Please Don't

I'd always made my feelings clear about people like Jamal. Working at the same office, I'd shoot him dirty looks whenever he walked by, muttering under my breath about how he didn't belong here, how his kind were lazy and taking jobs from real Americans. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark skin that gleamed under the fluorescent lights, but I never saw him as anything but a problem. "Go back where you came from," I'd hissed once during a team meeting when he suggested an idea I didn't like. He just smiled that infuriating smile and nodded, but I could tell it got to him.

That Friday evening, the office was emptying out, and I'd stayed late to finish a report. The building felt too quiet, my heels clicking on the tile as I headed to the parking garage. That's when I saw him—Jamal, leaning against my car like he owned the place. My heart skipped. "What the hell are you doing here?" I snapped, fumbling for my keys. "This is harassment. I'll call security."

He straightened up, his eyes locking onto mine with a intensity that made my stomach twist. "You've been running your mouth for months, Karen," he said, his voice low and steady, using that nickname like a weapon. I am Pamela, not Karen. He stepped closer, backing me against the concrete wall of the garage. The air was cool and dim, the only light from a flickering bulb overhead. I tried to shove past him, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist firmly. "Time you learned what happens when you poke a bear."

"Let go of me, you animal!" I spat, twisting away, but he was stronger, pinning my arms above my head with one hand while the other yanked up my pencil skirt. My breath caught—panic mixed with something I refused to name. His fingers hooked into my panties, ripping them down my thighs in one rough pull. I gasped, legs trembling as cool air hit my exposed pussy. "Stop! I'll scream!" But the garage was empty, and my voice echoed uselessly.

Jamal's free hand dove between my legs without hesitation, his thick fingers parting my folds. I was dry at first, clenching in shock, but he rubbed my clit roughly, circling it with his thumb while two fingers pushed inside me. "Feels like you're not as tough as you talk," he growled, pumping them in and out, stretching my tight walls. I. His fingers curled, hitting that spot deep inside, and I bit my lip to stifle a moan, my hips jerking.

"You racist bitch, always acting superior," he murmured, his breath hot on my neck as he finger-fucked me harder, his palm grinding against my clit. Juices started flowing, coating his hand, the wet squelch embarrassing me. My nipples hardened under my blouse, aching, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the pleasure coiling in my belly. But it built fast—too fast. His fingers plunged deeper, twisting, and I shattered, my pussy spasming around them as I came with a choked cry. Waves of ecstasy crashed over me, my legs buckling while he held me up.

He pulled his fingers out, slick with my cream, and smeared them across my lips. "Taste yourself, Karen. See how much you needed this." I turned my head, disgusted, but he chuckled darkly and unzipped his pants. His black cock sprang free—thick, veined, longer than anything I'd seen on my exes. The dark shaft pulsed, the head flared and already leaking pre-cum. My eyes widened; I should have been repulsed, but my pussy throbbed emptily.

Before I could protest, he hoisted my leg over his hip, lining up his cock with my dripping entrance. "No, please—" I started, but he thrust in, burying half his length in one brutal push. I screamed, the stretch burning as his girth split me open. He was huge, filling me completely, his cock invading my body like it owned me. "Shut up and take it slut," he grunted, slamming the rest of the way in until his balls slapped my ass. My walls clenched around him, gripping every ridge.

Jamal started fucking me against the wall, his hips snapping forward with powerful strokes. Each thrust drove his cock deep, pounding my cervix, his hands gripping my ass to pull me onto him. "Feel that? Your pussy's loving this black dick you hate so much," he taunted, his mouth claiming mine in a rough kiss. I resisted at first, but his tongue forced its way in, and I moaned into it, my body surrendering as he railed me. The friction was intense—his thick shaft dragging along my sensitive insides in places that had never been reached, his pubic bone rubbing my clit with every plunge.

I came again, harder this time, shocked as my orgasm ripped through me. My pussy convulsed wildly on his big black cock. I squirted, juices spraying down my thighs. "Oh no—I'm cumming!" I wailed, hating myself for the ecstasy, for how good he felt buried inside me. Waves of bliss made my vision blur, my nails digging into his shoulders. He didn't stop, fucking me through it, his pace relentless, balls slapping wetly against me.

" Yeah, cum on it, you slut," he said, pinching my nipple through my blouse. The second climax left me limp, but he kept going, his cock swelling thicker inside me. Finally, with a deep groan, he thrust one last time, flooding my pussy with hot spurts of cum. It overflowed, dripping down my legs as he held me there, pinned and filled.

He pulled out slowly, his cock glistening with our mixed fluids, and let me slide down the wall. I sat there, skirt hiked up, pussy leaking his seed, stunned silent. I'd cum twice. My body had betrayed every prejudice. Jamal zipped up, smirking down at me. "Next time you run your mouth, remember this." He walked away, leaving me to gather my shattered thoughts in the empty garage.