Emma was known throughout the campus for her infectious laughter and perhaps, more notably, her stark ginger hair. Standing at 5'7" her fair, freckled skin seemed to glow under the sunlight along with her bright green eyes. Today, she wore a tight, white crop top that accentuated her toned midriff and a pair of high-waisted, ripped denim shorts that showed off her long, tanned legs. Her hair was in loose, natural waves around her shoulders, with a few braids framing her face. All in all, it was fairly standard weekend attire for a hot sorority girl like herself.

“Where the fuck is everyone though?” she commented to no one.

Emma was a junior at the University of Sterling, majoring in communications. Or as her dad often like to say, Majoring in Yapping. Sterling was nestled in a medium-sized town of the same name. The town of Sterling is a starkly divided community, with the affluent, predominantly white University District surrounding the prestigious University of Sterling on one side, and the impoverished, predominantly black ghetto of East Sterling on the other. The University District is characterized by its grand, historic homes, upscale apartments, and bustling shops and restaurants, catering to the privileged students and faculty. In contrast, East Sterling is marked by its narrow streets, abundant liquor stores, an unusual amount of Chinese food restaurants and high rates of poverty and crime. Yet it maintains a strong sense of community and resilience among its residents. The divide between these two areas is deeply rooted in the town's history and culture, something a lily-white redhead like Emma often gave no thought about.

She was a member of the Kappa Delta sorority, where she had made lifelong friends or well-mannered enemies. However, as she sat in the dimly lit basement of the sorority house, she couldn't shake the feeling of nervous anticipation that had been building all day. Tonight was the night of her ‘initiation’, and she had no idea what to expect. Only the upperclassmen sorority girls were allowed to take part in the initiation. But, in her previous two years in the house, Emma had noticed that there was a distinct divide between the younger girls and the ‘initiated’.

Like a rabble of bees coming home to nest, the basement slowly filled with the soft hum of whispered conversations as the equally hot and cutely dressed sorority girls entered. Emma sat on a wooden chair in the center of the room, surrounded by her sorority sisters. They were all dressed like they were going out to party, but their faces were serious and solemn. Emma's heart pounded in her chest as she waited for someone to say something. Or even sneeze to break the tension.

The sorority president, a senior named Victoria, stepped forward and began to speak. "Emma, tonight you will undergo a ritual that has been passed down through generations of Kappa Delta sisters. This ritual is a test of your loyalty, your courage, and your willingness to embrace the unknown. Are you ready to accept this challenge?"

Emma took a deep breath and nodded, her voice stead, but quiet, "I am."

Victoria smiled and continued, "Then listen closely, for I will now reveal the task that lies before you. You must spend the night in the ghetto. By yourself. The entire night. We will be tracking you with this,” Victoria held up a circular device Emma recognized as a location tracker, “You must keep this a secret, or face expulsion from our sisterhood. Do you understand?"

Emma's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly regained her composure, “Do I just…hang out? What if something happens? It’s not exactly a safe neighborhood.”

“You will not be alone.” Victoria stated curtly, as if that was explanation enough.

 Emma felt her heart ping-pong in her chest, but the intense stares from her friends told her she only had one option. She took a deep breath and nodded, "I understand."

---

Emma's heart raced as she made her way through the dimly lit streets of the ghetto. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and marijuana and the sound of distant music. She had never walked in this part of town before, certainly not alone, and she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

As she approached a semi well-lit block with a few open restaurants and stores, she took a deep breath and sat quietly on a graffiti-riddle bench. Who could be coming to meet me? She thought. I don’t know anyone who lives in this place. Does Victoria? What is someone kidnaps me?

