Black Girl Raped After Being Pulled Over on a Friday Night

I’m a Black girl raped after being pulled over on a Friday night.  A latch-key type from a two-parent household.  My dad is super strict, whoops me when I get out of line, and showers me with gifts.  He works two jobs and hangs with my uncles a ton when he isn’t working.  My mother, on the other hand, works two jobs as well, and when she isn’t working she is enforcing a long chore list on my siblings and me or dragging us to church.  We live in the South, and I have my provisional license.  Most of the time, I get away with staying out late because I barter and bribe my siblings since my parents are never home.  

Friday night, I decided to go to a party and was pulled over for speeding.  I did as instructed, I complied, didn’t roll my eyes, kept my hands on the steering wheel, and used my words carefully as to not make the officer feel as if I were a threat to his safety.  My nails are long coffin nails, and my hair is in passion twists.  I’m not wearing a bra, and I’m dead if mommy picks me up from the precinct without proper undergarments.  Plus, I’m wearing her perfume.  I’m a black girl that loves Private Accord by Hugo Boss.  It is so decadent and has that chocolate-Mandarin aroma that makes you want to eat me up.  It suits my bronzed skin, with a slightly yellow undertone.

Apparently this cop wants to make me sweat. 

He never ran my driver’s license, yet he asked that I exit the car.  Hands up, he says.  Hands-on the car, he says.  The road is lonely, and not one car has gone past us in the entire 10-minutes that I’ve been pulled over.  He cuffs me and asks me several questions, but all I can do is whimper and say that I don’t want to get in trouble.  He tries to strike a deal with me because I can’t let my dad find out that I went against his wishes, he’ll take my car keys! 

You’re a Smart Girl

The officer tells me that if I cooperate with him, and do exactly what he says, I won’t get a ticket.  So, he treats me as if we were playing Simon Says.  At first, they were very simple acts.  Eventually, he pulled his cock out and smacked me in the face with it and asked me if I had ever seen a cock like that before.  I told him, I had not.  He laughs at me and exclaims that “ I’m no virgin.” I reiterated that I’m a black girl that takes pride in my chastity, for it is virtuous and that the worst thing I could do to myself is bring home a baby and be a statistic, and so I am a virgin.  What are you going to do to me, officer?  I could see the headline in my head all so clearly: “Black Girl Raped and Thrown in the Woods.”

The officer implied that if I was lying I was good as dead.  He walks me over between the cars and shoves his cock in my mouth.  “Suck it!”  I refused, so he slapped me and pulled me by my hair into the cop car and rode my face.  Banging his cock in the back of my throat until I couldn’t resist him anymore.   To prevent further damage to my face, I pleaded that he not leave any bruises or marks on my body.  My dad cannot know that I went against his wishes.  I’ll never be able to drive again.  So, I give in and stop resisting him.  Better a volunteer than a victim  that ends up with the headline:”Body Found of an Unrecognizable Black Girl Raped.”  Telling myself to suck and lick on his cock like a cat that just bore a kitten.  

My pants are pulled down. 

Onesie is popped open, and he shoves his cock between my legs into my tight, tender cervix that has never been penetrated.  My hymen is missing from being sports, yet I bleed a little.  I cry, and he covers my mouth with his hands.  Eventually, I stop crying and kicking.  I can feel myself getting wet.  The officer keeps stroking.  I loosen up and go into my happy space.  You know, that place in your head where no one and nothing can hurt you.  

The music in my head starts to play. 

I love to dance, so I move my body to the beat. Somehow, I convinced myself that if I twerk, booty pop and do every new dance that hits the streets there would be no headline reading: “Black Girl Raped After Traffic Stop.”  Before I know it, he is not there, and I’m not in the back of this cop car, but the center stage at a Meg the Stallion concert.  He came in me.  Snaping back to life and immediately entering a very dark space.  At that moment I cried like a little baby.  My worst nightmare was about to come true.  I was going to get pregnant and be a statistic.  Sobbing uncontrollably barely able to hear the officer yell at me: “You know you wanted it!” That my body was begging for it. 

Chat with me in a BBC or a black phone sex fantasy on the phone sex hotline that rocks your socks off.  I’ll run down every little detail about how that ass was moving in a circle when we play out our rape fantasy. I can’t wait for you to tell me to “suck my dick heaux!  You good for nothing heaux!”

Phone Sex Kingdom Nicole Burke