As to the perverse acts themselves, the intimate diary which follows is a more appropriate vehicle for such a revelation that is the more objective introduction which I am providing. Such personal details are much more effectively presented in Gwenn's own words, for only there can the whole story be told from the vantage point of the person who lived it.
Dear Diary
A girl in the savings department put a bug in my ear about a brand new sex kick today. At first I just laughed at her but then I found out that she was serious. She'd been dating a Negro, and she says he's the greatest thing since sliced bread. I. never would have thought of dating a black person before, much less… well, much less letting him put his black cock into my white pussy. I mean, I'm not prejudiced or anything, but, gee, the very idea of… well, anyway, let me tell you what this girl told me. She said she'd dated a lot of guys in her life but her black boy-friend is the most exciting guy she's ever known. And when she said "known," she meant it.
She said that as far as she was concerned the old joke about Negroes having bigger dicks than white guys is no joke at all. She said her boyfriend had a cock on him that would choke a horse. Then she giggled and said there were a lot better things for him to do with it than that, and that she never wanted him to waste even one inch of it by doing anything so silly with it. The more she talked about it the more I considered that a nice big black cock might be just what I need to give me a new
thrill.
Later, talking to the same girl, she could see that I was interested, I guess. She asked me if I wanted her to fix me up with a date. I didn't give her an answer right
away, but she was real nice about it and said I didn't have to tell her my answer right then.
I'm really thinking about doing it. A couple of nights after she first told me about how good Negroes were in bed. I had a dream about a big black guy. I dreamed he was sitting across from me with a big smile on his face and his cock out of his pants. And I had my hands on it playing with it. What a monster it was-it was like running my hands up and down a rolling pin.
I hope she broaches the subject again. I don't want to be the one to bring it up, but if she asks me again I think I'll ask her to get me a date with one of her black boyfriend's buddies. Who knows? Maybe a giant black dick in my mouth is what I need to start my pussy jerking in the throes of an orgasm even better than I've had before.
One week later it was all set. She mentioned it again and I told her I was game. She said she was sure she could get me a date with a friend of her boyfriend's named Joe. And she said that she's met him before. He has a great build-a small waist and a set of shoulders like a prize fighter's. That's not all, either. She said she could see a big bulge in his pants while he was with her and her boyfriend.
I can hardly wait until I see him. I've completely gotten over any misgivings I may have had about dating a Negro. All I'm thinking about now is the big cock he's supposed to have. Goodbye for now. Tomorrow night I'll know.
I must admit, last night I saw what a real man looks like. Joe turned out to be pretty much like I'd expected. And that's saying a lot because from the way my girlfriend at the bank talked, I was expecting a lot.
Joe picked me up at my apartment early. It was about a half hour before he was supposed to be there when I heard a knock at the door. As soon as I had let him in and introduced myself I asked him if he knew he was so early.
He said, "Sure, Gwenn, I know I'm here before you expected me. But it's no accident. I wanted to be early to take advantage of the short time we're going to have together."
When I asked him what he meant he said 'Honey, I have a hunch however much time we have together tonight won't be enough. You know what I mean?"
At first I was kind of taken aback by his being so familiar with me and calling me "Honey" before he hardly knew me, but something about the sparkle in his eye made me want him to be familiar.
And to top it all off, I wasn't even dressed when he knocked on my door. I had to answer it wearing only a robe. I made sure it was a thick chenille one though and not
a thin, transparent one like I could have worn. His eyes immediately riveted onto my tits. They were far from being out in the open. But my thirty-nine inches look especially big over my small waist and they were both pooching out my robe like they do in a wool sweater.
I asked him to wait for just a few minutes and I'd be ready. Joe looked down at the top of my robe-he was a tall guy, six two or six three-and said, "No problem, baby. I'm willing to wait a long time for that."
The way he said it left no doubt that he was referring to my tits. For a brief second I was kind of disappointed. I'd hoped he would notice how my eyes looked after all the work I'd done on them-that he'd notice my face, not just my body. But then I sighed and realized that it has always been my body that men noticed. Why should it be any different just because this man happened to be black instead of white?
When I got all my clothes on I came back out and asked Joe what he had in mind for the evening. What I meant was a place he wanted to take me but that's not how he answered me.
"Honey, you don't want to hear what I have in mind, do you? Why not feel it instead of listening to me talk about it?"
Without directly answering his loaded question about whether I wanted to 'feel it instead of talk about it,' I said, "Where do you want to do it?"
I didn't say what the "it" was. I just left that up to him to interpret any way he chose.
Joe said, "I thought we might just go straight up to my place, honey? I don't know about you, but I'm a pretty informal guy. I don't go out to the clubs very much. I don't think you'll be bored if we go to my place."
He was a man of action. I could tell that right away. He wasn't going to pussy-foot around wanting to get me in bed. That kind of thrilled me, and I felt a shiver of anticipation run down my spine. The way he was acting made me bolder than usual.
In my huskiest voice I said, "Joe, we don't even have to go all the way over to your place. I think we can do anything you have in mind right here at my place, without even making trip across town."
He picked right up on that offer. "I'm with you, baby," he said with a smile on his face.
I was feeling very coquettish by then. I knew he wanted to see me naked, and to do something good to my pussy. I became so bold that, looking back, I'm amazed at myself.
I stood in front of him and shamelessly allowed him to gaze at my body as though f was on an auction block. And I reveled in the heat of his burning eyes as he stepped closer to me and raised his hand to my shoulder.
"Joe" I asked him "do you know me well enough to answer a very personal question?"
"Shoot, baby," he said. "Is it true that Negros have… that their-"
He interrupted me and placed my hand on the front of his pants so that I could feel his pulsing manhood beneath the fabric of his pants.
"Don't be bashful, honey," he said. "If you want to know about my cock, just ask. You heard tales about a black man's cock being bigger than a white man's, right? Well, baby I'm not going to tell you anything about it. I'm going to let you find out for yourself-right now!"
Then he put his fingers on his zipper and forced them to pull it down. I felt my hand on a hard bone of flesh that felt like an end of a skin-covered rhinoceros horn. From that point on we cut out the shit of playing around with words and teasing each other, and got right down to the business of getting inside of each other's clothes.