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Creampie eating story

 

 

 

Creampie Cafe

 

 

 

Wendell Nebbin locked the door of his car and pressed the button on his keychain to activate the alarm. He looked around nervously. He hated parking on the street in a part of town like this: the black part of town. He considered skipping the appointment, but then remembered that Mr. Roosevelt had paid him rather well for his accounting services so far. Professional ethics demanded that he see things through.

 

He walked slowly down the street, looking for the address of the cafe owned by Mr. Roosevelt. The Sweet Cream Cafe. It should be on this block, but he could see nothing that resembled a restaurant. The address he was looking for belonged instead to "T. Jackson's Athletic Club". Beads of sweat appeared on his brow as he considered the fact that he was a well dressed white man lost in a black neighborhood. He tried to look nonchalant as a group of young blacks dressed in shorts and tanktops wandered noisily past him toward the club entrance. He tried to look like he knew where he was going and walked in the opposite, but slowed again when he realized he was getting farther from his car.

 

"Hey, white bread!", one of them shouted from the steps to the club.

 

Panic came over him as he heard the call. He froze, afraid to turn around.

 

"You lookin' for the cafe?" the same voice asked.

 

Relieved that he was at least on the correct block, Wendell turned. "Y-yes. Yes I am," he called back.

 

"I thought you might be." A smirk came over the young man's face as his friends began laughing among themselves. "It's jus' down that alley on the right there," he pointed, indicating the corner of the building that housed the athletic club.

 

"Th-thank you. I a-appreciate it," replied Wendell moving quickly away.

 

"You enjoy yourself now, y'hear?" shouted the young man with a grin, causing yet another burst of laughter from the others.

 

Wendell ignored them, glad now to at least be on the right track. He turned the corner down the alley indicated and was surprised that the dark, dingy alley could possibly contain a business like a cafe. But, sure enough, he spotted a sputtering neon sign protruding from the side of the building with an arrow that pointed to a nondescript solid door. The neon sign read "Sweet Cream Cafe" over the faded logo of a giant white droplet. It was from an era gone by; alleyway businesses just didn't survive these days. Further proof of the cafe's age was found in the faded sign on the door read, "Whites Only". It must have been a remnant from nearly 50 years ago, he thought; odd that something like that could survive that long in this neighborhood. Shaking his head, he turned the handle and walked on in.

 

Inside, the cafe was a total surprise to him. It was spacious and well lit with rather nice looking tables, chairs, and appointments. It looked like a classic diner setting from any movie: checkerboard tile floor, lunch counter with bar stools, padded red vinyl booths, and even a gaggle of pretty uniformed waitresses wandering around with notepads and pencils behind their ears.

 

Spotting him at the front door, a perky young blonde headed his way and smiled broadly as she approached. "Party of one, I assume?" she asked with an inquiring eyebrow that looked almost ... sultry.

 

"A-actually ..." Wendell was a bit stupefied at her obvious beauty. Her hair was long, straight, and silky. Her ample breasts and small, shapely ass were barely covered by a pink uniform that looked about 2 sizes too small. Her bright red lips curved into a knowing smile as an eyebrow over her too-blue eyes continued to rise as she waited for him to finish his sentence.

 

" .... a-actually, I have an appointment with Mr. Roosevelt to d-discuss a business matter."

 

"Oh! You must be Mr. Nubbin!" she exclaimed with a smile. "I'm -- "

 

"Actually, it's 'Nebbin'," he interrupted.

 

"Of course. As if that's any better. Anyway, I'm Candy, the manager. I was told to expect you. I'm afraid Mr. Roosevelt will be delayed for awhile, but he told me to show you around and answer any questions you might have about how our establishment is run."

 

"W-well, I do have to admit, there are some v-very odd numbers I'd like to discuss. Your receipts are very, very high, but somehow your costs absorb all of your profits and --"

 

"I know, I know. We're a very unique operation. I can see you need to understand a bit more about us, Wendell. Why don't you have a seat over here at the counter and I'll go over things with you."

 

She led him over to the counter and offered him an empty stool between two other patrons. Wendell sat quietly and nodded politely at the others already seated there. He noticed that despite the obvious flavor of the neighborhood, everyone in the cafe was white -- including all the waitresses.

 

"I need to take care of a few things, Wendell, but I'll be right back. You caught us right at the start of the lunch hour, so I'll ask you to be patient. If you'd like anything, Susie here will take care of you."

 

Wendell tried unsuccessfully to peel his eyes away from the view of Candy's lovely posterior as she walked away from him, even failing to look at Susie when he heard her voice.

 

"What can I getcha, hon?" she asked.

 

"Just some coffee, thank you."

 

"We don't serve coffee," she said dryly.

 

"You ... " Wendell finally turned to look the redhead in the face, finding her just as attractive as Candy, in her own way, " ... you don't serve coffee? Excuse me?"

 

Susie's eyes rolled back in her head in a friendly look of exasperation. She grabbed a laminated card from a holder on the counter and set it in front of Wendell. "Here, hon. Look this over and let me know when you're ready."

 

As Susie turned and walked away, Wendell turned his confused look toward the menu and examined it. He found it to be rather brief ... and rather strange.

 

Menu

 

#1 Pie ............ $50 #2 Pie ............ $50 #3 Double Pie ..... $100 #4 Snowball ....... $50

 

Extras:

 

Extra Fresh ....... $25 Chaser w/ Meal .... $25 Chaser a la carte . $50

 

Wendell looked up from the menu with a look of even greater confusion than before. The prices seemed outrageous -- especially for a small diner -- and the descriptions were sorely lacking in detail. He looked around for Candy or Susie to ask some questions.

 

Just then, the door marked "Kitchen" in the back of the diner swung open. A sound of great commotion -- dozens of intermingled, unintelligible voices, laughter, and shrieks -- swept thru the room along with the distinct odor of ... sweat. And something else. The door swung shut again as a young, thin waitress with light brown hair staggered out. She laughed a goodbye to someone inside as she hopped along, pulling a high-heeled pump onto her foot. She feebly tried to arrange her hair, wiped the sweat from her brow, and tried to pull her uniform into some semblance of order.

 

"Wooo! That was a good one," she said absentmindedly to herself and the room. Her heels clicked on the tile as she walked unevenly behind the counter, steadying herself occasionally by leaning on the edge. She past by Wendell without a second glance and approached the man sitting two stools away.

 

"Are ya ready, Ernie?" she giggled.

 

"Y-yes, Lulu. I-I'm always ready for you," the man stammered.

 

"Ok, then. Here ya go. One #1, hot and fresh." With that, she turned around, placed her hands on the counter, and pushed herself up as she jumped. She settled into a special shaped 'lazy susan' than Wendell just noticed was there -- one in front of each stool, as a matter of fact. Lulu then spun herself around on the swiveled seat, swung one leg over Ernie's head, and set both heels into perfectly sized notches in the counter on either side of him.

 

Wendell watched with silent amazement as the short uniform skirt fell back to reveal the spread-open crotch of the waitress. She wore no panties. Her thighs were wet and shiny. The smooth-shaven vaginal lips were covered in a filmy glaze. A thick, white liquid oozed slowly from the opening. Wendell was stunned. That was obviously ... semen. This woman had apparently just had sex and was presenting her womanhood to her customer with another man's ejaculate oozing out of it. He was speechless. He was appalled. He was ... strangely fascinated.

 

Then came the next surprise. Wendell let out an audible gasp when he saw Ernie leaning in and lowering his face toward her crotch.

 

"Ah ah ahhhh," scolded Lulu. Her thighs slammed shut with a wet slapping noise. "You know the rules, Ernie. You gotta pay before you play."

 

Ernie put on an 'aw shucks' look and reached into his pants pockets for a set of folded bills. He passed them up to Lulu without looking at her -- his eyes remained glued to her closed thighs. Lulu accepted the money, examined it quickly, appeared satisfied and re-opened her legs exposing the cum-covered pussy. Ernie lurched forward and dove in to her crotch, making wet slurping noises as he rabidly licked at the oozing white goo.

 

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Wendell in disbelief.

 

"Oooh! He's an eager beaver ... for cummy beaver," giggled Lulu. She pulled at a latch and a back rest rose from behind the counter. She leaned back and closed her eyes, obviously enjoying the attention being given to her dripping snatch. She began to moan softly.

 

Wendell stared open mouthed and wide eyed at the spectacle before him. He looked around at the other patrons, wanting to scream out, 'Can you believe this?!'. But no one else in the cafe had even blinked. In fact, the few other men at the counter simply sat patiently, occasionally looking hopefully toward the kitchen door.

 

As if on cue, the door opened again and another young girl emerged with her hair and clothing in disarray. Before the door closed behind her, Wendell got a better look at the room within. It was lined with grey metal doors which he quickly realized were lockers -- gym lockers. As the gap closed, Wendell could make out a dark skinned male ass pumping up and down between a pair of lily white thighs. The sounds emanating from the room made perfect sense now: There was an all out orgy going on in there.

