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.
The white boy and the black boy; both had secrets that they kept from one another. Both dropped hints of their secrets, hoping they would be fully disclosed so that they could be freed from the chains that bound them. The white boy’s name was Timothy; the black boy’s name was Lamont. This is their story:
Lamont sat in his bedroom, thinking about the way that teenage white boys seemed to have an angelic quality. Their smooth white skin connoted “purity” in his mind. He even found the variation of skin tone on their white bodies beautiful, like the contrast between the boy’s throbbing red cock, as it was being trust inside Lamont’s mouth, and the pale whiteness of the boy’s hairless chest that rose and fell with increased rapidity as the boy was nearing orgasm.
White boys were, to Lamont, noble young squires – right out of the pages of a medieval fairy tale about heroism, rationality, courage and chivalry. Their curly golden locks fell over their foreheads and their rosy cheeks and red lips were full of innocence and life. He longed to have them lie on top of him and pump their angelic seed inside of his black body.
Lamont had read books about American slavery. He know that black boys held captive as slaves enjoyed nothing greater than being “forced,” by their teenaged white masters, to suck on their horny plantation cocks and swallow their cum. To have the young master’s seed slide down the black boy’s throat made the young black boy feel as though he was closer to his master, as if the very substance of his master’s body had now become part of him. He was no longer an ordinary black slave; unlike the other “niggers” he now carried the master inside of him.
As Lamont became older the white boys he was involved with would test him, and he tested them in return. White boys, like his friend Timothy, started out by admiring Lamont’s “big black cock,” stroking it slowly and watching his facial expression as Timothy took control over Lamont’s black body. Lamont’s testicles churned as Timothy continued to stroke his throbbing black member until the black boy shot ropes of thick white cum all over his dark body. Timothy sat back and admired the contrast and his conquest of the black boy’s body.
Once Timothy had established that Lamont could trust him, because, after all, Timothy was willing to “submit” to servicing Lamont’s black cock by stroking it for him, he found that he was free to push things with Lamont a little further. He gradually reeled Lamont in by moving to the next stage of his carefully planned seduction.
“Wouldn’t you like to have a nice firm body like mine lying on top of you?” Timothy asked, rather innocently one day while he was stroking the black boy’s cock. Of course Lamont would love to have Timothy’s firm white body lying on top of him. What self-respecting black boy doesn’t want his body to be covered by a European knight or squire?
Gradually the two boys’ roles were reversed. Timothy no longer stroked and adored the black boy’s cock; now it was Timothy whose body was being admired. Sometimes he would hunch up on his knees and thrust his throbbing red cock between Lamont’s lips and force it down the black boy’s throat.
It was a fair enough exchange. Timothy, after all, had patiently stroked Lamont’s cock to bring the black boy to orgasm, and now it was only fair for Lamont to return the favor by stroking Timothy’s cock – with the use of Lamont’s thick black lips.
But oh, what an exchange! The white boy’s soft hands may have felt great as it stroked the length of Lamont’s velvety dark shaft, but that was nothing compared with the feeling of Lamont’s thick, warm, moist “nigger” lips sliding up and down the shaft of Timothy’s hard white cock. Timothy grabbed the black boy’s head and made Lamont suck him harder and harder.
After he had gotten Lamont to service him for a while, Timothy lie on top of the boy and thrust his throbbing cock between the black boy’s legs, fucking him like he was Timothy’s girlfriend. The darker boy’s thighs felt warm, soft and smooth. Timothy lost himself in the pleasure of dominating his dark skinned partner with Timothy’s throbbing hard manhood. Lamont was hard too, gradually growing accustomed to being positioned as the white boy’s bottom – he was getting used to his newly acquired submissive role.
Timothy pushed things a little further. “You like that? Huh, boy? You like how my cock feels between your thighs?” Lamont, succumbing to the moment, allowed himself to gasp “Oh, Yesssum. Yesssum, I likes how that feels.” Of course, this is not really the way Lamont normally spoke. It was the heat and passion of the moment that allowed him to talk this way – the desire to associate the feeling with being raped as a slave. But he was afraid to say this to the white boy directly.
“Oh, Yesssum, yesssum,” and the black boy groaned. He softly added, “Massah,” but he said that word so softly that it was barely perceptible. If Lamont felt totally free to express himself he would gladly add, “Fuck my nigger ass with your big white cock,” but that would be pushing things too far. That would be crossing a social taboo that might make both young men feel uncomfortable. So he settled for uttering “Yesssum, yesssum,” over and over again, much to the amusement of his white companion who continued his thrusts between the darker boy’s legs.
