Record Store First Time

Damon leaned on the scuffed counter of Vinyl Vault, the afternoon light cutting dusty stripes across rows of milk crates packed with records. Twenty-two, Black, built lean and hard from pickup ball and late shifts, he thumbed through a stack of returned 12-inches while Wu-Tang growled low from the shop speakers. The independent store sat three blocks off campus, half empty on a Thursday, smelling of cardboard, dust, and the faint sweet reek of the incense stick burning by the register. He was halfway through pricing a battered Public Enemy album when the bell over the door jingled.

She walked in like she owned the goddamn place. Nineteen, white, sorority letters peeking from the strap of her bag, tiny denim cutoffs riding so high the lower curves of her ass cheeks flashed with every step. A cropped white tank clung to full tits, nipples already faintly visible through the thin cotton. Blonde hair in a messy ponytail, freckles across her nose, pink gloss on lips that looked made for wrapping around something thick. Danielle. He’d seen her around the Greek houses near his apartment, laughing too loud on the porch, always with that same tight little body she never bothered to cover up.

Her eyes landed on him and stayed. Blue, curious, already hungry. She licked her bottom lip without seeming to notice.

“Looking for anything special?” Damon asked, voice low, letting his gaze drag slow from her bare midriff down those endless pale thighs.

“Rare vinyl. Old-school hip-hop mostly. Some classic rock if you’ve got the good pressings.” She drifted closer, hips swaying. “You work here alone a lot?”

“Most afternoons. Campus kids don’t dig real records the way they should.” He came around the counter, close enough to catch the coconut scent of her skin. “What you into? N.W.A.? Tribe? Or you one of those girls who pretends she likes Zeppelin but really just wants the bass to rattle her teeth?”

Danielle laughed, a dirty little sound, and trailed her fingers along a crate of A-side singles. “Both. My big brother left me his whole collection when he graduated. I’ve been hunting the shit that skips on my copies.” She bent forward over the crates, ass pushing out, cutoffs riding up until the crease where thigh met cheek was right there for him. The pink edge of her panties peeked. Damon felt his cock twitch hard against his zipper.

“Fuck,” he muttered, not bothering to hide it. “You bend over like that on purpose, sorority girl?”

She glanced back over her shoulder, eyes dropping straight to the growing bulge in his jeans. A slow, filthy smile spread. “Maybe. You’re staring hard enough. Name’s Danielle. You’re…?”

“Damon.” He stepped in behind her, close enough that the heat of his body brushed her bare lower back. “And yeah, I’m staring. Those shorts barely cover pussy. You walk around campus like that every day?”

“Only when I want attention.” She straightened slowly, turning, chest almost brushing his. Up close he saw the flush climbing her neck. “You’ve got good taste on the speakers. ‘C.R.E.A.M.’ always gets me wet. That and anything with a nasty bassline.” Her gaze flicked down again, shameless, locking on the thick outline swelling along his thigh. “Jesus. That’s… not subtle.”

Damon’s hand braced on the crate beside her hip. “Neither are you. Keep looking at my dick like that and I’m gonna think you want something more than vinyl.”

Danielle’s breath hitched. She reached past him for a weathered copy of Illmatic, arm brushing his chest, tits pressing deliberately against his ribs. “I’ve never… been with a Black guy.” The words came out raw, excited. “All the frat boys I’ve fucked were pale and average and boring as shit. I keep wondering what it would feel like. Something heavier. Thicker.” Her free hand hovered near his belt, not quite touching. “I can’t stop staring. It’s fucking rude how big it’s getting just from me bending over.”

He laughed, low and rough, and let his fingers trail the bare strip of her waist. “Rude is those cutoffs. You came in here knowing exactly what you were doing. First BBC cravings hitting hard, huh?”

“Yeah.” No shame in it. She pressed closer, palm finally settling on the rigid length straining his jeans. Her eyes went wide. “Oh my god. Damon… that’s insane. Thick as my wrist almost. I’ve sucked dick before but nothing like this.” She squeezed gently through the denim, feeling it jump. “Does it hurt being that hard in public?”

“Only when a tight little white girl keeps teasing it.” He cupped her ass openly now, fingers sliding under the frayed hem, grazing the soft heat between her legs. She was already damp through the thin cotton. “Fuck, Danielle. You’re soaked. Just from talking about it?”

“From looking at it. From feeling it.” She stroked him firmer, palm rubbing up and down the fat shaft trapped in denim. “Lock the door. Please. I don’t want anybody walking in while I’m—”

Damon didn’t need to hear the rest. He crossed to the front in three strides, flipped the deadbolt, and twisted the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Inventory. The word tasted like a lie and a promise. When he turned back she was already on him, mouth crashing into his, tongue sliding hot and desperate. She tasted like strawberry gloss and need. His hands shoved up under her cropped tank, palms filling with heavy, soft tits, thumbs dragging over stiff nipples until she moaned into his mouth.