As Emma sat on a weathered bench in the heart of East Sterling, the low rumble of an engine caught her attention. Turning her head, she saw an old, classic muscle car pulling up to the curb, its polished chrome and gleaming paint job reflecting the dim streetlights. Its sleek, low-to-the-ground body hugging the pavement as if it were a part of it. The engine purred like a contented beast and the car's black paint job shimmered under the streetlights, accentuated by red pinstripes that ran along the hood and roof, giving it an air of both danger and menace. The wide, white-walled tires and aggressive stance spoke of power and speed, while the dual exhaust pipes promised a symphony of sound that could shake the very foundations of the ghetto.

The car pulled up and stopped dead in front of where Emma’s trembling pale legs sat. A moment later, the driver side door swung open to reveal a tall, muscular man with dark, piercing eyes and a confident smile. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and jeans, but his presence commanded attention in an alluring way that made Emma’s stomach bubble.

"Emma," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "Welcome."

He gestured, almost comically, to the run-down liquor store, side by side Chinese restaurants and a ‘rug and carpeting’ store that had seen better days circa 1975.

Emma swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "Who are you?”

The handsome black stranger smiled slyly, “The King.”

---

The King, who clarified that his government name was Jamal, led her to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for her with a flourish. As she slid into the plush, red leather seat, she couldn't help but notice the way his muscles flexed under his t-shirt. The car's interior was immaculate, with a dashboard that gleamed like polished ebony and a scent that was unknown to her—a mix of leather, cologne, and something else, something primal and intoxicating.

As they drove through the streets of East Sterling, Jamal's hand rested casually on the gearshift, his fingers tapping out a rhythmic beat. Emma's eyes were drawn to his hand, imagining what it would feel like to have those strong fingers tracing patterns on her skin. She shifted in her seat, her body responding to the thoughts that were racing through her mind.

"So, Emma," he said, his voice breaking into her thoughts. "What brings a pretty white girl like you to the East side?"

Emma hesitated for a moment before answering. "I assumed you would know," she admitted, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "It's a sorority ritual."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "An initiation, huh? And what does that entail, exactly?"

Emma’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I have to spend the night in the ghetto," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, something like guilt stabbing at her insides. Yes, yes, the privilege white girls dare each other to stay in the scary black hood. This is mortifying.

Jamal's smirk turned into a full-blown grin, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something else—something darker and more dangerous. "Is that so?" his voice husky. "And what were you to do waltzing around, looking like that, surrounded by so much -- danger?"

Emma's heart raced as she met his gaze, "I’m really not sure. They said someone would meet me and I guess that’s you. So where exactly are you taking me?"

Jamal's grin widened, and he reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, his touch sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. "Somewhere safe" he murmured. "A pretty white girl like you can’t be unprotected on the streets out here. A little white lamb with so many big…bad…black…wolves."

Emma's breath hitched, her body aching with something she hadn’t felt before. Something primal. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne filling her nostrils. She wanted him, wanted to feel his strong arms around her, his lips on hers, his body pressed against hers.

As they pulled up to a building, Emma's felt a wave of electricity inside of her that borderline made her want to scream. What was this feeling? Jamal led her into his apartment complex, his hand resting on the small of her back, her thoughts becoming clouded with a feeling of danger and raw power. What does he want from me?  She could feel her mind wandering, would he hurt her? Would he take advantage of her? Did she want her body aching for his touch? his kiss? his big black dick?  Emma’s mind became overwhelmed at the thought of his dick. Suddenly, she could think of nothing else than Jamal’s large, black penis and what it may or may not do to her.

“Relax. I don’t bite,” Jamal's eyes never left hers as he slowly removed his t-shirt, revealing his chiseled, muscular torso. Emma's heart actually skipped a beat, maybe even two, as she took in the sight of him, her body responding to his presence in a way she had never experienced before. Big, black cock. She thought.

"So, Emma," he began, his voice low and husky. "Tell me more about this initiation of yours. What exactly do you hope to gain from spending the night with me?"

Emma felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "I don't know exactly," she lied. Big, black cock, her thoughts screamed, "But I know that I want to experience something. I’ve never spent much time in East Sterling."