Timothy was increasingly encouraged and aroused by Lamont’s reactions, “You like that big white cock between your legs? Huh, boy? You like the feel of that big white cock?”
Lamont responded all the more emphatically, “Yesssum, yesssum, I like that big white cock between my thighs.” Both boys felt a rush of sexual intensity from the dialogue. Timothy shoved his cock deep inside the black boy’s ass and Lamont ventured a little farther in the sex talk as both boys approached orgasm, “Oh yeah, shoot that master seed inside my body.” These were just the words Timothy wanted to hear. His white seed was about to breed the black boy’s body. He was civilizing Lamont by the thrusts of his cock. It drove Timothy over the edge. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He shot wave after wave of his thick, creamy load inside of Lamont. The black boy felt Timothy’s warm sticky cum gush inside of his bowels. Lamont shot his load all over the bed sheets. He was overcome by the thought that the white boy had just totally conquered him.
Lamont felt as though the white boy’s cum made Timothy a part of him. He felt the warmth of Timothy’s body fluids as they flowed through Lamont’s own dark body. The blond haired blue eyed boy was now a part of him. The white boy’s body fluids would liberate Lamont from his blackness. Both boys felt the power of the moment, although they knew better than to actually talk about it. Timothy loved the feeling of having just conquered a strong, self-confident black boy’s ass.
And there was much to be said for this conquest. Black boys, after all, signified earthiness, athletic strength, soulfulness and warmth to Timothy. Before meeting Lamont Timothy spent many hours admiring black boys of all hues from afar. He found himself aroused by these bronze warriors, whose loose fitting clothing seemed to barely cling to their bodies, as they boldly and boisterously strutted and meandered down the street in wolf packs. The boys’ brown skin glowed like honey. When Timothy stood near them he felt as though they radiated tropical warmth.
Timothy studied the black boys’ firm brown arms, made strong by workouts and manual labor. He wanted those bronze arms to be wrapped around his body, pulling him into the black boy’s earthiness and his soulful rhythms. He wanted to take the golden warriors’ semen inside of him, emboldening him – giving him their strength. He wanted these strong, soulful black boys to be devoted to him so that he could rely on them for safety and protection.
He loved the trust in a black boy’s eyes when Timothy stroked his thick, dark cock, making the boy surrender his body. The black boy opened up and surrendered to Timothy in a way that was only reserved for his girlfriend during a moment of intense passion. But the Black boy knew he couldn’t trust his girlfriend as much as he could trust Timothy. The black boy knew that when the passion subsided his girlfriend would go directly for his wallet, whereas all Timothy wanted from him, after the sex was over, was that the black boy would be his protection when they both went into dangerous parts of the city.
Timothy loved the funkiness and grittiness in the way that black boys approached sex. He enjoyed convincing two black boys to have sex while Timothy watched, stroking his pulsating cock. The white boy was driven wild by the sight of two sweaty, muscular black boys interlocked in passion, and the smell that emanated from their bodies as they as they made rhythmic fucking motions on the floor in front of him. He enjoyed capping off the evening by shooting his thick ropes of cum across the two swarthy bodies at his feet.
When Timothy met Lamont he longed to have the black boy shoot his cum down his throat. He sensed that the black boy’s sperm would give him strength and vitality – like an aphrodisiac made from tiger semen. Lamont was the rich brown color of milk chocolate. Timothy wanted to share in all of the exotic secrets of the black boy’s body.
Often Timothy admired lighter-skinned black boys whose golden bodies looked like they had been gently kissed by the sun. They seemed to have absorbed the sun’s rays. Timothy believed a black boy’s sperm was like seeds of healthy sun shine, full of vitamins and earthly minerals. Black boys, he always thought, were rich in fertility. He’d see them shamelessly grinding on their girlfriends in public places, the muscles on their backs and their arms flexing as they put on their public show – slow, nasty dancing, with or without the aid of music. He knew that black boys were exotic and erotic creatures that just couldn’t get enough of fucking – and who had a lot to give. When they shot cum from their thick black cocks their bodies shook and their creamy juices flowed like molten lava from a volcano.
He wanted to swallow Lamont’s fertile seed, and take it inside his ass.
The white boy was not fooled by the black boy’s façade. Black boys were legendary for their homophobia and, if “gay,” for always having to be the “top.” But Timothy knew better. He could put two and two together. He knew that very few black boys grew up with fathers in the home – very few had strong male role models in their lives. He knew that this often meant that that a boy would grow up seeking the attention of other males to compensate for what he lacked. The black boy’s insatiable need for masculine attention and approval secretly made the boy feel uncomfortable because he was afraid this might be an indication that he was actually homosexual.
