My name is Sophia, and right now, I’m a very bored twenty-three-year-old writing for you from COVID-19 lockdown in California. I’ve never tried to write anything remotely like this before, so we’ll see how it goes. We’re all bored right?

So, I’ll start where I guess my journey really begins, about halfway through senior year of high school, a few weeks after my eighteenth birthday. A little about me. I grew up just outside of Los Angeles, and I was a pretty typical high school student. Like many of my peers, my big focus at that point was getting into a good college like Berkeley, UCLA, or maybe one of the top out of state ones if I could get a scholarship. My other big thing was running cross country, which kept me pretty fit, if a bit on the slender side. I wasn’t the most popular girl at my school by any means, but I was definitely a lot farther up the high school social ladder than down it. My family isn’t rich, but we are definitely pretty well off, and I never wanted for anything. I had lots of friends, and overall a fun life. Nothing special though--if you called me a basic white girl, you wouldn’t be wrong. I had a few boyfriends that I had sex with during high school, usually guys a year or two ahead of me, but I wasn’t particularly promiscuous beyond that. So, if you find yourself wondering later, why is she like this, it’s not because of some kind of bullying or trauma or anything like that. My parents were supportive but not strict or overbearing, and I got along fine with my two older siblings. My dad took me to Dodgers games and my big brother taught me to surf. I’m a painfully stereotypical California girl—sorry not sorry—and I had a pretty great life growing up.

Going into senior year I had been dating a guy that had started at USC that August, and even though it wasn’t that far away, we drifted apart pretty fast. He kind of low key ghosted me actually, and a little over halfway through the year I was clearly single, and not at all heartbroken about it to be honest. I kind of knew things would probably go that way, and even if they didn’t, the chances of keeping that relationship going once I graduated and went to college as well were pretty slim. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think I really wanted to. So that’s the exposition—on to the real story.

One of the things I did a few days a week was go to a gym not far from my house after school. My mom had a membership there she was too busy to use much, and I was on it too. At times over the previous year or so, I’d seen this really attractive black guy working out who looked in his mid-twenties or so. He seemed nice, with a great smile, and that kind of good-natured cockiness hot guys with some actual maturity tend to have. He had hit on me a few times in the past, not in an obnoxious way, and was cool about it when I told him I had a boyfriend. There was some of the typical banter about “oh you don’t fuck with brothers,” and me of course saying no, that’s not it, but it wasn’t at all obnoxious—just fun flirting. We’d say hi when we saw one another and usually chat for a minute. I knew his name was Lincoln, but that was about it. I was flattered by the attention from this handsome older guy, so I often just happened to end up finishing my workout around the same time as he did, resulting in us bumping into each other. We’d talk, and I’d get a “you still got that boyfriend” from him, but he never pushed it much when I said yes. The particular time when I guess this story really starts, a Wednesday, I saw him on both of our ways out (totally not on purpose, I promise), and when he asked me that question—it was almost a running joke with us at that point—I said, “No actually. He kind of ghosted me. He must have found someone he was more interested in at USC. Happy eighteenth birthday to me, right?” I gave him a smile to show it wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh really?” Lincoln responded, sounding surprised for a second. “That’s sucks—you ok with it?”

“Sure—I knew it was going to happen eventually, and I’m fine with it. I’ll be in college next year, probably not at USC, so it’s not like it was going to last anyway, right?”

“Probably not,” he agreed with a nice laugh. He was super chill about it, and we chatted a few more minutes. As we were about to part ways, he was like “Hey you want to grab something to eat and talk about it?”

