Chapter 3

That Saturday, Emily stepped into Chloe’s sprawling suburban home, her sneakers sinking into plush carpet as the air hummed with privilege—vaulted ceilings, a massive big-screen TV dominating the living room, leather couches circling it like a throne room. Chloe’s parents were out of town, and the 20-year-old had seized the chance, texting the group to “work on the report” at her place. Emily, at 18, felt out of her league, her jeans and sweater dowdy next to Chloe’s tight skirt and crop top. Darius, 21, and Marcus, 22, lounged like kings—Darius in a hoodie that hugged his linebacker bulk, Marcus in a tank top showing off his runner’s muscles. Emily perched on the edge of a couch near Marcus, her body angled away from his chiseled form, her skin prickling with awareness of his heat.

Drinks flowed fast. Chloe mixed margaritas for the girls, the tequila sharp and tangy, while the guys cracked beers, their laughter loosening the room. Emily wanted to stay sober—keep her head clear after that porn-fueled climax under her covers—but Chloe pressed a glass into her hand, smirking, “Relax, freshman.” Two margaritas in, Emily’s resolve blurred, her cheeks flushed, her limbs heavy. The conversation veered hard, Chloe steering it with glee. “Black guys are fucking gods in bed,” she said, sprawled across from Darius, her eyes glinting as she sipped her drink. “Powerful, dominant—nothing compares.”

Darius nodded, his voice a low rumble. “It’s the fast-twitch muscles. Higher density in Black men—why we dominate sports and pussy. Explosive power, stamina—shit’s built in.” He flexed his arm, casual but deliberate, the bulge of his bicep making Emily’s breath catch. She pictured him pounding into her, his hips slamming with that athlete’s force, her body shaking under him, and her pussy warmed, a slow, wet ache spreading despite her shock.

She tried to fight it, her voice shaky as she clutched her margarita. “That ... that can’t be true. It’s gotta be an exaggeration, right? There’s no way—” Her words faltered, drowned by the tequila and their confidence.

Chloe laughed, sharp and knowing. “Oh, it’s true, Em. I’ve felt it—over and over.” She winked at Marcus, who grinned back, all teeth and swagger.

“Believe it, freshman,” Marcus said, leaning closer, his muscular arm brushing the couch near her. “And it ain’t just power. Black guys cum more—higher sperm count, bigger loads. Flood a girl right out.” Emily’s eyes widened, her protest rising—”No, that’s ridiculous”—but he cut her off, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Check this. Erebus study.” He tapped the screen, shoving it toward her.

The PDF loaded: Semen Volume and Potency: Racial Variations, Erebus Institute, 2024. Emily’s head swam as she read, the margaritas blurring the edges, but the numbers hit hard: Black men averaged 8.5 milliliters per ejaculation, white men a measly 2.9. A white woman’s testimonial followed, raw and unfiltered.

When my Black stud came inside me, it was like a fucking dam broke—hot, thick, gushing so deep I felt it hit my cervix. Eight, nine pulses, just pouring into me, leaking out for hours. My white ex? Barely a dribble—two pumps and done. This guy owned me with that load, marked me inside out.

Emily stared, stunned, her pussy clenching involuntarily as she imagined Marcus above her, his thick cock pulsing, flooding her with that hot, heavy cum. Her breath hitched, her thighs pressing together under the couch cushion, the warmth spiking to a throb. Jake’s weak spurt on her couch last night—fifteen seconds, a faint trickle—paled next to this, a pathetic whisper against the Erebus report. Her head spun, tequila and lust tangling, and Marcus’s voice snapped her back. “Believe it now, huh?” he said, smirking, his eyes locking on hers, daring her to deny it.

She couldn’t speak, her mouth dry, her body betraying her with every wet pulse between her legs. Chloe giggled, sipping her drink, and Darius nodded, his flex still flexing, their raw masculinity a wall she couldn’t climb. Emily gripped her glass, shocked at the data, the testimonial, the images it burned into her—Marcus gushing inside her, owning her—and felt her resistance slip another notch, drowned in drinks and dirty facts from Erebus.