 

The man on the other side of him perked up and grinned -- this 'order' must be his. Even though he'd just witnessed the same turn of events a moment ago, Wendell was still shocked and amazed as the man quickly surrendered a wad of bills and then turned his attention the the cummy crotch of the young waitress. This particular patron spent more time licking the dripping cum off the girl's thighs, giving Wendell a better view of the quivering mass of pink flesh covered with thick white semen.

 

It was disgusting. It was revolting. It was ... intoxicating. He found himself leaning closer and closer until the back of the man's head rose up to block his view.

 

"Amazing, isn't it?" came a soft voice in his ear.

 

"Huh? Oh!" exclaimed Wendell, surprised to find that Candy had returned and was leaning over his shoulder. "What?"

 

"I said it's amazing how you white boys are so strongly drawn in by a white pussy filled with black man's sperm, isn't it? It's like there's a magnet stuffed up there and your front teeth are made of iron," she said with a smirk.

 

"Oh ... well ... I ... it's just that I've ... I've never seen anything like it!" he said, still exasperated.

 

"I can tell, Wendy, yet you've already got a cute little boner popping up there, don't you?" she giggled.

 

Wendell looked down and found that she was right. He coughed and tugged his suit jacket to cover his lap. He looked around nervously as if he'd just realized his fly was open.

 

"Oh, don't worry, Wendy. It's perfectly natural. You wimpy type white boys just can't help it. The sight and smell of a white pussy pumped to overflowing with hot, gooey black cum is essentially irresistible to you," she explained. "You're no different than any white man here." Wendell looked around the cafe and watched as another 'order' was delivered to another happy customer -- a white customer.

 

"No ... no ... wait. This can't be right. This can't be natural," Wendell whispered in disbelief.

 

"Of course it is, Wendy. No one understands it fully, but there's something about a good solid blackfucking that makes a white woman's pussy draw in wimpy white men like dogs to a bitch in heat." She lowered her voice and slowed down her speech to add emphasis to her words. "Add to that the addictive, musky scent of a black man's cum, and no white man can resist plunging his face into the warm, sticky mixture of pink flesh and spermy white fluid."

 

There was no way Wendell could deny his hardon now. Her descriptions were causing a swelling like he'd never felt before. He thought back to his initial reaction at seeing Lulu spread her legs on the counter. While the shock of it was foremost in his mind at the time, he had to admit now that he definitely felt 'something'. Something about the sight ... and the scent was attractive. Sexually attractive. And he still felt it as his eyes were glued to the sight of the man's head next to him nestled between the slim white thighs. Subconsciously, Wendell's hand reached down to the tent in his pants and gave it a squeeze. Absolutely. There was no doubt about it. It was sexually attractive.

 

Wendell heard an odd metallic scrape, then a whoosh. Next, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his hand. He snapped back to reality with the realization that Candy had just smacked his hand with a spatula retrieved from the counter.

 

Candy leaned in and said in a angry whisper, "Listen, Wendy. I know this is your first time here, but we do have rules. This is a respectable establishment and I will NOT have a bunch of white boys fondling their disgusting little weenies, do you hear me?"

 

"Y-yes, ma'am," replied Wendell instinctively, shaking his stinging hand.

 

"That's better. Now, you're obviously interested in our menu selections. Would you like to try something while you wait for Mr. Roosevelt?" Candy asked, smoothly returning to her sweet demeanor.

 

Wendell looked around the room again. By now, there were four faces buried between the thighs of moaning waitresses. Four white men sucking black sperm from the crotches of young white women. It seemed so wrong. But it seemed so right ... for reasons he couldn't explain. The door to the kitchen swung open again as a tall young brunette staggered out. As it swung closed, Wendell spotted one of the muscular young black men from the street. He could hear the sound of flesh slapping against flesh as he mounted a pretty blonde from the rear. The look of ecstasy on her face was exquisite.

 

He turned to Candy, looked her in the eye and softly said, "Yes. I think I'd like that."

 

 

 

"Wonderful!" squealed Candy. She signaled to the tall brunette. "Trixie, what order have you got?"

 

"A number one ... for Wally down there," the breathless girl replied, clearing the strands of hair from her sweat covered brow.

 

Candy turned and called down the counter, "Wally, I've got a first timer here. Would it be ok if I intercepted your order?"

 

The face that had been looking eager and excited at the prospect of getting Trixie's thighs wrapped around his head suddenly fell. He licked his lips nervously and replied, "Well, um ... actually, I ..."

 

"I'll deliver it myself, Wally. And how about we throw in a free chaser?"

 

Wally brightened visibly. "Oh ... Ok! That would be g-great. Thanks, Candy."

 

Trixie hopped onto the counter and swung around to assume what Wendell now understood to be the standard position. On the shaved patch of skin above her clitoris where the hair would normally grow was a neatly printed script tattoo that read 'Black Cock Only'. Her puffy, cum spattered pussy lips lay just in front of him. He most definitely felt the attraction -- the irresistible attraction -- that Candy referred to and started to lean forward, his mouth watering. Then he heard Candy's voice:

 

"Now as you've heard, Wendy, we require payment in advance. You've seen the prices on the menu, right?"

 

"Y-yes," replied Wendell, reaching for his wallet, but never removing his eyes from Trixie's crotch. He glanced down briefly to pick out a $50 bill from the sheaf of bills inside. As he refolded his wallet, Candy said quietly, "Um ... Wendell. The 'meal charge' is paid in full to the black stud who ... uhh, 'filled' your order. Don't forget to tip Trixie here for delivering it to you in such a nice manner."

 

"Oh ... of course," said Wendell as he fished out a additional $10 bill.

 

Candy cleared her throat and muttered into his ear, "Wendy ... a 100% tip for the waitress is customary."

 

Wendell looked at Candy with a surprised look. "100%? That seems a bit ..."

 

Candy just looked at him and tipped her head to gesture at Trixie's crotch. Wendell looked again at the shiny skin and pink, goo-covered folds of flesh. He put the bills back in his wallet, pulled out a crisp $100 bill, and handed it over to Candy.

 

"I'm paying a black man for the privilege of eating his semen, aren't I?" he asked as his gaze returned to Trixie's spermy snatch. His tone was that of both realization and acceptance of what he was about to do.

 

Candy handed the bill over to Trixie. "I'm glad you understand our system, Wendy. This example will help answer some of the questions you had regarding our pricing structure. I know it seems expensive, but a black man's got the right to be compensated for his sperm .. especially if it's not going to be used for its proper function of actually impregnating a white wom--"

 

Candy stopped talking when she realized that Wendell was no longer listening. His face was buried between Trixie's thighs and the soft squeals coming from her throat told Candy that Wendell's tongue was snaking up inside her reaching for the thick liquid treasure that lay within.

 

* * *

 

Wendell's sheer ecstasy was interrupted by a hand grasping the scruff of his neck and pulling him away from the heaven he'd been enjoying. "Whoa there, Wendy," he recognized Lulu's voice. "Let's not be greedy. Fifteen minutes is the limit. She's got other customers to serve."

 

Wendell's eyes never left the warm flesh before him. It took him a moment to remember where he was and to realize that he was still pulling forward, trying to reach the juncture of the outspread legs before him.

 

"Wow," he uttered involuntarily as he relaxed and sat back.

 

"Amazing, isn't it?" Lulu giggled.

 

"Y-yes," he stammered.

 

"I just love watching a white boy swill down black sperm for the first time. The look on their faces when they realize just how much they need they to swallow that thick semen is just priceless."

 

"I-I just couldn't help m-myself," said Wendell, still staring at the glistening flesh of the now-fully-cleaned pussy in front of him.

 

"You're disappointed that it's all gone, aren't you?"

 

"Yeah," he admitted, surprising himself. He straightened his glasses without bothering to wipe off the glaze of sexual fluids that covered the lenses.

 

"You really went to town, Wendy," Lulu beamed. "Don't tell me you haven't done this before! You made her cum at least three times."

 

"Four," Trixie corrected breathlessly as she jumped off the counter and straightened her uniform skirt.

 

"I ... I've never made any woman cum before," he admitted.

 

"Well, you're GOOD at it, Wendy. You're an excellent cumsucker! Now ... would you like some more?"

 

"Oh, God yes."

 

"Of course you do! I took the liberty of ordering for you, Wendy. One #2, Extra Fresh! It costs a bit more, but it's worth it." A murmur of agreement came from the growing crowd of men who now lined the counter.

 

"O-Ok, sounds good. How do I ... I mean, who--"

 

The 'kitchen' door popped open once again as Candy stumbled out, giggling as she made her way along the passage behind the counter. Even though everyone in the place knew she'd just been seriously fucked, somehow there wasn't a hair out of place -- just a beautiful glow about her.

