Marjorie had been warned to stay away from Gill Alley. She had been told more than once, that it was simply not safe for a young white girl to walk in the ghetto without an escort.
But the blonde nymphet was headstrong, and she very seldom followed good advice. It wasn't that she was fearless, for as soon as she stepped out onto the blazing cement of Gill Alley she felt her cunny shiver as the steam boiled from the cracked pavement up the hem of her short shorts.
It was just that she was sixteen years old, blonde, pretty, and too innocent to believe all the sfories she heard.
Down the dark alley, danger lurked.
Out from the shadows, a tall, lithe, black man pounced on her like a large, jungle cat. This black alley cat knocked her to the ground, and pinned her pale-skinned body down as he breathed his hot breath into her face.
"Open your pink mouth, white baby," the man growled. "You're gonna get a wet tongue down your throat."
"I've never kissed a biack man before," Marjorie said, pleadingly. "I really can't do it," she cried.
"You're gonna kiss a black man white baby, and a lot more!" he told her before he forced his strong tongue muscle into her mouth.
Then he looked back at the trembling virgin. His eyes glinted with lust. "Open up your shorts and show me your little white pussy." he snarled. "Your white cunny is gonna get raped by black dick!"
Chapter One
Jesse Hodges was proud of himself. He had come a long way since his birth down in
Georgia.
There, he had been born not many years earlier, he would have been a slave boy, working for the white man on a Southern plantation, or out in the fields with whip marks emblazoned on his black, sweating back.
But Jesse Hodges had come to New York when he was still a small child, and he had grown up in the Bronx, near Bathgate Avenue.
Bathgate Avenue was lined with small stores which were, basically, holdovers from the days when this area of the South Bronx was populated by white, middle class people.
Gradually, more and more, black families were moving into the area, along with various Spanish groups.
The elevated line of the subway was still standing, although service on the line had been discontinued. The elevated structure on which the old 'El' train used to run was slated for demolition.
A bus took over the route, and if a person left the subway at that point, 149th Street, he could get a transfer and take the bus without paying an additional fare.
Jesse handed his transfer to the bus driver when he came from the subway and climbed on board the bus. It had been a hard day, but he was glad that he had the opportunity to work in his school in Manhattan, and bring home enough money to live in the 'project' with his wife Elouise.
The 'project' was a tall building which stood out from among the small brownstone tenements which comprised the bulk of housing availability in the area.
The bus was crowded, and Jesse was standing. He found himself holding onto the strap above him, just in front of a young black girl her way back from a shopping spree at one of the rather tacky little stores which sold everything from cigarette rolling papers to phonograph records.
She looked up from her lap, and saw Jesse hovering over her. His large prick was almost entirely concealed in his baggy suit slacks His white cotton jockey shorts held his cock close to his body, making the kinky bush warm up to the point of producing black man's sweat at the crotch.
Jesse, who was darker than black coffee, with high cheekbones, a trim Afro and a broad nose with slightly flaring nostrils, moved further on toward the back of the bus.
He felt slightly uncomfortable with that teenaged girl staring at him between the legs. He was afraid that he might get an erection, and he had no desire to incite the arousal of a teenaged black girl.
Jesse was glad to be moving further and further away from the street life which encouraged such things as the rape of young girls. Among other black men of the neighborhood, the rape of young girls was a way for men to demonstrate, and prove their virility.
Jesse didn't need to prove himself that way. He was against such behavior, because of the damage that could be done to the young mind of an innocent young girl whose first sexual experience is one of force by an older stranger.
Besides, Jesse had been proving his self-worth with the job he was holding down in Manhattan. He had been hired despite the fact that he was still a few credits short to actually qualify for the position of assistant teacher in Public School 9.
He was given the position on the condition that he attend evening classes to complete the requirements for his degree. It was a lucky break for him, because it allowed Jesse to work at the same time that he earned his final college credits.
He felt good about that, and he felt good about Elouise, who he knew would be waiting for him at home. As he stood in the hot, sweaty crowd of people packed on the big bus, he thought about Elouise, and the sight of her bronzed box with its kinky black wires.
He hoped that it would be all wet and waiting when he put the key in the door.
The bus bounced along the rocky road, and when it came to 169th Street, Jesse pulled the cord to signal his exit, and he shouldered his way through the crowded mass, until he was able to get out the door and climb down into the sun-baked street.
There was a lot of activity on the street for a warm day such as this, when the thermometer hit 86 degrees at noon. Now, at six o'clock, it was slightly cooler, but not much.
Fire hydrants had been opened up by street kids who were playing in the cold water which flowed from them. If there were any fires in the area, the firemen would have an additionally difficult time putting out the names, because of the lowered water pressure created by the open hydrants.
Water pressure was, in fact, so low in the area, that the toilets on upper floors of the 'project' were not flushing properly.
Of course, Jesse and Elouise lived on the third floor, and therefore they escaped that inconvenience. They were also in the habit of walking up the stairs, rather than taking the elevator.
The elevators were frequently out of order and it had become simpler to take the stairs than to wait for an elevator which was more than likely stuck on an upper floor. Once, when the outer elevator door opened, a tenant stepped into the elevator and fell down the shaft. That time the elevator had really fucked up.
Jesse was thinking about fucking up his hot chocolated wife after his hard day at the job.
There were a lot of good looking girls sucking popsicles out on the stoops in front of their buildings, or in the playground on benches, from which they watched the basketball players do their thing.
Some of them had portable radios with them, and they popped their bubble-gum and frizzed their soft Afros as they watched the athletes sink those baskets,
The girls were a bunch of hot little cunts, sitting there with their legs parted just enough to show a peek at their milk chocolate delights. On a hot summer day, few girls in the ghetto bothered to wear bras. Their tawny tits pressed forward in their blouses and halter tops, making little lumps in the material.
Some of the girls smiled at Jesse as he passed, because he was their idea of a real man.
He was wearing a suit, a while shirt and a tie, which impressed the girls who were not used to seeing the black men of their neighborhood in such mainstream attire.
Jesse Hodges was moving upward. He was meeting all his payments on the furniture and other items that Elouise had bought recently, and he was doing well in his job. He was learning to speak perfect standard American English, and he found that this helped him when he did telephone work at his job.
