The White Bitch


Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Heterosexual, Interracial, Black Male, White Female, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Squirting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, BBW, Caution, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: This isn't my usual style, by a long shot -- but it's compelling, I think... Sometimes all you need to get into trouble is a pair of binoculars...

She's a white bitch. A FAT white bitch. I'm watching her; she's naked on the bed. She's got two fingers in her puffy hairless slit, rubbing. masturbating. Jilling off. Whatever. I'm watching.

It started last Tuesday. I wasn't out to perv -- I had just got a new pair of binoculars for my birthday. I'm looking at airplanes, at the stars, at the moon. As I get ready to put them away I sweep over the building three doors down, and there she is on her bed, naked -- masturbating. So I watch her...

She's got a method. She starts out with two fingers, rubbing her clit. Maybe she pinches one of her nipples. She's got some nice fat titties. Then she gets out this little six inch vibrator. It's black -- I like that. I'm black. She runs it over her hairless slot -- I guess she shaves. She rubs it around, up and down. Then she puts it in her pussy hole and starts pumping it while she rubs her clitty with her other hand. Sometimes, she rolls over and kneels up on the bed with her head down and her big ol' ass in the air, her legs spread wide, both hands under her, pumping that vibe and rubbing her clitty. She's got a serious ass, like a couple of soccer balls, but soft and jiggly, with those cellulite dents in it. When she gets going, the muscles clench -- one side, the other side, sometimes both. It's cute.

Anyway, after a while, she starts shaking and panting and gets all pink in the face. Then she can't hold still and starts kicking her legs. She's probably moaning, but I can't hear her, of course. Pretty soon, she starts thrashing around and arches herself in the bed, her feet digging in the mattress as she gets all tense, then she starts to jerk and quiver. She'll lurch and bounce a couple of times, and then fall back and start just rubbing the vibe in her slot again, cooling down, looking all flushed and happy.

It's hot. I blow a nut on the window regularly, watching.

She generally does two shows a night -- one around seven, and one a bit after eleven, when the news is on. She turns off the light after the second show -- I guess it's bedtime.

I think she watches porn, but I can't see the source.

It's been about ten days, now. I'm all into that shit. I want to fuck her brains out. I guess I'm obsessed.

She's on the twelfth floor. I'm on seventeen. The angle is ... perfect.

She's a BBW, I guess. Maybe she's even super-sized -- I don't know how you measure those things. She can still see her pussy, I guess -- I KNOW she can get at it. Did I mention that it's bare? She must shave, right?

I said something to one of my buds. He said, "What you want with a fat white bitch?" I want to FUCK her! DUH! Fuckin' moron...

I'm an ugly motherfucker. You know how all that baggy shit is popular, right? My shit was ALWAYS baggy! I got a shank on me, though -- got some shit hangin'. She's gonna want that motherfucker -- it's got it all over that tiny-assed vibrator of hers!

It's Wednesday. It's been two weeks, maybe. It's raining. It's time for the seven o'clock show, but I can't see shit. Wups! There she is, standing at the window, naked, playing with her fine, fat titties. I guess she can't see shit, either.

I'm wondering why she can't get no dick? Okay, so, she's a fat white bitch – but she ain't ugly or nothin'. Okay, she's got a wide face and is kinda buck-toothed – and that nose turns up maybe a little too much. She's got two chins, but the second one comes and goes. Her belly don't flop over her pussy or nothin'. So what's the problem?

There's another woman in the place – her momma, maybe; she's older. She's a BIG bitch – like a washing machine with legs or maybe a refrigerator. Tits the size of watermelons, ass for DAYS! She wanders around in thin house dresses, looking like a circus tent. She be an SSBBW, I figure. She don't go in my bitch's room all that much – I see her in the other apartment windows.

I bet she don't get no dick, either. I wonder if she masturbates?

I'm goin' NUTS! It's been THREE WEEKS! I have GOT to fuck that shit! How the Hell do I get at it? I rack my brain, day and night. Momma wants to know if I'm sick or something. I tell her it's trouble at work. She doesn't know I spend my nights jacking off watching a fat white bitch masturbate.

I've got to get into her building and up to the twelfth floor. There's security, so that's the FIRST hurdle! I know a guy who knows a guy who beat the shit out of a bike messenger and took his shit. I pay fifty bucks for it – now I'm a bike messenger named DeWayne. Except my name isn't DeWayne...