 

"Oh, yesss," mumbled Wendell as he stared open mouthed at her lithe, tender form. She caught the look and smiled at him, but his expression quickly turned to disappointment as she glided smoothly past him.

 

She chucked him on the chin as she went by. "Sorry, Wendy, but this cuntful is already promised to Wally. You know that, silly! But don't worry ... you order is up next!"

 

Wendell's gape-jawed stare never left her as she smoothly took spun into place on the counter in front of the literally drooling Wally. Every head in the place that wasn't already between a pair of thighs turned to watch as the lucky man slowly lowered his face toward the Y of her legs. His head lolled in a slight circle as he inhaled to savor the heady aroma. A chorus of soft moans was the only break in the silence as Wally's tongue pressed gently against ...

 

The loud smack of a door being kicked open along with a loud shriek caused all the free heads to turn back toward the kitchen. Wendell's eyes widened as he watched a stout, muscular black man walk toward him with an oddly wide stance. The reason for his unusual gait was the fact that he was carrying a petite, young brunette against his chest. Her back was to him and his arms were looped under each knee, pulling her legs open in a lewd spread-eagle formation. Even more amazing was that this young girl's ass was speared onto his huge cock.

 

Wendell gripped his thighs so hard that he heard his knuckles pop. He'd grabbed his thighs earlier to keep himself from touching his aching pecker, but now it was an incredible battle just to keep them still.

 

"Uuungh ... uuh ... unngh," cried the brunette as each step thrust the cock in and out of her stretched hole. Wendell's breath left him when the young man stopped and turned toward him; Wendell realized that this order was for him.

 

"Glad you ... (guuhh) ... found the place, white bread." Wendell didn't need to look at his face in order to realize that this was the black youth who'd given him directions on the street. "You ready for dis, boy?!"

 

"Yes. Oh yes, please," rasped Wendell, never taking his eyes off the juncture of the black cock and the girl's ravaged asshole.

 

The young man grinned, pulled back with his arms to lift the poor girl higher, then began pumping his hips upward with rapid strokes.

 

"Oh-h-hhh ... mmm-y-yy ... G-o-dd-d!" she cried as tears began running down her ecstatic face. "P-p-aaay ... m-m-eee. Ple-eease ... p-aa-y ...." Her hands flopped loosely at the end of her arms, but her fingers grasped at the air.

 

"Wha-?" stammered Wendell, barely able to understand her.

 

"Pay up ... boy!" shouted the black man between the wet whaps of his thighs against the girl's asscheeks. "Pay ... the bitch ... for my cumload!"

 

Wendell quickly did the math for an 'extra fresh' #2, fumbled with his wallet, and yanked out two bills -- a hundred and a fifty. He reached up and slapped them into the girl's hand just as her screaming reached a crescendo and the young man groaned and made his final thrusts into her, obviously flooding her innards with his rich cum. The waitress flopped around like a rag doll, blubbering out an orgasmic chain of unintelligible nonsense.

 

With one final burst of effort, he hoisted her up off his cock and lifted her smoothly into the seat on the counter in front of him. Even though a thin strand of filmy liquid stretched out between the cock and her hole, Wendell could tell by the slight popping sound her ass had held tight as that black monster pulled out. Once seated on the counter, her muscle control obviously began to relax as her hole began to quiver and fall open, revealing the pulsating red flesh coated with white slime.

 

"Eeeeat m-me," he heard her whisper through a sly, closed-eye grin. "Eat that ... b-black cum out of m-my ass, you ... n-n-nasty little white boy," she giggled.

 

As Wendell moved his head into her crotch, he noticed some odd squiggle-shaped tattoos on her inner thighs. He never turned his eyes away from his goal long enough to examine them, but his peripheral vision told him they were ... ears. A tattooed outline of pink, whiteboy ears. And as his face settled into place, he realized they were a perfect fit.

 

* * *

 

Wendell drew the back of his hand across his chin, wiping it clean. Without even thinking, he then licked it clean just as he'd licked every square inch of the brunette's supple thighs, ass, pussy and anything else she let him reach with his tongue. Any portion of her that bore even a thinnest glaze of semen. Especially the warm, silky depths of her butthole where most of the delicious cum was deposited.

 

The brunette was gone, having pried his head from her crotch when his time was done and given the top of it a giggly pat goodbye. He looked down the counter to find Wally's head just now being lifted gently from the lovely Candy's warm nether region. Part of his brain registered complaint that Wally had obviously gotten more than 15 minutes, but then he smugly remembered that he'd gotten to suck out two cumfilled holes in the time when Wally had gotten only one.

 

But ... he did get Candy, after all.

 

Her golden hair fell in silky sheets as her head rolled in a gentle circle. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked down at him with those amazing, sultry blue eyes. "Wallllly ... that was amaaaaazing," she purred. "Why didn't anyone tell me you were getting soooooo good at this?"

 

"I ... I g-guess you just inspire me, Miss Candy," replied Wally with a shucksy-darn grin.

 

"Oh, we know what inspires you, Wally. That gooey, yummy negro sperm, that's what," she teased as she reached forward and ruffled his hair. Wally actually giggled like a schoolboy. "I decided to break the rules and treat you to a double, Wally. Did you notice?"

 

"I sure did, Miss Candy! I noticed there was an awful lot in there. I sure do appreciate it."

 

"Well, you helped me out with the newcomer over there, Wally!" said Candy, waving her hand toward Wendell. "It's the least I can do. Now, are you ready to show him how we serve a 'chaser' here?"

 

"Oh, yes. Yes, I am, Miss Candy. I'm ready."

 

"Is this your first chaser, Wally?"

 

"Yes. Yes it is, but I can do it. I promise not to spill."

 

"Ok, then .... open wide."

 

Wally leaned down to her crotch again and opened his mouth wide about three inches from her pussy. Candy looked over and Wendell, made eye contact, and smiled. Wendell gasped as a golden stream of piss erupted from her freshly cleaned pussy directly into Wally's mouth. Wally slowly closed the gap and eventually sealed his mouth against her flesh. Wendell watched in awe as his adam's apple rose and fell as he swallowed. He swallowed every drop. And true to his word, he didn't spill.

 

Wendell had to look away. His dick was throbbing so hard in his pants that it became seriously painful. But even as he averted his eyes from one erotic scene, they fell upon another. A perky young blonde approached two men one of the booths against the wall, lifted her eyebrows in a questioning look, and raised four fingers. A happy looking young man raised his hand, handed over a few bills, then ... opened his mouth. Wendell exhaled slowly as he watched the girl gently drizzle a thick cumload from her mouth into that of the eager young man. She then grasped his face with both hands and gave him a long, deep, whimpering kiss ... thereby assuring that every drop was transfered into his mouth.

 

The cramping sensation in his crotch made him look in yet another direction only to witness a lovely young lady climb onto a table and squat over the face of the man who had just laid on top of it. She made sure everyone saw the stream of piss start, then lowered herself down to seal against his face. Much to the giggling delight of the waitress, the man's companions at the table jovially counted out the number of swallows that were indicated by the motions of his throat.

 

Wendell closed his eyes to avoid seeing any more. His hands shook from the sheer exertion of *not* touching his dick. His breathing was shallow. He'd never seen or felt anything as erotic as what was going on seemingly everywhere inside the diner.

 

"Don't worry, Wendy. You'll get used to it, soon. This happens to first-timers sometimes, especially when they're natural cumsuckers like you." It was Candy's voice that he suddenly heard, it's reassuring tone instantly making him feel better. A little better, but not much.

 

 

 

"Don't worry, Wendy. You'll get used to it, soon. This happens to first-timers sometimes, especially when they're natural cumsuckers like you." It was Candy's voice that he suddenly heard, it's reassuring tone instantly making him feel better. A little better, but not much.

 

"Wh-what's happening ... why ... why did I ... ?" Wendell coughed out.

 

"Aw, Wendy. It's okay. It's okay. I know you have questions, but you've got to calm down. You enjoyed your lunch, right?"

 

"Why ... it was delicious, but ... what's the ..." Wendell gasped, but then stopped and took a deep breath. "Candy ... why did I eat all that ...? Am ... am I gay?"

 

Candy laughed out loud, "Oh, goodness no, Wendy! What you're feeling is a far baser reaction than anything defined as homosexual or heterosexual -- it's totally instinctual. It's one of the few truly instinctual reactions left in modern white men ... you really can't help it."

 

"In-- ... instinctual?"

 

"Sure. Instinct. That's why you feel the way you do right now. You're fighting the instinctual urge to dive in and lick up every ounce of black semen in the place. But just like a soldier learns to fight his instinct to flee from danger, you'll soon learn to control your reactions."

 

"I ... I don't understand."

 

"I know, Wendy. It'll take some time. I'm sorry to introduce you to your baser instincts with this trial by fire method, but Mr. Roosevelt thought that it was best that you get first hand knowledge as to what it is that makes our business so successful. Plus ... " she leaned in close and ran a hand along his chest, " ... you looked soooo cute slurping down that black sperm with your little polyester accountant pants all tented upward and everything."

