Annette Schwartz

I marched my useless boyfriend down the street like a dog on a leash. Let every stranger watch. Let them see what white boys have become. I scanned the sidewalks for real men—thick, black, hungry—and two followed me home without a word. Inside, the collar came off and the cocks came out. I dropped to my knees, spit-slick hands stroking long black shafts until my chin was dripping. My cuck sat in the corner, tiny dick shriveled, while those heavy balls slapped against it every time I swallowed one to the root. Two loads later I climbed onto the couch and gave both holes at once. One stretched my cunt; the other hammered my ass until I was screaming into the cushions. They switched, double-stuffed me again, and kept going until cum leaked down my thighs in long, shiny trails. When the last black cock finished painting my face, I shoved my boyfriend’s tongue where the mess ran hottest—pussy, ass, cheeks. He licked it all clean, still soft, still white, still useless.