Written, created, conceived, and masturbated to by AKA.
Comments: akaCockBobber(at)yahoo(dot)com
/files/Authors/AKACockBobber/
=====================================================

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 2 of 2

"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.

"Wh-what's happening ... why ... why did I ... ?"
Wendell coughed out.

"Aw, Wendy.  It's okay.  It's okay.  I know you have
questions, but you've got to calm down.  You enjoyed
your lunch, right?"

"Why ... it was delicious, but ... what's the ..."
Wendell gasped, but then stopped and took a deep
breath.  "Candy ... why did I eat all that ...?  Am
... am I gay?"

Candy laughed out loud, "Oh, goodness no, Wendy!  What
you're feeling is a far baser reaction than anything
defined as homosexual or heterosexual -- it's totally
instinctual.  It's one of the few truly instinctual
reactions left in modern white men ... you really
can't help it."

"In-- ... instinctual?"

"Sure.  Instinct.  That's why you feel the way you do
right now.  You're fighting the instinctual urge to
dive in and lick up every ounce of black semen in the
place.  But just like a soldier learns to fight his
instinct to flee from danger, you'll soon learn to
control your reactions."

"I ... I don't understand."

"I know, Wendy.  It'll take some time.  I'm sorry to
introduce you to your baser instincts with this trial
by fire method, but Mr. Roosevelt thought that it was
best that you get first hand knowledge as to what it
is that makes our business so successful.  Plus ... "
she leaned in close and ran a hand along his chest, "
... you looked soooo cute slurping down that black
sperm with your little polyester accountant pants all
tented upward and everything."

Wendell ignored both the mention of business and the
beautiful woman's touch -- both of which would
normally gain his attention easily.  He was obviously
still caught up in his unexpected desires.  "Ok, I'm
not gay.  Good.  But I ... I really wanted that sperm.
 I mean, God that was good.  I still ... I still don't
understand."

"Don't worry, Wendy.  A lot of white men have tried in
the past to understand their compulsion to suck down
that negro cum.  It's not exactly widespread
knowledge, but a few select minds have done some
serious thinking on the subject.  Emmett ... that's
his bald head you see over there between Brandy's
thighs ... is a college professor.  He thinks it's a
pheromonal thing.  Y'see, since the majority of white
men -- especially you little dicked fellas -- never
truly satisfy a woman, you've never actually been
around a woman who's exuding the aura of true sexual
ecstasy.  Only a man-sized black cock can truly do
that."

Wendell twitched slightly at the idea of being called
'little-dicked' ... but realized that he had nothing
that could compete with what he'd seen here today.

"When a white woman has been properly blackfucked, her
body is just bursting with pheromones that draw in you
white boys like moths to a porchlight.  It's only
natural for you to go straight to the source of her
pleasure ... the fuckbattered orifice that's been
stretched by black cock and filled with black sperm."

Wendell's body convulsed slightly and his dick ached
anew as it swelled just from the sound of her vivid
descriptions.

"Emmett also thinks that there's a genetic preference
toward semen sucking in you boys.  It seems to be
passed most strongly along with wiry builds and
remarkably small penises.  The impulse to swallow
black cum exists in nearly all white men, but those
with tiny peckers are the most likely to have their
women go out seeking a true fucking from a black cock.
 With me so far?"

Wendell nodded, "But wh--"

"Let me finish, Wendy.  Now, given the innate
superiority of black sperm, the only chance a little
white guy like you has to actually reproduce is to
suck those stronger little wigglers out of his woman's
cunt.  The fact that the act of doing so excites him
immensely also helps; it means that he might actually
shoot enough of his own miserable juice to actually
stand a chance of impregnating her.  Therefore, the
best white sperm suckers who are most aroused by the
act thus become the only ones to pass on their genes. 
Thus, the natural desire -- the instinct -- to suck
down black cum has been reinforced genetically for
millennia."  She paused for a moment, then added, "You
were born to eat Negro sperm, Wendy."

Wendell thought silently for a moment, then nodded in
apparent acceptance.  "Y-you sure seem to know a lot
about this, Candy."

"Oh, well I'm working my way through college.  I'm
getting a Master's degree in Male Sexuality ... with a
minor in African Studies.  Emmy over there is my
faculty advisor.  I've learned a lot from listening to
his muffled voice coming from between my legs.  So,
any more questions?"

Wendell nodded.  "I guess what you say makes sense,
but ... but I sure liked that #2.  It was ...
delicious.  Th-that's got nothing to do with human
reproductive instincts, does it?"

"Well, it could be simply that your instincts aren't
all that focused ... and any cum in the general
vicinity gets treated the same," Candy explained. 
Then she leaned in closely again and drew a single
finger along Wendell's jawline as she whispered in his
ear, "Or it could be that you enjoyed it simply
because you're a nasty little white boy who loves
sucking and slurping a black man's semen from the well
stretched asshole of a young white woman.  Just like
Wally loved clamping his mouth on me and drinking down
my sweet piss."  She moved her mouth an inch away from
his ear so he could feel her breath as she whispered,
"Does that explaination work for you, Wendy?"

"Yeah ..." Wendell swallowed hard as his body
shuddered again.  He turned to look at her and she
looked him dead in the eye, waiting for an answer. 
"... that ... that sounds good to me."

"Good! So now you understand!" she chirped.  "Now, as
I said, the arousal of the white male results in a
drastic increase in sperm and seminal fluids ... which
is evident in the fact that your bag is leaking." 
Candy glanced at Wendell's lap.

"Bag?" he questioned, looking downward.  A small, wet
circle in the center of his crotch was obviously what
Candy was referring to.

"Oh my.  You're such a natural cumsucker, Wendy, I
keep forgetting that you're a newcomer.  Come with
me."

Candy grabbed Wendell by the hand and yanked him off
the bar stool.  She headed toward the back of the
restaurant and right through the Men's room door
without even slowing down.  Once inside, she tugged
something from a dispenser on the wall, turned and
immediately reached for Wendell's belt buckle.

