Black Boyz Earning Extra Cash

This is a work of fiction. It is not to intended to be read by minors.
It includes acts of homosexuality and dialogue with racial slurs. If
you are offended by this kind of fantasy, please search for something
else to read.

Now, let's get on with our story.

Jerome and Tyrell were bagging groceries and Food Market, a major
supermarket. Tyrell thought Jerome handled the groceries and bags
rougher than unusual. He ruined several of the bags as he tore them out
of their box to be used. He slammed groceries into the bags that he
hadn't damaged with such force Tyrell was sure he would break some of
the bottles or smash the produce.

"Hey, take it easy there, Jerome - you aint in no fight with them
groceries. They aint got no grudge against you."

Tyrell give Jerome a friendly shove on the shoulder, but Jerome just
shot him a glance that silently told him to fuck off.

After about a half hour of Jerome's aggressive bagging, which even
made the cashier stop smacking her chewing gum long enough to give the
boy a quick once-over, Tyrell sidled up to Jerome.

"Hey, 'Rome, man - what's up? Why you actin' so rough?"

Jerome grunted and finished stuffing the bag, "Man, hard as I'm
working here they don't never pay a nagga enough to buy what we
need."

The boy ripped another empty bag out of the box and began stuffing it
with groceries. "I aint never gonna have enough money left over to
buy that new Playstation, or even some 'bling-bling' to attract the
ladies, know what I'm sayin'?"

Tyrell shook his head, "yeah, I know what you sayin, but you aint
never gonna get mo' money by slammin' them groceries around.
Let's go outside so you can chill for awhile."

Jerome nodded with gratitude at the prospect of having a sympathetic
ear to bend. "Yo - Latisha, me and Ty's out for a minute. Find
someone to cover for us, aiiight?"

The cashier rolled her eyes and loudly popped her chewing gum in reply.

Jerome and Tyrell sat on the curb at the far edge of the parking lot,
lighting up their cigarettes - hoping the manager wouldn't see
them. They knew that he thought they were too young to smoke. The boys
felt that at age 16 they had already seen as much as life has to teach
anyone, and that two more years of spinning on this earth wouldn't
make much of a difference. Besides, a few of the boys' friends were
already dead.

There were pretty good odds that they too might be dead in the next two
years - caught in random gunfire between rival gangs, or shot full of
fifty holes by over-zealous police officers. Why wait for years that
might not ever come? Why not live today?


Ty took a deep drag of his cigarette, "So that new Playstation got
you all stressed out, man? Sounds like you gonna need some extra
income."

Jerome toyed with a soda bottle cap on the ground, under the sole of
his sneaker.

"Hex yeah, I needs some extra income, but how am I gonna get it? I
aint gonna sling no weed and find my ass locked up in the juvie. What I
gonna do?"

Jerome popped a cinnamon breath mint in his mouth. He liked to keep his
mouth fresh and wanted to get rid of the stale taste of tobacco. Tyrell
seemed to have lost interest in the conversation for a moment. He
slowly scanned the parking lot full of customers loading up their cars
or pushing empty shopping carts toward the store. His eyes suddenly
brightened.

"See that dude over there with that cart fulla stuff?"

A white middle-aged man pushed a wobbly car full of groceries. He was
heading in the boy's direction. Jerome just nodded his
acknowledgment.

Tyrell continued, "He stays in a townhouse by hisself near here and
he can't carry all them groceries there alone. He always gotta pay
some nagga to carry his groceries for him - but them boys be fightin
each other to carry his bags. They say he tips real good, yo."

Jerome just smirked and gave a dismissive short laugh, "Yeah, them
young boys think they gots lots of money even when you give 'em a
Lincoln. Me? I'm lookin' for wads n' wads of Jacksons before
I'll be satisfied."

Tyrell give his buddy a pointed stare to show he was serious. "He
payin' in wads of Jacksons. Fact I hear he payin' more than that.
And them kids that be chasin after him? They aint so young, yo. They
our age; even older. But you gotta do more than carry the man's bags
- you gotta know how to make the man happy."

Jerome narrowed his eyes and focused on his target. "That so?"

The man was nearing the edge of the parking lot and began looking
around for someone to help him unload his shopping cart. A small group
of teenage black boys began to flock in the man's direction like
birds in migration.