Where IS she? She's been gone since Sunday night! It's Thursday, and I'm freakin' because she's SUPPOSED to be home, rubbing that pussy of hers! Big Momma is around, and maybe she plays with herself, but I don't see it – her bedroom isn't visible. Besides, there are limits, right? Aren't there? I'm not sure. SOMEBODY fucked that...

She's back on Saturday, looking pink in some places. Vacation? Maybe she went to Aruba. I worry for a week that she met some guy, but she's back to the grind. I get my daily fix and work on the plan...

It's Tuesday, after the early show. It's time to do a recon. I get into my messenger shit and circle around to the entrance of her building – it's on the next street – and hit the lobby, looking officially busy. The security guy tags me and wants me to sign in. My chicken scratch doesn't say DeWayne – Hell, even I don't know what it says! Security Guy doesn't give a fuck, though, so I'm in! I head on up in the elevator.

I'm in the hallway. I have yet to see a camera. I knock on the door.

There's a rumble and I wait and as I'm getting ready to knock again, the door opens partway. Shit! She's got one of those chain things! It's Big Momma. I get an eyeball, half a lip, two chins and the circus tent. There are feet down there, but I don't see them. While my eyes are on the way back up, Big Momma leans on the wall and I pick up a bulge. It's a titty – fucking huge – pushing the tent out and to the side. There's a nipple there at the end, poking the fabric like a tent pole. She's braless! It's awful – and it isn't. I stand there with my head down, looking at it. "Is this Twelve-Seventeen?"

"No, this is Twelve-Fifteen. Can't you read?"


The door closes. I walk away. I've learned two things – they've got a chain, and Big Momma goes braless under her tents. Okay, she's GOT to play with herself, right? I must be a sick motherfucker...

So what do I do with the chain? I could cut it, I guess, but then Big Momma would know someone has been there. I'm gonna assume that My White Bitch is gonna want to keep me a secret. I saw something in a movie once – you need something that's narrow and bends the right ways. I work out something with a ruler, some tape, and a chunk of coat hanger wire and I practice with it for two days on my own apartment door, standing in the hallway looking stupid. Any idiot could figure out what I was up to ... There's STILL the door lock – but I didn't hear that on my recon; Big Momma just opened the door...

I get on with the plan – permutations and combinations. What if she does this? What if she does that? What if Big Momma shows up? There are a lot of 'What if's. I work my way through them, as best I can. Some of them just don't seem to have a solution. Some of them I can fix, but it will break something else. I get to thinking about it and realize that my sex life is likely to be what happens in jail. I'm not sure which end of that I'll end up on – both, maybe. It's situation-dependent, too. I work on the plan for a week straight, when I'm not workin'. There are limits, though – it be time to jump big or stay to home...

It's Thursday night, after the eleven o'clock show. I missed it – I've been hanging out in her building since eight. When I signed in, I crossed the 't's in my chicken scratch signature so long that it looks like it was scratched through; I figure the new guy on shift will think I left already. I go through my bag of shit – mask, gloves ... I hope to fuck I don't have to wear gloves – I want to FEEL her! Gag stuff, some other miscellaneous doo-dads. No weapons – this isn't about that. My chain remover. I sit against the wall in the hallway on the floor below her, picking through the shit and freaking. I'm about to piss myself – but I've come this far ... I wait until after midnight to go on up.

It's quiet in there. I'm standing there with my ear to the door. There's no light under the door. The knob turns slowly under my gloved hand; I stand there imagining her watching it, like a scene from a horror movie, slowly turning...

The latch clicks! The door moves! Shit! I'm in! Well, not yet ... I break out my chain remover and carefully apply it. The chain end falls away noisily, but it's gone ... I step inside and quietly close the door.

I reach in my bag and get out my mask. It had to wait – what was I gonna do – hang out in the hallway wearing a mask? Why not carry a sign that says 'BURGLAR!'? I put it on. Time to look around...

Big Momma is asleep, splayed in the bed on her back in a yellow print nightgown that is cotton, but so old it might as well be see-thru. She takes up the whole bed. She's wearing one of those mask things that help with your breathing. It makes a lot of noise, which is probably a good thing.

.... There is more of this story ...

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