"I should have remembered to tell you, Wendy, but
leakers like you are required to bag up before
dining," Candy calmly explained as she yanked down his
pants and boxers.  Wendell looked helplessly around
the room, but only saw two other patrons standing at
the urinals against the far wall.  They stiffened
noticeably at the sound of Candy's voice, but stared
straight ahead, seemingly ignoring what was happening
behind them.

Some part of Wendell's brain suddenly realized that
the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen was now
kneeling down in front of him pulling his pants to his
ankles.  But before he could think to enjoy or even to
react to the moment, he felt a sharp snap around the
base of his penis.

"Owwww!!" he cried in obvious pain.

"Oh, sorry Wendy, but it's the only way I can get your
bag on there without actually touching that thing."

Wendell looked down and saw that she'd fitted a
plastic bag with a tight elastic band built into the
opening around the base of his dick and balls.  With
the tight ring around the juncture of his testicles,
the end of the bag was just too short for the length
of his erect penis.  He winced and looked at Candy
pleadingly.

"Don't look at me like that, Wendy.  You're the one
who's practically creaming his shorts while sucking
down a black man's cum.  Now, pull up your pants and
we'll get back to your tour."  Candy then turned
around and spoke loudly to the men against the wall,
"Whack off all you want, boys, but remember to lick
the urinals clean when you're finished."

Seeing the surprised look on Wendell's face as he
buckled his belt, she whispered an explaination, "Too
much white boy sperm tends to clog the drains,
y'know."

Candy took his hand again and Wendell placidly
followed her back out to the restaurant.  As they
walked amongst the rows of white men feasting on the
cum-filled crotches of the uniformed young girls,
Candy took on a business-like tone once again.  "Well,
I hope you understand a little better how our business
works now, Wendy.  It's the oldest business strategy
around: Find something that people with money want and
charge a lot for it.  And heaven knows that you
tiny-dicked cumsucking white boys sure can't get
enough black man's cum, that's for sure."

Even in its aroused state, Wendell's mind was able to
focus once the topic turned to business.  He thought
about what he'd seen and asked, "B-but, if the girls
keep the tips and the, uhh ... 'meal charge' is given
to the young black men, how does this place make any
money?"

"Good question, Wendy!  I can see that Mr. Roosevelt
chose you for a reason other than your tiny white
weenie.  You see, Wendy, Mr. Roosevelt has been
indpendently wealthy for years.  He's a silent partner
in businesses owned by white men all over the city. 
He didn't start the cafe in order to make more money;
he considers it a way of giving back to his community
by employing promising young black men and teaching
them how things work in the white man's business
world.  You see, once a white man has eaten black
sperm, he's forever addicted.  He'll do anything to
get it.  That's an obvious winning business
opportunity for any enterprising black man."

"I ... I'm not sure I understa--"

"Wendell, if that muscled young stud over there
offered to come into your office and bang your
secretary every day, filling her pussy and ass with
daily loads of cum for you to eat, yet only asked for
49% of your company in exchange for his services,
would you do it?"

Wendell stared open mouthed at the stud in question as
he pumped his huge cock in out out of the upthrust ass
of a young blonde, then turned and answered with
complete honesty, "Yes." 

"You see my point then?"

"God yes, I understand completely."

As Wendell watched the final thrusts into the girl's
ass, he shifted uncomfortably, trying to make his
crotch less painful without touching it.

"Sorry I had to bag you, Wendy, but we can't have your
sickening whiteboy seepage leaking through your pants.
 It's just unseemly.  I can't have that in a family
establishment."

Wendell looked around the room.  The place was now
filled to capacity with white men from every walk of
life.  It might have been the crowd from any suburban
neighborhood bar & grill in America.  Except the only
thing on the menu was black man's sperm and the only
thing on tap was white girl's piss.

His face took on a puzzled look.  "I .. I don't mean
to criticize, but ... a moment ago ... did you say
family establishment?"

"Sure, Wendy.  You don't need to sound so surprised. 
See the little man with his head between Lulu's
thighs?  The one in the blue sweater vest?  Well,
that's Walter Middlebury.  The one seated next to him
with his head between Chelsea's thighs is his son
Miles.  Miles is headed off to State next year and
Wally wanted to get him used to the taste of black
sperm.  Y'see, even though Miles couldn't hit a
basketball with a golf club, his parents expect him to
be extremely active in the University athletic program
... if you know what I mean?"  She grinned with
inquisitive eyebrows.

"I ... I think I do."

"And seated in that booth over there ... where Jasmine
is preparing a #4 Extra Fresh ... are three
generations of Dickey men," said Candy as she gestured
toward the young lady actively sucking off a
completely naked black youth.  All three men were
mesmerized, but the already-glazed faces of the older
men told Wendell that this load was for the youngest
of the trio.  Wendell's pecker strained anew against
the confines of the plastic bag as a pair of large,
dark hands grasped the girl's head and filled her
mouth while she whimpered with pleasure.  When she sat
in the young white man's lap and clamped her mouth
against his, the two older men smiled their best
'That's my boy' smiles.

"See, Wendy?  Now that's family bonding, right?  And
you can tell from the way Jasmine's cum-filled kiss is
lingering that's she's a bit sweet on the young Dickey
boy there."  Candy leaned in closely and said softly,
"Don't tell anyone, but I think she's been sneaking
him a few 'to go' meals every once in awhile."

"That's allowed?" Wendell asked in an oddly hopeful
voice.

"Well, not officially, but it's one of those
'acceptable losses'.  Call it an employee discount of
sorts.  We tolerate it ... especially if it looks like
there might be a future for the young couple."

"Future?"

"Well, sure!  Can you think of a better way for a
young lady to pick out a decent little white cumsucker
to keep her clean and happy?  Who knows, Wendell ...
maybe one of the girls will decide you're the
spermlapper of her dreams and bring you a little snack
after work sometime."

"Oh, that would be wonde--"

"Oh!  I've got one more thing to show you!" said Candy
excitedly.  She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him
toward the bathroom door.  Wendell groaned slightly,
hoping this wouldn't lead to something even more
restrictive than the bag already bound tightly around
his aching genitals.