Jerome got to his feet, he had the advantage, having already positioned
himself at the parking lot's edge. "Well if he payin' more than
wads of Jacksons I'll find out how to make the man happy..."

Tyrell tried to interrupt but Jerome was already making quick strides
toward his mark, rubbing his hands in anticipation of separating the
man from his money. Jerome shot Tyrell a quick glance over his
shoulder, "Punch out my time card, man. Tell 'em I had to take an
early lunch break."

Tyrell grinned and stifled a mischievous laugh. "Aiiight, playa.
Whatever you say."

Jerome was the first of the group of black boys to reach the man and he
shooed the rest of the boys away, "I got this."

The white man looked at the boy who was slightly shorter than he was.
The man's fleshy face quivered like a bowel of jelly, and he adjusted
his eye glasses that looked like the bottom of Pepsi bottles resting on
his face. Jerome thought the man looked nervous, but he began to unload
the man's bags from his cart without waiting to be asked.

The man gave the boy an astonished smile, "Why - thank you young
man. It's so good of you to help."

Jerome didn't bother to look the man in the eyes, he just focused on
some distant point straight ahead at the end of the street, "Yeah,
well I hear you pay good cash if a nagga know how to make you happy so
I'm always down for a few extra bucks."

The man gave the boy a tight self-satisfied smile, "My, the word does
get around doesn't it. You look like the kind of lad who could keep a
man like me satisfied, no doubt about it."

Jerome had no idea what the man was talking about but if it would lead
to extra cash he knew he better agree with the man and find out the
details later, "Yeah, fo schizzle."

They reached the man's townhouse and climbed up a short flight of
cement steps. The man nervously jiggled his keys in the lock and
allowed the door to slowly swing open. Jerome stepped inside to the
musty smell of home where clothes had probably been laying around for
awhile. He looked around and saw bed sheets carelessly tossed on the
man's living room couch. Jerome imagined from the sight and smell of
everything that the man probably slept in the living room and never
bothered to wash the bed sheets or refresh the furniture.

"Just bring the bags back here," the man said, leading the way to
his kitchen.

Jerome brought the groceries into the kitchen and laid them down on the
linoleum table top. He looked around at the tiles that were coming
loose from the kitchen walls. An old clock with a yellowing face kept
track of the time. The black hands on the clock moved in jerking motion
as if they couldn't decide between moving forward and staying where
they already were.

When Jerome finally let go of the bag he realized the man was staring
at him. He seemed to be in some sort of a trance. His eyes were lost in
pop bottle lens of his glasses. Jerome felt a chill move down his
spine.

"Okay, so there's yo bags man. Now, I gotta go - so if we can
just get to the pay...."

The man seemed to come out of his trance, "Oh yes. Yes indeed." He
fumbled with his wallet and pulled out a couple of dollar bills.
"Thank you so much for your efforts." He moved toward the kitchen
door as if to show the boy out.

Jerome just stared at the bills in his hands like they were dead fish.

The man's face seemed to register genuine concern for the boy, "Is
something wrong? Don't you feel well?"

Jerome eyed the man with disappointment. He spoke haltingly, as if he
didn't want to push things, but did not also want let things stand as
they were.

"I thought you paid naggas crazy cash to carry your bags for
you..."

The man seemed amused. I returned to the kitchen where Jerome was still
standing, holding the dollar bills in his outstretched hand. The man
pulled a glass out of the cupboard and brought out an uncorked bottle
of chilled white wine from the refrigerator. He filled the glass up
with the wine and began to sip it playful as he eyed the dissatisfied
boy.

"Oh, so would you like more money than that?"

Jerome shifted uneasily, "Yeah, I was kinda hoping...you know..."

The man continued to sip his wine. "But more money means extra
service, you know that, right?"

Jerome felt himself losing his patient business-like façade. "What
kinda extra service? I done brought yo groceries in for you. I done
laid them on the counter. You want me to unpack them? I'll do that
too. I'll do whatever you want in this here muthafucka in order to
get paid."

The man sipped his white wine, staring at the boy over the top of the
rim of his thick glasses. He had an amused expression on his face.