Over the telephone, people could not tell whether he was white or black, or even purple for that matter. And he believed that this was an asset for him.
Wanting to bring a special little treat to Elouise on this hot summer day, Jesse first stopped in the corner grocery sore to pick up something for her sweet tooth. He was thinking about some rich chocolate ice cream, which he would eat out of Elouise's dark cunt.
Or maybe he would get some cherry vanilla ice cream instead. That would cool her off and it would look so good melting inside her cunt, all that soft white cream dripping down her pussy lips with dark cherries floating in it.
He would lap that right up.
But the sore was buzzing with activity, it seems a local girl had been raped, and the neighborhood was in an uproar.
"What's worse," the Spanish shopkeeper was saying, "is that it was a white girl who was raped. She told the cops that a black dude did it. If it was a black chick, that woulda been one thing. But a white chick, man, that could stir up a lot of trouble along these ways.'"
"Hell, man." a buddy who was hanging out in the sore, drinking beer, exclaimed "if it was a black chick, raped by a black dude, that would be the last you'd hear of it. The cops are too busy in this neighborhood to take care of petty shit like that, man. But a white chick gets raped, and everybody's in an uproar. Shit. It don't make no kind of sense."
Jesse rummaged through the ice cream freezer, but most of the ice cream was frozen over with a layer of ice which formed when the electricity blew out earlier that week. It didn't look very appetizing.
But mainly it was all the talk about rape of young girls which stirred up Jesse's emotions. Back in the South, his own mother had been brutally raped.
Jesse had been no more than four years old when the rape took place, but he still had a memory of his mother coming home holding her bleeding pussy and crying that she had been raped by a drunken white man.
Jesse thought that he had gotten over all of that a long time ago, but the talk in the grocery sore stirred up all those old tapes he had about the incident.
He slammed the top of the ice cream freezer closed, and walked out of the sore. Across the street, the liquor sore beckoned him. He stopped in to get some refreshment from there, instead of the grocery sore.
The liquor sore had recently been restyled so that orders had to be made through a window. The window was constructed of bullet-proof glass, because several shooting incidents had taken place there in recent times, and sore's new design was primarily intended to cut down on that sort of thing.
Jesse had been drinking some of the red French wines recommended by the people he worked with in the Manhattan office, but on this late afternoon, after hearing about the recent neighborhood rape, he fell back into old habits and ordered a bottle of cheap pink wine with a razzamatazz name and label.
Elouise was a sophisticated young black woman, but she liked any kind of cheap wine. She poured it in her cunt for Jesse to sip out and it all felt good to her. The cheaper wines did tend to sting her cuntal membranes a bit more, but she kind of enjoyed the buzz it gave her, especially when she felt Jesse's black-sticked dick stirring it all up inside her cunt.
When he fucked her with wine up her pussy, she got very drunk, very quickly, and he stirred the liquid to a foam.
When he climbed the stairs, and turned the key, Elouise was there, with soft music playing, and a trail of clothes left on the floor to let Jesse know that she was waiting for him in the bedroom - and she was nude.
He bent clown and picked up one of her shoes, both of which were on the floor beside her stockings. He picked up the little shoe and kissed the toe of it. His lips left a damp kiss-smudge on the soft leather. He picked up one of her stockings, and ran the nylon material under his nose. It was fragrant with the scent of his black beauty's body, especially up near the top of the stocking, which had been brushing up against her pussy lips as she walked and worked during that day.
Her skirt and blouse were on the floor, closer to the bedroom, and then her bra and panties were found, just near the closed bedroom door.
These he picked up and felt, rubbing the soft material against his face. He had a slight stubble after a day of working, and it very nearly tore the diaphanous material of Elouise's panties.
The white material which had clung to her cuntal mound, soaking up the nectar which emanated from her snatch-slit, was appreciated by her loving husband. He enjoyed finding her clothes and underclothes on the floor when he arrived home.
It made him ready for her, to feel her undergarments next to him, and to breathe the sweet scent of her which lingered in her garments.
He knew that she had the door closed because the air conditioner was on in the bedroom. His body was hot and sweaty, after the long day and the hot bus ride.
His wife's dark curves were fresh and clean, having been showered before she set herself up in the bedroom, lying naked on the bed, listening to romantic music, smoking a joint, and waiting for her horny husband to come home and fuck her.
Jesse was hard, and ready to go right in the room after her, but he stopped off in the kitchen to place some glasses on a tray. Filling them with wine, he carried the tray in one hand and opened the door to the bedroom with the other.
The deep chocolate sight was sweet to behold,
Elouise was lying on her stomach, with her feet on her pillow and her head up at the far end of the bed. She was leaning on her hands and sitting up just enough so that her full breasts were revealed to the nipples.
The nipples were dark and firm, and pointing out at Jesse in an invitation to tweak them, and suck them.
She arched her full ass cheeks higher when she saw her black husband enter the room
"Well, well," she cooed, in that Southern drawl of hers. "My man has done come home to his hot mama," she smiled, deliberately speaking in that black dialect of hers; a form of speech she didn't use in the "outside world'. She had learned to switch back and forth, using the accent which was most appropriate in each given situation.
With her hot husband coming home from work and bringing his naked wife some wine, Elouise poured on the sweet honeyed tones and speech patterns.
"Come over here, honey," Elouise told her man. "I want to take a good look at your big black dick."
The light was shining in through the window, casting light across her raised assglobes. The tawny-colored buns were smooth and inviting in the light.
"So, you want to get a look at what you're gonna eat, huh?" Jesse asked.
"That's right, black Tarzan. I'm gonna swing from your fat vine, and I want to see how strong it is, first."
"It's pretty damn strong, as you well know," Jesse grinned, his white smile in sharp contrast with his skin which was at least twice as dark as his wife's.
Her skin matched his darkness only around the pussy, which was noticeably several shades darker than the rest of her deep honey-colored body.
Elouise had what she called 'good' hair. It wasn't particularly kinky. It was soft, and wavy, and she wore it in an upsweep for work, but wore it long and loose to please Jesse.
The ebony strands were curled down her smooth shoulders. They were so long; they caressed the top of her dimpled ass globes.
Elouise ran her pink tongue over her lips, glossing them up as she pouted, and again asked Jesse to take out his prick so that she could begin to get into his ebony manhood.
