One of the best things about spring was being able to take my lunch hour walk without bundling up in boots, gloves, and a jacket to navigate the haphazard path of plowed and unplowed sidewalks. Don’t try any of this at home.Ībout the Author Skinny White Boy with Cream Don’t buy or read this book if you are under the legal age or anything you see herein is illegal where you live. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.Īll rights reserved. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. "Skinny White Boy with Cream" is an interracial work of hardcore straight-to-gay erotica, intended for adults only, featuring a dominant black man, a submissive white twink, first-time sexual exploration, and (just maybe) the potential for romance. but you’ll have to read my story to read to find out more.
I wasn't gay, not even bi-curious, but after a single afternoon of filling that prescription, I wouldn’t be able to call myself straight either.Īnd that’s not where it ended. It was too much to ask, especially of a complete stranger, but there was something irresistible about him. He wanted to get on my knees, take him in my mouth, and swallow every ebony drop. I just stood there, staring, with my mouth hanging open, unable to process what was happening. A prescription for daily treatment too, only it's a tough prescription to fill.” Words completely failed me in the face of his impossible mass of manhood. “Get your white butt over here,” he yelled from across the street. He had a well-trimmed goatee on his chin, but his head was shiny and bald. He was a big guy, like a football player who’d softened a bit in his retirement, but still powerfully built. It was my lunch hour, and I was walking through the neighborhood, on my way to the coffee shop for my skinny vanilla latte, when I heard a holler of, “Hey, white boy!” I turned to find a middle-aged black man standing in the doorway of one of the new townhomes.
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