Jamal's eyes gleamed with amusement and desire. "Few white folks do, huh?" he said, taking a step closer to her. "And why do you think that is?"

"Because they think they are above the East side. I guess, when you say the quiet part out loud, they don’t want to be around poor black people," she said.

Jamal's grin widened, and he reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, his touch sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. "You're right," he said. "But did you know that’s not entirely true. We get a lot more white people – women -- this side than you think. They are just…sly about it."

“Sly?”

 "Take off your top," he said, his eyes fixed on her. Emma hesitated for a moment, her heart about to rupture. But she slowly reached for the hem of her crop top, pulling it over her head and revealing her lacy black bra.

Jamal's eyes roamed over her body, his gaze hungry. "You're beautiful," he said. He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of her bra, his touch warm on her cold, pale skin. "Now, take off your bra," he commanded.

Emma reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Jamal's took in the sight of her bare breasts, his breath slowing.

He leaned in, his lips finding her nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, making her moan with pleasure. Emma's hands fumbled with the button of her shorts, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she struggled to remove them. Jamal helped her, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her shorts and pushing them down her legs, along with her panties.

Emma stood before him, naked and vulnerable, her body a ghost before a reaper. Whitest white against the blackest black. Jamal cupped her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples as he leaned in to kiss her again. Emma melted into him, her body pressing against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Jamal's hands roamed over her body, his fingers tracing the curves of her hips and the small of her back before slipping between her legs. Emma gasped, her head falling back as she arched into his touch. Jamal's fingers found her wet and ready, his thumb circling her clit as he slipped two fingers inside her. Emma moaned, her hips bucking against his hand as he brought her to the quickest, most abrupt orgasm of her life.

"I want you,". It was said in unison.

Emma's hands roamed over his body, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, the curves of his chest, the hard planes of his stomach. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest, matching the rhythm of her own.

Jamal groaned, his hips jerking forward as he pressed himself against her hand. Emma smiled, her confidence growing as she saw the effect she had on him. She reached out, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and revealing his thick, erect cock. She wrapped her hand around him, her fingers barely able to encircle his girth as she began to stroke him, her touch tentative and exploratory.

Jamal's eyes filled with primal instinct. "You're mine.”

"Show me, Jamal. Show me what you want, what you need."

Jamal's grabbed Emma and pulled her into him, her body pressing against his as her legs wrapping around his waist as he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. As they tumbled onto the bed, their bodies entwined, Emma knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be, she understood the initiation now. She was always meant to fuck this huge black dick on this handsome black man.

As Jamal laid Emma down on the bed, his body covering hers, she could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the hardness of his muscles pressing against her. He positioned himself between her legs. Emma could feel his thick, erect cock pressing against her entrance, the tip glistening with precum. She took a deep breath, her body tensing in anticipation as he began to push inside her, inch by inch, stretching her, filling her completely.

Oh god, he's so big, Emma thought, her eyes widening as she felt him enter her. He's going to destroy me.

Jamal's hands roamed over her body, his fingers settling on her stomach. He grabbed her firmly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he began to move, his hips thrusting against hers in a slow, intensifying rhythm. Emma's body arched into his as she matched his movements, her hips meeting his thrusts as they found their rhythm.

The room filled with the slick, wet sound of their bodies coming together. Jamal's cock slid in and out of her, his thickness stretching her. Schlisk. Slap. Splash. Emma could feel every inch of him as he moved inside her, his hips grinding against hers, his cock hitting a spot so deep within her that made her see stars.

This is incredible. I've never felt so full, so complete. I want more. I need more.

Jamal's hands gripped her stomach tighter, his fingers digging into her pink flesh as he increased his pace, his hips thrusting against hers faster and harder. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a primal, rhythmic symphony that matched the pounding of her heart.

I can't get enough of this. I want him to fuck me harder, deeper. I want to feel him lose control, to feel him take me completely.