Jesse placed the drinks down on the night table, and strode over to his ardent-snatched wife. Her ass cheeks rose some more as he approached her, and she undulated her hot cunt into the sheets.
Jesse removed his suit jacket, and placed it neatly on the back of a chair. He kicked off his shoes, and stood there in his black nylon socks, wiggling his sweaty toes into the thick pile of the bright fire-engine red carpet which stretched wall to wall in the bedroom, out into the living room.
He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie. Then he unzipped his fly. The sound of the metal latch sliding down over the little metal teeth of the zipper, excited Elouise's tit nipples to firmness.
Jesse didn't unleash his monstrous mauler; he left it in his underpants. !t was for Elouise to show his cock the attention it deserved by removing it with her deft fingers, or her tongue!
Jesse used his fingers to squeeze his wife's hardened nipples. He kneaded the breast flesh hard enough to give his black beauty a feel of his power. It penetrated her big nipples, and coursed through her smooth dark body.
"You gonna be my hot chocolate and drink up all my white cream." the black man asked in a rasping voice.
"Oh, yes, baby. You know it!" Elouise moaned with desire.
"Good. Then whip my dick out and start sucking."
Elouise reached inside the open zipper and made her way into the cotton underpants. They were damp with sweat, and her slender fingers became wet from his manly sweat.
She was pleasantly assaulted with a cloud of scent as she withdrew his firming prick from its encasement.
The large black prong resembled a deep purple eggplant in its thick shape. The head of it was very blunt, with dark skin endowed with delicate creases, not unlike a black mushroom.
"Oh, baby," Elouise moaned. "What a lucky cunt I am."
She stared at the head of the fat black prick. A kinky wire of pubic hair was stuck to the head. The piss slit, like a slot for depositing dimes, was damp with a bead of clear pre-cum.
Elouise extended her- warm wet tongue muscle. She pointed the tip of it, and it looked very pink next to the deep chocolate-colored cock head.
The tip of the tongue touched the drop of jism, and turned it into a clear string by pulling it out of the piss stir and sucking it all in before the string broke in the air between the dick head and her mouth.
Then she returned her pink tongue to the dark brown cock head, and flicked it back and forth around the abundant surface until the entire head was slicked with wetness.
She ran her tongue under and around the flared ridge of prick head, and when she had Jesse groaning, she followed the veins running along the thick shaft of his black boner, with her wet tongue muscle, of course.
The veiny path led to Jesse's hefty ball sac, which was dark and wrinkled, and surrounded with jet black wires of kinky pubic bush.
Drops of sweat rested on top of the wire patch, and the swirling tongue of Elouise licked them all up.
All the while that she worked his cock with her tongue, Elouise received stimulation to her tawny-tipped nipples. Jesse had his head thrown back, his eyes closed, and he was moaning and groaning. But he held onto Elouise by those magnificent nipples.
She let her head rub up and down his inner thighs; she rotated her head in circles, making love to his heavy nut sack with she soft strands of her hair.
The friction was exciting him. He rubbed his prick into her black hair, feeling the sensation of her hair rubbing against his eager prick. The piss slit opened up into a round hole, from which more pre-cum emanated, coating the soft hair with slickness.
She sat up a bit, and took his prick in her hands. She directed it to the soft area between her large breasts, and rubbed the thing up and down her cleavage. Again it oozed wetness which slicked her bronze flesh.
He squeezed his muscles, which made the pulsing rod grow even bigger as it nuzzled her cleavage, stroking the rounded, breasts with its flared head.
Elouise was moaning softly.
"Don't cum, baby," Jesse told her, knowing that she frequently became so hot for him; she started multiple orgasm before he even entered her.
This time he wanted her to hold off, and build up to even more intense climax.
"Turn over, black beauty," he told her. "Turn over and drop your head over the side of the bed."
Elouise felt all warm inside. Her pussy was tingling with sex heat; she followed the order of her man, and turned her bronze body over so that her tawny twat was fully exposed. Her full breasts were soft and fleshy. Despite their largeness, they didn't sag to the sides of her chest when she changed her position on the bed.
She leaned her head over the end of the bed as directed. Her long hair fell over the side of the bed as she arched her head back as far as possible. She knew what her hot husband wanted.
He wanted her to suck his cock.
In this position, with her body face up and her head leaned over the end of the bed, she would be able to take all of his prick down her deep throat. His prong was curved in such a way, that it would slide all the way down the curve of her throat when she sucked him in this position.
He was brandishing his dark meat, pulling back and forth on it, which produced even more semen flow.
Elouise opened her mouth real wide. She waited for her man to slide his dick in and start banging.
Again he was able to use her tits as love handles. He held onto the breasts of his luscious dark wife, and directed his prick into her warm oral cavity.
The back of her throat was like a deep pussy. In this position, Jesse could buck his strong hips forward and back, using her deep throat as a battering ramp.
She swallowed his cock all the way down. When he pressed it deeply into her, and held it there, she felt for a moment that she could not breathe, but the shaft felt so good filling her like that, and she was able to keep the stick in her for a long period of time.
Then, finally, she did feel that she would choke, and sensing this, Jesse removed the dong from her. He helped raise her head so that all the blood which had rushed down into her head would start to circulate again.
Elouise had to giggle. The sensation had been so phenomenal, that her only reaction was to break up in laughter.
"Oh, baby," Elouise said when she was finally able to contain her giggles. "I think I need a rest. That big dick of yours is too much!"
"It's not too much for you to handle, sweetcakes." Jesse told her, grinning savagely. This refined black Afro-American could become a real fuck-nigger when he chose to. "That's why I'm with you, baby," he told her. "That's one of the reasons, anyway. You've got a big oven. I've got a piece of meat to stick in there. I want you to cook it up until the gravy runs down your legs."
Elouise was writhing. She changed positions again, this time sitting back in bed. She took a hearty swig of her wine, and kissed her man with her sweet wine lips. Then she focused her attention on her other lips; her thick, dark, cuntal lips. The lips of her quivering black snatch.
"Give me a good nigger fuck, baby," she rasped. "Fuck me the way a hot nigger screws his chocolate nigger honey,"
Jesse was hardly a typical 'nigger.' He was an educated black man with a lot going for him. But Elouise wanted to make sure that her man didn't become too much like whitey. She liked the basic animal drive that her black man could throw into her. That basic black drive, she wanted him to maintain.