As the evening wore on, the “work session” at Chloe’s luxurious suburban home slid further into chaos, the big-screen TV flickering to life as Chloe grinned and cast a BBC porn clip from her phone. Emily sat stiffly on the couch, her margarita buzz blurring her edges, her body too close to Marcus’s muscular heat despite her efforts to edge away. The room pulsed with casual raunch—beers in the guys’ hands, Chloe’s margarita sloshing as she waved it, her voice loud and filthy. “This is research, right?” she laughed, nodding at the screen. “Black studs fucking white girls senseless—our topic in action.”

Darius smirked, sipping his beer. “Real shit. Look at that power.” Marcus leaned back, his tank top riding up to flash abs, and added, “That’s us—big dicks, big loads, breaking pussies wide open.” The conversation stayed raw, Chloe recounting a hookup—”He fucked me so hard I couldn’t sit for days”—and Darius murmuring, “Fast-twitch muscles, man, it’s why we last.” Emily’s pussy throbbed, the Erebus research—8.5 milliliters, 75% more testosterone—mixing with the tequila, her protests from earlier drowned in the heat.

The TV blared to life with BBC Destroys Tight White Slut, the sound hitting like a slap—wet slaps, grunts, squeals. Emily’s eyes darted to the screen: a massive Black stud, 6’6” and jacked, towered over a petite white blonde, his eleven-inch cock a veined, glistening beast swinging heavy between his legs. He grabbed her throat, shoving her onto a bed, his voice a growl: “Open that tight pink pussy, bitch.”

She spread her legs, whimpering, and he rammed in, his huge shaft stretching her cunt wide, her lips gripping him as he pounded deep. Her squeals—”Fuck, it’s too big!”—mixed with his grunts, the slick, wet sounds of her dripping pussy filling the room as he slammed her, his balls slapping her ass with every brutal thrust.

Emily’s breath hitched, her clit pulsing under her jeans. She needed air, control—anything to stop the flood of want. “I—I need the bathroom,” she stammered, lurching up, her face burning as she stumbled toward the hall.

“Don’t take too long, Em,” Chloe called, her voice a taunting purr. “Wouldn’t want you rubbing one out in there, huh?” Marcus and Darius chuckled, and Emily flushed furiously, her mind caught—because she had been thinking it, her pussy so wet she could’ve cum in seconds. She fled to the bathroom, locking the door, and stared at herself in the mirror—wide blue eyes, flushed cheeks, a girl unraveling. Be faithful to Jake, she told herself, gripping the sink. His tender kisses, his quick flop last night—she loved him, needed him, not this filth. She’d fake a stomachache, get out now, before she lost herself.

But when she shuffled back to the living room, resolve trembling, Chloe pounced before she could speak. “C’mere, babe,” she said, grabbing Emily’s wrist and yanking her down onto the couch beside her, thigh-to-thigh. “Look at this—fucking hot, right?” Chloe’s voice dropped low, a whisper in Emily’s ear as she pointed at the TV. The stud had the blonde bent over now, her ass up, his massive cock slamming into her from behind, stretching her tight pink pussy to its limit. “See how he owns her?” Chloe murmured, her breath hot. “That’s what it’s like—Black dick so big, so hard, it wrecks you. I’ve had it—fucked me till I squirted, left me shaking. You’d cum so hard, Em.”

Emily froze, the screen searing her vision: the stud yanked the blonde’s hair, his eleven-incher plunging deep, her cunt gushing as he growled, “Take it, you little slut.” She screamed, her body shaking, cumming again, his dominance total—slapping her ass, forcing her legs wider, his cock a relentless battering ram splitting her open. The wet slap-slap-slap echoed, his grunts primal, her squeals a mix of pain and ecstasy as he pounded her into submission. Emily’s pussy clenched, soaked, her breath shallow as Chloe’s filth poured in—”So sexy, right? That huge cock, owning her pussy, filling her up.”

Then Marcus’s hand landed on her leg, heavy and warm, squeezing her sleek thigh through her jeans. His fingers stroked, slow and firm, inching higher, and Emily jolted, her clit throbbing under the pressure. “Feel that heat, freshman?” he said, his voice a low rumble, his grin sharp as he watched her squirm. Chloe kept whispering—”He’d fuck you like that, Em, make you scream”—and the porn rolled on: the stud flipped the blonde onto her back, pinning her legs to her chest, his massive cock slamming so deep she howled, her pussy leaking around him, his dominance absolute.

