Written, created, conceived, and masturbated to by AKA.
Comments: akaCockBobber(at)yahoo(dot)com
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Disclaimer: This story is intended for adults. If you shouldn't be reading this, then don't. If that actually stopped you, I'm amazed. If you're offended by over-the-top fantasies about wimpy white men, hung black men, and the white girls that bring them together, then I recommend you stop reading. If you like that shit, then stop licking your lips and start reading.
Sweet Cream Cafe - Part 1 of 2
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 neighboorhood. He tried to look nonchallant 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 atheletic 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 enquiring 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 inermingled, 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 swivelled 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 ******** 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. Subconciously, 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 signalled 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 irresitible 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 diappointment as she glid 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 ecsatic 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.
End Part 1 of 2
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Copyright (c) October, 2003 - A.K.A.
The above is a work of fiction, intended solely for entertainment. Any similarity to actual persons I went to high school with is purely coincidental. Right, Albert? The characters represented in this story are professionals. Do not try this at home except under the direct supervision of a loving woman willing to feed you daily doses of a black man's semen.
Comments: akaCockBobber(at)yahoo(dot)com
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Disclaimer: This story is intended for adults. If you shouldn't be reading this, then don't. If that actually stopped you, I'm amazed. If you're offended by over-the-top fantasies about wimpy white men, hung black men, and the white girls that bring them together, then I recommend you stop reading. If you like that shit, then stop licking your lips and start reading.
Sweet Cream Cafe - Part 1 of 2
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 neighboorhood. He tried to look nonchallant 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 atheletic 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 enquiring 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 inermingled, 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 swivelled 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 ******** 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. Subconciously, 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 signalled 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 irresitible 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 diappointment as she glid 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 ecsatic 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.
End Part 1 of 2
=====================================================
Copyright (c) October, 2003 - A.K.A.
The above is a work of fiction, intended solely for entertainment. Any similarity to actual persons I went to high school with is purely coincidental. Right, Albert? The characters represented in this story are professionals. Do not try this at home except under the direct supervision of a loving woman willing to feed you daily doses of a black man's semen.