 

Wendell ignored both the mention of business and the beautiful woman's touch -- both of which would normally gain his attention easily. He was obviously still caught up in his unexpected desires. "Ok, I'm not gay. Good. But I ... I really wanted that sperm. I mean, God that was good. I still ... I still don't understand."

 

"Don't worry, Wendy. A lot of white men have tried in the past to understand their compulsion to suck down that negro cum. It's not exactly widespread knowledge, but a few select minds have done some serious thinking on the subject. Emmett ... that's his bald head you see over there between Brandy's thighs ... is a college professor. He thinks it's a pheromonal thing. Y'see, since the majority of white men -- especially you little dicked fellas -- never truly satisfy a woman, you've never actually been around a woman who's exuding the aura of true sexual ecstasy. Only a man-sized black cock can truly do that."

 

Wendell twitched slightly at the idea of being called 'little-dicked' ... but realized that he had nothing that could compete with what he'd seen here today.

 

"When a white woman has been properly blackfucked, her body is just bursting with pheromones that draw in you white boys like moths to a porchlight. It's only natural for you to go straight to the source of her pleasure ... the fuckbattered orifice that's been stretched by black cock and filled with black sperm."

 

Wendell's body convulsed slightly and his dick ached anew as it swelled just from the sound of her vivid descriptions.

 

"Emmett also thinks that there's a genetic preference toward semen sucking in you boys. It seems to be passed most strongly along with wiry builds and remarkably small penises. The impulse to swallow black cum exists in nearly all white men, but those with tiny peckers are the most likely to have their women go out seeking a true fucking from a black cock. With me so far?"

 

Wendell nodded, "But wh--"

 

"Let me finish, Wendy. Now, given the innate superiority of black sperm, the only chance a little white guy like you has to actually reproduce is to suck those stronger little wigglers out of his woman's cunt. The fact that the act of doing so excites him immensely also helps; it means that he might actually shoot enough of his own miserable juice to actually stand a chance of impregnating her. Therefore, the best white sperm suckers who are most aroused by the act thus become the only ones to pass on their genes. Thus, the natural desire -- the instinct -- to suck down black cum has been reinforced genetically for millennia." She paused for a moment, then added, "You were born to eat Negro sperm, Wendy."

 

Wendell thought silently for a moment, then nodded in apparent acceptance. "Y-you sure seem to know a lot about this, Candy."

 

"Oh, well I'm working my way through college. I'm getting a Master's degree in Male Sexuality ... with a minor in African Studies. Emmy over there is my faculty adviser. I've learned a lot from listening to his muffled voice coming from between my legs. So, any more questions?"

 

Wendell nodded. "I guess what you say makes sense, but ... but I sure liked that #2. It was ... delicious. Th-that's got nothing to do with human reproductive instincts, does it?"

 

"Well, it could be simply that your instincts aren't all that focused ... and any cum in the general vicinity gets treated the same," Candy explained. Then she leaned in closely again and drew a single finger along Wendell's jawline as she whispered in his ear, "Or it could be that you enjoyed it simply because you're a nasty little white boy who loves sucking and slurping a black man's semen from the well stretched asshole of a young white woman. Just like Wally loved clamping his mouth on me and drinking down my sweet piss." She moved her mouth an inch away from his ear so he could feel her breath as she whispered, "Does that explanation work for you, Wendy?"

 

"Yeah ..." Wendell swallowed hard as his body shuddered again. He turned to look at her and she looked him dead in the eye, waiting for an answer. "... that ... that sounds good to me."

 

"Good! So now you understand!" she chirped. "Now, as I said, the arousal of the white male results in a drastic increase in sperm and seminal fluids ... which is evident in the fact that your bag is leaking." Candy glanced at Wendell's lap.

 

"Bag?" he questioned, looking downward. A small, wet circle in the center of his crotch was obviously what Candy was referring to.

 

"Oh my. You're such a natural cumsucker, Wendy, I keep forgetting that you're a newcomer. Come with me."

 

Candy grabbed Wendell by the hand and yanked him off the bar stool. She headed toward the back of the restaurant and right through the Men's room door without even slowing down. Once inside, she tugged something from a dispenser on the wall, turned and immediately reached for Wendell's belt buckle.

 

"I should have remembered to tell you, Wendy, but leakers like you are required to bag up before dining," Candy calmly explained as she yanked down his pants and boxers. Wendell looked helplessly around the room, but only saw two other patrons standing at the urinals against the far wall. They stiffened noticeably at the sound of Candy's voice, but stared straight ahead, seemingly ignoring what was happening behind them.

 

Some part of Wendell's brain suddenly realized that the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen was now kneeling down in front of him pulling his pants to his ankles. But before he could think to enjoy or even to react to the moment, he felt a sharp snap around the base of his penis.

 

"Owwww!!" he cried in obvious pain.

 

"Oh, sorry Wendy, but it's the only way I can get your bag on there without actually touching that thing."

 

Wendell looked down and saw that she'd fitted a plastic bag with a tight elastic band built into the opening around the base of his dick and balls. With the tight ring around the juncture of his testicles, the end of the bag was just too short for the length of his erect penis. He winced and looked at Candy pleadingly.

 

"Don't look at me like that, Wendy. You're the one who's practically creaming his shorts while sucking down a black man's cum. Now, pull up your pants and we'll get back to your tour." Candy then turned around and spoke loudly to the men against the wall, "Whack off all you want, boys, but remember to lick the urinals clean when you're finished."

 

Seeing the surprised look on Wendell's face as he buckled his belt, she whispered an explanation, "Too much white boy sperm tends to clog the drains, y'know."

 

Candy took his hand again and Wendell placidly followed her back out to the restaurant. As they walked amongst the rows of white men feasting on the cum-filled crotches of the uniformed young girls, Candy took on a business-like tone once again. "Well, I hope you understand a little better how our business works now, Wendy. It's the oldest business strategy around: Find something that people with money want and charge a lot for it. And heaven knows that you tiny-dicked cumsucking white boys sure can't get enough black man's cum, that's for sure."

 

Even in its aroused state, Wendell's mind was able to focus once the topic turned to business. He thought about what he'd seen and asked, "B-but, if the girls keep the tips and the, uhh ... 'meal charge' is given to the young black men, how does this place make any money?"

 

"Good question, Wendy! I can see that Mr. Roosevelt chose you for a reason other than your tiny white weenie. You see, Wendy, Mr. Roosevelt has been independently wealthy for years. He's a silent partner in businesses owned by white men all over the city. He didn't start the cafe in order to make more money; he considers it a way of giving back to his community by employing promising young black men and teaching them how things work in the white man's business world. You see, once a white man has eaten black sperm, he's forever addicted. He'll do anything to get it. That's an obvious winning business opportunity for any enterprising black man."

 

"I ... I'm not sure I understa--"

 

"Wendell, if that muscled young stud over there offered to come into your office and bang your secretary every day, filling her pussy and ass with daily loads of cum for you to eat, yet only asked for 49% of your company in exchange for his services, would you do it?"

 

Wendell stared open mouthed at the stud in question as he pumped his huge cock in out out of the upthrust ass of a young blonde, then turned and answered with complete honesty, "Yes."

 

"You see my point then?"

 

"God yes, I understand completely."

 

As Wendell watched the final thrusts into the girl's ass, he shifted uncomfortably, trying to make his crotch less painful without touching it.

 

"Sorry I had to bag you, Wendy, but we can't have your sickening whiteboy seepage leaking through your pants. It's just unseemly. I can't have that in a family establishment."

 

Wendell looked around the room. The place was now filled to capacity with white men from every walk of life. It might have been the crowd from any suburban neighborhood bar & grill in America. Except the only thing on the menu was black man's sperm and the only thing on tap was white girl's piss.

 

His face took on a puzzled look. "I .. I don't mean to criticize, but ... a moment ago ... did you say family establishment?"

 

"Sure, Wendy. You don't need to sound so surprised. See the little man with his head between Lulu's thighs? The one in the blue sweater vest? Well, that's Walter Middlebury. The one seated next to him with his head between Chelsea's thighs is his son Miles. Miles is headed off to State next year and Wally wanted to get him used to the taste of black sperm. Y'see, even though Miles couldn't hit a basketball with a golf club, his parents expect him to be extremely active in the University athletic program ... if you know what I mean?" She grinned with inquisitive eyebrows.

 

"I ... I think I do."

 

"And seated in that booth over there ... where Jasmine is preparing a #4 Extra Fresh ... are three generations of Dickey men," said Candy as she gestured toward the young lady actively sucking off a completely naked black youth. All three men were mesmerized, but the already-glazed faces of the older men told Wendell that this load was for the youngest of the trio. Wendell's pecker strained anew against the confines of the plastic bag as a pair of large, dark hands grasped the girl's head and filled her mouth while she whimpered with pleasure. When she sat in the young white man's lap and clamped her mouth against his, the two older men smiled their best 'That's my boy' smiles.