Her fingers stretched the supple pussy flesh which served as the entrance to her wet hole. The inside was like pink coral, all damp and shiny.
"Bring your licorice stick up here to your sweet black beauty," Elouise rasped. "I'm ready for you, Black Bart. Plug this pussy and ride me till the bedsprings groan under the weight of your pummelling pecker."
"You asked for it," he told his young wife. "Don't cry after I stick this motherfucker in!"
Jesse dipped the blunt head of his fuck-stick into the cuntal pudding of his hot wife, just enough to get it slick with her cuntal fluids. Then he pulled the bone out of her with a popping noise, and rubbed the velvet-smooth head around her sensitive pussy lips, stimulating her into a frenzy.
The feel of his hot stick against her wet lips made those snatch lips start to snap. She wanted to clamp her cunt around his hot prick. She wanted her warm walls to hug his fat pole, as she felt the base of his cock frictioning her clit as the head of it plugged her deepest cuntal core.
She spread her dark legs and arched her pussy, affording him better entrance. He grinned, and having soaked her cunt lips with her own pussy juices, he rammed his prick through the wet lips and into her soft center.
As he watched his black stick slice in and out of her dark cunt, he thought about the young white girl who had been raped in the neighborhood.
He imagined that the pussy lips of the young girl were less hairy than the dark-haired twat region of his Elouise.
He imagined the color of the little pussy mounds of the young white girl who had been forced into sex by some overpowering nigger cock. He imagined the tight hole expanding for the dark prober which must have ripped her little snatch apart.
He thought about the banality that black rapist had used, taking the cherry of a white girl in the dark alley of a ghetto street.
He hated violence, and the idea of the rape upset him terribly. It had been enough to chase him frum the grocery store. It was enough to enter his mind even as he fucked his wife.
He tried to shake it from his thoughts, but the more he told himself that he wanted to forget it, the more the thought of rape entered his head once again.
He slammed his wife's cunny with strong, long strokes. He was going for her deepest parts, filling her hole with stiff black cock.
She was begging him to give it to her, and give it to her hard. He fulfilled her wish, and plowed her relentlessly.
But all the time that he plugged the dark pussy of his gorgeous wife, he thought about the tender white cunny which had been ripped apart by nigger cock.
He thought about the violence of attacking an innocent young girl, and making her take the big dick whether she wanted it or not. A girl like that could fight all she wanted, but the strong man would have his way with her.
Thinking these things, Jesse climbed toward orgasm. He gritted his teeth, held onto the tits of Elouise, and shot a steaming load of white spunk from his big black cock.
The thick jism splattered into his wife's deep channel, triggering her own spasms of sexual abandon.
As Elouise convulsed, and the cunt cream spewed over her man's still-driving pecker, she screamed out like a hot bitch in heat.
Chapter Two
"Bang that black dick home. Fuck your black-cunted wife until all that fresh cunt cream spews out!" she yelled.
Her black Tarzan was grunting like an animal. He pushed his rod all the way in, and used his cock to give her what she begged for.
The bed springs were creaking in time to his fuck strokes. He banged her with his stiff dick even after he'd shot his wad.
Her cunt was still creaming, and her orgasms came in multiples. She appreciated the continued stimulation to her ever-eager slit.
She bit his ear, getting the ear lobe between her sharp and pearly teeth. She used a light grinding movement to nip him into new passion.
Elouise wrapped her legs around her man's waist, and pulled him into her even more with the muscle action of her thighs which drew his pelvis into her from the pressure on his black buttocks.
"Screw me! Fuck me! Rape me!" she cried out.
Jesse stopped his fucking.
He was breathing hard, his body pressing into hers.
"What's the matter tiger?" She whispered in his ear. "Why'd you stop plunging that ramrod into my hot twattie?"
At first Jesse didn't answer her. He just let his head sink into the pillow behind Elouise's head. Sweat dripped in rivulets off Jesse's forehead. The air conditioner was working fine, but it wasn't enough to cool Jesse down when the word 'rape' was mentioned.
Elouise ran her long fingers through the black curls on her husband's head. Again she asked him to tell her what was bothering him.
"You were fucking me like a monster. It was great. Did I do something wrong, baby? Did your sweet sugar do something wrong for your dick?"
He couldn't let her think that she had done anything wrong for his dick when in fact she had only massaged it to hot, hard erection, and milked the thick scum straight up from his balls.
"No, it's just that you mentioned rape. You said that you wanted me to rape you," he explained.
Elouise started to laugh. "I only meant that I wanted a hard, ripping fuck. I wanted to play rape, but you certainly didn't have to force me into it against my will. I wanted your prick as much as you wanted to give it to me," she told Jesse.
"Yea, but it turned me off. I don't think that it's anything to joke about," he replied.
Elouise was taken aback. The harsh tone, which Jesse very rarely used on her, insulted her. She was sensitive, and she had only wanted to arouse his passion, not his anger. Also, Jesse had never told her that his mother had been raped by a white man back in Georgia. If she had known, she might not have been so bold.
As it was, however, she insisted on defending herself. "I don't know why you're so fucking sensitive about rape. Are you a fucking rapist?" she asked him.
That way too much for Jesse to take. He pulled his softening cock out of her cunt in one yank. It was a forceful yank, and it left her twat gurgling, having nearly been pulled inside-out.
The imagined image of this young white girl being raped by a black dick bothered him. It bothered him enough to take leave of his beautiful wife, even as she lay there on her back with her gaping pussy dripping nectar.
He was hot under the collar. He had an air conditioned room, and an open-pussied wife, but he had to leave the coolness and her sex heat. He had to get away, if even for an hour or so.
"Where are you going?" she asked him, pulling a sheer robe around her naked torso.
"I'm going out for something to eat," he told her,
"There's plenty to eat here. It's too hot to run the oven, but I was going to make some cold salads. And there's cold beer in the refrigerator," she said, coaxing Jesse to stay.
But he was having none of it. "I said I'm leaving. I'll be back later. Now, I just want to eat out."
Elouise's hot nature was enflamed. She bent over and stuck her naked behind out at Jesse.
"If you like to eat out so much, why don't you eat out this shit chute!'' she demanded.
