Trapped

Trapped

This story is a work of erotic fiction. It is intended for entertainment purposes only. It may contain depictions of non-consensual sex (i.e. rape) and racial slurs which some readers may find offensive. This story is not intended to be read by minors or by anyone who might be unduly influenced by its contents, or where community standards prohibit this type of literature. If any of these prohibitions apply to you, please find something else to read for your entertainment. All publishing and reproduction rights are reserved by the author of this story.

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I have often watched the fascination of white girls for strong young African American males. On my commute home from a tedious work day I see teenaged high school students crowding the subways and busstops. Beautiful blond haired white girls climb all over their young Nigger bucks while the boys don’t seem to know what to do with themselves, so pleased, as they are, to have the attention of delicate white womanhood. The girls’ rolled their eyes up in their heads as they feel the young man’s arms and chest, and as they press their tender young bodies up against the black stud’s raging hard cock.

The black boys dance their rhythmic dance as they grind their loins up against the flower of young white womanhood. The white girls swoon in ecstasy as they enjoy the movements of well-endowed youthful black manhood. The girls seem giddy with excitement to be wrapped in the arms of these brown and black-skinned urban warriors. When they are not gyrating their hips into loins of these excitable white young women, young black males stand erect as noble dark soldierly profiles against the early evening sky of the city.

I have tried to escape from such images. I have my work to do; the world of these erotic teenagers and my own world are too far apart for me to understand their reality. I try to quietly go about my business, pitching sales and making calls – tallying up ledgers and trying to make ends meet. I cannot allow myself to be distracted by the black and white passions playing out on the streets.

In my insular world everything stays the same. I like it that way – there is safety and security in routine. When I get off of the subway I walk the two or three blocks to may apartment building, push the elevator button, and am transported to the comfort of my own space with a widescreen TV and a complete collection Ikea furniture.

Every day is the same; the routine never varies – at least not until the other day. I got into the elevator, same as always. I pressed the button for the 13^th floor, same as I always do – but just as the elevator doors began to shut a black teenager, probably about 17 or 18, slipped inside. His large bushy hair was uncombed and he wore a grey sweatshirt and a brown leather jacket.

I eyed his tall and husky brown frame. He towered over me – looked like he might have been around 6’3. He pushed the button for his floor stood nonchalantly with his hands thrust in his cargo pants. By the looks of the young man I figured he must be on a sports team – maybe basketball or track.

As the elevator rattled and climbed the floors of the building I pictured what he would look like with his pants below his knees and his young black ass thrust up in the air while his white coach plowed into the boy’s ass his hard white cock, teaching the boy humility and discipline.

The boy seemed subdued – not too friendly. He seemed like your typical teenager with a suspicious and defensive attitude against the world. But without warning he reached over and flicked the emergency switch. The elevator jerked to a stop, making me lose my balance. I was thrown against the wall. I looked at the boy, “What was the emergency?”

His face was expressionless as he moved in on me. His large husky frame pushed me against the wall. I was buried in the mass of his chest and shoulders. I knew the kid, being black and all, wanted to rob me. I fumbled with my wallet and it fell on the floor – “T-take whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.”

The kid looked at the wallet and then back at me with contempt. “I don’t want none of your shit.” I swallowed hard. I couldn’t figure out what he was after. I hoped he wasn’t into attacking white strangers just for the hell of it. I had read about how black teenage boys are prone to commit random acts of violence – the thought filled my mind that I was about to become a statistic.

The boy’s stocky young body pressed up against me. Even though he was wearing several layers of clothing I could feel his body heat. I smelled the warmth and mustiness of his youthful Nigger strength and energy. I could see by the soft facial hair under his chin and the sides of his cheeks that his body was bursting with testosterone.

I felt the thick hard mass swelling in his pants as he pressed up against me. He put his arms on either side of me, resting his hands against the wall. He thrust his bulging crotch into my midsection and said, “I don’t like faggots.”

I didn’t know what to say but lamely managed to whine, “N-neither do I.”

He started grinding his thick teenaged cock up against my body. My face was buried in his massive chest. The smell of his tough boyish masculinity engulfed me. I felt his hands pushing me down to my knees so that my face was in his crotch. The hard bulge in his pants rubbed against my mouth and nose.