 

"See, Wendy? Now that's family bonding, right? And you can tell from the way Jasmine's cum-filled kiss is lingering that's she's a bit sweet on the young Dickey boy there." Candy leaned in closely and said softly, "Don't tell anyone, but I think she's been sneaking him a few 'to go' meals every once in awhile."

 

"That's allowed?" Wendell asked in an oddly hopeful voice.

 

"Well, not officially, but it's one of those 'acceptable losses'. Call it an employee discount of sorts. We tolerate it ... especially if it looks like there might be a future for the young couple."

 

"Future?"

 

"Well, sure! Can you think of a better way for a young lady to pick out a decent little white cumsucker to keep her clean and happy? Who knows, Wendell ... maybe one of the girls will decide you're the spermlapper of her dreams and bring you a little snack after work sometime."

 

"Oh, that would be wonde--"

 

"Oh! I've got one more thing to show you!" said Candy excitedly. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him toward the bathroom door. Wendell groaned slightly, hoping this wouldn't lead to something even more restrictive than the bag already bound tightly around his aching genitals.

 

"That's good enough, boys," Candy shouted to the two kneeling white men who were licking the white porcelain inside the urinals. "Out. Out! I've got business to attend to." The men jumped up and scurried out the door.

 

Once they were gone, Candy tugged at the chain around her neck and fished a key out from between her ample breasts. She put it in the hefty-looking lock of the plain brown door marked 'Utility Closet' that sat against the back wall of the restroom. The door opened with a creak. "Hurry, Wendy, before anyone sees!" She pushed him through the door into the darkness. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim surroundings.

 

"If you had any doubt we were family oriented, wait till you see this!" said Candy as she quickly shut the door again.

 

"Hi, Candy. What's up? My time's not up already is it?" asked a female voice.

 

Having been shoved into the room, the source of the voice was now behind Wendell, but he didn't turn to look at her. He was too mesmerized by the scene in front of him.

 

"No no, you're good for the whole afternoon," said Candy calmly. "I'm just showing the new accountant around."

 

"Oh, so this is Mr. Nubbin! Mr. Roosevelt mentioned that you two might be stopping by. How nice to meet you."

 

Wendell didn't move.

 

Candy started to giggle. "Don't forget, Fiona, he's new, so you'll have to pardon his rudeness." She nudged Wendell in the side with her elbow.

 

"Huh?" grunted Wendell. "Oh, I'm sorry. Nice to meet you to. It's just that ..." Wendell's eyes were still locked forward.

 

"Don't worry, Wendy. Anyway, this is tonight's clean up manager Fiona Fulmouth ... and the boys with the black cocks in their mouths are her twin sons, Neville and Nigel."

 

The scene that had so strongly caught his attention was a row of softball sized holes in the wall ahead of him. Through two of the holes were thrust a pair of large, half-limp black dicks. And kneeling below each dick was a young man suckling and licking along its length.

 

"After filling an order," Candy explained, "our chefs place their ... 'utensils' in the care of our clean up crew. Each black cock is carefully lapped clean of all residual semen and female juices. The chefs balls are licked and stroked to promote further semen production. Once stiffness begins to return -- which often takes only minutes -- the cock is returned to service in the kitchen. Understand, Wendy?"

 

"Huh? Oh, yes ... I think so," Wendell mumbled, not quite listening

 

"Oh, I know it sounds complicated, but you'd be surprised how quickly young white men pick up on it. We constantly bring in new white boys for family training and they almost always just seem to know exactly what to do."

 

Part of that actually caught Wendell's attention. "Family t-training?"

 

"Of course. You see, Wendy, in the interest of supporting strong family relationships, Mr. Roosevelt rents out this space for the city's mothers and their sons. Make sense?"

 

"N-not reall--"

 

"It's simple, Wendell. Obviously, it's every mother's duty to get her sons ready for married life. And we all know that cleaning sperm and white woman's juices off of a black cock are things that every good husband needs to learn to do well. Another few weeks of this and the boys will be all ready for their respective weddings. And just in time, too. Right, Fiona?"

 

"Right. Nev's wedding is next week," Fiona replied cheerily.

 

Candy touched Wendell on the shoulder. "There's quite a waiting list for this spot, of course."

 

"Of course," he replied absent-mindedly.

 

"It's a shame, really," Candy continued. "So many white boys are totally unprepared when the half dozen or so black men their new wives invite to the honeymoon suite arrive. Sure, they catch on just as soon as they're presented with their first blackfucked pussy -- just like you did. But a lot of unnecessary kicking & screaming can be avoided by proper training by caring mothers like Fiona here. The ability to properly clean pussy and ass juices off a thick black cock will make the wedding night more enjoyable for everyone. Plus, these boys are now so good at sucking a black man hard again that they're basically ensured 3 or 4 loads from each cock. And more cum means more fun for everyone, don't you agree?"

 

"Oh hell yeah," mumbled Wendell. "But ... " he turned to the two ladies for the first time with a look of consternation, " ... I didn't see this on the menu."

 

Fiona snickered, "They always want to head straight for the dick, don't they?"

 

Candy rolled her eyes. "Wendy, weren't you listening at all? This is a specially reserved dining area. We couldn't put this on the menu. The line would be around the block!"

 

 

 

Wendell shook off the spaced out look on his face as Candy's previous descriptions sunk in. "Right. Ok ... that explains the locks."

 

"HEY!" came a cry from Fiona. "Nigel, I told you, no pumping!" The young man quickly removed his hand from the cock it had been stroking rapidly. Fiona turned to the two of them. "Excuse me, I've got to keep watch on the boys. You know how they are: Give them an inch ... and they'll try to suck off ten!" She grinned at her own joke. "Now if you'll excuse me," she said as she turned away. "Nigel, so help me, if you milk a single cumload today, you'll be grounded so long ..... "

 

"That's exactly why we keep the black dick under lock and key," Candy explained. "With all the cumhungry white boys out there, we've got to keep them away from direct access to black cocks. While I'm a firm believer in the idea that every drop of African semen should end up in the belly of a white man, it's our policy that a fine establishment like ours should offer cum that's properly served in the pussy, ass, or mouth of a pretty young white girl. It's a lot more fun for everyone, in my opinion ... plus it keeps the queers away."

 

Wendell twitched slightly at the mention of the word 'queer' ... especially since he had the biggest hardon of his life watching two young men suck black dick.

 

"And that's a firm rule here, Wendy. No faggots allowed. Only heterosexual cumsuckers. There will be no faggot action in the men's room. You white boys whacking off into the toilets is expected, but don't let us catch you sucking each other off, Wendy. That's the surest way to get 86'd for good."

 

Wendell looked shocked. "What?! Me??! No way! I ... I'd never do that!"

 

Candy's face scrunched up. "Yeah. I feel exactly the same way, Wendy. Wimpy white pricklets are just ... gross. I wouldn't suck one either. But since you've expressed an obvious interest in chowing down on the good, dark stuff, you should know that black cock IS on the dinner menu."

 

Wendell's face brightened, then changed to a confused expression. "Wait .. I thought you were only open for lunch."

 

"Oh, true. The cafe itself is open only for lunch because the chefs are busy in the evenings ... with deliveries. See, it's every white wife's responsibility to have dinner waiting for her husband when he gets home. We have very affordable rates for everything from a simple snack to a full 6, 7 or even 10 course meal. And, of course, all our dinner selections come with full cockcleaning privileges for the husband. It's a wonderful service for married white couples."

 

"But ... I'm not married," said Wendell, sounding truly disappointed.

 

"Well, Nubby, there are many advantages to married life for a white man ... and the chance to suck a combination of white woman's juices and black man's spent cum off of a long thick black cock is one of them."

 

Wendell simply nodded and turned back to watch the Fulmouth boys. Fiona was breaking up a squabble over the next cock to appear for cleaning. Fiona awarded it to Neville, apparently because of Nigel's previous bad behavior. His jealousy was very apparent by the look on his face.

 

The two of them stood in silence for a few minutes ... watching. Whenever one of the young white mouths leapt on a fresh, glistening black cock, Candy let out a slight whimper and Wendell let out a slight groan. Finally, he turned to Candy with a look of discomfort, "Could we maybe leave now? I ... I don't know how much more of this I can take."

 

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Wendy. I realize that you're probably miserable in that bag. We made them to properly fit the 3" fellas. At 3-3/4", your lil pecker is probably pretty cramped, huh?"

 

"Y-yes. It is." Wendell pondered for a moment, then asked, "Candy, how do you know exactly how long my penis is?"