I was excited, though I didn’t want to show it, and told him yes to food, but let’s talk about literally anything else. He agreed, and we ended up walking to a seafood place that was a few blocks away. I found out Lincoln was twenty-four, an electrician in the IBEW who worked contract jobs through the union all over the LA area. He’d joined the Navy after high school and learned his trade there. After four years of that, he’d gone right into his apprenticeship with the IBEW. That was done, and he was now working jobs either on his own or with another, more experienced electrician if it was something super complicated. He worked jobs at the Port of Los Angeles a lot, I assumed because he had experience with ships already from the Navy or something. He wasn’t one of those people who can only talk about themselves thankfully. I was having a really good time and was totally open to hanging out with him again. To be honest, I was afraid he’d remember I was still in high school and wouldn’t take me seriously even though I was eighteen by that point, but it turned out he did want to see me again. Now, it’s not like I had any illusions about what he really wanted—I was young but not totally naïve — and I was fine with it, thinking why not have a senior fling with this super hot guy, right?

So we exchanged numbers and planned to go out that Saturday night, which wasn’t going to be a problem for me. My parents pretty much let me do what I wanted within reason as long as my grades were good, which they absolutely were. I picked out a cute sundress, wanting to look good for him, but not like I was thirsty or something. I have long brown hair and decided to wear it down, thinking he’d like that. He picked me up in a pretty nice SUV, and we drove toward the beach to find a fun place to eat. After a nice dinner and a walk, Lincoln asked if I wanted to go to his place and get high, and I was down. It turned out he had an apartment near the beach that he shared with his cousin. It was a really nice place, more of a townhouse really, and I felt bad at being a little surprised by that fact. Apparently being an electrician pays pretty well, and I was thinking it would not be that great of a place not knowing that at the time, which, yeah, judgey on my part. I don’t think my surprise showed at all, thankfully. His cousin James, who he’d told me was two years older, was there hanging out with another guy, watching TV. I met them both (the other guy was Devin), and after some small talk, Lincoln was like hey let's go upstairs and get high. He grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge (they had a great open kitchen) and took me upstairs to his room.

Lincoln put on some music turned down low, rolled a joint, and we sat on his bed chatting, sipping beer, and getting stoned. He was into old school 1990s rap like Tupac, Snoop, and Dre, which I was enjoying getting high listening to. Of course, it wasn’t long before we started making out. He was a little over six feet tall to my five-six, which I loved, and had such a killer body. He was also not the slightest bit tentative, which was a new experience for me. I guess I’m pretty enough that guys my age back then had tended to be a little hesitant and even deferential at first with me in situations like this, which I really didn’t like. With Lincoln, there was none of that. He totally took charge—no hesitation. He was all over me, pretty quickly getting my dress off. I was soon wearing just my thong, stoned as fuck, and slowly kissing my way down his muscular chest to his abs. He had this gorgeous caramel skin, and I was super turned on by how it contrasted with mine. He not only had a six-pack but also those muscles running from the bottom of his stomach to his hips at an angle—know the ones I mean? God, I love that, and they were a thing I had never seen so defined in real life before.

It was obvious what he wanted, and I was totally willing to give it to him. I genuinely love giving head, and even back then, I felt like I was pretty good at it. He had a perfect cock, just the right size—big and thick, but not to the point that you’d think it would hurt or anything. I could take a little more than half of him in my mouth, and I did, trying to make good eye contact at the same time, knowing he’d like that. He was looking back down at me, a fistful of my hair in his hand, not really forcing anything, just guiding me a little. I was taking as much of him as I could down my throat and was super into the dominant role he was taking. I also found out pretty quickly that he liked to talk. At first, it was just a few things, like, “Yeah right there, get it, good girl,” type of stuff. Still, I’d never been talked to like that before, and it turned me on even more. I tried to take him even deeper, gagging a little. I could hear him kind of chuckle and felt his hand on my ass, slowly rubbing and grabbing, a little rough, but it felt really good. It was like he was feeling the situation out, seeing exactly how in control he was, how far he could take things, and I’m sure he could tell I wasn’t resistant at all.