"You're new. You aren't one of usual boys."

Jerome had already begun unpacking the man's groceries, "What that
supposed to mean?"

"Well, my usual black boys know how to make daddy happy."

Jerome froze in his tracks, torn between being offended and being
puzzled by what more the man wanted from him. "Oh, I aint got no
daddy. I aint never seen him - I sho as fuck wouldn't know what it
take to make him happy."

The white man smiled in amusement at the earnest black boy who had
almost finished unpacking the second bag of groceries. He carefully set
his half-emptied glass of wine down on kitchen counter and closed in on
the boy. Jerome stepped back, thinking that maybe the man was trying to
reach one of his cupboards and didn't know how to ask the boy to move
out of his way. But the man pressed forward, pushing Jerome's body
against the wall.

The man reached out with a fleshy hand and gently brushed it along the
boy's smooth brown face. "Such a beautiful black boy..."

Jerome frowned. He attempted to make his youthful face appear
street-hardened.

The white man looked down and noticed Jerome was wearing a thin gold
necklace with some kind of gang-like pendant at the end of it. He
gently brushed his hand along the boy's soft brown neck and slid it
under the gold chain. He held the chain delicately between two fingers
and examined the pendant. Jerome breathed hard. His chest rose and fell
as the white man pressed up against him, examining his jewelry.

"You must be some kind of young thug boy, right?"

Jerome didn't know how to answer the man, but he didn't want to
blow his chances to make some money so he bit his lip and examined the
peeling tiles on the kitchen floor.

The man rubbed his fingers along the partial length of the chain and
brushed the soft skin of the boy's neck and upper chest. "I love
young black thug boys - so soft and tender, and yet so strong. You
just want to be a man, don't you? And yet you're still a boy..."

Jerome's breathing got heavy and his heart pounded with anxiety. What
was this dude's game? Jerome wondered if he was going to wind up in
the man's ice box divided into severed limbs, like Jeffery Dahmer's
victims.

The man noticed Jerome's determination not to make eye contact.
"Don't be afraid of me. I've had lots of hot young black boys
before. I've had them in all shades and flavors. I've had reddish
cinnamon, copper brown, dark chocolate, fresh iced tea, cappuccino,
sweet brown sugar, dark molasses, roasted peanut butter brown, toasted
golden brown..."

Jerome tried frantically not to know where this was going. He tried to
deny the situation he was in. He looked over the man's shoulder, as
if the man wasn't even there. Then he looked down at the floor, then
back over the man's shoulder, then at a distant wall.

But the man continued to press in on the boy and whispered in his ear
as he held Jerome by the waist, "But you're closer to my favorite
- a nice delicious hunk of dark caramel brown, budding unwillingly
into manhood - attempting to grow a mustache on your luscious thick
upper lip...So full of Negro sexual potency."

Jerome took a deep breath and shifted under the man's weight,
attempting to work his way out of the trap of being caught between the
man's body and the kitchen wall. "Yo man, I aint into this. I aint
feelin' that faggot shit, know what I'm sayin. You just gonna have
to keep yo money cause I gotta jet."

Jerome was surprised when the man firmly grabbed both of his arms and
pinned them to his side. The man leaned in on Jerome and rubbed his
lips gently along the curve of the boy's neck, as if to softly kiss
it. But his whisper was firm and instant. "I could pay good money to
have a black boy like you for the night. I'm talking hundreds of
dollars - but that's only if you know how to make me happy. It's
only if you do what you are told to do without asking questions -
don't break the spell for me, okay, boy?"

Jerome swallowed hard. He thought about the Playstation he wanted and
watched it fly away on wings in his mind's eye. He thought about the
diamond earring he wanted to buy, and the designer cap and sneakers. He
thought about the street fashion sweats he wanted to wear. Then he
looked at the sweaty-faced fleshy white man breathing heavily down his
neck, almost slobbering on him.

He nodded his head, giving the man his assent.

The man's eyes lit up. He embraced the boy with his big heavy arms
and sighed, "Such a sweet, tender sensitive and understanding
boy...."

Jerome just dropped his head and mumbled to himself, "All I'm
tryin' to do is get paid."

The man pushed himself up against the teenager's body and ran his
hands up and down the boy's sides.