The boy’s heavy hand pulled down his zipper and a large Negro penis pushed its way through the opening of his boxer shorts. That thick hard Negroid meat slapped against my face. “Kiss dat dick if ya know what’s good fo ya.”

I didn’t know what to do – I didn’t want him to hurt me. I pressed my lips on his big black teenaged cock and started kissing it. The smell of his Negro pubes filled my nostrils. He rubbed that hard cock against my face and pushed my head down so that I could lick his nasty Nigger balls. The smell of them was strangely arousing.

He grabbed the back of my head and ground his jungle dick and balls in my face. He made me lick between his smooth brown thighs and kiss his hairy ghetto nutt sacs. My mouth was overwhelmed by his young masculine boyish Nigger taste. My nose was overwhelmed by the smell of his sexual potency.

I heard that black boy moan, “suck on my dick you faggot punk.”

I wanted to protest. He pulled my head back and stuffed my mouth with his massive black sausage. I had a mouthful of thick Nigger manhood and I could hardly breathe. He pumped his fuck meat in my mouth – slowly at first, but then he picked up speed.

His thick testicles slapped my chin while he chocked me with his ebony cock. I felt a strange intimacy with his Negro sex organs. I felt like I was becoming part of his world of sexual potency. I felt strangely like a tiger while I was sucking down his thick African fuck meat – like it was somehow giving me energy and strength.

His hard black dick plowed the back of my throat while he used my mouth for a portable pussy to masturbate his ghetto dick with. I felt like I was being used to relieve his pent up teenage jungle passions.

My face pressed against his smooth strong brown thighs. I heard my tormentor grunt as he fucked my mouth; his rhythm picked up and he used my throat harder and harder – this horny Negro breeder pumped his thick sex tool in my mouth. I felt like a cheap ho from the streets servicing her customer.

I was overwhelmed by his lusty basketball playing smell and his locker room taste. I thought about how he must plow that thick jungle meat in white girls pussies all the time and make them scream with passion, waking all the neighbors. No wonder girls get so aroused by these boys. I also wondered how many of his own black ghetto bitches he impregnated with that potent Nigger organ.

I grabbed his thighs while he worked his dick in my mouth. I could feel the young muscles of his legs tense. He pumped my mouth with rhythmical smoothness and musical improvisation. He smelled of the masculine potency of exotic earthiness, lush and fertile like an African jungle.

Suddenly a strange and unfamiliar feeling came over me. I had the feeling that I was safe from the predatory world of back-stabbing and chaos so long as his strong Negro cock was thrusting in my mouth. I was protected by the thrusts of his pelvis against my face. I was comforted by the smell of his thick African pubes. I was secure so long as this young brown-skinned boy was using me to relieve his sexual tensions. I was being saved from a vicious world by this handsome young Negro god-like figure.

Just then he let out a loud moan and his body erupted into an orgasmic spasm. Thick loads of hot Nigger jism rose up his shaft and exploded down my throat. His body convulsed. More thick hot loads of tasty nigger lava from that stiff black volcano rushed over my tongue, covering it with a creamy coat. I wanted to give myself to that black boy entirely.

He fired more loads of cum onto my tongue like a cannon shooting heavy artillery. The taste of his nutt filled me with energy. I don’t know what came over me. I wanted his Nigger cum inside of me and gulped down as much of it as I could.

His liquid African manhood filled me with passion. I sucked on his thick jungle cock to take his vitality and his life essence inside of me. I savored the sound of his deep manly groans and the smell of his healthy fertile black body. I lapped up the seed of his black manhood.

He pumped the last of his jism down my throat. I was a willing receptacle.

My eyes followed his dick as he slowly withdrew the invading brown instrument of flesh from my mouth. I held his thighs tight and kissed the base of his thick shaft and his balls. Tears of passion ran down my cheeks.

He looked down at me and smirked with contempt as he unceremoniously zipped himself up. My dick was still throbbing hard in my pants. I remained on my knees, wanting to masturbate in front of him to pay homage to his manhood.

He flicked the emergency switch and the elevator resumed its upward motion. I got on my feet, searching for something to say – wanting to reach out. I wanted to explain my behavior or ask him when we could do this again, but my mind was jumbled and the words wouldn’t come.

The elevator stopped on his floor and he eased his way through the door without pausing to look back. The doors shut behind him and the elevator continued on its way. I savored the lingering taste of his young mysterious sexual potency, hoping I would see him again.