At that point, I was on all fours kind of angled to one side, still sucking his cock, and I felt his hand leave my ass. Before I could even process that, he hit my ass, openhanded and hard. Not hard enough to really hurt, but way more than a playful smack. I kind of whimpered around his cock, and got low, long laugh from him.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you?” I did. A lot. My last boyfriend had spanked me a few times, but not hard or anything like he wasn’t sure if he even should be doing it. This was much different and way better. I stopped sucking him just long enough to pant “Yes,” and was rewarded with another hard smack, on the other side of my ass.

I heard him chuckle again, “Yeah, you do.”

I knew I wasn’t at all in control of the situation, but I didn’t care, because I had literally never been more turned on. I kept trying to take him as deep down my throat as I could, and I could tell it was working for him. I thought, ok cool I’ll finish him off like this, perfect. I wanted to, too—I wanted to make him cum. He pulled me off his dick by my hair though, and snapped, “Get on those balls.” No problem there, I thought. He had really nice balls, big, heavy, and smooth, and I eagerly licked and gently sucked at them, thinking that would get him off even faster.

Maybe not. I felt another hard swat to my ass, and then him pulling my thong to one side. His fingers parted my labia, much more gently than he had been elsewhere so far, and after a few seconds of teasing, he started to finger me. It never crossed my mind to object—the only thing I thought somewhere in the back of my mind was that I was a little stubbly because I hadn’t shaved down there for a minute. Getting ready for our date earlier that evening I guess I wasn’t thinking he’d have his fingers in my pussy, which, yeah, well, here we were. I don’t think he cared at all though. Still fingering me, he pulled me up by my hair again and said “Back on it.” I kissed and licked the head of his cock for a few seconds, looking up at him, then obediently took him as far down as I could, gagging a little again. His finger was teasing at my clit by now, and I was super wet. It was like all of my higher brain functions had basically shut down. Lincoln was in total control and I’m sure he knew it.

After a few more minutes of this, he pulled me off his cock again by my hair, and almost offhandedly smacked my ass again. He had been kind of lying back so I could go down on him, but he started to get up, simultaneously pulling my head up so I was looking at him: “You know what time it is.”

I did. He was going to fuck me unless I objected, like, right then. I thought, fuck it, I’m on the pill and it wasn’t like I didn’t plan on this happening pretty soon anyway. I definitely didn’t want him to stop now, that was for sure.

I tried to lay back, thinking that was what he wanted, but he stopped me. “No, face down.” He pushed my head down toward the pillows he’d been laying back on, complimenting the motion by another hard swat to my ass as he angled my hips upward to where he wanted them. I think I must have moaned loudly again when he’d spanked me, because I heard him laugh and say, “Yeah, that’s right white girl.” I felt the tip of his hard cock teasing at my pussy, kind of rubbing up and down, and then he was inside me with one long, slow thrust. It didn’t hurt at all—he was the perfect size, I was wet as fuck, and I almost came right then. Holy shit I had never felt so fulfilled. He started to fuck me, slowly at first, in a way that was simultaneously sensual and dominating, picking up his pace as he went. Soon he was slamming me pretty hard, and I could feel his balls banging against my ass with each thrust. He had that fistful of my hair again and was pulling my head back toward him a little, which turned me on even more. I think that was because it reinforced how completely I’d given up all control to this guy. I was moaning incoherently as he accented every few thrusts by spanking me, a thing I was quickly learning I absolutely loved. I honestly don’t know how long this went on or how many times I came. (It was a lot of times.) Eventually though, Lincoln slowed down, then stopped. He slowly pulled out of me, smacking me hard on the ass yet again. “Turn over.” I obeyed, rolling over onto my back.

He was smiling down at me with that cocky, charming grin that was really more of a smirk. He spread my legs wide. I could feel the tip of his cock kind of teasing at me again, up and down like before, and then he was inside me for the second time. It was another long, slow thrust, and felt it even better than the first time. I love missionary, and this was different and way better than anything I’d experienced with the handful of guys around my age I’d been with up to that point. He was bigger for one thing, and so deep inside me, but it was more that he actually knew what he was doing. There was no hesitation at all; he wanted me, he was taking me, and I was totally there for it.

