Three White Man - One Black Girl by Laisha Lax

 
     
    ‘Three White Men – One Black Girl’
     
     
    I was a rebel ever since I was aware of my own existence. My mother used to say that I would rather starve then taste the food that I didn’t like. When I was a teenage I used to run away from home although there was no reason to run at all. My mother let me go out when I wanted to and where I wanted to as long as I had phone with me to call her if there was emergency, but I still liked to tell her that I would spend night at home and then  run out in the middle of a night. I loved my ‘rebelic’ spirit and felt as if I was almighty woman and that there was nobody who could stop me from doing what I want. Yet, I learned in a hard way that life was not functioning according to me. My mom adored tough boys and when I was thirteen she married Jonathan – the chief of LAPD - cop that disciplined me whenever I expressed my ‘rebelic’ nature. Later on she divorced him and married a judge – his friend.
    My relationship to him was very strange because he was good guy and a bad guy in the same time. When I was good girl he was happy and full of love. He would take me out in a amusement park and he would buy me whatever I wanted, but when I was naughty, he would spank my ass hard and ground me down for a weekend. If I tried to run away from home, he would tie me up. Once he caught me tying to leave the house in the middle of a night and after that he bought a tracking device that I had to wear around my hand. Although he managed to control me and my wild behavior, although I felt depressed that I had to obey a cop, fire in my soul continued to kindle.
    As I was growing up, my boobs were getting bigger and I noticed how he was watching me with his eyes full of lust as if he was a hungry beast. He always said how he arrest young black girls like me all this time. That became source of his power. He might have been a tough cop, but he was still a man who enjoyed seeing pair of young innocent boobs. I didn’t even try to hide it. I would walk around the house half naked, only in my bra, or in a shirt in which my nipples would pierce him. Then I would do something naughty, like telling him that he was a mind controlled idiot who blindly follows the orders and he then would jump up, grab my wrist and pull me back in my room – while ‘accidently’ grabbing my boobs or squeezing my ass while he was dragging me back. Sheer pleasure would appear in my body and I had shivers when he would touch me in a forbidden way. He was a good looking guy, he visited gym regularly and he built amazing body. In uniform, he looked like a model. Sometimes, I wished he that he would force me to obey him while he wears his uniform.  That turned me on in a blink of an eye. Once, I while he was sleeping, I stole his nightstick and I masturbated thinking about him fucking me in his uniform. Shoveling my pussy with his nightstick became my forbidden pleasure. My little dirty secret.  I laughed, ever out loud, when he would go on his job with the same stick that was deep in my pussy night before. That was my little rebellion for ever time he was mean to me.
    As soon as I turned eighteen, I went to study English in another town because I wanted to move away from them. First year of college I didn’t spend an hour studying, I just wanted to have good time and spend a year without a cop controlling every step that I would make. Naturally, I also had to earn money so I could travel and do stuff without being limited to the small amount of pocket money that my parents gave me. They were barely paying tuition fee, and they said that I should be happy that they could afford me university and some money each month. And I was grateful – but I wanted much more from life – I wanted to do forbidden things, I wanted to explore and I wanted to see how the life looked like behind the curtains, behind the rules and behind everything they told us that life was.
    That was the reason why I started hanging out