"That's good enough, boys," Candy shouted to the two
kneeling white men who were licking the white
porcelain inside the urinals.  "Out.  Out!  I've got
business to attend to."  The men jumped up and
scurried out the door.

Once they were gone, Candy tugged at the chain around
her neck and fished a key out from between her ample
breasts.  She put it in the hefty-looking lock of the
plain brown door marked 'Utility Closet' that sat
against the back wall of the restroom.  The door
opened with a creak.  "Hurry, Wendy, before anyone
sees!"  She pushed him through the door into the
darkness.  His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim
surroundings.

"If you had any doubt we were family oriented, wait
till you see this!" said Candy as she quickly shut the
door again.

"Hi, Candy.  What's up?  My time's not up already is
it?" asked a female voice.

Having been shoved into the room, the source of the
voice was now behind Wendell, but he didn't turn to
look at her.  He was too mesmerized by the scene in
front of him.

"No no, you're good for the whole afternoon," said
Candy calmly.  "I'm just showing the new accountant
around."

"Oh, so this is Mr. Nubbin!  Mr. Roosevelt mentioned
that you two might be stopping by.  How nice to meet
you."

Wendell didn't move.

Candy started to giggle.  "Don't forget, Fiona, he's
new, so you'll have to pardon his rudeness."  She
nudged Wendell in the side with her elbow.

"Huh?" grunted Wendell.  "Oh, I'm sorry.  Nice to meet
you to.  It's just that ..."  Wendell's eyes were
still locked forward.

"Don't worry, Wendy.  Anyway, this is tonight's clean
up manager Fiona Fulmouth ... and the boys with the
black cocks in their mouths are her twin sons, Neville
and Nigel."

The scene that had so strongly caught his attention
was a row of softball sized holes in the wall ahead of
him.  Through two of the holes were thrust a pair of
large, half-limp black dicks.  And kneeling below each
dick was a young man suckling and licking along its
length.

"After filling an order," Candy explained, "our chefs
place their ... 'utensils' in the care of our clean up
crew.  Each black cock is carefully lapped clean of
all residual semen and female juices.  The chefs balls
are licked and stroked to promote further semen
production.  Once stiffness begins to return -- which
often takes only minutes -- the cock is returned to
service in the kitchen.  Understand, Wendy?"

"Huh?  Oh, yes ... I think so," Wendell mumbled, not
quite listening

"Oh, I know it sounds complicated, but you'd be
surprised how quickly young white men pick up on it. 
We constantly bring in new white boys for family
training and they almost always just seem to know
exactly what to do."

Part of that actually caught Wendell's attention. 
"Family t-training?"

"Of course.  You see, Wendy, in the interest of
supporting strong family relationships, Mr. Roosevelt
rents out this space for the city's mothers and their
sons.  Make sense?"

"N-not reall--"

"It's simple, Wendell.  Obviously, it's every mother's
duty to get her sons ready for married life.  And we
all know that cleaning sperm and white woman's juices
off of a black cock are things that every good husband
needs to learn to do well.  Another few weeks of this
and the boys will be all ready for their respective
weddings.  And just in time, too.  Right, Fiona?"

"Right.  Nev's wedding is next week," Fiona replied
cheerily.

Candy touched Wendell on the shoulder.  "There's quite
a waiting list for this spot, of course."

"Of course," he replied absent-mindedly.

"It's a shame, really," Candy continued.  "So many
white boys are totally unprepared when the half dozen
or so black men their new wives invite to the
honeymoon suite arrive.  Sure, they catch on just as
soon as they're presented with their first blackfucked
pussy -- just like you did.  But a lot of unnecessary
kicking & screaming can be avoided by proper training
by caring mothers like Fiona here.  The ability to
properly clean pussy and ass juices off a thick black
cock will make the wedding night more enjoyable for
everyone.  Plus, these boys are now so good at sucking
a black man hard again that they're basically ensured
3 or 4 loads from each cock.  And more cum means more
fun for everyone, don't you agree?"

"Oh hell yeah," mumbled Wendell.  "But ... " he turned
to the two ladies for the first time with a look of
consternation, " ... I didn't see this on the menu."

Fiona snickered, "They always want to head straight
for the dick, don't they?" 

Candy rolled her eyes.  "Wendy, weren't you listening
at all?  This is a specially reserved dining area.  We
couldn't put this on the menu.  The line would be
around the block!"

Wendell shook off the spaced out look on his face as
Candy's previous descriptions sunk in.  "Right.  Ok
... that explains the locks."

"HEY!" came a cry from Fiona.  "Nigel, I told you, no
pumping!"  The young man quickly removed his hand from
the cock it had been stroking rapidly.  Fiona turned
to the two of them.  "Excuse me, I've got to keep
watch on the boys.  You know how they are: Give them
an inch ... and they'll try to suck off ten!"  She
grinned at her own joke.  "Now if you'll excuse me,"
she said as she turned away.  "Nigel, so help me, if
you milk a single cumload today, you'll be grounded so
long ..... "

"That's exactly why we keep the black dick under lock
and key," Candy explained.  "With all the cumhungry
white boys out there, we've got to keep them away from
direct access to black cocks.  While I'm a firm
believer in the idea that every drop of African semen
should end up in the belly of a white man, it's our
policy that a fine establishment like ours should
offer cum that's properly served in the pussy, ass, or
mouth of a pretty young white girl.  It's a lot more
fun for everyone, in my opinion ... plus it keeps the
queers away."

Wendell twitched slightly at the mention of the word
'queer' ... especially since he had the biggest hardon
of his life watching two young men suck black dick.

"And that's a firm rule here, Wendy.  No faggots
allowed.  Only heterosexual cumsuckers.  There will be
no faggot action in the men's room.  You white boys
whacking off into the toilets is expected, but don't
let us catch you sucking each other off, Wendy. 
That's the surest way to get 86'd for good."

Wendell looked shocked.  "What?!  Me??!  No way!  I
... I'd never do that!"