"Fuck you!" he said, and he slammed the front door on his way out.
Tempers were always flaring in the ghetto during the hot summer. People were more on edge than ever. Tempers exploded, and violence ruled the streets.
Jesse didn't want to fight with his wife. He didn't want to be like the 'fighting niggers' he was subjected to in the 'project'. Too many nights he had been kept awake by the arguing of people whom he considered to be less sophisticated than himself.
He felt that he was moving upward in the world, leaving behind the characteristics which he found so unbecoming; the characteristics of his own oppressed people, whose values were influenced by a rough environment.
Even as he walked atong, he observed street fighting, and open drug use. He felt sorry for the kids who knew no other way of life than that which nourished around him in the ghetto.
He wished that these misguided kids could buckle down, the way he had. He wished that they too would have the chance to study, and progress. He even thought about himself, and fantasized about the day that he and Elouise could move out of the Bronx, and into another area of the city where there would be less violence and less hardship around him.
He wanted to live among white people, as well as black. He believed m intergration of the races.
In his part of town, white people made up less than twenty per cent of the population. Whites were in the minority in this part of the South Bronx.
That was perhaps why the long white legs of Virginia Stephens attracted his eye. He saw her even from a distance, with her long blonde hair blowing down her back, swaying from side to side as she walked, with a wiggle, down the street ahead of him.
Jessie didn't want to be called an Uncle Tom, or a honkey lover, but he couldn't help looking this white chick over. He compared her long blonde hair with the long black hair of his loving Elouise.
Elouise prided herself on her soft locks, but her hair was soft, for a black person's. Jesse wondered how much silkier and finer Virginia's hair would feel if he caressed it with his black fingers, and wrapped it around his black cock.
He wondered about the feel of white flesh under his black body.
He had always been afraid to make it with a white chick. He was afraid that if he asked a white girl to make it with him, he might be refused, and for some reason, he didn't want to risk that.
He did have some hang-ups about color which had been brought about by his background.
Back in Georgia when he was a child, he remembered seeing two water fountains in a public place. One of the water fountains was labeled 'colored' for the black folks who were not permitted to drink from the white man's water fountain.
Jesse expected to see green and purple sparkling water spraying from the fountain marked 'colored.' But of course, he never did.
He tried to get rape, Virginia Stephens, and white-black sex out of his mind.
But he just couldn't! For some years three of those things kept sticking in his brain like little pins. The pressure on his head was terrible.
Why was he plagued by these thoughts? He simply did not know.
A number of the street girls were outside on the street. On a hot evening like this one in June, they tended to stay out longer in the evenings, rather than returning to their hot apartments.
It stayed light longer at this time of year, and that was a perfect excuse for the pretty, black teenagers to stay out on the streets showing their wares.
Cherie was a big girl, a buxom girl with a round face and skin as smooth as the top skin on chocolate pudding. Her cheekbones were high, and this made her kewpie doll lips seem to smile always.
Her nose was petite, and she curled her eyelashes, uppers and lowers. She used some rouge on her tan skin. She wore barrettes in her hair, and this evening she was wearing blue barrettes in the shape of little birds.
Her own shape was top-heavy, with large melons for breasts. She curved down to a rather slender waist, and then flared out again with a set of hips which knocked guys off the dance ltoor when she wriggled her stuff.
Cherie was standing with Wilma, who was Negroid of feature, but who had olive- colored eyes and fair skin. Her hair was soft and curled like cotton candy. It was brown in color, rather than Hie dark black which was Cherie's birthright.
Wilma's figure earned a lot of whistles, too. She was rather mature for a girl of fifteen, and she knew it. She was dating a twenty-three-year-old guy, and she won the admiration of many of her peers for that. Some of them were jealous of her, of course, but Wilma was as mature of mind as she was of body.
She didn't try to antagonize her friends with her good fortunes.
Cherie and Wilma were standing on the corner in abbreviated attire, due to the warm summer weather. Cherie was the first to spot Jesse walking down the street.
"Take a look at that hunk of man, Wilma." she whispered as Jesse walked by. "He's a real big stud. I wouldn't mind getting long-dicked by him.
Wilma made a face which rucked of disgust for her girlfriend's crudeness. "Well, I already have a boyfriend, so I'm not looking for another one." she answered.
"Well, I'm still open for business." Cherie breathed. "And that guy isn't dressed like your typical punk from this crummy lowdown neighborhood."
"There are plenty of decent men from good families in this neighborhood," Wilma retorted. "Not everybody in this area is a drop-out, a pusher or a pinip."
"Well, my Mamma told me that I couldn't bring home any boys who wore sneakers. She said she wouldn't alow them in her house. My field is pretty narrow in this area," Cherie groaned.
Sure enough, most of the boys in this area of the Bronx wore sneakers. Many couldn't afford anything more.
They had their special high-heeled boots and dress shoes, but sneakers would have to do for everyday wear.
That was only one reason that young Cherie found Jesse such a hot catch.
"I wonder if he's married." she said. "I've seen him before, bui I've never seen him with a woman."
"Just took at the way his eyes are trailing that white chick." Wilma commented. "Maybe he's married, but his eyes are single. "I'll tell you that, honey."
"If he likes white chicks, I don't know if I have much of a chance."' Cherie sighed. Then she struck an outrageous pose with her hands on her hips and her big bust jutted forward.
"Do ya think I can pass for white, honey-chile?" she said mockingly, and both girls broke into laughter.
His attention was directed toward the pretty, white teenager who was swishing her behind some yards away. It is a scientific fact that white girls are built differently in the rear than black girls. There is an actual structural difference.
It was only natural that a man like Jesse was attracted to the lovely difference, considering the way it looked on sweet Virginia.
It made him want to take his hands and grab onto her buttocks. Her long blonde hair hung all the way down to the crack of her ass.
He believed that a pale-skinned girl like Virginia would want to feel the full power of a huge Negroid mantool. He believed that all white girls secretly desired that.
And yet he felt terrible about the recent rape of a white girl, by a black man, in the neighborhood. It disturbed him, and it frighlened him. It frightened him because for some unexplainable reason, he thought that he would be accused of the crime!
He had come so far in his progress. He had shunned a history as a Georgian slave. He had not reached the better life out of the ghetto, but he had at least gotten himself to New York where he was doing well, climbing the ladder into the mainstream of American life.