By that point, he was playing with my clit while he fucked me. That had exactly the effect you’d expect, and I guess I was being pretty loud because the small part of my brain not totally focused on how the sex was making me feel heard his cousin and Devin shouting what was probably congratulations or something at him from downstairs. I didn’t give a shit, though. This was by far the best sex I had ever had and that was all I cared about right now. The shouting must have encouraged Lincoln because he started fucking me much more aggressively. He abandoned my clit and put his hand around my throat, not choking me, just a firm grip. It probably should have scared me as I barely knew this guy, but it didn’t at all. Instead, it had the same effect as the spanking, putting me in this submissive, insanely turned on headspace where I just wanted to let him do whatever he wanted to me. And he was definitely doing exactly that, and also still talking a lot in the process.

“Take it—fuck that college boy, you with a grown man now. Fuck that white boy! You takin’ my black dick now.”

Both my hands were kind of gripping his forearm, looking small in comparison, and that sight combined with his sort of demeaning dirty talk was driving me crazy. I came hard, and moaned something at him like, “Yes, yes, so good baby.”

He must have liked whatever I babbled at him because he smirked at me and was like, “That’s right white girl, I’m balls deep in your tight little pussy.” His hand tightened around my throat for a second as he said that, and he kept boning me. He aggressively fucked me like this for at least ten more minutes, then abruptly pulled out and grabbed me by my hair again, moving his body forward and pulling my head toward his rock-hard cock. I had been thinking this was how he’d eventually cum when all this started, (I just hadn’t planned on getting my brains fucked out in between), and I took him in my mouth, wanting to show him how good I could be at oral. I gently sucked, long and slow. I could taste myself on his cock obviously, but I didn’t mind at all—it was just kind of strangely erotic. Lincoln was basically kneeling over me, and I was able to put one hand around his dick to stroke him while I blew him. I fondled his balls with my other hand, and after just a few seconds I could feel them throbbing as he came in my mouth. I swallowed a few times as he came—it was a lot but I was able to get everything down—then gently sucked and licked him for a few more seconds, cleaning him up. I could tell he really liked that by the loud “Fuck” he groaned as I did it. I collapsed back onto the bed, looking up at him a little dazed.

“Holy shit that was amazing Lincoln.” I was sweaty, overwhelmed, and literally weak in the knees. I couldn’t have gotten up right then for anything in the world.

“Fuck yeah it was girl.” Lincoln had rolled over to lay on his back next to me. After a minute, I rolled over onto my side, and kind of cuddled up next to him while he recovered. I lazily kissed his bicep and looked down, noticing that he was still like half hard. It had only been a few minutes, right? I thought to myself if he’s like this stoned I almost don’t want to think what he’d do to me without anything to mellow him out a little. Then I heard more shouting from the peanut gallery downstairs.

“Oh my god, are they going to keep doing that?” I asked with a tired laugh.

“They’re just fuckin’ with me. Ignore that shit,” he said with that low, husky laugh. “Want to smoke another one?”

I took a long sip of my now warmish beer and said yes. We got high again, chatted some more, and after a while he got his phone and got an Uber for me. He was too stoned to drive and I needed to get home at a reasonable hour. He went downstairs with me to wait, and of course, James and Devin fucked with us, but in a good-natured way. I was a little embarrassed but also stoned, and they were both pretty funny so I didn’t mind that much. I learned that James and Devin were around the same age and worked as financial advisors for the same investment firm. Lincoln had told me a little more about being an electrician when we were getting high before we fucked, so I was beginning to understand how they had such a nice place. I mean that kitchen, holy shit—granite. What single guy has that? Anyway, I tried to fix my hair and makeup a little in the Uber, but I was glad my parents were already in bed when I got home. I’m sure I still looked stoned and like I’d just been fucked silly, which, fair. But I felt great. I undressed and fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit my pillow.

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