"You know, now that we understand each other, I always wondered why
you black boys wear your pants so loose that they sag below your
ass."

Jerome tried to squirm away, but the man kept him pinned against the
wall. The man reached inside the boy's pants and felt his smooth,
firm ass. Jerome felt the man's cock twitch to life beneath his pants
as the man continued to press against him. "Mmmmmm, nice tender,
plump young black ass..."

Jerome remained silent and looked at the floor.

"I'll bet you really know how to use that ass, huh? You've got
those jungle rhythms in your blood, don't you?"

The boy shot him an angered look, but when he realized the man caught
his glare he quickly looked away.

"What's the matter baby? I know how much you boys like sex where
you're from. You have it on the stairwells and in the allies, in the
hallways - wherever you can get it, right?"

Jerome found himself nodding in agreement. He had to admit the man was
right; still he didn't like the assumptions the man was making. If
the man realized he was offending the boy he didn't show it.
"You're not my first tough young nagger. I know how good you boys
are at sex too - even when you don't want to be because you're
afraid of losing your 'manhood'. Don't you want to share your
black jungle rhythms on my nice white cock? You move so well...."

It was all Jerome could do to keep from lashing out. This man was not
only taking liberties with his body, but insulting him to boot. But
Jerome knew that if he wanted his Playstation and other things he'd
better go along with the program. He breathed heavily as the white man
held him close.

The man was still groping inside of the boy's pants. He shoved his
hand up the pant leg of the boy's boxer shorts. He rubbed his finger
between the boy's moist ass cheeks. Then he pressed his finger inside
the boy's hole and felt around inside of the boy.

"Yeah, before the night's over that young nagger ass is going to be
mine - you know that, don't you?"

Jerome bit his lip and looked down at the floor in shame as the man
began to grind his hardening cock against the boy's belly while he
poked his fingers in and out of the boy's tight ass.

The man grabbed the boy by his t-shirt and sweat shirt and lifted them
both, forcing Jerome to raise his arms, as he stripped his clothes off
of the boy's body. The man gasped at the boy's beauty. Jerome's
skin was smooth and a rich, dark caramel color. His arms were firm with
leanly toned muscles. His nipples were a slightly darker shade of
brown.

The man leaned in close and breathed on the boy's neck and shoulder,
taking in the healthy smells of this hard-working adolescent grocery
bagger. The man savored the delicate smell of teenage sweat and the
clean smell of the young man's hair - no doubt shampooed that
morning. The man groaned and wrapped his arms around the boy. He gently
kissed the boy's budding Adam's apple and shoulder blades. The boy
tried to look away and pretend he was somewhere else.

The man eased both hands back inside the boy's loose-fitting jeans
and slipped his thumbs on either of the youth's waistband. He peeled
Jerome's boxer shorts below his ass, and firmly grabbed each ass
cheek with his hands. The boy looked at the floor and rolled his eyes.
The man massaged his smooth ass - moaning deeply.

Jerome felt the white man groping his penis and his testicles. As
uncomfortable as the notion of a man feeling his private parts made
Jerome feel he couldn't stop himself from getting an erection and
enjoying the sensations he was having. His penis became hard and
throbbed beyond his control. He leaked precum on the white man's
hairy arms as he continued to agitate the boy by fondling his nuts and
his ass crack.

Jerome bit his lip and tried to think of all the hot white girls he
wanted to fuck in order to justify his sexual arousal. Still, there was
no getting around the overbearing presence of this hairy white man
having his way with the boy. He felt the white man press his mouth
against Jerome's thick lips. The boy tried to turn away, but all the
man needed to do was gasp, "make me happy," and Jerome was reminded
of his sole purpose for being in the man's home in the first place.
He allowed the man's thick probing tongue to enter his moist tender
mouth. The man explored the faint sweet taste of cinnamon from the
breath mint the boy had been sucking on earlier. The man thought that
perhaps this was the natural taste of black boy who seemed so
tropically exotic.

Jerome felt the white man pushing down on his shoulders. He resisted
for a moment, not sure of what the man wanted him to do. Then the
man's pressure on his shoulders became more forceful. He clearly
wanted the boy to drop to his knees. Jerome sank to the floor thinking
that maybe he was better off when all the man wanted to do was play
with his ass under his pants.

