Deciding to teach him a lesson you leave him cowering in the bushes and go flirt with the black men

Annoyed you give Jacob a push, sending him tumbling back into the bushes.

"They're just a bunch of black guys. You can stay out here and hide in the bushes, but I'm going in. I'm even going to go talk to them," you announce, then to torment him you add, "Maybe I'll even flirt with them!"

"Nooo...!" the bushes seem to moan. "They'll ravish you unrelentingly, they'll take you over and over in spite of your protests. They'll bespoil your pure, virginal body..."

Jacob goes on, seemingly having forgotten that he's de-virginized you several times already, in an extremely lacklustre way, and as he breaks out his English Lit major you push your way through the door, feeling strangely a little breathless for some reason. Is it because of his description of them ravishing you? Or is it fear, and maybe a really heavy door.

"Must be the door," you mutter to yourself, torn between actually buying a ticket or just going to the guys. Or maybe turning tail and leaving, because now that you actually look at them you can see that the door - and the poor eyesight that you'd never admit to - didn't let you get as good a look as you thought.

Being under five feet even a short man is a big man to you, but these men are absolute giants. Literally. You figure they must be basketball players, or maybe football players given how wide some of them are. Not one of them is under six feet, you're sure, and they probably average another six inches beyond that.

Gulping you muster your courage and approach the men, affixing a smile to your face and a wiggle to your step. After all, you're doing this to taunt Jacob, so the least you can do is make it look like you actually are seducing them. Wait, was it you seducing them or them seducing you? You remember that it was supposed to end in you being ravaged, pillaged endlessly by their mighty dicks...

'Hi boys," you greet them breathlessly, your voice throaty from the erotic thoughts you can't seem to help.

"Well hello yourself," the biggest one says in return, his voice worthy of his mountainous frame, a deep rumble that seems to vibrate through the air.

Now that you're this close to them and have their attention your mind goes blank. Uncontrolled, your feet carry you forward until you finally stop them less than a foot from one of the behemoths.

"Are you... footballers?" is all you can think to ask, craning your neck to stare up at them.

As one they laugh. "Footballers? We do a lot of balling, but not feet. We ball other parts, though," one of them laughs, and a big hand settles on your shoulder, the man's thumb moving slightly along the bare skin of your neck.

"Oh. I, uh, I thought you might be football players. Or basketball players."

"You like athletes?" the man asks, his thumb continuing to stroke up and down your skin, maybe feeling how fast your pulse moving.

"I... I love athletes," you say with a breathless nod. It isn't exactly a lie, since back in your last year of high school you'd fucked pretty much all of them. Of course your school was pretty small and almost every team had the same athletes on it.

"Well then you must love us because we're all athletes," another man grins, and he too places a hand on your shoulder. You gulp, thinking vaguely of objecting, but too cowed by their size. You feel so small, weak and helpless beside them, and the thought crosses your mind that you couldn't stop them from doing anything they wanted to you. Anything at all.

"My boyfriend is hiding in the bushes!" you blurt, as if that would save you. As one you all look back at the entrance, and the bushes there jerk around abruptly like someone has leapt up. You can easily imagine Jacob having jumped out. He's probably even now sprinting away, abandoning you to the rough uncaring hands of these huge men surrounding you.

"He... he didn't come in because... He wanted me to..." you stop, not wanting to point out how racist your boyfriend had been, so skip forward. "Well he thought that if I came over here alone you'd, uh, ravage me, take me like barbarians, do anything you wanted...." your brain catches up with your mouth, alerting you to how that sounded, and you clamp your lips closed, hanging your neck a little to avoid eye contact.

It just happens that doing so means your eyes are staring straight at the crotch of the guy in front of you.