“Shit, these are perfect,” he growled, pinching, rolling. “Gonna look even better bouncing while you take this cock.”

Danielle whimpered and dropped to her knees right there on the worn wooden floor between the crates. Her fingers worked his belt open, zipper down, and she dragged his jeans and boxers just low enough for his dick to spring free—thick, dark, veined, the heavy head already glistening. It slapped up against his stomach, easily nine inches and girthy enough to stretch any mouth.

“Holy fuck.” Her voice went reverent, filthy. She wrapped both hands around it, stroking slow, watching the skin glide over the swollen head. “It’s so hot. So heavy. I can barely get my fingers around it.” She leaned in and dragged her tongue from base to tip in one long, wet stripe, moaning at the salty taste of his precum. “I’ve dreamed about this. Getting on my knees in some random place and just worshipping a big Black cock until my jaw aches.”

She opened wide and took the head between her lips, sucking hard, cheeks hollowing. Damon groaned, one hand fisting her ponytail, the other bracing on a crate of Led Zeppelin reissues. She bobbed deeper, gagging softly when the thick crown hit the back of her throat, spit already slicking her chin. Her hands twisted on the shaft she couldn’t swallow yet, pumping, worshipping, eyes watering as she looked up at him like he was a god.

“That’s it, white girl. Suck that BBC like you mean it. Get it nice and sloppy for when I bend you over these crates and ruin that pretty little pussy.”

Danielle pulled off with a wet pop, gasping, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to his cock. “I want it so bad. Right here. I don’t care if someone sees the closed sign. Fuck me on the floor, against the wall, I don’t give a shit. I’ve never needed anything this much.” She dove back down, taking him deeper this time, throat fluttering around the intrusion while one hand shoved into her own cutoffs to rub her clit through soaked panties.

Damon’s balls tightened. He hauled her up by the hair, crashing their mouths together again so she could taste herself on his tongue and her own spit coating his dick. He spun her, bent her over the nearest crate of rare 45s, yanked those tiny shorts and panties down to her thighs in one rough tug. Her pussy was flushed pink, glistening, lips puffy and ready. He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down her slit, coating himself in her slick, not pushing in yet—just teasing, stretching her entrance with the blunt pressure until she was shaking and pushing back.

“Please, Damon. Don’t make me wait. I came in here for records and now all I can think about is how full I’m going to be. Stretch me open. Make me take every thick inch.”

He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, the head of his cock notched and ready, both of them panting like they’d already been fucking for hours. The store speakers still thumped old-school bass. Outside, footsteps passed the locked door. Inside, Danielle’s cunt clenched around nothing, desperate, and Damon’s cock throbbed against her, one shallow rock away from burying itself to the hilt in tight, wet, never-had-Black-dick-before pussy.

He leaned over her back, lips at her ear, voice wrecked. “Once I start, I’m not stopping until you’re dripping down your thighs and can’t walk straight back to the sorority house. You sure?”

“Yes. God, yes. Fuck me.”

Damon didn’t make her wait. He dropped to his knees behind her, yanked those cutoffs and soaked pink panties the rest of the way down her thighs, and spread her pale cheeks with both hands. Danielle’s tight white pussy glistened right in his face—flushed, puffy, dripping onto the edge of the crate. He dragged his tongue straight up her slit in one long, filthy swipe, tasting salt and sweet cunt, then speared it deep inside her.

“Fuck—Damon!” She jolted, ass shoving back into his mouth. He ate her like he was starving, nose buried in her crack, tongue fucking in and out of that snug hole while his thumb rubbed hard circles on her clit. Her juices coated his chin. He sucked her clit between his lips, flicked it fast, then plunged two thick fingers into her and curled them, stretching her open while he kept licking.

“Jesus, your pussy’s dripping all over my face already,” he growled against her. “Tight little sorority cunt never had a real tongue on it, huh?”

“Never—oh god—never like this.” Danielle clawed at the records, moaning filthy and loud as he finger-fucked her deeper, tongue lapping every drop. Her thighs shook. He kept going until she was sobbing for it, hips grinding back, then he stood, wiped his mouth on her ass, and lined that massive Black cock up again.

The fat head pressed against her entrance. He gripped her hips and slammed forward in one ruthless thrust, burying every thick inch balls-deep. Danielle screamed—half pain, half pure need—as her pussy stretched obscenely around him, walls fluttering and clutching. He bottomed out, heavy balls slapping her clit, and held there a second so she could feel every vein and ridge rearranging her guts.

