Black & White

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Young woman pounced on at a railway station.
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Ashson
Ashson
8,497 Followers

It had been one of those days where everything seemed to go wrong. Nothing major. A major catastrophe would have been welcome as we could show we were working to recover things. No, we just had a series of pinpricks, none of them serious by them-self but the combined mishaps added up to delays and a giant pain in the neck.

The result was that I had to work back, debugging a program at the last moment. My boss had promised it would be ready first thing in the morning and it was suddenly my responsibility to make good on his stupid promise.

I did it, mind you. I even had time to take a break for dinner before finishing off. It was getting late now and it would be dark soon. Normally, if we're going to be working until dark, we'd get a taxi voucher for the trip home. That was one of the pin pricks. The voucher book was empty and the boss had forgotten to order a new one. Don't worry about it, he says. It'll still be light when you've finished. I have faith in you. I'd rather less faith and a taxi voucher, but what could I do?

Anyway, I was fortunate enough to finish while it was still twilight. I'd checked the train timetable and I'd make the next one with time to spare. At least, I would have made it with time to spare if the guard had been at his post to let me out. We're a secure building after closing time and the guard has to sign late people out. Finding him not at his station left me standing there waiting for him to get back, quietly fuming.

He turned up after about five minutes, smiling and apologising. Nature had called, he told me, and he had gone to attend nature's needs. As far as I was concerned he should have stayed at his post and crapped his pants. Then I would have been gone and at the station already.

I took off at a run to the station. I almost made it. I got there in time to see the train leaving, didn't I. Probably the only train to run on time for the whole day, but there it went on its way, without me.

I went and sat down in the waiting room, sulking. The next train wouldn't be for another half hour and it was getting dark rapidly. Yes, the waiting room had lights, after a fashion. The lights could have been brighter though. The only way they could have been dimmer would have been to turn them off. At least, I was able to console myself with the thought that the night was quiet and balmy. A beautiful night if you were going for a stroll along the beach with your boyfriend. But I wasn't. I was sitting in a waiting room, waiting for a damn train.

Five minutes later it was fully dark outside. I cursed my boss, wishfully thinking of taxi vouchers I have known. Then this guy walked into the waiting room and sat down. I practically cringed when he gave him. He was big and black and slightly scruffy. That doesn't really describe him. You think of a black man and you're really thinking of someone with darker skin than normal.

This guy wasn't brown, or dark brown. He was black. He was so black I wondered if he was melanistic. (That's like the opposite of being an albino.) When I say he was big, I don't just mean he was tall. He was huge. Any self-respecting professional wrestler would take one look at this guy and run away rather than fight him. Given this, what with me being a petite little female, could you blame me for cringing slightly?

He could, apparently. He looked at me cowering on my seat and cast a derisive look at the skies.

"Gawd protect me from racist, sexist, white honkeys," he grumbled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.

How rude. I was most definitely not racist or sexist. White, maybe, but that was just an accident of birth. I could no more help that than he could help being black. It just wasn't in my nature to take insults without retaliating.

"I beg your pardon?" I snapped.

"Refused," he said, not even bothering to look in my direction.

Refused? What the hell did he mean, refused?

"Refused? What are you on about?"

"I thought you were apologising for being a racist, sexist, white honkey," he said. "I was refusing your apology because I don't think it sounded very sincere."

Why the hell would I be apologising. He was the one who should be apologising for being rude.

"I wasn't apologising," I said through gritted teeth. "I was objecting to you calling me a racist, sexist, white honkey. I'm not one of those, whatever a honkey is supposed to be."

"Look girl, I stepped into the waiting room and you almost hid under the seat. You took one look at me and decided big and black equalled potential rapist so you'd better hide. That's both racist and sexist."

"I did no such thing," I snapped. Actually, I suppose I had. He was one scary looking man.

"Ha. Would you have cringed away if I'd been a woman? No. That's sexist. Would you have assumed that a white man was here to rape you instead of just waiting for a train? No. That's racist. Look at you. You're still poised on the edge of the bench, wondering if you should make a break for it. Did it ever occur to you that if I want to have sex I could easily find a hot mamma. A larger woman than a little bit like you. Hell, if your breasts were any smaller you'd be a boy."