Candy's face scrunched up.  "Yeah.  I feel exactly the
same way, Wendy.  Wimpy white pricklets are just ...
gross.  I wouldn't suck one either.  But since you've
expressed an obvious interest in chowing down on the
good, dark stuff, you should know that black cock IS
on the dinner menu."

Wendell's face brightened, then changed to a confused
expression.  "Wait .. I thought you were only open for
lunch."

"Oh, true.  The cafe itself is open only for lunch
because the chefs are busy in the evenings ... with
deliveries.  See, it's every white wife's
responsibility to have dinner waiting for her husband
when he gets home.  We have very affordable rates for
everything from a simple
snack to a full 6, 7 or even 10 course meal.  And, of
course, all our dinner selections come with full
cockcleaning privileges for the husband.  It's a
wonderful service for married white couples."

"But ... I'm not married," said Wendell, sounding
truly disappointed.

"Well, Nubby, there are many advantages to married
life for a white man ... and the chance to suck a
combination of white woman's juices and black man's
spent cum off of a long thick black cock is one of
them."

Wendell simply nodded and turned back to watch the
Fulmouth boys.  Fiona was breaking up a squabble over
the next cock to appear for cleaning.  Fiona awarded
it to Neville, apparently because of Nigel's previous
bad behavior.  His jealousy was very apparent by the
look on his face.

The two of them stood in silence for a few minutes ...
watching.  Whenever one of the young white mouths
leapt on a fresh, glistening black cock, Candy let out
a slight whimper and Wendell let out a slight groan. 
Finally, he turned to Candy with a look of discomfort,
"Could we maybe leave now?  I ... I don't know how
much more of this I can take."

"Huh?  Oh, I'm sorry, Wendy.  I realize that you're
probably miserable in that bag.  We made them to
properly fit the 3" fellas.  At 3-3/4", your lil
pecker is probably pretty cramped, huh?"

"Y-yes.  It is."  Wendell pondered for a moment, then
asked, "Candy, how do you know exactly how long my
penis is?"

"Oh, Wendy ... first of all, 3-3/4" is how 'short'
your dickie is ... not how 'long' it is.  And second,
did you think Mr. Roosevelt found you at random? 
Nurses all over the city know they can win a 10 course
meal for their husbands as a finder's fee by reporting
exceptionally small white peckers.  You really didn't
think that the measurements taken last year at your
doctor's were really 'for your file', did you?" Candy
giggled.  

Wendell said nothing, but silently questioned the
validity of the 15 minute 'prostate check' he received
at the same time.

"As with any product, you've got to find the customers
who are most willing to pay for it.  Strong market
research is key to any successful busi-- ... ooooooh
... that's hot ... " 

Candy's attention was diverted momentarily as Nigel
crawled up to a massive, shiny, limp, black dick and
gobbled its entire length into his mouth and throat. 
Wendell felt his dick swell further against the
restrictive plastic bag.  He groaned as he reached a
full 4" for the first time in his life.

"I'm just lucky to be able to work here," Candy
moaned.  "Most women have to get married in order to
see such a beatiful sight."  She sighed and actually
laid her head on Wendell's shoulder, "See, Wendy,
there are those purists that believe that only legally
married white wives' cunts and husbands' mouths should
be permitted the honor of being flooded with negro
sperm.  But Mr. Roosevelt has a more liberal view.  He
started the cafe to give every white male -- even
unmarried ones -- the chance to perform his natural
function of swallowing black cum.  Those purists
accuse him of being in it just for the money, but he
believes strongly in the sanctity of a white marriage
... and that black sperm should be an integral part of
daily married life for white couples.  Can you see
that, Wendy?"

"Uhh, sure.  I gue--"

"Sure, we do an active business up front, but we
believe that the pleasure of cleaning cum & pussy off
a black cock is rightfully a married man's role.  But
too many white couples are completely missing out! 
That's exactly the purpose for these training
sessions!"  Candy became more animated.  She obviously
had some strong beliefs about this topic.  "Once fully
trained by their mother, these boys will be eager to
find a lovely white girl and introduce her to the
pleasures of black cock.  It's our way of spreading
the word!  And white girls' legs!  And white boys'
lips!  Understand?!"

"Yes, I se--"

"And THAT's why we keep the cock locked up, Wendy!"
she chocked him on the shoulder for emphasis.  "By
giving 'em just a little taste of the dark side, we're
showing them just how to find years of wedded,
cumsucking bliss!  Limiting access encourages them to
develop the kind of relationships that will lead to
future happiness for all involved.  That makes sense,
right?"

"Exact--"

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Wendy?  Makes you want to
run out and get married to some black cock loving
little slut, doesn't it?" asked Candy.  She smiled,
finally giving him a real chance to speak.

He turned and looked at her with a longing like he'd
never felt.  "Yes," said Wendell softly.  "Yes, it
does."  His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

If she heard the unspoken message in his voice, Candy
didn't show it.  She appeared lost again in the sight
of the cleanup chores being performed before her. 
"Ok, yes ... ok," gasped Candy as she recovered.  "We
can move on.  Sorry, Wendy, but like most white women,
I just get mesmerized at the sight of black cock
stretching the lips of a white man's mouth.  It's just
so ... hoo!  Let's get out of here before we both
cream ourselves."

As they turned to leave, Candy nudged Wendell and
pointed at Fiona with a grin.  She was seated in a
chair with her legs flung up over each arm.  Her hands
worked furiously between her widespread legs.

"I guess she couldn't hold out any longer," whispered
Candy with a wide smile.  Wendell doubted that anyone
in the room noticed as they closed and relocked the
door.

"Oh gawd, Wendy!" exclaimed Candy as they passed back
out into the diner.  "Speaking of holding out, I'm
being so cruel showing you all of this.  Your bag must
be completely slimy on the inside by now from your
dribbling dick.  I'm sure your body is simply
demanding some more black semen down your gullet right
now, right?"

"Yes," he admitted freely.

"Well, I like you, Wendy, so let's see if we can
intercept you another order," she whispered.  "Let me
take a look back here in the ... "  She propped the
door open with one hand.  "Oh, hey!  Wendy, come look
at this!"