As Jerome knelt in front of his white patron, the man undid his pants
and let them drop to the floor. Jerome found himself facing the man's
pungent jockey shorts, with his hard member making a pup tent inside of
them. The man rubbed his cock, covered with cotton briefs, over the
black boy's face. The boy hoped this would be enough to satisfy his
tormentor, but those hopes were quickly dashed.

The man stood over him leering. "You ever lick on a white man's ass
before?"

Jerome figured the man knew the answer to this question, but somehow
enjoyed watching the boy's anxiety. Jerome sullenly shook his head
"no."

The white man's face broke into a fleshy smile, "Wanna try it? How
about you be a good little black boy and give it a try?"

Jerome made a disgusted face and took a deep breath. He grabbed his own
crotch through his pants for courage. The white man turned around and
lowered his jockey shorts so that his hairy white ass was waving in the
black teenager's face.

"Come on boy, bend over here and lick this nice white ass."

The man's ass was sweaty and smelled as though it hadn't been
washed very thoroughly. Jerome leaned forward and tentatively licked
the man's ass cheeks.

"Inside the crack. Lick inside the ass crack. I want to feel your
tongue wiping my shit hole clean."

Jerome stuck his tongue out and licked between the man's hairy white
ass crack, tasting the man's shit.

"Oh yeah, that's it. That feels so good. Lick that white ass
clean."

Jerome slurped and licked on the man's shit-stained whole. He felt
the man grabbing the back of his head, forcing his face between the
man's pale sweaty buns. Jerome tried to think of being somewhere
else. He tried to think of how he was going to spend the money he would
get from this degradation. Meanwhile, his benefactor rubbed his ass all
over the black boy's face.

It reached a point where Jerome could no longer taste or smell the
man's shit - at least not as badly as when he first started licking
the man's white ass. Instead, he began to smell his own salvia, which
had been used to clean the man's asshole. Just when the boy was
getting used to having his face buried in a white man's ass, the man
pulled his face out and turned around. The man's dick had become
soft. He lifted up his hairy white testicles and held them over the
black boy's mouth.

"Lick."

Jerome found himself involuntarily licking under the man's balls,
washing them with his tongue. The man's testicles tasted of sweat and
crud. Jerome licked the man, hoping this would satisfy him and that he
would soon be free to collect his pay. The white man moaned with
pleasure from feeling the boy's hot wet tongue wash underneath his
balls.

After a few moments of this, he lowered his flaccid cock to the boy's
thick lips.

"Suck."

Jerome paused. He wasn't sure he could continue going through with
this. The man rubbed his cock across the boy's closed thick lips.

"Come on, boy. Open those lips for daddy. I know how well you boys
can suck. I know how good you boys can be once you get those lips
going."

Jerome took in a deep breath. He had gone this far; what could he gain
by walking out on the man and risking losing his pay? Anyway, nobody
had to know about all of this - at least they would never know the
details about how he had been forced to get down on his knees and
French kiss the white man's ass, and now this - to suck on the
man's uncircumcised white cock.

Jerome opened his mouth. The man slid his cock between the boy's
tender black lips. Jerome began to suck on the man's dick. The man
looked down at the boy with bliss in his eyes. He gently cradled the
boy's head in his hands as his cock grew harder and harder inside the
boy's mouth.

"Yeah, that's it black boy. Take care of my cock."

Jerome slurped all over the man's throbbing member. A strand of drool
trickled out of the boy's mouth and remained suspended between the
man's cock and the floor. Jerome bobbed his head on the man's now
fully hardened cock. The man pumped his pelvis in the black boy's
face, his sweaty white balls bounced gently against the boy's chin.

"Oh yeah, I knew you'd be a good cocksucker. It's natural for
you."

It seemed as though the man really intended for the comment to be
complement. Somehow it was difficult for Jerome to take it in that way.
The man continued to grunt and grind his hard white cock in the boy's
mouth. Jerome gagged as he swallowed precum mixed with saliva, but the
man would not let go of the boy's head - nor would he stop
pleasuring himself with the boy's mouth. The man's voice grew
filled with obsessive sexual aggression.