Feeling ruffled, insulted, and indignant, I settled myself properly onto the bench. OK. So I'd been a bit flustered when he walked in. Understandable, surely?

"I was not cringing away," I said firmly, "and thoughts of rape never crossed my mind. Might I point out that we're at a manned public railway station and they have cameras. I'm perfectly safe and I know it. And my breasts aren't small. They're the right size for a person with my small frame."

"If you say so," he said, sounding highly doubtful. "Anyway, far be it for me to dispel your sense of security," he added, and left it at that.

What the hell was that supposed to mean. He could see the puzzled look on my face and he smirked, and looked over at and above the door. I followed his look and there was the security camera, covered in paint and pointing at the roof. I looked back at him and saw he was looking at the roof on the other side of the room. When I looked I saw that there were wires there but no camera.

I pointedly looked away from him and he sniggered. I thought only cartoon characters sniggered, like Muttley, the dog, but this guy managed it without any problems.

"Did you know they don't man this station at night?" he asked me. "Not enough customers at night in a business district to be worth their while."

No, I didn't know that. Thank you for telling me. He was deliberately trying to scare me. I just glared at him and turned away, nose in the air.

Oddly enough, his goading of me had relieved my mind. I guess that, in a rather nasty way, he was actually being kind, setting me more at ease with his presence. Not that I was going to thank him. He still came across as dreadfully arrogant.

Things were quiet for a few moments, then he started up again.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be part of a piano?"

Was he fucking kidding? Part of a piano? Who wonders about things like that? I didn't say anything.

"Did you notice the size of my boots?"

Not really. I'd been too impressed with the size of him and his total blackness to notice little things like boots. I couldn't help but flick a glance at his feet. OK. He had truly impressive boots on, but what could you expect. I'm sure his feet were on the same scale as the rest of him.

"What are you on about? What have pianos and boots got to do with anything?" I asked irritably.

"Pianos have black and white keys lying together and the old wives tale says big feet means big hands and big. . . other places."

Big feet, big cock. Now that he mentioned it I did recall the old saying. I could feel myself blushing. Was he making a pass at me? I ignored him.

"You know one thing really nice about being very big?"

He waited for an answer but I kept on ignoring him.

"You can just take what you want at times," he said.

I should have been watching him. He'd stood up and moved closer and was now standing right next to me. Even as that registered he sat down next to me, lifted me up and plunked me down on his lap. He didn't sit me on his lap. He just draped me cross it, facing down. I was still trying to register a protest when he pushed my dress up around my waist and pulled my panties and tights down and off.

Oh my god. It suddenly registered on me that he was going to rape me.

I started to wriggle and squeal and a great paw gave me a slap on the bottom.

"Just hush up a bit," he growled at me.

With that he picked me up and the world spun around me as he seemed to flip me head over heels. Whatever he did I finished up sitting straddling his lap, facing him.

"Like the old song says, ebony and ivory. Look at us." He nodded down as he said that and so I quite naturally looked.

With my dress rucked up around my waist and nothing on below that I had a clear view of my waist and upper thighs, which were pressed hard up against him. I was all gleaming white and he has as black as his rotten heart, but I have to admit the contrast was stunning. Equally as stunning was the fact that the blackness he was using as a contrast to my whiteness was his cock, standing tall and proud.

Now I know that old saying, big boots, big dick, is just an old wives tale with no scientific fact behind it. Seeing what he'd let loose from his pants and was pressing against me, I was quite willing to admit that there might be some truth in the tale. There was quite an impressive shaft raised between us, with my mound pressed firmly against it.

"Damn it, you wouldn't dare," I raged at him. "People might come at any moment. Let me go and we'll forget all about this."

He just laughed at me. Well, not just laughed. As well as laughing he began rubbing his cock up and down against my slit and I could feel it pressing hard against my lips down there. Feel it? I was still looking and I could see it moving up and down, teasing my mound.

Damn it, I could help feeling heat welling up from inside me. I was effectively open to him and I could both see and feel his cock as it started to make my acquaintance. I tried pushing away from him but his hands were on my hips holding me firmly in place. Putting my hands on his chest and pushing was as useful as trying to push a house over.