He certainly didn't have to be told twice.  The sounds
and smells of the kitchen were intoxicating.  He moved
up and looked in over her shoulder.

"That's my baby sister, Tammy.  That's her with that
fat 10-incher ramming her tiny ass -- wow, that girl
can take it!  She's earning a little extra cash before
she heads off to college this fa--"  Candy's eyes
widened and her voice dropped to a whisper, " ...
well, damn that girl!  Her cunt is already sopped with
cum and I don't think there's a #3 on order right
now."

Candy looked at the rotating spindle and checked the
paper slips containing the current orders.  She put
her hand to her chin thoughtfully and leaned in close
to Wendell.

"Wendell, I'm hoping you can help me out here.  The #3
is our most expensive dish and Tammy can get in big
trouble for cooking one up that's not on order.  Can I
talk you into ordering a nice double shot of negro
love?  I'll even see if I can get Tammy to throw in a
free chaser, ok?"

Mesmerized by the sight of Tammy's ass being stretched
to nearly impossibly proportions, Wendell simply
stammered, "Why y-yes ... that's very k-kind of you."

He didn't blink until Candy finally dragged him away
and pushed him toward a seat at the counter.  The
lunch rush was still in full swing, so Wendell slid
between two other eagerly licking patrons and tried
not to concentrate on the combined sounds of soft
moans and hungry slurps.  He stared straight ahead and
clamped his hands on his thighs again while Candy
disappeared to the back room to check on his order.

After a moment, Candy returned and leaned in from the
other side of the counter.  "I really appreciate you
helping me out here, Wendy."  She smiled a sly smile,
"I almost hate to take advantage of you.  The way your
body must be screaming for a taste of semen, I could
probably sell you anything right now.  But it's a
win-win situation, right?"

"Yes.  Yes, I'm glad to help," said Wendell as he
fumbled with his wallet in preparation for Tammy's
arrival.  He shifted uncomfortably as the tugging on
his back pocket tightened his pants in the front.

"I know you're miserable right now, Wendy, with your
dickie straining so hard in your pants.  In the past,
you might have been tempted to go whack off, but
you'll soon learn that the presence of black semen in
your mouth will ease that desperate feeling in your
crotch much more completely than a mere orgasm would. 
Following those primal whiteboy instincts is
infinitely more satisfying.  Think about how you're
feeling right now; you want a load of manjuice from
the thick cocks you saw much more than a trip to the
jackoff stall in the men's room, right?"

"Absolutely," he admitted while shuffling through his
remaining cash.

"See?  It's simple biology.  Your body knows what it
needs and rewards you with pleasure when you provide
it.  Therefore, the longer it's been since your last
orgasm, the stronger the pleasure from cumeating is in
order to overcome that silly desire to spurt your own
juice.  That's what's so fantastic about this --
intense pleasure for everyone involved without having
to worry about a drop of that icky white boy slime
soiling the tender body of a white girl.

Wendell wasn't listening; he was panicking.  "Candy, I
only have $193," he gasped.

"Oh, don't worry about that, Wendy.  We've got sort of
a 'table stakes' policy.  You've got to at least come
close, but none of our girls will turn down your last
dollar in exchange for a load of cum."

"Thank goodne--"

He was interrupted by the giggling entrance of Tammy. 
She deleriously stumbled along behind the counter and
nearly collapsed, leaning against Candy for support. 
"God, I love my job!" she exclaimed.

Candy giggled.  "Well, you're about to love it even
more, I think.  Wendy here is new at this, but I can
tell he's going to vacuum you out like no one ever
has.  Trixie swears he licked her cervix!" said Candy
as she helped her sister into position.

As Tammy's leg swung over his head, Wendell quickly
pressed the last of his cash into her hand and moved
his attention to the swollen flesh of her crotch.  As
she leaned back far to permit better access to her
well-fucked ass, Wendell noticed a tiny straight line
that ran horizontally across the bridge between her
pussy and asshole.  Leaning in closer, he saw that it
was a neatly lettered (almost typewritten) tattoo: 'If
you can read this, eat me, white boy.'

Wendell smiled and whispered to himself, "Gladly."

As he first felt the warmth of the semen against his
tongue, Wendell felt a zing of pleasure shoot from his
mouth to his crotch ... then spread throughout his
body.  It was a wonderful, all enveloping feeling.  It
wasn't orgasmic, really.  It was ... better.

"Can you feel it, Wendy?  Can you feel the special
pleasure of eating black sperm?  It's better than an
orgasm, isn't it?" Candy's voice asked softly in his
ear.

"Mmm mmmph"

"See?  Now that you're all primed up and in need of a
good cum, that joy of cumsucking can really take hold.
 The longer you hold out, the better this will feel,
so as you lay in bed tonight fantasizing about black
cocks and cum, try to avoid squirting yourself, ok? 
That way, when you come back tomorrow with a big ol'
fresh supply of money, you'll be able to experience
even greater pleasure.  Will you do that, Wendy?  Will
you do that for me?"

"Yephmph!" cried Wendell's muffled, ecstatic voice. 
There was no question he'd be back for more of this. 
In that instant, this was everything he'd ever wanted.
 This was right.  This was beautiful.  This was
destiny.

* * *

Wendell sat on the barstool facing outward into the
rest of the cafe.  He was leaning back against the
counter, his elbows supporting him.  He looked
relaxed.  He felt relaxed, in fact.  On his face was a
wide satified grin ... along with a thin glaze of
drying sexual juices.  His dick was still throbbing
painfully in his pants, but he didn't care.  Or more
correctly, he didn't mind.  

Everything Candy had said was true.  He felt a sense
of sexual satisfaction like he'd never felt before in
his life even though he hadn't cum.  Jerking off never
felt this good.  By god, none of the few, fumbling
experiences he'd had with a woman had felt this good. 
He'd come here today to gain a better understanding of
...

As if on cue, Candy appeared next to him.  "Well,
don't you look like the cat who ate the canary?"

"Oh no, my dear.  I'm not a pussy who's eaten
something ... I look this way because I've been eatin'
pussy!" he said with a suave grin.  It would occur to
him later that it was the most 'suave' thing he'd ever
said to a woman.

