Campus Bbc Cumslut
Copyright© 2025 by Thomas Spencer
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - This erotic story revolves around a young college freshman named Emily, a shy, bookish white girl from a small town, who discovers her insatiable attraction to "BBC" (Big Black Cock) through encounters with a charismatic black football player named Jamal and his circle of friends. Set on a bustling university campus, the narrative explores themes of forbidden desire, sexual awakening, racial taboos, and power dynamics in explicit detail.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Ma Fa Mult Consensual Romantic Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual BDSM MaleDom Rough Gang Bang Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Interracial Black Male White Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Masturbation Oral Sex Squirting
The days after that mind-blowing study session blurred into a haze of classes, coffee runs, and constant, throbbing need. I couldn’t focus on anything without my mind drifting back to Jamal’s massive BBC—how it had filled my mouth, stretched my lips, and flooded my throat with his thick, hot cum. I’d swallowed every drop like a greedy whore, and now, every time I saw a black guy on campus, my pussy clenched, imagining what they might be packing under those jeans. I was addicted, my body a live wire of lust, craving more of that forbidden stretch, that deep, pounding fullness only a big black cock could provide. Back in my dorm room, I’d sneak quick rubs under the covers, fingers plunging into my slick cunt while replaying the memory, but it wasn’t enough. I needed the real thing, needed Jamal to claim my virgin pussy and ruin me for good.
My roommate, Sarah, was the bubbly type—blonde, curvy, with a laugh that echoed down the hall and a string of hookups that she bragged about endlessly. We’d bonded over late-night snacks and Netflix, but I kept my Jamal obsession hidden, or so I thought. That Friday evening, she burst into the room earlier than expected, catching me mid-session on my laptop. I was sprawled on my bed in just a tank top and panties, legs spread wide, one hand teasing my swollen clit while the screen blared an interracial porn vid: a petite white girl like me getting absolutely destroyed by a hung black stud, her screams muffled by the pillow she’d bitten into. The guy’s cock was enormous, slamming into her with wet, slapping sounds, her pussy lips gripping him like a vice as she begged for more.
“Emily? What the—oh my God!” Sarah exclaimed, dropping her bag with a thud. I slammed the laptop shut, face burning crimson, but it was too late. She grinned wickedly, plopping down on her bed across from mine. “Girl, were you watching what I think you were? BBC porn? Damn, I didn’t peg you for the type.” I stammered denials at first, pulling a blanket over myself, but the ache between my legs betrayed me—my nipples were rock-hard, poking through my top, and I could feel my juices soaking the sheets. Sarah waved off my embarrassment. “Hey, no judgment. I’ve been there. Black guys? They’re on another level. That size, that stamina ... once you go black, you don’t go back, right? Tell me everything—who’s got you all hot and bothered?”
Hesitantly, I spilled a censored version: the mixer, the DMs, the “study session” where I’d sucked Jamal off like a pro. Her eyes widened, then sparkled with mischief. “Jamal the quarterback? Holy shit, Em! He’s infamous. I’ve heard stories—girls limping back to their dorms after a night with him. You gotta explore this. Invite him over. I’ll crash at a friend’s if you need privacy.” Her encouragement lit a fire in me; she even shared her own tales, admitting to a fling with a black basketball player last year that left her “addicted to the stretch.” By the time she left for a party, I was texting Jamal: “Come over tonight? Room 312. Be quiet—dorm rules.” His reply was instant: “Midnight. Wear something easy to rip off.”
The wait was torture. I paced the small room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, my body humming with anticipation. I’d shaved everything smooth again, lotioned up, and slipped into a tiny nightie that barely covered my ass, no panties underneath. My pussy was already dripping, clit pulsing with every heartbeat as I imagined finally feeling his BBC inside me—not just in my mouth, but buried deep, stretching my walls until I screamed. The risk made it hotter: thin walls, nosy RAs patrolling the halls. One wrong moan, and we’d be busted. But fuck, that danger only amplified my lust, making me rub my thighs together for friction.
At midnight sharp, a soft knock. I cracked the door, and there he was—Jamal, in a hoodie and sweats, his dark eyes devouring me as he slipped inside. “Fuck, you look ready,” he whispered, voice low and gravelly, pulling me into a searing kiss before the door even latched. His hands were everywhere—gripping my ass, squeezing my tits—while his tongue dominated my mouth, tasting like mint and raw desire. I ground against him, feeling that massive bulge harden instantly, pressing into my belly like a promise. “Shh,” I murmured against his lips, but my body screamed for more. We stumbled to my bed, the springs creaking softly as he pushed me down, stripping off his clothes in record time.