Timothy sensed this weakness in black boys. He also knew that, in the absence of male role models, black boys were insecure about their manhood – they were uncertain about what it really means to be a man. These boys would chase exaggerated Hollywood images of manhood – and the extreme notions of manhood projected by hip hop recording artists. It was a false manhood. It was a kind of hyper-masculinity – a macho image that, in the real world, could only lead to an early death, yet most black boys subscribed to it in order to cover up their “homosexuality.”
Added to this, Timothy thought, is the masculine culture among black boys – a culture based on slapstick humor and mutual humiliation. Timothy noticed that black boys’ humor was largely based on humiliating one another and seeing other people humiliated. Timothy guessed that this humiliation cut deeper than just verbal insults; it was even deeper than taking pleasure in watching another boy getting brutally beaten – he noticed when black boys watched one of their friends being humiliated they grabbed their crotches and sported a big boner. The boys were aroused by seeing another humiliated – verbally, physically and sexually.
It didn’t take long for Timothy to realize that this sexual arousal was not confined to seeing another black boy – and especially black “bitches” – humiliated, they were just as intensely aroused when they themselves were the ones being humiliated. Humiliation was humiliation and black boys couldn’t get enough of it, no matter who the victim was. The erotic power of the act itself, for the black boy, never ceased to amaze Timothy.
Suddenly it all began to make sense; no wonder these boys, who were bold and proud in public, submitted to him so easily in private, even begging him to abuse them and treat them like shit. If black boys were aroused by humiliation at the hands of other black boys, how much more humiliating – and arousing – must it have been for them when a white man was humiliating them? Even the toughest teenage street thug had a hunger for abuse from white boys, in private, which seemed insatiable – at least on the “down-low.”
Timothy began to see that even black boys’ fashions in clothing were not entirely innocent. They sagged their pants well below their butts in a way that was clearly suggestive of availability. They left very little to the imagination of curious white boys who surreptitiously inspected black boys’ asses. Their bulbous dark asses were clearly outlined in their boxer shorts, even to the point where one could see the ghetto boy’s ass crack. Black boys bent over and offered their asses to be mounted by every passing white boy each time they tied their Timberland boots.
But Timothy also realized that the “hardness” of black boys’ persona was not entirely affected. In a post-industrial economy, where society is increasingly feminized and women are much more likely to secure steady employment than men, black males – more than most people – are more likely to see themselves as being social “outsiders” without a foothold in the economy. Instead, they swagger down the streets in the bright and colorful clothing of pirates, complete with do-rags on their heads and gold ear rings, affecting a macho “outlaw” image that they can be proud of. They challenge the feminization of mainstream society; but even this, Timothy realized, makes them more inclined toward butt-fucking. After all, it is much more manly to fuck another tough and firm-bodied man than it is to fuck a weak and soft woman.
Timothy knew that when a black boy exaggerates his fear of homosexuality (“No homo, man, no homo”) and when he exaggerates his attraction to “the ladies” (calling them “bitches and hoes”) that black boy was trying to cover for his deep-seated fear, confusion and insecurity about not having a father in his life, about his constant need for male-peer approval and masculine attention, and his hidden desire to be humiliated and dominated by another man’s cock – especially the cock of a self-confident white man.
Timothy wasn’t fooled, and it came as no surprise to him when it was finally revealed that many black men live their lives on the “down-low.” So repressed was black American masculine culture, because of its insecurities, and yet so powerful was black male-to-male attraction, because of their needs that the “down-low” culture among black men became inevitable.
Timothy realized that most black men were on the down-low, at least for some portion of their lives. Their desire for white women only masked their equally strong desire for white men and teenage boys. This desire for white males was not always a desire to be on top; the black boy longed to experience being the bottom and being totally dominated and humiliated by white men. In the secrecy of the night, and in hidden quarters during the day, Timothy willingly obliged this request.
He found that black boys longed to hear white men insulting them while the man was taking the black boy’s nigger ass. Timothy knew that all he had to do was ease the boy into a “relationship” with him that would help the black boy get used to the idea of acting on his own inner-desires, which the black boy himself was ashamed of and didn’t fully understand.
The honey-colored black boys were like fertile sunshine, but the darker-skinned boys – the color of dark walnut, roasted coffee beans or even the color of espresso – seemed to connote the strength of the earth; the strength of stone. Timothy wanted to be in the firm grip of these strong, black male bodies. He couldn’t erase his own thoughts of enslaving these black male studs. These slave studs’ thick black cocks should not just be reserved for a black woman’s pussy – for breeding – but should be shared by the black boy’s master – white boys like Timothy. He desperately wanted to know what it would be like to be bread by a black slave stud’s cock.
This is what set him off on his journey to conquer Lamont