 

"Oh, Wendy ... first of all, 3-3/4" is how 'short' your dickie is ... not how 'long' it is. And second, did you think Mr. Roosevelt found you at random? Nurses all over the city know they can win a 10 course meal for their husbands as a finder's fee by reporting exceptionally small white peckers. You really didn't think that the measurements taken last year at your doctor's were really 'for your file', did you?" Candy giggled.

 

Wendell said nothing, but silently questioned the validity of the 15 minute 'prostate check' he received at the same time.

 

"As with any product, you've got to find the customers who are most willing to pay for it. Strong market research is key to any successful busi-- ... ooooooh ... that's hot ... "

 

Candy's attention was diverted momentarily as Nigel crawled up to a massive, shiny, limp, black dick and gobbled its entire length into his mouth and throat. Wendell felt his dick swell further against the restrictive plastic bag. He groaned as he reached a full 4" for the first time in his life.

 

"I'm just lucky to be able to work here," Candy moaned. "Most women have to get married in order to see such a beautiful sight." She sighed and actually laid her head on Wendell's shoulder, "See, Wendy, there are those purists that believe that only legally married white wives' cunts and husbands' mouths should be permitted the honor of being flooded with negro sperm. But Mr. Roosevelt has a more liberal view. He started the cafe to give every white male -- even unmarried ones -- the chance to perform his natural function of swallowing black cum. Those purists accuse him of being in it just for the money, but he believes strongly in the sanctity of a white marriage ... and that black sperm should be an integral part of daily married life for white couples. Can you see that, Wendy?"

 

"Uhh, sure. I gue--"

 

"Sure, we do an active business up front, but we believe that the pleasure of cleaning cum & pussy off a black cock is rightfully a married man's role. But too many white couples are completely missing out! That's exactly the purpose for these training sessions!" Candy became more animated. She obviously had some strong beliefs about this topic. "Once fully trained by their mother, these boys will be eager to find a lovely white girl and introduce her to the pleasures of black cock. It's our way of spreading the word! And white girls' legs! And white boys' lips! Understand?!"

 

"Yes, I se--"

 

"And THAT's why we keep the cock locked up, Wendy!" she chocked him on the shoulder for emphasis. "By giving 'em just a little taste of the dark side, we're showing them just how to find years of wedded, cumsucking bliss! Limiting access encourages them to develop the kind of relationships that will lead to future happiness for all involved. That makes sense, right?"

 

"Exact--"

 

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Wendy? Makes you want to run out and get married to some black cock loving little slut, doesn't it?" asked Candy. She smiled, finally giving him a real chance to speak.

 

He turned and looked at her with a longing like he'd never felt. "Yes," said Wendell softly. "Yes, it does." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

 

If she heard the unspoken message in his voice, Candy didn't show it. She appeared lost again in the sight of the cleanup chores being performed before her. "Ok, yes ... ok," gasped Candy as she recovered. "We can move on. Sorry, Wendy, but like most white women, I just get mesmerized at the sight of black cock stretching the lips of a white man's mouth. It's just so ... hoo! Let's get out of here before we both cream ourselves."

 

As they turned to leave, Candy nudged Wendell and pointed at Fiona with a grin. She was seated in a chair with her legs flung up over each arm. Her hands worked furiously between her widespread legs.

 

"I guess she couldn't hold out any longer," whispered Candy with a wide smile. Wendell doubted that anyone in the room noticed as they closed and relocked the door.

 

"Oh gawd, Wendy!" exclaimed Candy as they passed back out into the diner. "Speaking of holding out, I'm being so cruel showing you all of this. Your bag must be completely slimy on the inside by now from your dribbling dick. I'm sure your body is simply demanding some more black semen down your gullet right now, right?"

 

"Yes," he admitted freely.

 

"Well, I like you, Wendy, so let's see if we can intercept you another order," she whispered. "Let me take a look back here in the ... " She propped the door open with one hand. "Oh, hey! Wendy, come look at this!"

 

He certainly didn't have to be told twice. The sounds and smells of the kitchen were intoxicating. He moved up and looked in over her shoulder.

 

"That's my baby sister, Tammy. That's her with that fat 10-incher ramming her tiny ass -- wow, that girl can take it! She's earning a little extra cash before she heads off to college this fa--" Candy's eyes widened and her voice dropped to a whisper, " ... well, damn that girl! Her cunt is already sopped with cum and I don't think there's a #3 on order right now."

 

Candy looked at the rotating spindle and checked the paper slips containing the current orders. She put her hand to her chin thoughtfully and leaned in close to Wendell.

 

"Wendell, I'm hoping you can help me out here. The #3 is our most expensive dish and Tammy can get in big trouble for cooking one up that's not on order. Can I talk you into ordering a nice double shot of negro love? I'll even see if I can get Tammy to throw in a free chaser, ok?"

 

Mesmerized by the sight of Tammy's ass being stretched to nearly impossibly proportions, Wendell simply stammered, "Why y-yes ... that's very k-kind of you."

 

He didn't blink until Candy finally dragged him away and pushed him toward a seat at the counter. The lunch rush was still in full swing, so Wendell slid between two other eagerly licking patrons and tried not to concentrate on the combined sounds of soft moans and hungry slurps. He stared straight ahead and clamped his hands on his thighs again while Candy disappeared to the back room to check on his order.

 

After a moment, Candy returned and leaned in from the other side of the counter. "I really appreciate you helping me out here, Wendy." She smiled a sly smile, "I almost hate to take advantage of you. The way your body must be screaming for a taste of semen, I could probably sell you anything right now. But it's a win-win situation, right?"

 

"Yes. Yes, I'm glad to help," said Wendell as he fumbled with his wallet in preparation for Tammy's arrival. He shifted uncomfortably as the tugging on his back pocket tightened his pants in the front.

 

"I know you're miserable right now, Wendy, with your dickie straining so hard in your pants. In the past, you might have been tempted to go whack off, but you'll soon learn that the presence of black semen in your mouth will ease that desperate feeling in your crotch much more completely than a mere orgasm would. Following those primal whiteboy instincts is infinitely more satisfying. Think about how you're feeling right now; you want a load of manjuice from the thick cocks you saw much more than a trip to the jackoff stall in the men's room, right?"

 

"Absolutely," he admitted while shuffling through his remaining cash.

 

"See? It's simple biology. Your body knows what it needs and rewards you with pleasure when you provide it. Therefore, the longer it's been since your last orgasm, the stronger the pleasure from cumeating is in order to overcome that silly desire to spurt your own juice. That's what's so fantastic about this -- intense pleasure for everyone involved without having to worry about a drop of that icky white boy slime soiling the tender body of a white girl.

 

Wendell wasn't listening; he was panicking. "Candy, I only have $193," he gasped.

 

"Oh, don't worry about that, Wendy. We've got sort of a 'table stakes' policy. You've got to at least come close, but none of our girls will turn down your last dollar in exchange for a load of cum."

 

"Thank goodne--"

 

He was interrupted by the giggling entrance of Tammy. She deleriously stumbled along behind the counter and nearly collapsed, leaning against Candy for support. "God, I love my job!" she exclaimed.

 

Candy giggled. "Well, you're about to love it even more, I think. Wendy here is new at this, but I can tell he's going to vacuum you out like no one ever has. Trixie swears he licked her cervix!" said Candy as she helped her sister into position.

 

As Tammy's leg swung over his head, Wendell quickly pressed the last of his cash into her hand and moved his attention to the swollen flesh of her crotch. As she leaned back far to permit better access to her well-fucked ass, Wendell noticed a tiny straight line that ran horizontally across the bridge between her pussy and asshole. Leaning in closer, he saw that it was a neatly lettered (almost typewritten) tattoo: 'If you can read this, eat me, white boy.'

 

Wendell smiled and whispered to himself, "Gladly."

 

As he first felt the warmth of the semen against his tongue, Wendell felt a zing of pleasure shoot from his mouth to his crotch ... then spread throughout his body. It was a wonderful, all enveloping feeling. It wasn't orgasmic, really. It was ... better.

 

"Can you feel it, Wendy? Can you feel the special pleasure of eating black sperm? It's better than an orgasm, isn't it?" Candy's voice asked softly in his ear.

 

"Mmm mmmph"

 

"See? Now that you're all primed up and in need of a good cum, that joy of cumsucking can really take hold. The longer you hold out, the better this will feel, so as you lay in bed tonight fantasizing about black cocks and cum, try to avoid squirting yourself, ok? That way, when you come back tomorrow with a big ol' fresh supply of money, you'll be able to experience even greater pleasure. Will you do that, Wendy? Will you do that for me?"

 

"Yephmph!" cried Wendell's muffled, ecstatic voice. There was no question he'd be back for more of this. In that instant, this was everything he'd ever wanted. This was right. This was beautiful. This was destiny.

 

* * *

 

Wendell sat on the barstool facing outward into the rest of the cafe. He was leaning back against the counter, his elbows supporting him. He looked relaxed. He felt relaxed, in fact. On his face was a wide satified grin ... along with a thin glaze of drying sexual juices. His dick was still throbbing painfully in his pants, but he didn't care. Or more correctly, he didn't mind.