For a couple of minutes things continued like that. He rubbed himself against me, raising my temperature, while I wriggled and complained and pushed against him and felt completely helpless.

I felt the hands on my hips tighten and he was lifting me. I could see myself scraping against his shaft and he raised me until there was finally room for it to spring forward between my thighs. At that point he changed directions, slowly lowering me again. God, he was strong. He was handling me so easily, not giving any indication that I had any weight.

He lowered me until I could feel the head of his erection pressing against my lips, trying to push its way past them. At that point his hands let go my thighs. I dropped a little, his cock now pressing very firmly against me, but my hands caught hold of him and I hung on for dear life, trying to hold myself up and off his cock.

I couldn't get a grip with my knees to push myself up and was reduced to holding onto his shirt, both fists clutching it tight.

I looked up at him and he was watching me, smiling. He held up one hand, closed into a fist but with his index finger extended.

"How ticklish are you?" he asked, and poked me in the ribs.

The answer was very. I convulsed away from his prodding finger with a squeal, which became an even louder squeal when I found that I'd successfully skewered myself with the sudden movement.

The next few moments were hell on earth. He was tickling me, for god's sake, while I was sitting on his cock. I was trying to squirm away from the tickling and my squealing from that would morph into a different type of squirming and squealing as I found myself sinking slowly onto his cock.

I couldn't believe that I could sink so far down onto him. I just seemed to be going lower and lower, feeling his cock rising up inside me, filling me and stretching me all out of shape. Or into shape, one tailored to take his erection. Just when I though he was going to split me in half I seemed to settle, holding in position, his cock finally fully in me. I was amazed that I could take it all.

I expected him to start fucking me hard at this stage but he didn't. He just sat there with me transfixed by his cock. What he did do was start undoing the buttons on my blouse.

"What do you think you're doing?" I snapped at him, trying to slap his hands away.

"Geez, are you slow or what?" came the sarcastic reply. "I've pulled your panties off and stuck my cock up you and you want to know what I'm doing?"

"I didn't mean that," I blustered, flushing. Of course I knew what was going on. I could feel his cock inside me, couldn't I? Pretty hard to miss something like that. "I meant why are you undoing my blouse?"

By this time he had the buttons undone and was pushing my bra up and over my breasts.

"I was checking to see if you were bluffing," he said, his hands closing over my breasts. "It seems you do have a nice pair. Rather small, of course, but I guess that applies to all of you. That smallness does make you nice and tight just here, though."

To indicate where I was nice and tight he gave a little hump with his cock, bouncing me slightly.

He still didn't start taking me in earnest. He left me sitting there, filled up to my tonsils with cock, while he played with my breasts. I was irritated to see that my nipples were erect even before he took my bra off. Anyone would think I wanted this to happen. He stroked my breasts, rolling the nipples under his thumbs. His big black hands on my white breasts looked really strange. I found myself squirming under his touch, breathing hard. Unfortunately, that squirming meant I was also rubbing against his cock, increasing my awareness of it and what it was doing to me.

"You don't need to wait for me, you know," he advised me. "You can start bouncing anytime you like. I won't mind."

Was he joking? Looking at him I decided he wasn't. The arrogant oaf really thought I'd start the ball rolling. I sat there, fuming and squirming. There was no way that I was going to cooperate.

"You know, if you were a big strong mamma, I'd be able to suck on these little titties of yours," he told me, sounding quite reflective. "As it is, you're such a tiny little thing I'd get a crick in my neck bending down to them. I guess I should have started with those before letting you hop on my lap. Next time, maybe."

"Next time?" I asked. "Ha! There shouldn't even be a this time. Fat chance I'll let you anywhere near me for a next time."

"Don't be like that. One never knows what might happen in the future."

He was laughing at me. I just knew it. It was humiliating. It was almost a relief when I found him starting to take me properly. He started slowly and I could feel his cock dragging against me. Then it was pushing back in and I could feel myself being stretched to take him again.

I didn't want to but I found myself moving with him, pushing firmly against him as he took me. I was only working with him because it made things easier. He was taking me anyway, so it didn't hurt to cooperate.