Emily’s head swam, her body betraying her—wet, aching, craving—caught between Chloe’s words, Marcus’s touch, and the brutal fucking on screen. Her plan to flee dissolved, her fidelity to Jake a faint whisper against the roar of her arousal.

Marcus’s hand, already stroking her thigh, slid higher, bold and uninvited, finding her crotch. His thick fingers pressed against her clit through her jeans, rubbing slow, firm circles, and a jolt shot through her, her pussy clenching despite her will.

“Bet you want it bad, huh?” Marcus murmured, his voice a low growl, his 22-year-old frame leaning closer, his tank top stretched tight over his runner’s muscles. “Sitting here with two virile Black studs like me and Darius—shit, I can see it in your eyes, freshman. You’re dying for this big dick.”

His fingers pressed harder, grinding against her, and Emily shook her head, a weak “No” escaping her lips as she met his sharp, taunting grin. But her body betrayed her—her pussy soaked through her panties, the denim damp under his touch, her clit throbbing as he stimulated her with ruthless precision.

Marcus smirked, his nose flaring. “Fuck, I can smell that wet pussy, girl. You’re dripping for it.” He grabbed her wrist, guiding her hand to his crotch, pressing her palm against the bulge straining his pants. “Feel that,” he coaxed, his voice thick with lust. “Go on, touch what a real man’s packing.”

Emily’s fingers brushed the outline—huge, hard, a thick rod pulsing under the fabric, easily nine inches, maybe more. Her breath hitched, her head swimming as she ran her hand along it, curiosity clawing past her shame. It dwarfed Jake’s pitiful four and a half inches, and Marcus knew it.

She darted a desperate glance to Chloe, pleading for rescue, but the 20-year-old was lost—sprawled across Darius’s lap, her crop top yanked up, her bare tits spilling out. Darius, 21 and massive, bent over her, his tongue swirling around her stiff nipples, licking and sucking as she moaned, her hands tangled in his hoodie. His big hands kneaded her flesh, her gasps mixing with the porn’s soundtrack, and Emily’s hope sank—Chloe wasn’t saving anyone.

Marcus chuckled, his fingers still rubbing her clit through her jeans, her hips twitching despite her pleading refusal. “Look at you, feeling me up,” he taunted, his bulge flexing under her hand as she traced its size, its thickness, unable to pull away. “This cock’s a fucking beast—way bigger, way thicker than that little white boyfriend of yours. Jake, right? He can’t compete, can he? Bet he cums in ten seconds, leaves you dry. I’d stretch that tight pussy wide, make you scream my name.”

Emily’s face burned, her head shaking again, but her hand stayed, stroking his massive cock through his pants, her pussy gushing as his words hit home. Jake’s tender flops—fifteen seconds, a weak dribble—flashed in her mind, pathetic against Marcus’s raw promise. Her clit pulsed under his rubbing, her jeans soaked, her breath ragged as curiosity and arousal swallowed her protests. She was crumbling, caught in Marcus’s taunts, Chloe’s moans, and the porn’s brutal rhythm—the Black stud now flooding the blonde’s wrecked cunt with cum, a thick torrent leaking out as she whimpered. Emily couldn’t deny it anymore: she wanted it, bad.

Her eyes locked on Chloe, who shrugged off her crop top and skirt with a grin, her bare tits bouncing free, her body lithe and shameless. The brunette dropped to her knees in front of Darius, tugging his pants down, and Emily’s breath caught as his enormous cock sprang out—easily ten inches, thick as a wrist, even larger than Marcus, veins bulging, a glistening black monster that dwarfed anything she’d imagined.