 

Everything Candy had said was true. He felt a sense of sexual satisfaction like he'd never felt before in his life even though he hadn't cum. Jerking off never felt this good. By god, none of the few, fumbling experiences he'd had with a woman had felt this good. He'd come here today to gain a better understanding of ...

 

As if on cue, Candy appeared next to him. "Well, don't you look like the cat who ate the canary?"

 

"Oh no, my dear. I'm not a pussy who's eaten something ... I look this way because I've been eatin' pussy!" he said with a suave grin. It would occur to him later that it was the most 'suave' thing he'd ever said to a woman.

 

Candy giggled appropriately. "Oh gawd, Wendy! You're too much!" She laid a hand on his arm as she laughed. Wendell looked at his arm where she'd touch him. He liked the way she touched him.

 

She moved around in front of him, swung her leg over his and sat down straddling his thighs. She wasn't sitting on his dick, per se, but her weight tugged his pants in such a way that the fabric pressed down agonizingly on his rock hard pecker. He ... liked it.

 

She leaned in inches from his face. "Y'know, you're kinda cute when you smile in that just-sucked-down-four-loads-of-black-sperm way. I may just have to find a way to ..." she placed a finger on his lips and drew it downward over his chin, " ... wipe ... that smile off your face."

 

"I ... I'd l-like that," said Wendell, returning to his usual stammer.

 

"You'd better!" chirped Candy. "You made me lose a bet, you natural-born-cumsucker you!"

 

"A bet?" Wendell asked, ignoring his new title.

 

"Well," she said with a sigh, "I didn't believe Mr. Roosevelt when he said you'd take a chaser without spilling a drop on your first day. No one's ever done that before, but I should have just assumed that Mr. R knows a talented white throat when he sees one."

 

"Oh", said Wendell, feeling an odd sense of pride. "What did you bet?"

 

"Oh, the usual -- my ass," giggled Candy. "See, Wendy, Mr R is so big that none of the girls can take him there. None except me, that is. When he reams me, I cum so hard that I become a blubbering fuck slut, but that monster stretches me something fierce, so ... can I count on you to be around for a week of #2's, Wendy? Will you use that lovely tongue of yours to soothe my black-ravaged asshole?"

 

Wendell swallowed hard, but before he could answer, the man on the stool next to him suddenly jerked and twitched spasmodically. The man's hips pumped the air twice before his openmouthed glazed stare cleared into a frown. "Dammit!" he muttered.

 

"Shot your wad early again, eh Cecil?" Candy asked in a concerned voice.

 

"Yes!" he replied with frustration. "It's my own fault, though. I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Damn, Candy, I ... you sure are ... damn, I'll come back tomorrow."

 

Candy giggled and whispered into Wendell's ear, "Poor Cecil. I like him, but he'll never feel the full joy of eating black sperm unless he learns to control that hair trigger of his. And I will say, Wendy" she said as she lightly patted his lap, "you're doing very well in that department. Your self control is admirable for a first timer."

 

Wendell grinned, actually enjoying the added discomfort of her tapping on the head of his already distended penis. His new confident attitude returned, "Well, it's like you said, babe. I'm a natural. I guess I'm just one of the best, undiscovered until now."

 

"Well! Aren't we cocky?! In once sense of the word, anyway. Well, we'll see how long you can keep your pecker from popping when I tell you the news." She stood up and pulled Wendell to his feet. She raised her voice just enough for those around them to here, "Mr Roosevelt has offered to let you try something from the dessert menu."

 

The screech of a chair leg against the floor precipitated the least expected sound of all -- silence. The entire room fell quiet as all eyes turned to Wendell. He could feel a new emotion waft through the room -- and that emotion was jealousy.

 

"Lucky bastard." "No way??!" "Fucker!" "Already?!?" "Holy shit!"

 

The whispered expletives came from all directions. Wendell knew all attention was suddenly on him, but ... he didn't know why.

 

"Dessert m-menu?!" he asked nervously.

 

"Yes! Isn't that great! On your first day!" Candy squealed and tossed her arms around his neck in a congratulatory hug.

 

Wendell looked over her shoulder. He made eye contact with Trixie who apparently understood his confused look. She raised her hand to her mouth and curled her fingers and thumb into an 'O'. She then pumped the resulting cylinder back and forth a few times while bulging out her cheek with her tongue.

 

Wendell's body convulsed once as he suddenly understood. He almost came in his pants.

 

Almost.

 

  • * *

 

Wendell stared unabashedly at the towering piece of meat that stood straight up from the lap of Mr. Roosevelt's large, athletic body. He'd never before met the man in person, but now ... he still really didn't know what he looked like. From his kneeling position between the man's powerful thighs, Wendell found it was impossible to take his eyes off the gorgeous black pole before him.

 

"It's huge. It's ... beautiful." He trembled as he spoke.

 

"It sure is, huh Wendy? I can tell you're getting better at acknowledging your white boy urges. I didn't have to explain anything to you, did I? You knew exactly where you belonged," Candy beamed while stroking Wendell's hair.

 

Mr. Roosevelt hadn't yet spoken a word. Wendell hadn't yet looked him in the eye. It was as if he wasn't really human, but simply an altar of black cock at which Wendell felt compelled to worship. And the beautiful girl kneeling next to him was the high priestess.

 

She'd led him from the cafe up the back stairs to Mr. Roosevelt's office. It was an old-school mahogany palace from a time gone by. It was upstairs from the cafe and gymnasium in what once would have considered a walk-up. It must have belonged to some old tycoon back when this neighborhood was a nice place to live. Back when it was a white neighborhood, Wendell noted.

 

When they entered the office, Mr. Roosevelt was seated in a deep-buttoned leather chair. He wore a jacket and tie, but ... he was naked from the waist down. The gorgeous black rod jutted magnificently upward, already erect. Already waiting. There was a small pillow laid on the floor between his legs.

 

Wendell hadn't asked questions. He hadn't hesitated. He had simply crossed the room and dropped to his knees. It was only as he leaned forward to take the beast into his mouth that Candy knelt beside him and put her hand on his chest to hold him back.

 

"I know you're having difficulty resisting, Wendy, but you'll have to wait just a second. Since you've shown such interest in the whys and wherefores, I thought I should explain some things to you. Now, if you thought the impulse to suck that cum out of a pussy was strong, you're now discovering just how powerful instinct can really be. As a scrawny white guy, the urge to suck black cock -- to completely eliminate competition from black sperm by getting it in your belly and 'off the market' -- is of truly remarkable strength. Pumping and sucking on that huge black cock and swallowing the entire load was the best way your ancestors could think of to keep those powerful little egg-piercing wigglers away from their females' fertile tummies. With me so far?"

 

"Yes, of course."

 

"Those that truly enjoyed and excelled at black cocksucking were able to remove more competing sperm from the general pool and thus pass on more of their wimpy white genes. Through simple natural selection, those who found themselves motivated by actual sexual pleasure from getting throatfucked by blacks became concentrated in the white gene pool. Over time, this lead to the irresistible inclination of today's white males to slob on black knob as often as possible. Since you obviously hail from a background filled with tinydicked white boys, I'm certain your body will reward you with immense pleasure as soon as you wrap your mouth around any African cockhead. It's almost as if you boys have grown a clitoris in the back of your throats that's made just for black dicks. Do you understand, Wendy?"

 

"Absolutely," said Wendell quietly. He felt the impulse just as strongly as Candy described and began to lean forward.

 

Candy applied more pressure to his chest to hold him back. "Ah ah ahhhh, sweetie. Not quite yet. I told you before -- Mr. Roosevelt believes strongly that sucking black dick is a privilege generally reserved for married white males who willingly surrender their wives to negro cock."

 

Wendell sagged visibly and almost whimpered with disappointment, "But ... I'm not ... but you said ... but please ... I thought ... didn't you say something about dessert."

 

"Oh, don't worry, Wendy. Calm down," she soothed, squeezing his hand. "Mr. R is occasionally willing to make exceptions under the right conditions. First off, since your mother apparently neglected to give you any proper 'marriage training' when you came of age, Mr. R feels it's his duty to allow you at least a few lessons at very reasonable prices."

 

"Oh, that would be wonderful," said Wendell with obvious relief, but then turned to Candy with wide eyes, "but ... I'm all out of money!"

 

"Not to worry, Wendy!" Candy smiled reassuringly. "Since you'll no longer be charging for your accounting services, this first one's on the house!"

 

Wendell sighed with relief, "Oh, yes, of course. That will work wonderfully." He began to press forward again.

 

"Hold on there, Tiny!" Candy giggled. "Before Mr. Roosevelt allows you to get your mouth around his cock, he does have a favor to ask."

 

"What ... yes ... anything," Wendell mumbled, still drawn toward the jutting rod of chocolate flesh.