“Take it. All of it. Feel that BBC wrecking your pretty white hole.”

He pulled almost all the way out, then pounded back in hard. Standing doggy over the crates, he fucked her like he owned her—deep, brutal strokes that made her tits bounce free under the cropped tank and her ass ripple with every impact. Wet, filthy squelches filled the store. Danielle pushed back to meet him, babbling.

“So fucking big—stretching me—god, Damon, pound that pussy, ruin it, make me feel it for days—”

He reached under, pinched her clit, and she came hard around him, cream gushing down his shaft and dripping onto the floor. He didn’t slow. He kept slamming balls-deep, the head of his cock kissing her cervix on every thrust, until her legs threatened to give out.

“Couch. Now.” He pulled out with a wet pop, spun her around, and half-carried her to the old cracked leather couch shoved against the back wall under faded concert posters. Damon dropped onto it, cock jutting straight up—dark, glistening with her cum, veins throbbing. “Sit on it. Reverse. I wanna watch that pale ass bounce while you cream all over this dick.”

Danielle climbed on, facing away, knees bracketing his thick thighs. She reached back, guided the swollen head to her stretched hole, and sank down slow. Inch after thick inch disappeared into her pink pussy until she was fully seated, ass flush to his abs, stuffed fuller than she’d ever been. She moaned brokenly and started riding—lifting up so just the tip stayed in, then dropping hard, pale cheeks smacking against his dark skin.

“Fuck yes, look at that,” Damon groaned, hands on her waist, helping her bounce. “White girl bouncing on BBC like she was born for it. Cream that cock. Soak me.”

She did. Her pussy fluttered and squeezed, more slick pouring down his shaft with every slap of her ass. Danielle reached back, spreading her own cheeks so he could watch his thick Black dick disappearing into her stretched hole. She rode faster, reverse cowgirl grinding deep, grinding her clit against his balls on the downstroke. The leather creaked under them. Her ponytail whipped. She came again, squirting lightly, juices running down his balls and onto the couch while she kept bouncing through it, chasing the stretch.

“I can feel you pulsing—so deep—I’m fucking addicted already—”

Damon let her ride until her thighs burned, then he lifted her off, flipped her onto her back on the worn cushions, and pinned her legs wide open—knees shoved up by her ears, ankles locked in his big hands. Her pink, cream-smeared pussy gaped slightly, still twitching. He slammed back in missionary, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke, and started fucking her hard and deep, hips snapping, cock dragging along her front wall with every thrust.

Danielle’s eyes rolled. She clawed his shoulders, nails leaving red lines on dark skin. “Every inch—give me every fucking inch—don’t stop, fill me, stretch me, please—”

“Beg louder. Tell me what you need.”

“I need that massive Black cock ruining my tight white pussy—fuck me harder—use me—make me take it all until I can’t walk—” Her words broke into gasps as he pounded her into the leather, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing over the speakers. He leaned down, sucked a stiff nipple into his mouth, bit gently, and she came a third time, screaming, walls milking him in rhythmic pulses.

He kept going, chasing his own edge, pounding her through the orgasm until his balls drew tight. At the last second he yanked out, stroked his glistening shaft twice over her face, and painted her. Thick ropes of hot cum blasted across her freckled cheeks, her open panting mouth, her tongue, her chin, even a stripe across those perfect tits. Danielle moaned and licked what she could reach, filthy and shameless, while more ropes kept pulsing out, coating her pretty face in his load.

Damon caught his breath, cock still half-hard and twitching, staring down at the mess he’d made of the sorority girl. Danielle lay sprawled, legs still spread, cum dripping down her neck, eyes glazed and hungry.

“We’re not done,” she whispered, voice wrecked. “I can still feel you throbbing. Lock stayed flipped. Couch is big enough. I want more—want you to fuck me until I forget every boring frat boy name. Don’t you dare stop now.”

Outside the locked door someone rattled the handle and walked off. Inside, Damon’s cock twitched back toward full hardness against her sticky thigh, and Danielle reached down to stroke him back to steel, already spreading wider for round two.

Danielle’s fingers wrapped tight around Damon’s thickening cock, smearing the sticky mess of her earlier cream and his leftover cum up and down the heavy shaft until it stood rigid again, veins pulsing under her palm. She spread her knees wider on the cracked leather, pink pussy still gaping and glossy from the pounding it had already taken, and guided the fat dark head right back to her entrance.

“Fuck me again,” she breathed, eyes locked on his. “I need that BBC stretching me raw before somebody starts banging on the door.”