Chloe wrapped her lips around it, her green eyes gazing up at Darius worshipfully as she sucked, her head bobbing like a pornstar. Spit slicked her chin, the wet slurp-slurp echoing over the TV’s moans, her tongue swirling around his fat tip before taking him deeper, gagging as he hit her throat. Darius, 21 and towering, groaned, his big hands tangling in her dark hair, guiding her up and down his shaft. “That’s it, you good white slut,” he growled, his voice thick with filth. “Suck that big Black cock—fucking worship it, you little whore.” Chloe moaned around him, her eyes fluttering, her devotion total as she worked him, her cheeks hollowing with every sloppy pull.

Marcus’s fingers pressed harder against Emily’s clit, grinding through her jeans, and she jolted, her pussy clenching as he leaned close, his breath hot on her neck. “See that?” he taunted, his voice a rumble. “Your friend’s a pro—loves that Black dick. You’re next, freshman.” His rubbing of her clit quickened, relentless, driving her toward the edge as she watched Chloe’s head bob, Darius’s monster cock stretching her mouth, his hips thrusting to meet her. Emily’s hand still rested on Marcus’s bulge—huge, hard, pulsing—and she couldn’t pull away, her body betraying her with every wet pulse.

“Fuck, look at these fine white bitches,” Marcus called to Darius, his grin sharp as he fingered Emily harder. “Chloe’s a cock-hungry slut—swallowing you whole like a good little hoe.”

Darius smirked, his hands tightening in Chloe’s hair, fucking her mouth deeper. “Yeah, man, this one’s trained—prime white pussy begging for Black dick. And your girl over there—shit, she’s soaking for it. Bet she’s a screamer once we break her in.” His eyes flicked to Emily, degrading and hungry, and she flushed, mortified but hotter, her clit throbbing under Marcus’s touch.

“Damn right,” Marcus shot back, his dialogue a filthy ping-pong with Darius. “This tight little bitch can’t hide it—pussy’s dripping, dying for a real man to wreck it. White boyfriends don’t stand a chance with us around—gonna turn ‘em both into our hoes.” His fingers dug in, rubbing her clit raw, and Emily’s hips bucked, her breath ragged as the words—slut, toy, cumslut—sank in, objectifying, misogynistic, and so fucking hot she couldn’t stand it.

Chloe gagged louder, spit dripping down her chin as Darius slammed into her throat, her worshipful eyes locked on him, and Emily broke. Marcus’s rubbing pushed her over, her first partnered climax ripping through her—shaking, shuddering, a low moan spilling from her lips as her pussy gushed, soaking her jeans, her body trembling on the couch. She watched Chloe suck Darius off, his filthy praise—”Good white slut, take it all”—mixing with Marcus’s taunts, and the degrading chatter between the guys only made her wetter, hotter, her orgasm a shameful, electric wave she couldn’t stop.

As she came down, panting, Marcus grinned, his hand still pressed to her crotch. “Told you she’d cum for it,” he said to Darius, who laughed, thrusting harder into Chloe’s mouth. Emily’s head swam, her fidelity to Jake a distant echo, drowned by the sight of Chloe’s slutty devotion and the pulsing need Marcus had unleashed.

Before she could catch her breath, Marcus moved, muscular bulk shifting fast. He grabbed her shoulders, pushing her flat onto her back on the couch, the leather cool against her flushed skin.

“Time to feel it, freshman,” he growled, his hands yanking at her jeans, tugging them down her legs in one rough pull. Her sneakers caught, then popped off, and he tossed the denim aside, leaving her in soaked panties. Emily’s heart raced, her breath shallow as he hooked a finger under the fabric, shoving it aside to reveal her messy pink pussy—glistening, wet, lips swollen from her orgasm. She looked up at him, nervous, his 6’2” frame looming, his tank top stretched tight over his runner’s muscles. He shoved his pants down, his raging cock springing free—nine inches, thick, black, veined, the fat head glistening with precum—and positioned himself between her thighs, nuzzling her cuntlips with it.

Marcus paused, teasing her, rubbing his cockhead up and down her slick slit, smearing her juices. “You want this big Black dick, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice low and filthy, his eyes locked on hers.

Emily swallowed hard, her throat dry, her pussy aching despite the fear. Jake’s tender flops—small, quick, useless—flickered in her mind, but Marcus’s size, his heat, overwhelmed her. She nodded meekly, her voice a small, shaky “Yes,” barely audible over Chloe’s gagging and the TV’s squeals.