He started building up speed and I found myself bouncing on his lap as he drove into me. God it was strange. His cock seemed to take forever to pull out and then it would come crashing back, overwhelming me. I idly wondered if I was going to be permanently stretched out of shape. Whatever the future, right now I was bouncing, bouncing, bouncing, and he was raising all sorts of excitement inside me.

Eventually I knew I was going to climax. Any moment now I was going to have a climax, and I was doing my best to bounce along with him to hurry it up. If I had to do this, at the very least I deserved a climax. Hell, the size of him, I should be demanding multiple orgasms.

My climax was right there. I could feel it coming. He stopped. Just like that he pulled back and continued pulling back, popping free. I just sat there staring at him, feeling stunned. He couldn't do this.

I was going, "Ah, what, why, what the hell?" and he was smiling down at me.

"If you want me to finish off, stand up and bend over with your hands on the bench," he said.

He was joking. He was bluffing. No way was he going to stop just like that. The trouble was what if he wasn't? What if he did stop if I didn't bend over? My body was screaming one thing at me and my mind another. It was a case of don't stop versus don't do what he wants.

My body won. Without any conscious decision I was scrambling off his knee and bending over the bench. He came around behind me and then he was driving back into me, almost lifting me off my feet with each thrust.

It didn't take long. A few good hard thrusts and I was yowling and climaxing, shuddering with the force of it. I could tell from the way he was acting that he was climaxing as well, but I wasn't really concerned about him. I was just letting my own climax run through me.

When I got myself together it was to find him sitting back where he'd been earlier, completely at ease. I was sitting on the bench with my dress tucked around my waist, my panties and tights sitting on the bench next to me, my blouse gaping open and my bra sitting up above my breasts, leaving them on public display.

Furious, I hastily straightened my clothes, throwing dagger looks at him the entire time. Dressed, I turned on him.

"I can have you arrested for that," I snapped.

"Arrested for what?" he asked, sounding quietly confident.

"For what?" I almost shrieked. "You raped me."

"Ah, no, I didn't."

I must have looked rather stunned. I know I felt that way.

"Then just what do you call what happened?" I demanded.

"Sex by mutual consent," he said.

"Mutual consent? When did I consent? I never said yes. Not once."

"Ah, you'll find that at one stage there I asked you to bend over the bench if you wanted me to continue. You bent over, showing off your pretty little bottom, legs spread, waiting for me to take you. That sort of action is considered consent."

I blinked, unable to think of anything to say. The way he put it, I had consented.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "We'll split the difference. We'll call it reluctant seduction. You were reluctant at the start but consented at the end."

I was still lost for words. Fortunately the train came in at that stage and I just went and boarded it, not knowing what to think. Well, I did know one thing. If I was going to work overtime in future then the boss had better have taxi vouchers ready.

Ashson
Ashson
8,497 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymous11 months ago

I was at school and when coming back to school a black guy raped me. I was a virgin and ok i admit i was a little sexist. But he did so bad with me, he took me and threatened me, i was just in shock so i did what he said. He took me home and started raping me, i don't know what happened to me, i told him to rape me more and impregnate me.

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

Rape. And by a big scary Black man. Oh, and, she couldn’t resist herself, and ended up liking it. Sexist, racist, drivel, a major turn off. I’ve enjoyed several of your stories, but this just crossed too many lines.

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

A funny story!

1954hall1954hallover 7 years ago
Like it

I like several things about this story. The obvious black on white thing but also the size difference and reluctance. The thing I found of wack was the tickling, not believable. Would have liked to have it develop more into her looking for more and finding that she had a fetish for really large Blackmen.

NexttimeroundNexttimeroundalmost 9 years ago
True rape?

Not that I've ever been raped, but my guess is that when you really have been raped you show even in retrospect a lot more distress and pain about what happened than we see here. To be sure this is a sex story site and there is a presumption, I suppose, that women are really up for it especially where it's between a white woman and a black man. Are white women ever allowed to say no to Black men in the literature? Do they ever actually want to say no....? Apparently not from the literature.

To be sure the tendency to orgasm when raped is well-documented, the "my body betrayed me" syndrome..... but even then I'd expect a whole lot more real anguish from a genuine rape story.

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