-hairy black thighs. “Gotcha!” I joked. “Mmmmmmm mmmmm, yyyyuuuummmmmm.” I said as I sucked in the tip of his blackpussyfucker hardcock. I wanted this blackcock since knocking on his door. Now I had it between my lips. Now I tasted the savory maleness of his desire. I sucked him more and kept my legs pumping into nice rhythm. Tony’s hips moved into my mouth, further and further down my throat in slow easy motions. I moaned and cooed. My hands rubbed his balls. I reached under and pressed against that space between the balls and dickshaft to stop him from cumming too soon.
“Ohhhhhh Sure thing. You’re the real thing. I thought my first white girl blowjob be great. But this is fantastic.” He hesitated and stammered. He huffed and puffed. I watched with my big round blue eyes, as his face tightened up. He bit his upper lip. He made all kind of harsh faces trying to stop from coming. I was determined to get some blackgenes into me before the day was done. I sucked him down further into my throat than ever before. I didn’t know if I could go past my gag reflect, but something about his blackprick, seemed soft and gentle. I pushed and opened my throat and Tony Rochester slipped down into my throat. I held him there by our locked calves. My hands wrapped around his naked hips. My little fingers squeezed his hard black gluten muscles. He rocked. I sucked. We moved back and forth like gentle waves, he grunted loudly, his hands dropped to both sides of the back of the couch, and he came!
“I’m cumming! I can’t stop it!”
Don’t try to stop it baby, I thought as I gulped his manseed down into my very lower depths. We were linked psychically his genes and my body. He grew soft and I let him slip out of my mouth. I used my forefinger to scoop up a drop of sperm left on the corner of my coral lips. I licked his dicksplit and he pulled back.
“I’m sensitive. I need a break. Give me five minutes.” He collapsed on the couch beside me. He breathed and huffed. His black non-hairy thighs looked amazing. I caressed his thighs up and down, moving nearer and near to his cockandballs. I had to have him inside me. I was drooling all over his black cotton-couch. “I’m drooling all over your black-cotton couch,” I said.
He panted, his eyes closed. Then he said, “Don’t worry I’ll lick it off later on. He opened his eyes.
My Kurta shirt was still on over my huge 32-D breasts. I waited and stroked his balls. I brushed my hand on his cock in slow motions. My hand made love to his fucktoy. I pressed it every couple of minutes between my forefinger and thumb. I had to get him hard again. “I’m hungry,” I cooed.
He opened his eyes. “I can get you some more fruit.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
I fingered his now hard cockshaft. “I’m hungry now!” I turned and hopped onto his spread black thighs. His mansepter stood up tall and ready. I squatted down on his cock. “I’m good. I’m being fed. This is wonderful. I am full. I heard the gooey squishes of my sexlubrications soaking his fuckmachine prod. I settled down all the way, until my blonde pubic hairs reached his black-curly-pubic hairs. I let my hands go from his shoulders. I fluffed my straight blonde hair behind my back. “Help me take this Kurta off,” I asked.
“Girl why you wear them so tight?”
I smiled sexily, “So you can see my cameltoe crotch, silly.”
He pulled the Kurta off and gently, softly placed it on the couch beside him."
I fluffed my straight-sandy blonde hair behind my back. I mauled my two huge free tits. I pinched my dark-red small nipples. I moaned loud. “This feels better. Touch my tits, Tony, while I fuck you!”
Tony’s large hands danced around the outside of my titties. He circled inward. He must have had some kind of breasts fetish because he played with every inched of my large mammary glands. He played with them more than I do masturbating. He turned my titties slowly but surely into a cum-orgasms zone. I started opening my eyes wide. “I’ve never come from my tits alone,” I said rising slowly up and down on his lovely big blackcock. His powerful black pussysplitter pushed against my cervix once or twice before I lengthened accepting him. “That better,”
“What?” Tony asked.
“It’s a girl thing. Just keep making love to my tits.”
“I love your pinkness. So much soft skin to touch,” He pushed from the couch and pinched my nipples then he sucked first my right tit. He sucked my left tit. At no time did Tony Rochester allow my tits any space to relax. I came from my tits.
“Fucking amazing,” I yelled. “I came from my titties.”
“I’m so deep inside you Octavia. I’m so deep and long and it’s hot and warm and wet.”
We both threw ourselves into the silence of fuckmagic and togetherness and passion. Up and down, I churned my little hips. Faster and faster, I rocked up and back, banged my clit against his pelvis. My clitpearl grew hard, and she was already soaked wet, rubbing inside my clitoral hood. That I knew it was coming. I orgasm from my clit and I pushed down harder. I clutched my pussyrings around Tony’s machinehard penis. I never gave him a chance to relax and ease up as I churned my hips and rocked and sucked and pushed until I screamed and his mouth lifted off my left nipple and he yelled as I did, “I’m cumming!”
We both threw our arms around one another and stayed locked like that. It was a longest minute in a lifetime. We finally let go when we realized our fuckoils were leaking from my slickpussy hole onto his slackening balls.
I climbed off him.
Tony ran and got a fresh white towel from his cupboard for me to sit on.
“Stand here, Tony.” I guided him between my spread legs. I brought his hips to my face and slowly sucked his cock clean of our lovejuices.
He collapsed on the couch. “I’m never going back to fucking black girls ever again.”
“I’m never going back to fucking white guys again,” I said.
And of course these maybe clichés, but that’s how they became clichés—because they are true to life over and over again. I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and started typing this up. Memories are worthless unless they are written down for someone else to enjoy.
Tony and I decided to make our relationship more than a fling. He’ll be graduating in two years, but we’ve already made plans to get married and start our lives as a vegan interracial couple.