He didn't want his future to be blotted by some unfortunate incident of the ghetto. Girls were sexually abused all the time in the burned-out buildings, waiting for their chance to leap out from the darkness and pull their victims in with them.
If the police were contacted at all, they did little more than file papers regarding these rapes.
Young girls had even been raped by their own fathers in this area of town, and if they were black, little ever came of it.
Only when an overly concerned, patient and zealous person took special interest in these cases did anything ever happen with these cases, and even then, it was the exception, rather than the rule, that a case of rape was solved to the satisfaction of the unfortunate victims.
When the victims were young white girls, things were different. The idea that a white girl, got it from a black man made journalists' juices flow. Black man rapes white girl - that was news.
Jesse could feel the tension in the air. Black girls were out on the streets, but very few white girls ventured out. Perhaps the front page news headlines scared them. The photograph of the shaken girl with blood on her pussy did not encourage them either.
If anything, the photograph served only to frighten people, and to incite the lust of potential rapists.
Jesse thought he was going mad. Could he have fallen prey to sensational journalism and whispered voices of others who had been shocked by the crimes.
Could all of this have aroused his own secret passions; his own secret desires? Could the very thing that he would never admit to anyone, not even himself, be that he craved the experience of raping white girls?
No, that was too much for him to handle. He blocked all of that out of his mind, although it soon plagued him again, like dark clouds on a sunny afternoon at the beach.
He blocked all that out, and yet he continued to follow Virginia, and he continued to feel his heart beat like jungle drums. His neck was wet with sweat, which dripped down his bronzed back. It dripped in rivulets between his muscles, and over them, before soaking into the cotton at the top of his underpants.
Beads of perspiration were breaking out on his forehead, and he assumed that it was the warm weather which was responsible for his wetness. But when he felt the wetness at the head of his throbbing boner, he knew that the temperature didn't have everything to do with it.
Other factors were involved; other truths that he did not want to look at.
All he knew was that he felt compelled to pursue this girl; despite the fact that he felt he was doing the wrong thing,
He believed that he was headed for a bad fall; that he was doing something that he might regret later. For the moment, he felt he had no other choice. He was obsessed with desire for this young white girl. She possessed him with no more than a wiggle of her ass and a flick of her long blonde hair.
At the same time, he felt terribly fearful. He was a decent man who had come as far as he had by hard work and clean living. It was actually his personal philosophy to live a clean life. He believed that if a man did just that, somebody else would come along to lend a helping hand and do the rest.
The philosophy had served him well, up until now. All of it crumbled. Virginia Stephens was all that mattered now.
His trembling throbber, his fat black cock, was leading him after the girl. He found himself noticing that fewer and fewer people were out on the streets as he followed Virginia further on her way.
He felt as if he were planning an action. The street was so quiet, he felt that if he wanted to, he could have jumped on the blonde girl and attacked her, sexually or otherwise. He knew that he would never do such a thing, but the thought did enter his mind.
He found himself wondering if a girl like Virginia wanted to be raped. True, it sounds a bit absurd that a young teenaged virgin would actually want to have her cherry snatched from her by a raping black stranger on a city street.
It would be heartless and quick, and it would hurt terribly to be taken like that. Jesse knew that teenaged girls, especially white ones, valued their virginity. They did not want to give it away casually, especially to a stranger.
But what if they were forced?
What if they had no choice? If a strong, fully-developed black man decided to rape an innocent young white girl, well, she would get fucked by black cock whether she wanted to or not.
Jesse thought that Virginia was taking quite a chance, walking alone in the mostly-black neighborhood after it was announced that a mad rapist was on the loose, and on the lookout for white pussy meat.
He thought that at some level, her subconscious mind must have wanted to be taken sexually against her will by a powerful black rapist!
Somewhere in the distance, a heavy beat pounded from a transistor radio into the airwaves. With every drum beat, Jesse heard the word "Rape" blaring in his head. The veins were pulsing in his head. His cock was throbbing, too.
What was coming over him?
The music was somewhere in the distance. Nobody else seemed to be around. He could hear Virginia's footsteps clicking down the street. She was wearing wood-heeled shoes without backs, and they clicked a pattern of noise down the street which echoed through the empty, burned-out houses which lined the streets.
Apparently she had chosen to walk to wherever it was she was going, rather than wait for the crowded bus which didn't run exactly where she was headed, anyway. She had freshened up with a dab of perfume on each naked nipple, and an extra dab around her little virgin cunny.
She was on her way to visit her white boyfriend, Michael Gamby, who lived beyond the rubble, on the 'other side of the tracks.'
Virginia was not one to read the newspapers, or even look at the headlines. She found the news of the world rather depressing, and she chose to be ignorant of current events, rather than assume the worries of the rest of the people who follwed the world's disasters and weeped.
She was not aware that a young white had been found brutally raped along the very streets she now walked. She was not aware that the girl's virgin pussy had been ripped apart.
Virginia did, however, notice that a pair of footsteps followed behind her, and even when she turned down a block leading in a new direction, the footsteps followed close behind.
She told herself that she was being foolish to worry. She was not the skittish type, and nothing had ever happened to her when walking alone before.
Her friends had often warned her not to walk the streets without an escort, but she figured that she liked all the people of the neighborhood, white and black and all those in-between. She figured that they would pick up her good vibrations, and leave her alone.
But this time, perhaps she had pressed her luck a bit too far.
This time, as she sashayed her cute buns down the streets, stepping around cracked and torn up pavement, and hearing footsteps trailing close behind her, sexual lightning was about to strike!
Without warning, Virginia was jumped!
She was knocked to the ground with a harsh thud. Even her firmly padded ass did not cushion her from the knocking blow.
Her little-girl outfit was savagely ripped from her body, exposing her young-girl titties. The backs of her legs were pressed with the material of her shorts as they were torn from her body to reveal her naked pussy.
Virginia was about to be raped! But Jesse was not her attacker!
Virginia was about to be raped by a gang of ruthless thugs. A whole gang of lust-hungry black punks!
The delicate little white girl was going to be gang-raped by a bunch of black hoods!
She screamed and used her teeth to bite into the hand that quickly went around her mouth to shut her up. She dug in deeply, drawing blood.