 

Candy grabbed his chin and manually turned head to look at her, "Wendy! This is a business matter. I need you to listen."

 

With his eyes forcibly removed from his goal, Wendell blinked twice and finally focused his attention on Candy. "I'm sorry. Yes. What can I do?"

 

"Well, Wendy ... Mr. Roosevelt has a wide portfolio of investments that has come under scrutiny by the local IRS office. We decided that it would be wise to have a few of the local auditors as part of our client base. Unfortunately, our research has told us that nearly ALL IRS employees are tiny-dicked little bastards, so we weren't sure which ones to pick. Therefore, but we were hoping you -- being an accountant in this city for a long time -- would have some extra insight as to who would be most ... understanding."

 

Wendell looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "Yeah ... ok ... yes, I think I know of a few with the proper ... tastes." He smiled at his own joke.

 

Candy squeezed his face, causing his lips to purse outward. "Oh, you are so CUTE sometimes, Wendy! But that's wonderful! Perhaps you can 'do lunch' with a different old friend each week, how about that? For each suck-cessful 'contact' you make within the IRS, we'll throw in the right to purchase anything you like off the dessert menu, ok?"

 

Wendell's eyes flashed over her shoulder to the neatly printed note card on the wall of Mr. Roosevelt's office. There was no mystery or subtlety about this one:

 

Dessert Menu

 

A) Sucking Black Cock ........ $200 B) To Completion ............. $300 C) Double Load ............... $500

 

Tipping Not Required.

 

"I .. I think that's an equitable exchange," said Wendell quite professionally. She released him and he turned back to Mr. Roosevelt's lap. He felt his salivary glands react as he opened his mouth and leaned forward.

 

"One more thing, Wendy," said Candy, grabbing him by the hair on the back of his head.

 

Wendell groaned in frustration.

 

"Oh, stop! I was simply going to point something out to you, silly." Holding his head back mere inches from the cockhead, she grasped the shaft down low and stroked upward. A droplet of clear pre-cum formed at the tip of his cock. Wendell gasped slightly at the sight.

 

"Exactly, Wendy. You see, the pleasure reaction you felt earlier when that black sperm hit your mouth was all about action and fury. Mother nature has designed it to put you into a cumsucking frenzy to give you a better chance of getting all those babymakers out a fertile white cunt. But with cocksucking, you'll find that the presence of the clear pre-cum in your mouth is just as pleasurable, but ... different. It will be more soothing and calming. White boys like you find it quite enjoyable. Now, go ahead. Try it."

 

Wendell leaned in, but then hesitated. "Really?"

 

"Of course, Wendy! Suck that black cock, if you want to!" she chirped.

 

Wendell's mouth opened wide and he involuntarily dove his head quickly down upon the massive, apple-sized cockhead. He heard Candy giggle a bit at the distinctive 'Glommph!' noise that came from his mouth and throat.

 

And then he felt it. As that single, salty droplet touched his tongue, he could swear heard a sizzle. It felt like it was absorbed directly into his blood stream. Instead of the 'zing' that had come from black sperm, this was more like a general warmth that radiated outward from his mouth to encompass his whole body. It was ... like a feeling of joy. Of peace. Of belonging.

 

"Do you feel it, Wendy?"

 

"Mmmmph!" was all he could reply, unwilling to remove his mouth from the cock. Ever.

 

"Goooood. That's a good boy," she purred as she stroked his hair. "You'll find that this feeling will encourage you to suck black cock for long periods, Wendy. Since cocksucking stimulates sperm production in the black male, this makes perfect sense. The longer you suck, stroke, and fondle, the more sperm that ends up down your gullet and as far from a white girl's eggs as possible."

 

Yes, thought Wendell, I could do this for hours.

 

"Of course, these good feelings are strongest when your peach-fuzzy balls are swollen and filled with your own weak white sperm. It makes sense in a Darwinian way -- your desire to eliminate competing sperm is strongest when you low-sperm-count boys might have a prayer of actually mating successfully. So always try to go as long as possible without blowing your little load before you come in for a cocksucking appointment, ok?"

 

"Mmmm hmmmmmmm," Wendell hummed in happy agreement. It had been several days since he'd masturbated. If it felt this good now, he could only imagine how good it would feel after holding off for a few weeks. Or months.

 

"Oh, Wendy. I knew you'd understand! You are such a natural negro cumgobbler. Boy, it sure is a shame that you've been denied this kind of pleasure up till now, huh?"

 

For one brief instant, Wendell hated his mother. He hated her for not giving him the chance to learn this kind of joy at a younger age -- like those boys downstairs. He pulled his mouth off the apple-sized cockhead and stroked the shaft upward like Candy had done. As before, a clear, swirled droplet appeared at the tip.

 

"Yes," he said. "Damn shame." Then he opened wide and took the black monster as far into his mouth as possible ... for a first timer.

 

"Oh, I'm so glad you see it that way, Wendy, because you're uniquely qualified to help Mr. Roosevelt with his plans to further expand his company's services. You see, Wendy, society today is set up in such a way that most white men either deny these beautiful impulses or simply never put themselves in a situation in which they can discover them. Sucking black cum is one of the best things about being a white boy and most of these poor bastards are missing out! Look at you, for instance -- you're a natural born semen sucker and you didn't have a clue until today, right?"

 

"Mmmmm," he agreed.

 

"And you have to admit that this has been one of the best experiences of your poor, tiny-dicked white existence, right?"

 

"Mmmm hmmmm!"

 

"Well, don't you want to help introduce more of your white friends to something so undeniably enjoyable? Don't you wish someone had done the same for you long before now?"

 

"Mmmmm .... mmmph mmm."

 

"Of course you do! So here's how you can help. Obviously, lunch at the cafe is the best way to introduce a new recruit, but ... there's a problem. We've found that it's the wealthiest of white boys that have the smallest peckers and most desperately need our services. Yet it's rather difficult to get many of them over to this side of town ... especially the richest ones. You understand, right?"

 

"Yephmph."

 

She patted his head. "Well, as one of the most successful CPA's in town, you work with some of the richest white business owners around, don't you? If you -- the respected Wendell Nebbin -- were to invite them over to take a look at a small investment worth a few moments of their time, they'd surely come with you, right?"

 

"Mmm hmmmm," he agreed.

 

"And Mr. Roosevelt has a distinct preference for the hot trophy wives of all those rich country club golfers. He rarely serves dinner specials himself, except for the richest white throats since they're the only ones who can afford his services. So, for any contacts that result in favorable business, you will earn the right to purchase more desserts. Maybe even a discount. If you play your cards right, you'll be sucking more black dick than any un-married male in town."

 

Wendell whimpered at the prospect. Almost involuntarily, he increased the rhythm of his cocksucking.

 

"Damn, Wendy ... I can't believe ... how quickly you've ... come along."

 

Her voice had softened a bit. She was leaning in next to him as he sucked. Wendell could feel her breath on his cheeks.

 

"I ... I just ..." She suddenly sounded nervous. "... I have to say, though, Wendy ... a white man with your obvious skills really should ... get married."

 

"Mmmhph?"

 

"I mean, someday, y'know? To a pretty little white slut? One who really understands what you need, right?"

 

"Mmmphmph!"

 

"Oh, Wendy, I think I might have a bit of a ... crush on you. Once your business relationship with Mr. Roosevelt is done, I ... might even have to break my no-more-than-three-inches rule and go out on a date with you sometime."

 

"Mmm hmmmph!" Wendell agreed. The thought of Candy even going on a date with him thrilled Wendell completely, but ... being married to her? The very idea of it caused him to begin pumping and slobbering and slurping like a madman.

 

"Oooh, that's it, Wendy," she cooed. "You're ... you're really turning me on. Show Mr. Roosevelt what you can do. Show him that you're a good little white boy cocksucker. Show him that you'll bring him lots and lots of rich white customers in exchange for lots and lots of rich white cum. Show *me*. Show me, baby. Show me what kind of white husband you could be!"

 

Wendell liked the sound of that. He stroked & sucked for all he was worth. Mr. Roosevelt must have liked the sound of that too, because Wendell soon felt the first blast of hot liquid against the roof of his mouth. He kept pumping the thick shaft as his mouth filled with the salty flavor that was now becoming very familiar. Familiar and welcome.

 

He heard moaning sounds and realized that they were coming from his own throat. Softer moans were also coming from Candy and he realized that she was fingering herself frantically and cumming hard as he swallowed. And swallowed. As their combined moans died down, he could then hear the deeper breathing of a large black man who'd just been sucked off. He knew he could cum himself in his pants, but shifted in such a way as to avoid it; he wanted to savor this feeling.

 

Candy's softly panting voice asked an undirected question, "Did you like that?"

 

As Wendell knelt with the softening cock in his mouth, he heard a single word. The only word Mr. Roosevelt had uttered since Wendell entered:

 

"Naturally."

 

The End

  
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