"Yeah, nagger. Suck that cock. Suck it good."

His thrusts in the boy's mouth were now frantic. He no longer took
his time with smooth easy strokes - now he was a frenzy of humping
and grinding in the black teenager's mouth. Jerome swallowed his own
saliva to keep his air passage clear. The man cock twitched
spasmodically. He released a thick flow of gushing fluid down the
boy's throat. Jerome's eyes grew wide as he stared into the sweaty
pubes of the man who was fucking his face with reckless abandon.

As much as he was disgusted by the whole incident, he felt a subtle
peace and resignation in being used in this manner. It was almost as
though his place in the natural order of things was being established.
Here he was, down on his knees, sucking the white man's cock - a
man who clearly had power over him; a man who could reward or punish
him, depending on how good he had been. As much as Jerome could never
before imagine himself in this position, the thought crossed his mind
that he was sucking the cock of real power. If there was one thing that
Jerome had always learned to respect it was power - and nothing got
him more sexually aroused than the thought of giving power its
"props" in the rawest form.

He watched the man's hairy thighs pumping along the side of his face.
He smelled the rich, pungent smell of the man's pubic hair as it
filled his nostrils. He saw that thrust of the man's pale hardened
pole as it plowed the black earth of the boy's lips. It all seemed so
right. He let himself submit to the white man's power. And when the
man shot his seed down the boy's throat, that seemed right too. This
was power. This was humiliation. This was an acknowledgment of the
relationship between the two.

The man pumped his load into the black boy's mouth until all Jerome
could taste and smell was the man's thick cum. It tasted so
masculine; so masterful. Jerome's mind flashed back to how, when he
was three years younger, we often fantasized about sucking his white
pre-adolescent school chums' cocks. He wanted to get closer to their
beauty and the purity of their white skin. Sucking their cocks would be
the only way he knew of to do it. With their smooth muscular white
bodies and long flowing hair they seemed like young gods to him. He had
never acted on the urge, and they would have been shocked if they ever
knew that he had it. The white boys admired him for his athletic
prowess, after all - that, and his long, thick black cock, which was
clearly evident whenever they showered together after gym class. They
saw him, and all the other black boys, as the epitome of coolness and
masculinity. They never would have guessed that, as much as they
admired his wit, his charm, and his physical and sexual endowments, he
and the other black boys admired the purity of their whiteness. Deep in
the recesses of their minds the black boys all wanted to kneel down to
these beautiful young white gods and serve them.

He often fantasized, but would never admit it, that one day slavery
would be re-instated, and he would be hauled off to be the personal
slave of one of his white buddies. He would wait on the boy all day -
washing his clothes, bringing him meals, and cleaning his room. Then,
at night, as the white boy's personal slave he would get down on his
knees and suck the boy's cock, because all teenaged boys are horny
and need a good cock sucking every now and then. What better use for a
young nagger slave boy than to provide these services for his sexually
frustrated horny young white master?

This older white man's aggressive sexual assault on the black boy's
mouth reminded him of these long-repressed fantasies; fantasies he
could never breathe a word of to anybody. Of course, this older man
didn't have the same physical attraction for him that young,
smooth-skinned white boys did - but in a sense what he was now
experiencing had its own erotic appeal. This was power, and he was
submitting to this superior white man's power over him. He was
acknowledging his position in life.

When the man was finished using the black boy's mouth he let go of
the boy's head. Jerome's mind was reeling. He was completely
disoriented. Everything seemed to have been turned upside down. He felt
a warm, sticky wetness in his crotch. He reached inside his pants and
realized this moisture was from thick loads of his own cum. His cock
was still rock hard and twitching involuntarily, pumping out the
remainder of his unexpected orgasm. The flood of repressed memories and
current submission had clearly affected him. He was uncomfortable with
the sticky wetness inside of his pants, yet he was too embarrassed to
try to excuse himself to wash it off.

The spell was broken when he heard the white man's voice, "Well,
don't stay down there on your knees forever. You've still got more
work to do before you earn your bonus. I'm sure your manager at the
grocery store doesn't allow you to crawl at his feet while shopping
carts are cluttering the parking lot and customers are waiting for
their bags to be packaged."