She quickly brought her knee up, and rammed one of the hoods right in the nuts, causing him to double-up with pain.
"You fucking little white bitch." the guy snarled when he caught his breath. "I'm gonna fuck you up but good!"
They were all going to fuck the shit out of her, one after the other. Her tightly stretched membrane of virginity would be ravaged, and her tight little pussy would become their gaping play-hole.
She could feel the hot breath of one of the black youths upon her as he pressed his body into hers. She couldn't claw at his face, because two of the black guy's buddies had her pinned by the wrists. Instead, she spit in his face.
"Yeah, bitch," the dude drawled as the saliva dripped down from his splattered face."I like a little cunt with spunk. It turns me on when you fight back like that, because it gives me a reason to fuck you all the harder."
Struggling was useless. Virginia broke down.
"Please, please leave me alone," she pleaded. "I'll give you my money, but please don't do anything to me. I've still got my cherry."
She thought that her begging would spare her of their rods, but it only made them hoot and laugh uproariously in her frightened face. They were spurred on by her acknowledgement that she was a virgin. They looked for that in their rape victims.
They would not leave her a virgin.
"We'll take your money, anyway, bitch," one of the studs told her. "You'll be paying us like a white woman pays a team of black men to fuck her and fuck her until she can't take anymore."
He wasn't joking. They would fuck her until she couldn't possibly take another stroke.
Jesse was horrified. When he saw the gang jump out and knock the girl to the ground, he wanted to run to her aid. It was the natural thing to do; Jesse being a fair-minded citizen and community member.
But he told himself that he would only get hurt if he tried to interfere with this tough street gang. They were, no doubt, armed with weapons, and he was not.
He quickly hid behind an empty, gutted brownstone building. He was able to see through a hole in the brick wall where several bricks had been removed.
His heart was really racing and his dick was throbbing. The throb-knob was juicing profusely.
He saw the hot-fleshed love slit of the physically restrained white girl. He knew that the love slit would not be treated gently.
It was going to get a half dozen oversized dicks rammed into it!
He wanted to run, and call the cops, but he couldn't move. He felt frozen to the spot. Something fascinated him about the scene. He didn't want to stop it!
He felt guilty, of course, but he thought of himself before thinking about the girl's well-being. He wanted to watch these dudes do what he had dreamed about doing.
He wanted to see them rape her.
He almost thought that he had in some bizarre way created the whole thing, since he had been thinking about it, and now it was happening.
But then he allowed that she brought it on herself. He even went so far as to reason that if she teased black guys with her flirting little white behind and teenaged tits and cunny, then she deserved to get what she was obviously going to get in spades!
"I'm gonna look right into your little girl face as I fuck the sass out of you, you hot-pussied little slut," a big black dude warned Virginia as the head of his dangerous dork pushed at the sticky little pussy lips.
Those vaginal folds were like the soft petals of a rose. But like a rose in hot evening, the petals were going to open all the way up. They would not open gently.
Her soft, sweet, delicate petals, without the thorns of a rose for protection, were going to be pulled apart with the force of a spit-slicked nigger dick.
The goo from his dripping piss slit coated the almost hairless girl-lips. What hair there was, in the pubic area was silky and golden in color.
The head of the cock pressed about an inch into her opening. Already her face showed the anguish she was experiencing from this humiliating violation.
'"Please, I'll do anything," she cried.
"How do you like that, boys?" the guy who was about to fuck her grinned. ''She says she'll do anything."
"Anything." she repeated. "Anything you want."
There was a new strength in her voice. She thought that this sub-human monster might have enough human decency to be moved by something. She hoped, prayed, that this would do it.
But they were only playing with her; taunting and teasing her so that the ultimate fucking would be all the more debasing for her; all the more intense with the hatred they flailed into her. It would gush in spurts.
'"So you'll do anything, huh?" he repeated. His teeth were sharp. "The white girl will do anything. Shit, bitch, all we're askin' is to fuck you. But we ain't really askin', see. We're gonna take what we want!"
His eyebrows were raised; his nostrils were flaring like a bull's. His greased Afro was glistening, especially along the hairline which was dotted with sweat.
His teeth gritted in a flash of white against his black skin, as his large, veiny, purplish-brown penis plunged through the pussy lips, and broke through Virginia's maidenhead. .
It was easier than snapping through cellophane for the violent fucker.
For Virginia, the tears flowed with the blood.
She tried to buck her cunt away from the fucker, but he had her pinned with dick and his buddies had her spread-eagled on the ground. When she moved to one side or the other, the fucker's rod hit into the wall of her cunt.
That was more painful than when he rammed straight downward.
When she tried to force her body upwards, she allowed her fucker to sink his monstrous mauler in to the balls, because she was raising her pelvis toward him.
Struggling was only making her suffer more. She heaved a sigh of submission, and opened up to take the abuse.
She had to moan and whimper, but she didn't dare scream. She knew that if she defied these plundering savages, she would only get hurt even more. Perhaps if she just took it, they would at least spare her life.
From behind the building, Jesse watched and breathed heavily. He had his curved spear out, and he was sliding his hand back and forth, milking it along with the fuck strokes of the first fucker in Virginia's soft pussy.
His own hand was sweaty, and hot from the warm night, but it wasn't nearly as wet or as warm as the tender twat which was being stretched and plundered.
The savage rapists hooted and cheered when the virgin blood flowed from the girl's young pussy. They shouted vile things at her as the first fucker banged his hammer to orgasm.
Virginia writhed and screamed softly when the first fucker dumped his heavy load of fuck-juice into her. He had been building up the scum-foam in anticipation of this rape.
Rape! It intoxicated him with lust. It excited him a hundred times more than having a willing sex partner.
This dude, and his fuck-buddies, liked to take what they wanted. They were out for hot thrills, and they had done plenty of filthy stuff in their young lives.
After so-called normal sex, they went on and on to heavier things. Some of the guys in the group began beating up their girlfriends; knocking them around or putting them in bondage, and making love to them when they were hog-tied.
If you could call what they did "making love", of course.
Love was not the emotion; anger and hostility were flaming. They were flaming from their dicks and from their nasty mouths and from their fists as they batted the tits of their black girlfriends.
But after a while, that wasn't enough. They'd done that, and they needed a new thrill; a new high.
They started raping chicks.