He grinned, triumphant. “Fuck yeah, you do,” he said, and thrust inside her, rough and hard. Emily gasped, a sharp cry escaping as his thick cock stretched her tight pussy, the pain searing—her walls splitting around him, unprepared for his girth. But God, she loved it—the feeling of being filled up, overwhelmed, his size owning her in a way Jake never could. Marcus didn’t ease in; he pounded, his hips slamming forward, driving deep, his balls slapping her ass with every brutal stroke. “Take it, you hot little white slut,” he taunted, pushing her shirt up over her tits, his big hands groping them, squeezing her stiff nipples as he fucked her.

Emily moaned, her body rocking under him, the pain blurring into pleasure as her pussy adjusted, gripping his massive shaft. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Marcus growled, his thrusts relentless, his cock hitting spots she didn’t know existed—deep, raw, electric. “Sexy white girl like you—made for this big dick, huh? Bet your little boyfriend’s never stretched you like this, never made you scream.” His hands mauled her tits, pinching her nipples hard, his misogynistic filth pouring out. “Look at you, moaning like a whore—fucking love it, don’t you? My cock’s ruining that tight cunt.”

She did—God help her, she did. Her moans spilled louder, her hips bucking to meet him, the sting of his size mixing with a wild, shameful thrill. Chloe’s slurping echoed nearby, Darius’s “Good slut” grunts a filthy chorus, and the porn blared—the Black stud flooding his white toy with cum. Marcus pounded harder, his taunts—”Hot piece of ass, taking me so good”—driving her wild, her pussy soaking him, her body surrendering to the overwhelming, degrading fuck. Jake faded, a ghost against this brutal reality, and Emily let go, lost in Marcus’s massive cock and cruel words.

Her shirt bunched above her tits, his hands groping her roughly, and she moaned, loud and helpless, as the pressure built fast. Her clit pulsed, her walls clenched, and she came—hard—her first climax on a cock, a shuddering wave that ripped through her, her pussy gushing around him as she cried out, “Oh fuck!”

Marcus grinned down at her, his hips never slowing, his voice a taunting growl. “Shit, Darius, she’s cumming already—tight little slut can’t handle this dick.” He squeezed her tits, thrusting harder, her juices slicking his shaft as she shook beneath him.

Darius chuckled low, his hands guiding Chloe’s head as she knelt before him. “Told you, man—she’s a screamer. These white bitches break fast.” His ten-inch cock glistened with Chloe’s spit, the dark-haired girl’s lips stretched wide around it, her worshipful eyes locked on his as she bobbed.

“Fuckin’ A,” Marcus shot back, his dialogue a filthy bounce with Darius as he pounded Emily nonstop. “This one’s a natural—pussy’s hugging my cock like it’s starving. Chloe’s a pro too—look at her servicing you, man. Grade-A white sluts.”

Darius smirked, his grip tightening in Chloe’s hair. “Hell yeah. Mine’s a cock-sucking champ—takes it deep like she was born for it. We gotta swap soon, bro—taste both these fine bitches. Bet Emily’s cunt’s sweet after you’ve opened her up.” He extended a closed fist to Marcus.

“Deal,” Marcus said, rapping his own fist against his friend’s, his hips pumping Emily with sheer power, his stamina endless. “Gonna wreck her first, though—she’s too good.” Emily moaned again, overwhelmed, his thick cock hitting her depths, stretching her raw. The pain was gone, drowned in pleasure, and another climax built fast—his size, his force, his filthy words driving her wild. She came again, her young body shuddering, her pussy spasming around him, a high-pitched “Yes!” escaping as her thighs quaked, her excitement electric against his relentless thrusts.

Across the couch, Chloe upped her game, her 20-year-old throat opening wide as she deep-throated Darius, choking herself on his monster cock. Wet gurgling filled the air—gluck-gluck-gluck—her gags loud and sloppy, spit dripping down her chin as she forced him deeper, her eyes watering but adoring. Darius groaned, “Fuck, you nasty white slut—choke on it,” his hands pushing her head down, his shaft disappearing into her mouth until her nose pressed against his pelvis. She gagged hard, a wet, desperate sound, but kept going, her devotion a mirror to Emily’s surrender.