Candy giggled appropriately.  "Oh gawd, Wendy!  You're
too much!"  She laid a hand on his arm as she laughed.
 Wendell looked at his arm where she'd touch him.  He
liked the way she touched him.

She moved around in front of him, swung her leg over
his and sat down straddling his thighs.  She wasn't
sitting on his dick, per se, but her weight tugged his
pants in such a way that the fabric pressed down
agonizingly on his rock hard pecker.  He ... liked it.

She leaned in inches from his face.  "Y'know, you're
kinda cute when you smile in that
just-sucked-down-four-loads-of-black-sperm way.  I may
just have to find a way to ..." she placed a finger on
his lips and drew it downward over his chin, " ...
wipe ... that smile off your face."

"I ... I'd l-like that," said Wendell, returning to
his usual stammer.

"You'd better!" chirped Candy.  "You made me lose a
bet, you natural-born-cumsucker you!"

"A bet?" Wendell asked, ignoring his new title.

"Well," she said with a sigh, "I didn't believe Mr.
Roosevelt when he said you'd take a chaser without
spilling a drop on your first day.  No one's ever done
that before, but I should have just assumed that Mr. R
knows a talented white throat when he sees one."

"Oh", said Wendell, feeling an odd sense of pride. 
"What did you bet?"

"Oh, the usual -- my ass," giggled Candy.  "See,
Wendy, Mr R is so big that none of the girls can take
him there.  None except me, that is.  When he reams
me, I cum so hard that I become a blubbering fuck
slut, but that monster stretches me something fierce,
so ... can I count on you to be around for a week of
#2's, Wendy?  Will you use that lovely tongue of yours
to soothe my black-ravaged asshole?"

Wendell swallowed hard, but before he could answer,
the man on the stool next to him suddenly jerked and
twitched spasmodically.  The man's hips pumped the air
twice before his openmouthed glazed stare cleared into
a frown.  "Dammit!" he muttered.

"Shot your wad early again, eh Cecil?" Candy asked in
a concerned voice.

"Yes!" he replied with frustration.  "It's my own
fault, though.  I shouldn't have been eavesdropping. 
Damn, Candy, I ... you sure are ...  damn, I'll come
back tomorrow."

Candy giggled and whispered into Wendell's ear, "Poor
Cecil.  I like him, but he'll never feel the full joy
of eating black sperm unless he learns to control that
hair trigger of his.  And I will say, Wendy" she said
as she lightly patted his lap, "you're doing very well
in that department.  Your self control is admirable
for a first timer."

Wendell grinned, actually enjoying the added
discomfort of her tapping on the head of his already
distended penis.  His new confident attitude returned,
"Well, it's like you said, babe.  I'm a natural.  I
guess I'm just one of the best, undiscovered until
now."

"Well!  Aren't we cocky?!  In once sense of the word,
anyway.  Well, we'll see how long you can keep your
pecker from popping when I tell you the news."  She
stood up and pulled Wendell to his feet.  She raised
her voice just enough for those around them to here,
"Mr Roosevelt has offered to let you try something
from the dessert menu."

The screech of a chair leg against the floor
preciptated the least expected sound of all --
silence.  The entire room fell quiet as all eyes
turned to Wendell.  He could feel a new emotion waft
through the room -- and that emotion was jealousy.

"Lucky bastard."  "No way??!"  "Fucker!"  "Already?!?"
 "Holy shit!"

The whispered expletives came from all directions. 
Wendell knew all attention was suddenly on him, but
... he didn't know why.

"Dessert m-menu?!" he asked nervously.

"Yes!  Isn't that great!  On your first day!" Candy
squealed and tossed her arms around his neck in a
congratulatory hug.

Wendell looked over her shoulder.  He made eye contact
with Trixie who apparently understood his confused
look.  She raised her hand to her mouth and curled her
fingers and thumb into an 'O'.  She then pumped the
resulting cylinder back and forth a few times while
bulging out her cheek with her tongue.

Wendell's body convulsed once as he suddenly
understood.  He almost came in his pants.

Almost.

* * *

Wendell stared unabashedly at the towering piece of
meat that stood straight up from the lap of Mr.
Roosevelt's large, atheletic body.  He'd never before
met the man in person, but now ... he still really
didn't know what he looked like.  From his kneeling
position between the man's powerful thighs, Wendell
found it was impossible to take his eyes off the
gorgeous black pole before him.

"It's huge.  It's ... beautiful."  He trembled as he
spoke.

"It sure is, huh Wendy?  I can tell you're getting
better at acknowledging your white boy urges.  I
didn't have to explain anything to you, did I?  You
knew exactly where you belonged," Candy beamed while
stroking Wendell's hair.

Mr. Roosevelt hadn't yet spoken a word.  Wendell
hadn't yet looked him in the eye.  It was as if he
wasn't really human, but simply an altar of black cock
at which Wendell felt compelled to worship.  And the
beautiful girl kneeling next to him was the high
priestess.

She'd led him from the cafe up the back stairs to Mr.
Roosevelt's office.  It was an old-school mohagany
palace from a time gone by.  It was upstairs from the
cafe and gymnasium in what once would have considered
a walk-up.  It must have belonged to some old tycoon
back when this neighborhood was a nice place to live. 
Back when it was a white neighboorhood, Wendell noted.

When they entered the office, Mr. Roosevelt was seated
in a deep-buttoned leather chair.  He wore a jacket
and tie, but ... he was naked from the waist down. 
The gorgeous black rod jutted magnificently upward,
already erect.  Already waiting.  There was a small
pillow laid on the floor between his legs.

Wendell hadn't asked questions.  He hadn't hesitated. 
He had simply crossed the room and dropped to his
knees.  It was only as he leaned forward to take the
beast into his mouth that Candy knelt beside him and
put her hand on his chest to hold him back.