Once again Jerome was reminded that maybe he didn't like this guy
after all; but what more could the man possibly want from him?

The man wasn't one to keep his intentions hidden for long. "Get
your black ass up here. I told you I intended to conquer that ass like
an explorer penetrating the deepest, darkest jungles of Africa. Now
bring your ass over here; I want to dip my cock into some rhythm and
blues. I'm going to hear soulful moaning from your tight young black
ass before the afternoon is over."

Jerome obeyed the man and got to his feet. The man led him into the
living room where there was a small wooden bench without a back or arm
rests off to the side of the man's unkempt couch.

"Lay across that bench there, ass up."

Jerome quickly ran through the options in his mind and figured there
wasn't much left humiliation that he would have to go through after
this. He was just a half hour, at the most, from having substantially
more cash to purchase the new Playstation and to deck himself out with
expensive "ice." He sagged his head and walked toward the rather
modest bench. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Time
magazine on the floor. The cover story was about the danger of a
collapsing dollar. He quickly averted his eyes - he didn't want to
show too much interest in the magazine because among he and his buddies
this would be "acting white."

Jerome bent over on the bench and pulled down his trousers, exposing
his bare ass to his white patron. The man examined the boy's smooth
caramel colored ass and his cock became instantly hard once again. He
stroked his hard cock while he ran his fingers over the boy's ass.
The man noticed the sticky mess of teenage jizz between Jerome's
legs. The white man chuckled to himself, "Don't you know these boys
really love it no matter what they try to tell themselves?"

The man spread the teenaged boy's ass cheeks and licked inside his
sweaty and sweetly bitter ass crack. The boy tasted of young, hot,
Negro masculine sexual potency. The man ran his tongue up and down the
boy's crack, making it good and moist and warm. Jerome moaned with
pleasure at the sensation of the man's hot wet tongue in his ass. He
felt his penis once again involuntarily spring to life, making him
uncomfortable as his belly was pressed down on the bench.

The white man began to finger rape the boy, poking and probing inside
his hole and playing with his fine brown ass cheeks. The white man
spread the boy's ass cheeks wide and slid his hard pale cock into the
opening. Jerome felt his hole filling up with the white man's cock.
He tried to calm his mind to simply accept and take it. The man plowed
into Jerome's black ass, picking up momentum - fucking the boy
harder and harder.

As the man's hard white manhood filled Jerome's hole, the boy
thought about all the times he had caught street-hardened "home
boys" acting out masculine aggression "on the down-low." He
remembered the time he caught Skeeter inducting a new member to his
posse. He had the young boy bent over on all fours while Skeeter and
the rest of his boys took turns shooting the lad full of their hot
ghetto man juices. The boy moaned and cried out with pain, but those
cries seemed strangely mixed with passion and ecstasy.

On another occasion, Jerome caught his cousin Michael in the bed,
grinding his thick cock between the legs of a younger playmate. The
older teenager worked himself into frenzy using the younger boy's
smooth copper brown legs to relieve his sexual tensions, eventually
shooting his jizz all over the younger boy's thighs and balls.

Early in life Jerome had picked up on the signals that black men send
to one another when they grab their cocks through their sweat pants in
public, showing one another the length and thickness they are packing.
At the right time, in a more discrete place, the curious young
"straight" man would get down on his knees to service his buddy's
cock. Nobody would ever talk about this directly but everyone knew that
it happened all the time. It was impossible for the horny, sweaty young
black men with big throbbing cocks to be around one another in close
quarters so often without getting aroused to experience each other's
black masculinity. They just needed an excuse to do it, and something
to call the experience - because they all knew that they were not
gay.

As this white man rammed his cock deep inside the boy's ass Jerome
thought about how he had heard in high school that the white slave
owners used to have their way with black slave women. When the teacher
talked about these things in class the black boys always got angry,
declaring they would get their revenge on those "evil white
muthafuckas." Then, during the break, they would just as passionately
rush to the boy's room to get into a private toilet stall so that
they could beat off. Their nappy headed minds were filled with images
of white slave owners pumping their ancestors full of European seed;
the white conqueror totally dominating the black conquered slaves,
using them like sexual objects. There were centuries of white European
seed being pumped into black African bodies, producing the mixed breed
of "African Americans" that Jerome and his buddies represent
today. The boys lustily masturbated to such images with their tongues
hanging out of the side of their mouths, eventually shooting their
loads over the already cum-stained walls in the boy's rooms.

