Black men ofcorse!

You don’t remember when the dream begins. You only realize you’re in it when you hear water shimmering and bright sunlight flickering across your pale skin like warm fingertips.

You’re standing at the edge of a big pool, already wearing the tight swim gear Jamal wants you to wear, the one that fits around your butt like liquid and leaves you feeling exposed, even here, even dreaming. The fabric hugs your hips, your thighs, every line of you, and you feel every breath of air across your body as if the dream has turned your senses up just a little too high.

And then you notice, you’re not alone.

The guys from the BSA are already in the water, leaning against the pool edge, or stepping up from the shallow end, droplets sliding down toned dark skin that glows golden in the sun. They turn when they see you, first Dior, then Jason towering behind him, then Trent, his hair dripping, then Ashton, Darnell, and finally Jamal.

Their reactions hit you all at once.

A low whistle from Trent. A surprised little “damn” from Ashton. Dior pushing his sunglasses up, smirking like someone caught off guard in the best way.

Jason’s eyebrows lifting with genuine amazement.

Darnell nudging Dior with a knowing grin.

And Jamal… Jamal just stares, slow and appreciative, the way someone watches their property.

“You look good today,” Dior says first, voice smooth, warm.,“Real good....” he adds while palming the thick bulge in his wet pants.

“Bro, that fit is actually insane,” Ashton adds. “You’re thick white bubble butt is kinda built for that shit.”

“Kinda?” Trent laughs. “He’s literally made for that, showing of his phat curves for us.”

Their voices wrap around you like sunlight, warm, heavy, flattering in a way that goes straight to your stomach. You want to hide but can’t. The dream won’t let you.

Darnell steps closer, water dripping off him, gliding down the sharp lines of his torso and ending at his own swim ware that already shows a very big visible bulge. “Abigail was right about you,” he says, placing one of his big hands on your right ass cheek and squeezing, you let out a small moan from his tuch. “She told me you had potential.”

It’s teasing, but admiring too, like he’s talking about something valuable. You don’t know what to say, the words stick in your throat, and your skin feels too warm under the attention.

Jason moves behind you, tall enough to block the sun for a moment. “You’re glowing, man,” he says gently, voice deep and unexpectedly soft. “You look confident.”

But you don’t feel confident, not even close.

Your heart is hammering, your cheeks hot, every compliment landing heavier than the last.

Then Trent reaches out and slides his palm along your upper arm, slow, warm, respectful, like testing tension in a muscle. “Damn,” he murmurs, “you’re tighter than you look.”

Dior follows “probably I more places then one.” he says as fingertips trailing along your side, leaving warmth behind. Not grabbing, not groping, just exploring in that dreamy, unreal way that feels like sunlight touching you instead of hands.

Ashton leans in close enough that you can feel the heat of him. “You really don’t get how good you look, do you?”

You swallow, unable to answer.

And then Jamal steps forward.

The others naturally make a little space for him, like this is his moment without needing to say it aloud. He circles behind you, slow, confident, letting the warmth of his body pass close to yours without quite touching, like he’s measuring the air around you, claiming it.

“You’re built for wearing something as sexy as,” he says, voice low but not threatening. Just certain. “Built for us! build for BBC!”

A shiver runs through you, not fear, not discomfort, something else entirely.

Something warm and confusing and kind of right?

Jamal finally lets his hand rest lightly between your shoulder blades, steadying you. Just a touch. Just enough pressure to make you feel held.

And then him and the others step in closer again, surrounding you in a loose circle, all bodies and sunlight and warmth. Shoulders brush yours, elbows graze you, water drips onto your skin as someone leans too close without meaning to. Everything is so vivid, dark skin glistening and contrasting to your pale white one, muscles shifting, their eyes on you, their easy confidence, their laughter soft and familiar.

It’s overwhelming.

It’s too much.

And yet… it feels right in a way you don’t understand.

Jamal gets even closer, you think you feel something hard and very big press between tour tighly wrapped ass cheeks. The black man leans down, lips near your ear, voice a whisper that melts into the dream.

“You’ll understand soon.... Snow bunny...”

“Jamal.” you moan, breathy and shallow, as he moves his hips against yours.

And that’s when the sunlight flares too bright, the air too warm, the closeness too intense....

You gasp.....

...and your eyes open in the real world.

The dream dissolves around you, but the heat stays.