"I know you're having difficulty resisting, Wendy, but
you'll have to wait just a second.  Since you've shown
such interest in the whys and wherefores, I thought I
should explain some things to you.  Now, if you
thought the impulse to suck that cum out of a pussy
was strong, you're now discovering just how powerful
instinct can really be.  As a scrawny white guy, the
urge to suck black cock -- to completely eliminate
competition from black sperm by getting it in your
belly and 'off the market' -- is of truly remarkable
strength.  Pumping and sucking on that huge black cock
and swallowing the entire load was the best way your
ancestors could think of to keep those powerful little
egg-piercing wigglers away from their females' fertile
tummies.  With me so far?"

"Yes, of course."

"Those that truly enjoyed and excelled at black
cocksucking were able to remove more competing sperm
from the general pool and thus pass on more of their
wimpy white genes.  Through simple natural selection,
those who found themselves motivated by actual sexual
pleasure from getting throatfucked by blacks became
concentrated in the white gene pool.  Over time, this
lead to the irresistible inclination of today's white
males to slob on black knob as often as possible. 
Since you obviously hail from a background filled with
tinydicked white boys, I'm certain your body will
reward you with immense pleasure as soon as you wrap
your mouth around any African cockhead.  It's almost
as if you boys have grown a clitoris in the back of
your throats that's made just for black dicks.  Do you
understand, Wendy?"

"Absoultely," said Wendell quietly.  He felt the
impulse just as strongly as Candy described and began
to lean forward.

Candy applied more pressure to his chest to hold him
back.  "Ah ah ahhhh, sweetie.  Not quite yet.  I told
you before -- Mr. Roosevelt believes strongly that
sucking black dick is a privilege generally reserved
for married white males who willingly surrender their
wives to negro cock."

Wendell sagged visibly and almost whimpered with
disappointment, "But ... I'm not ... but you said ...
but please ... I thought ... didn't you say something
about dessert."

"Oh, don't worry, Wendy.  Calm down," she soothed,
squeezing his hand.  "Mr. R is occasionally willing to
make exceptions under the right conditions.  First
off, since your mother apparently neglected to give
you any proper 'marriage training' when you came of
age, Mr. R feels it's his duty to allow you at least a
few lessons at very reasonable prices."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," said Wendell with
obvious relief, but then turned to Candy with wide
eyes, "but ... I'm all out of money!"

"Not to worry, Wendy!" Candy smiled reassuringly. 
"Since you'll no longer be charging for your
accounting services, this first one's on the house!"

Wendell sighed with relief, "Oh, yes, of course.  That
will work wonderfully."  He began to press forward
again.

"Hold on there, Tiny!" Candy giggled.  "Before Mr.
Roosevelt allows you to get your mouth around his
cock, he does have a favor to ask."

"What ... yes ... anything," Wendell mumbled, still
drawn toward the jutting rod of chocolate flesh.

Candy grabbed his chin and manually turned head to
look at her, "Wendy!  This is a business matter.  I
need you to listen."

With his eyes forcibly removed from his goal, Wendell
blinked twice and finally focused his attention on
Candy. "I'm sorry.  Yes.  What can I do?"

"Well, Wendy ... Mr. Roosevelt has a wide portfolio of
investments that has come under scrutiny by the local
IRS office.  We decided that it would be wise to have
a few of the local auditors as part of our client
base.  Unfortunately, our research has told us that
nearly ALL IRS employees are tiny-dicked little
bastards, so we weren't sure which ones to pick. 
Therefore, but we were hoping you -- being an
accountant in this city for a long time -- would have
some extra insight as to who would be most ...
understanding."

Wendell looked up thoughtfully for a moment.  "Yeah
... ok ... yes, I think I know of a few with the
proper ... tastes."  He smiled at his own joke.

Candy squeezed his face, causing his lips to purse
outward.  "Oh, you are so CUTE sometimes, Wendy!  But
that's wonderful!  Perhaps you can 'do lunch' with a
different old friend each week, how about that?  For
each suck-cessful 'contact' you make within the IRS,
we'll throw in the right to purchase anything you like
off the dessert menu, ok?"

Wendell's eyes flashed over her shoulder to the neatly
printed note card on the wall of Mr. Roosevelt's
office.  There was no mystery or subtlety about this
one:


           Dessert Menu

A) Sucking Black Cock ........ $200
B) To Completion ............. $300
C) Double Load ............... $500

        Tipping Not Required.


"I .. I think that's an equitable exchange," said
Wendell quite professionally.  She released him and he
turned back to Mr. Roosevelt's lap.  He felt his
salivary glands react as he opened his mouth and
leaned forward.

"One more thing, Wendy," said Candy, grabbing him by
the hair on the back of his head.

Wendell groaned in frustration.

"Oh, stop!  I was simply going to point something out
to you, silly."  Holding his head back mere inches
from the cockhead, she grasped the shaft down low and
stroked upward.  A droplet of clear pre-cum formed at
the tip of his cock.  Wendell gasped slightly at the
sight.

"Exactly, Wendy.  You see, the pleasure reaction you
felt earlier when that black sperm hit your mouth was
all about action and fury.  Mother nature has designed
it to put you into a cumsucking frenzy to give you a
better chance of getting all those babymakers out a
fertile white cunt.  But with cocksucking, you'll find
that the presence of the clear pre-cum in your mouth
is just as pleasureable, but ... different.  It will
be more soothing and calming.  White boys like you
find it quite enjoyable.  Now, go ahead.  Try it."

Wendell leaned in, but then hesitated.  "Really?"

"Of course, Wendy!  Suck that black cock, if you want
to!" she chirped.

Wendell's mouth opened wide and he involuntarily dove
his head quickly down upon the massive, apple-sized
cockhead.  He heard Candy giggle a bit at the
distinctive 'Glommph!' noise that came from his mouth
and throat.

And then he felt it.  As that single, salty droplet
touched his tongue, he could swear heard a sizzle.  It
felt like it was absorbed directly into his blood
stream.  Instead of the 'zing' that had come from
black sperm, this was more like a general warmth that
radiated outward from his mouth to encompass his whole
body.  It was ... like a feeling of joy.  Of peace. 
Of belonging.

"Do you feel it, Wendy?"