Jamal's body glistening with sweat as he pulled out of her, the vacuum of where his glorious black cock was leaving Emma feeling empty. He flipped her over onto her hands and knees. Emma's stomach brushed the bed sheets as she felt him position himself behind her, his cock pressing against her white pussy once again.

Oh god, yes, Emma thought, her eyes widening as she felt him enter her from behind. This is what I need. This is what I've didn’t know I needed.

Jamal's hands gripped her hips; there was little fanfare for loosening her up this time. In a quick, powerful smash he was fully inside her again. Emma's body responded like a piston, sliding her bottom half up his shaft just as much as he was pounding into her. Slap. Slap. Slap. SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

I want this every day. I want this forever. I want big black cock all the time.

Jamal was no amateur, unlike some of the men she’d slept with back at Sterling. He had complete control of her body as he fucked her. His pace didn’t weaken because he was worried he was going to cum to soon. His cock didn’t slip out because it got too soft all of a sudden. It was just a merciless and continuous thrashing by a man who knew his capabilities. Emma suddenly felt a heat wave. It sparked in her loin and then rippled through her entire body that made her nearly go limp. She saw her sorority sisters, there faces, dopey with bliss like hers was just now as Jamal fucked them for their initiation. She had never felt closer to her sisters as she had the first orgasm a black cock had given her in her life. Her first real orgasm.

Jamal's reached around, his fingers finding her clit, circling the sensitive nub as he brought her back to the edge of orgasm. Emma's muscles were clenching as Jamal kept her right at the brink, not letting the wave of orgasm subside but not letting it explode out of her yet either.

“Say it.” He instructed.

“I fucking love your big black cock!”

It was if Jamal’s BBC somehow got a little longer and a little thicker via magic as he unleashed Emma again, letting her orgasm crash over her in waves of biblical proportion. Jamal's hips were tensing as he found his own release, his cock pulsing inside her as he came, filling her with his hot, sticky black seed.

Oh god, yes, Emma thought, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. That was incredible. I want big black cock all the time. I'm addicted. I'm obsessed. I'm ruined for anyone else. I’ll be back tomorrow night!

As they collapsed onto the bed, their bodies entwined, his dark fingers splayed across her pale stomach, her white pussy still dripping with his cum. Emma knew that she was forever changed. She had found something that she couldn't live without, something that she would crave for the rest of her life. And as Jamal's arms wrapped around her, his body pressing against hers, she knew that she had found her addiction, her obsession, her forever with black men.

---

As Emma woke up the next morning, she felt a sense of unease wash over her. Jamal was gone, seemingly vanished into thin air. She looked around the room for any sign of him, but it was as if the black man had erased himself from his own apartment.

Her eyes landed on a small, leather-bound diary sitting on the nightstand. It had not been there the night before. She had an almost photographic memory of her encounter with Jamal that had seared into her brain. Curiosity piqued, she reached out and picked it up, flipping through the pages. To her surprise, she found entries from other white women, some of whom she knew, each describing their encounters with Jamal and the intense, almost addictive desire they felt for him. She read about their cravings, their obsessions, and the mysterious force that seemed to be driving them.

Emma's felt the need to write down her own experiences. There was something more to this ritual, something darker and even maybe more sinister. She wrote a lengthy and descriptive entry into the journal about the miracle that Jamal, the King, had performed on her fresh, twenty-year-old white pussy.

As she dressed and prepared to leave, she placed the diary back where she found it, but her curiosity didn’t leave her. Something else was going on in Sterling. Something she had heard Jamal say in the fits of passion last night now lingered in her mind. She hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, but now it seemed important.

“You're just another white girl addicted to big black cock, aren't you?" he had said "The interracial boom is here, baby. And you're right in the middle of it."

It had been hard, at the time, for Emma to think of the interracial boom as anything other than the crash of his hips into her ass she his black cock terrorized her insides, but now, it lingered in her mind.