Emily’s head swam, Marcus’s power owning her—his hips slamming, his cock filling her completely, his taunts—”Look at you, cumming like a whore”—blending with Darius’s grunts and Chloe’s gagging. The studs’ plan to swap echoed in her ears, thrilling and terrifying, her body too lost to resist. Her climaxes—two now, back-to-back—left her shaking, her pussy soaked and raw, Jake’s tender flops a distant memory as Marcus fucked her into oblivion.

Marcus’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging in, and suddenly he tensed, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “Fuck, here it comes,” he growled, his massive bulk shuddering as he came, his thick jizz flooding her pussy in hot, heavy spurts. It was nothing like Jake’s weak dribble—Marcus’s load gushed deep, pulse after pulse, overwhelming her, and Emily’s eyes rolled back as another climax ripped through her, her cunt spasming around him, milking every drop as she moaned, “Oh God, yes!”

Across the couch, Chloe’s 20-year-old throat worked Darius’s ten-inch monster, her gagging gluck-gluck turning desperate as he groaned, “Swallow it, slut.” His hands clenched in her hair, his hips jerking, and he came, blasting thick ropes of seed into her mouth. Chloe gulped greedily, her eyes locked on his, worshipful and proud as she drank him down, not spilling a drop. “Good fuckin’ white whore,” Darius praised smugly, his voice rough with satisfaction as she licked her lips, beaming.

Marcus slowed, his grip loosening on Emily’s sweat-slick body, and she whimpered as he pulled out, his enormous cock sliding free. It glistened—coated in his cum and her juices, thick and veined—and her abused, swollen red cunt gaped, leaking his load onto the couch. A hollow emptiness hit her, incredible and aching, the absence of his massive shaft a shock after being so brutally filled. She lay there, panting, a sweat-soaked mess, her shirt bunched above her tits, her legs splayed, her mind reeling from the sheer volume he’d pumped into her—Erebus’s 8.5 milliliters made real, drowning Jake’s pitiful 2.9 in a flood of hot, thick reality.

Chloe wiped her mouth, grinning wide as she leaned back from Darius, her bare tits still out, her voice brassy with pride. “Fuck, my cocksucking game’s unmatched, huh? Swallowed that whole load like a champ. Felt so good, right, Darius?” He smirked, nodding, his spent cock still massive as he stroked it idly. “Best white slut I’ve had,” he said, and she preened, basking in the praise.

Emily barely registered them, her chest heaving, her pussy throbbing with aftershocks. Marcus’s cum trickled out of her, pooling under her ass, and she stared at the ceiling, dazed, overwhelmed by Marcus’s raw power. She’d cum three times, her body shattered by his size, his stamina, his flood, and now she lay wrecked, the emptiness inside her a stark echo of how far she’d fallen. Chloe’s bragging and Darius’s chuckles faded into the background, the TV porn still droning, as Emily panted, lost in the sweat-soaked aftermath of her surrender.

But the Black studs weren’t done. Darius wiped his brow and turned to Marcus, his voice a low rumble. “Man, I gotta feel that pussy on my cock—Emily’s turn.” He didn’t glance at Emily, didn’t ask—just climbed off the couch and stepped forward, his linebacker hands grabbing her arms and hauling her to her feet like she weighed nothing.

Emily stumbled, her legs shaky, her breath catching as Darius manhandled her, spinning her around and bending her over the couch, ass up, her face pressed into the leather. Her jeans were long gone, her panties shoved aside, and she squealed as he positioned himself behind her, his ten-inch cock bigger than Marcus’s, thicker, a glistening black beast sliding against her messy cunt. He thrust in, hard and deep, with no warning, and she shrieked, the stretch searing—his girth splitting her wider, hitting deeper than Marcus had, pain and pleasure crashing together. “Fuck!” she cried, her hands clawing the couch, her blonde hair spilling over her face as he pounded, his hips slamming with brutal force.