Damon gripped her thighs and thrust up hard, burying every thick inch in one smooth slam. Danielle’s scream tore out of her as her walls fluttered and clutched around the sudden fullness, the stretch burning sweet all over again. He held her down, hips flush, letting her feel the way his cockhead kissed deep against her cervix while her juices immediately started dripping down his balls.

“Ride it, sorority slut. Bounce that tight white cunt on this dick until you cream again.”

She planted her hands on his chest and started working herself up and down, pale ass cheeks clapping against his dark thighs with every drop. The wet slap filled the shop over the thumping bass. Damon watched his glistening shaft disappear into her stretched pink hole over and over, the contrast filthy and perfect. Her tits bounced free of the cropped tank; he sucked one stiff nipple into his mouth, biting just hard enough to make her moan and grind harder.

“So fucking deep—god, Damon, it’s rearranging me—don’t you dare pull out this time—”

He flipped them without leaving her pussy, pinning her back to the couch and folding her legs up high so her knees nearly touched her freckled shoulders. Then he drove in hard and steady, long strokes that dragged every ridge along her fluttering walls. Danielle clawed at his shoulders, babbling filth between gasps.

“Ruin me—use that massive Black cock to ruin my little white pussy—make it yours—”

Sweat slicked both of their bodies. He reached down and rubbed her clit in tight circles while he fucked her, and she shattered again, squirting around his shaft in hot spurts that soaked his abs and the leather beneath them. Damon didn’t slow. He kept slamming through her orgasm until her eyes rolled and her voice broke into broken sobs of pure need.

When her legs started shaking too hard to hold, he pulled out, flipped her onto all fours on the couch, and shoved back into her from behind. One hand fisted her messy ponytail, yanking her head back so she could watch their reflection in the dusty glass of a framed concert poster—her pale body rocking, his thick dark cock splitting her open, cream already frothing at the edges of her stretched hole.

“Look at that. Look how pretty that tight little cunt looks wrapped around BBC.”

“I see it—fuck, I feel it—pound me harder—”

He gave her harder. Skin slapped wet and loud. Danielle pushed back to meet every thrust, ass rippling, freckled cheeks spreading so he could watch himself sink to the root. He reached under and pinched her swollen clit; she came again instantly, gushing, walls milking him in rhythmic pulses that nearly dragged him over the edge.

Damon hauled her up by the hair, spun her around, and sat her on the edge of the counter near the register. He stepped between her spread thighs and slammed home again, fucking her upright so her tits bounced in his face. She locked her ankles behind his back and kissed him messy, tasting her own cunt on his tongue.

“Fill me,” she begged against his mouth. “I want every drop of that load pumping inside me—breed this white pussy—”

He growled, hips snapping faster. The register rattled. Records shook on the shelves. Danielle’s nails raked down his back as another orgasm ripped through her, cunt clamping so tight he finally lost it. Damon buried himself to the hilt and unloaded deep—thick, hot ropes of cum blasting against her cervix, flooding her already-stuffed hole until it leaked out around his shaft in creamy white rivulets that ran down her ass and dripped onto the floor.

He stayed locked inside her, pulsing, while she trembled and milked every spurt. When he finally pulled out, a heavy gush of his load poured from her gaping pussy. Danielle immediately dropped to her knees, licked the sticky mess from the head of his cock, then scooped the rest from her thighs with two fingers and sucked them clean, moaning at the salty-sweet taste.

“More,” she panted. “I want it on my tongue.”

Damon stroked his still-hard cock twice and painted her face again—fat ropes striping her freckled cheeks, her open mouth, her pink glossed lips. Danielle moaned like a whore and licked every single drop off her lips, tongue chasing the last thick globs, swallowing greedily until her mouth was clean and shiny. She grinned up at him, cum still glistening at the corners, then snatched a permanent marker from the cup by the register. She wrote her number slow and clear across the dark skin of his forearm, pressing hard so the digits stood out bold.

“I’ll be back tomorrow for round two,” she said, voice husky and filthy with satisfaction. “And the day after that. And every afternoon you work alone. That back room better be ready, because I plan on riding this BBC until closing time every single day.”

Damon unlocked the front door with a satisfied smirk, already hard again just from the thought, already planning exactly how many more times he’d stretch her tight little white pussy over the crates, bent over the counter, on the couch, and especially in that dusty back room before he flipped the sign each night. He watched her tug those tiny cutoffs back up over her cum-slick thighs, nipples still stiff under the cropped tank, freckles glowing.

Danielle paused at the door, glanced back over her shoulder with that same hungry blue-eyed stare, and left him with one last wicked dare.

“Next time you better lock me in that back room and fuck me until I can’t even remember my own name—deal?”