While the white man plowed Jerome's ass it occurred to the boy that
the slave owners probably had their way with slave boys too; why not?
What better way to quell the insolence of resentful male slaves and
prevent a rebellion? What better way to enjoy the thick luscious lips
and sooth brown bubble butts of a conquered race, while establishing
and confirming the social order? The white man's thrusts into
Jerome's ass became harder and more intense, making the wooden bench
beneath them squeak loudly. Jerome felt the man's hard white cock
plowing into him with force. The man grabbed the back of the boy's
nappy head and grunted between his violent thrusts, "Yeah. Take that
white cock in your ass, nagger. Take it." This was too much for
Jerome. He suddenly felt the involuntary twitching of his teenaged
cock. It spewed out a fresh load of teen boy cum, this time all over
the man's wooden bench. Jerome tried to flash the white man a look of
thug boy resentment but all he could do was sigh as he found himself
caught in a wave of sexual release.

The man looked in the boy's impassioned eyes and could not restrain
himself any longer. He let out a loud sigh and emptied his loins deep
inside the black boy, giving the boy his essence. Jerome felt the flood
of thick, hot, white liquid fill his bowels. He felt the white man
melting inside of him, injecting his seed in him. It was not surprising
to Jerome, although it was certainly out of character, when he
passively welcomed the man's tender kisses on his cheeks and his lips
following the full power of the orgasm the man was having inside of the
boy's body. Jerome parted his lips and allowed the man to stick his
tongue inside of his mouth, emphasizing the man's invasion and utter
control over the black boy's body. The man held the bare-skinned
black boy tightly against his body and slobbered all over the boy's
face.

The next day at Food Market Tyrell eyed Jerome with curiosity and
suspicion. Jerome was bagging groceries like someone who was eager to
take orders but not particularly inclined to think. He still avoided
news magazines and newspapers, but started to hang out with the white
guys and talk with them about sports and the lottery. Even the manager
noticed the change and commented on how Jerome seemed to have caught
the spirit of "corporate America."

During a smoke break Tyrell confronted the boy, "What's gotten into
you? How much did that white man pay yo' sorry black ass? What else
did he make you do when you got to his place?" Jerome just smirked,
"Hey, you know - every man's got his price. He gotta give
somethin' up if he expect somethin' in return."

Tyrell got a mischievous grin, "Yeah, how much ass did you have to
give up?"

Jerome shot his buddy an irritated look. "Man, I don't know what
the fuck you talkin' about." He waved Tyrell off dismissively.

Tyrell looked at Jerome's feet, "I see you got new sneakers though.
I know they cost you at least $100."

Jerome just looked away as if he were disinterested, "Man...." He
sucked his teeth.

Tyrell pressed him, "Oh, and I see you wearin' new ice - dayum,
you musta been suckin that dick real good." He let out a sharp laugh.

Jerome bent over to dust some dirt off of his new sneakers, "Man, you
ignorant. You know I aint into that shit."

Just then the fleshy faced white man emerged from the store with a cart
full of paper and cleaning products. Jerome's eyes got big and before
he could stop himself he blurted out, "I sure as fuck hope this means
he gonna wash the fuckin' couch so's we can use it next time."

Tyrell's eyes got wide. Jerome quickly corrected himself, "He let
me watch television but I had to sit on his hard-assed wooden chairs
because his couch was so damn nasty."

Tyrell tossed his head playfully and nodded with a knowing grin, "Fo
schizzle. I knew that's what you meant."

Jerome didn't have time to argue with the boy. He sprang to his feet
to help the man with his packages. A cloud of other young black boys
raced toward the man but Jerome was determined to protect his meal
ticket. The white man also seemed pleased to see Jerome.

Jerome called over his shoulder to Tyrell, "Punch me out, man; I'm
on my lunch break."

Tyrell gave the boy a shit-eating grin, "Okay playa. Whatever you
say."

Whether working for the company or providing domestic service, Jerome
had become, indeed, a model employee.

More sex stories