In front of her, Marcus dropped onto the couch, his slimy nine-incher still rock-hard, glistening with cum and her juices. Chloe, 20 and insatiable, climbed onto his lap, her bare tits bouncing as she grinned. “My turn, stud,” she purred, lifting herself up and guiding his cock into her wet pussy. She sank down, moaning loud as he filled her, her hips grinding up and down, riding him with a slutty rhythm. Marcus’s hands roamed her big tits, squeezing and slapping them, his groans mixing with her gasps as she fucked herself on him, her cunt slurping around his shaft.

Emily’s eyes widened, awe cutting through her shrieks as Darius fucked her senseless. Their stamina—Marcus hard again, Darius relentless—defied everything she knew. Jake flopped after fifteen seconds; these guys came and kept going. “How ... how are you still hard?” she managed, her voice meek, broken by Darius’s powerful thrusts, her ass jiggling with every slam.

Chloe laughed, her hips rolling on Marcus, her tits bouncing in his grip. “Another way Black men are better, babe,” she said, breathless. “Erebus did a study—sexual stamina. Black guys can cum three, four times in a row, no softening. It’s that testosterone, that power—white boys can’t touch it.” She moaned, grinding harder, Marcus’s cock disappearing into her dripping pussy as she rode him like a pro.

Emily moaned, her mind reeling—Three times in a row? It’s not even over yet!—as Darius’s massive cock owned her, his thrusts rough and unyielding, her young body shaking under his assault. Her pussy stretched to its limit, raw and soaked, his size overwhelming, and she jiggled helplessly, her tits swaying under her bunched-up shirt. Marcus grinned at Chloe, slapping her ass as she bounced, while Darius gripped Emily’s hips, his grunts primal behind her. “Tight little bitch,” he muttered, and she felt it—his power, his stamina, the Erebus truth pounding into her, undeniable and endless.

The living room throbbed with raw excess—Chloe’s gasps, Marcus’s grunts, the TV porn’s fading echo—and her world narrowed to the Black stud behind her, his massive shaft stretching her tight pussy to its breaking point. He ramped up, getting rough, his big hand cracking down on her ass with a sharp smack that stung hot and red. She yelped, the pain spiking her pleasure, and he thrust harder, deeper, driving her to the edge.

“Fuck, Marcus, you were right, this bitch is tight,” Darius growled, 21 and unyielding, smacking her ass again, the sting blooming as he pounded her. “Pussy’s gripping my cock like a damn vise—wet as hell, sucking me in.” His voice was a filthy play-by-play, his hips slamming her forward, her blonde hair swinging with every brutal stroke.

Marcus laughed, his 22-year-old frame sprawled on the couch in front of her, Chloe bouncing on his lap. “Virgin white pussy, man—that’s the good shit. Breaks ‘em in so sweet.” His nine-incher slammed up into Chloe, his hands gripping her hips as he bounced her, her dark hair flying wild, her big tits jiggling with every thrust. She squealed, high and ecstatic, “Yes, fuck, yes!” her pussy slurping around him as he drove her wild.

Emily’s mind reeled, a flicker of protest surfacing—I wasn’t a virgin, I’d had sex with Jake—but it crumbled fast. Who was she kidding? Jake’s tender, fifteen-second flops, his below-average cock barely brushing her walls—those didn’t count, not compared to these Black studs. Darius’s massive shaft, Marcus’s thick flood—they were rewriting her, and as Darius smacked her ass again, the sting searing, she climaxed, a shuddering, shrieking wave crashing through her. “Oh fuck!” she cried, her pussy spasming around him, gushing wet as he kept pounding, her young body shaking under his power.

Darius didn’t let up, his hand beating her ass red, each crack a jolt that made her sting and throb. “Feel that, huh?” he taunted, his cock slamming deep, her walls clenching him tight. “This tight cunt loves it rough—fucking made for me.” Emily moaned, overwhelmed, the violence weaving into the pleasure like it belonged there. She knew if Jake had ever tried spanking her, she’d have snapped at him, pushed him off—but with Darius, it felt natural, primal, a raw part of this sex that owned her. Her ass burned, her pussy ached, and she took it, jiggling under his thrusts, lost in the brutal rhythm.