"Mmmmph!" was all he could reply, unwilling to remove
his mouth from the cock.  Ever.

"Goooood.  That's a good boy," she purred as she
stroked his hair.  "You'll find that this feeling will
encourage you to suck black cock for long periods,
Wendy.  Since cocksucking stimulates sperm production
in the black male, this makes perfect sense.  The
longer you suck, stroke, and fondle, the more sperm
that ends up down your gullet and as far from a white
girl's eggs as possible."

Yes, thought Wendell, I could do this for hours.

"Of course, these good feelings are strongest when
your peach-fuzzy balls are swollen and filled with
your own weak white sperm.  It makes sense in a
Darwinian way -- your desire to eliminate competing
sperm is strongest when you low-sperm-count boys might
have a prayer of actually mating successfully.  So
always try to go as long as possible without blowing
your little load before you come in for a cocksucking
appointment, ok?"

"Mmmm hmmmmmmm," Wendell hummed in happy agreement. 
It had been several days since he'd masturbated.  If
it felt this good now, he could only imagine how good
it would feel after holding off for a few weeks.  Or
months.

"Oh, Wendy.  I knew you'd understand!  You are such a
natural negro cumgobbler.  Boy, it sure is a shame
that you've been denied this kind of pleasure up till
now, huh?"

For one brief instant, Wendell hated his mother.  He
hated her for not giving him the chance to learn this
kind of joy at a younger age -- like those boys
downstairs.  He pulled his mouth off the apple-sized
cockhead and stroked the shaft upward like Candy had
done.  As before, a clear, swirled droplet appeared at
the tip.

"Yes," he said.  "Damn shame."  Then he opened wide
and took the black monster as far into his mouth as
possible ... for a first timer.

"Oh, I'm so glad you see it that way, Wendy, because
you're uniquely qualified to help Mr. Roosevelt with
his plans to further expand his company's services. 
You see, Wendy, society today is set up in such a way
that most white men either deny these beautiful
impulses or simply never put themselves in a situation
in which they can discover them.  Sucking black cum is
one of the best things about being a white boy and
most of these poor bastards are missing out!  Look at
you, for instance -- you're a natural born semen
sucker and you didn't have a clue until today, right?"

"Mmmmm," he agreed.

"And you have to admit that this has been one of the
best experiences of your poor, tiny-dicked white
existence, right?"

"Mmmm hmmmm!"

"Well, don't you want to help introduce more of your
white friends to something so undeniably enjoyable? 
Don't you wish someone had done the same for you long
before now?"

"Mmmmm .... mmmph mmm."

"Of course you do!  So here's how you can help. 
Obviously, lunch at the cafe is the best way to
introduce a new recruit, but ... there's a problem. 
We've found that it's the wealthiest of white boys
that have the smallest peckers and most desperately
need our services.  Yet it's rather difficult to get
many of them over to this side of town ... especially
the richest ones.  You understand, right?"

"Yephmph."

She patted his head.  "Well, as one of the most
successful CPA's in town, you work with some of the
richest white business owners around, don't you?  If
you -- the respected Wendell Nebbin -- were to invite
them over to take a look at a small investment worth a
few moments of their time, they'd surely come with
you, right?"

"Mmm hmmmm," he agreed.

"And Mr. Roosevelt has a distinct preference for the
hot trophy wives of all those rich country club
golfers.  He rarely serves dinner specials himself,
except for the richest white throats since they're the
only ones who can afford his services.  So, for any
contacts that result in favorable business, you will
earn the right to purchase more desserts.  Maybe even
a discount.  If you play your cards right, you'll be
sucking more black dick than any un-married male in
town."

Wendell whimpered at the prospect.  Almost
involuntarily, he increased the rythym of his
cocksucking.

"Damn, Wendy ... I can't believe ... how quickly
you've ... come along."

Her voice had softened a bit.  She was leaning in next
to him as he sucked.  Wendell could feel her breath on
his cheeks.

"I ... I just ..."  She suddenly sounded nervous. 
"... I have to say, though, Wendy ... a white man with
your obvious skills really should ... get married."

"Mmmhph?"

"I mean, someday, y'know?  To a pretty little white
slut?  One who really understands what you need,
right?"

"Mmmphmph!"

"Oh, Wendy, I think I might have a bit of a ... crush
on you.  Once your business relationship with Mr.
Roosevelt is done, I ... might even have to break my
no-more-than-three-inches rule and go out on a date
with you sometime."

"Mmm hmmmph!" Wendell agreed.  The thought of Candy
even going on a date with him thrilled Wendell
completely, but ... being married to her?  The very
idea of it caused him to begin pumping and slobbering
and slurping like a madman.

"Oooh, that's it, Wendy," she cooed.  "You're ... 
you're really turning me on.  Show Mr. Roosevelt what
you can do.  Show him that you're a good little white
boy cocksucker.  Show him that you'll bring him lots
and lots of rich white customers in exchange for lots
and lots of rich white cum.  Show *me*.  Show me,
baby.  Show me what kind of white husband you could
be!"

Wendell liked the sound of that.  He stroked & sucked
for all he was worth.  Mr. Roosevelt must have liked
the sound of that too, because Wendell soon felt the
first blast of hot liquid against the roof of his
mouth.  He kept pumping the thick shaft as his mouth
filled with the salty flavor that was now becoming
very familiar.  Familiar and welcome.

He heard moaning sounds and realized that they were
coming from his own throat.  Softer moans were also
coming from Candy and he realized that she was
fingering herself frantically and cumming hard as he
swallowed.  And swallowed.  As their combined moans
died down, he could then hear the deeper breathing of
a large black man who'd just been sucked off.  He knew
he could cum himself in his pants, but shifted in such
a way as to avoid it; he wanted to savor this feeling.


Candy's softly panting voice asked an undirected
question, "Did you like that?"

As Wendell knelt with the softening cock in his mouth,
he heard a single word.  The only word Mr. Roosevelt
had uttered since Wendell entered:

"Naturally."


End Part 2 of 2


=====================================================
Copyright (c) November, 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, Trevor?  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.                                            AKA