Janet Mason

Let me tell you how I once eased a little racial tension. I threw on the skimpiest thing I owned and headed straight into the roughest part of town, the kind where patrol cars give a wide berth. I'm a married white woman who gets weak for thick black cock, and that day nearly a dozen young studs got the full MILF treatment. My poor husband thinks I'm out shopping when really I'm bent over in some abandoned lot, legs spread for the very "thugs" he'd cross the street to avoid. Those guys had been jawing about the evils of whitey until I showed up and all they wanted to talk about was turning this white wife into their personal cum-dump. I dropped to my knees so fast my knees scraped raw on the concrete. Sucking pale, limp dick at home left me starved, and these hard, heavy cocks were exactly what I craved. I worked my way down the line, choking and gagging while thick ropes of spit dripped from my chin, one load after another glazing my face and tits until I looked like a used tissue. Makeup running, hair wrecked, I walked out of there with a dozen grinning faces behind me and another two loads still leaking down my thigh. Didn't end racism, but fuck if those boys weren't smiling.