The first rape took place near a burning building. They grabbed a passing black woman. and started to fuck her while a buddy lit the building up with matches and gasoline-soaked rags.
That was a thrill for these hot fuckers who wanted to really have a blazing hot fuck session that night. They not only put themselves and their rape victim in danger of fire, they added to the chance that they would get caught. With a blazing fire going on, anyone might have rushed to the site.
The idea was for the rapists to gush the scum from their hoses before the firemen came along with theirs.
The fuck-gang managed to set fire to her cunt with the hot spunk from their dicks. Three of the six black studs got to fuck her before the sirens started howling.
When they heard the police care and fire engines approaching, they ran away, leaving her in the building. The guy who was in her at the time the sirens grew near, wanted to fuck her a few more strokes. That was all he thought he needed to send his jism splattering up her tortured, raped twat.
But the sound of the sirens fucked up his head and his prick. Angry about that, he pulled his fat eleven incher out of her in a forceful stroke which left her poor pussy in pulsating pain.
When she was discovered, she pretended that she had fallen from smoke inhalation. She was too ashamed to report the details of this crime to the police!
She didn't think she could face examination of her ravaged private area, or court proceedings related to the rape.
The thrill-happy fuckers got away Scott-free, that time. They jerked off in a circle, talking about that rape-session, and planning bigger and better sex games.
They were looking for something that was even more kinky and freaky than their previous caper. They really wanted to be depraved. To do those wicked things that men like Jesse Hodges dreamed about, but stopped short of doing because he had been raised in civilization.
The gang's new thrill was still in the same field. They were still raping innocent young cunts, but now the black-dicked fuckers raped only white cunt!
Chapter Three
^P^P^T
They fucked Virginia three at a time!
To make sure that all six black motherfuckers got their dicks wet inside their rape victim before any brave souls ventured to break up the rape party, after their leader slammed his wad into her aching cunny, three of the soul brothers took over Virginia's white curves at once.
They stood her up, and positioned themselves so that two of them were at the front of her, and a third guy stood behind her.
Her asshole, that tight virgin asshole, was slicked up with a black man's spit. He fingered her rear hole roughly, spreading the plump, white cheeks apart before sticking his prong through her back door portal.
Her pussy had been stretched so wide by the eleven-inched pecker of the fuck-leader, that two pricks could fit in her pussy at once.
It was a tight and painful squeeze for fifteen-year-old Virginia. These were not small-pricked guys. These were street niggers with enormous cocks!
Each tried to outdo the next guy with plunging hard strokes. Each tried to make his strength fully felt by the ravaged young girl. That was part of their fun; to see who could make her feel their strength the most.
They needed to prove their masculinity, and so they used extreme methods. Or maybe they just had gone beyond the usual limits, and were nothing more than fun-happy bastards.
The pathology behind their deeds was of little consequence to Virginia now. She was getting double-dicked in the pussy, and butt fucked besides!
Her teeth were rattling in her head as the force of being fucked in the throat, threw her butt down on the prick lodged in her rectum.
In the pussy, the two fuckers rammed as one solid unit, stretching the walls of her cunt to meet their wide proportions.
Then they started flying in and out of her in double-rhythm. One rammed in while the other pulled out, and then the one who was out of her cunt slammed back in to the balls while the other pulled out.
The juice from her pussy was dripping down her legs. The sensation of the bone slicing in and out of her asshole, met with the sensation of the dicks in her cunt.
The meeting took place somewhere in her centermost core, and it forced the cunt cream to flow down from her battered pussy.
Jesse watched as the fuck-fluid dripped. He could see every detail, down to the agonized expression on Virginia's beautiful face.
The, fact that this was a white girl, getting it good from a group of black jive-ass fuckers, turned the masturbating Jesse on even more. He couldn't believe that he was feeling this way. Nothing in his rational mind supported these thoughts.
He was ashamed of himself for standing there and watching when he could have been helping the girl by calling the police.
But he was familiar with the local police methods of responding to alarms in this area. They yawned, and took their sweet time about getting to the reported scene of a crime. While this thought floated through his head, another came to him and it shocked the shit out of him.
He suddenly realized that he wasn't ashamed and angry with himself because he wasn't coming to the aid of the girl.
He was ashamed and angry because he didn't have the balls to get in there and fuck this girl, too!
He wanted to line up with his soul brothers and throw his fat black fuck-stick into Virginia's young white snatch!
Thinking this cruel thought, he shot a manly load of cum. He didn't even think he was ready to shoot it. Suddenly it had soared up from his balls, and was at the head of his cock, making it swell.
Then the piss slit opened up and the semen rushed out like a strong-spraying fountain.
He heard the man-juice splattering on the rubbled ground below his outstretched prong.
Some yards away, the next black rapists unleashed their donkey dongs for their turns at stirring Virginia's bleeding vagina.
When Jesse arrived home, much later that night, he was very drunk.
He'd been drinking at The Eagle's Nest Bar, trying to douse his sexual desires in alcohol. His desires frightened him too much. He had to step out a door out of reality. He chose to drown his passions in cheap whiskey.
Elouise had cried herself to sleep. She had been thinking about the things she'd told her husband, and she realized that she hadn't been very understanding.
She believed that she had been a snappy little black bitch.
Feeling sorry for herself, She plopped down on the bed. and her naked breasts sank into the sheets. The soft brown globes pressed against the satiny white sheets. The contrast was maddening to Jesse's eyes.
And maddening to His brain, as well.
His head was churning with obscene thoughts.
Face down on the bed, the sleeping Elouise displayed her firm, full ass cheeks. Her legs were spread apart just enough to reveal her hairy black pussy which peeked out from between the dark globes of her ass.
It was her deep, dark love chute!
But Jesse still had rape on his mind. Rape was stirring his big black cock!
He recalled his wife telling him to eat out her ass. Well, he wasn't going to eat it out, but he was going to give that shit chute some attention.
He stripped off his clothes, revealing a broad, muscular chest which trimmed down to a tight waist. His legs were extremely muscular from a lot of walking, and his arms were muscled, also.
Between his large chest muscles, curly black hair formed a V. The thick nappy hair was again evident above his fat prick, which stood out like a curved sword a good ten inches from his groin.
He was about as well hung as the studs who took their turns with young Virginia; Now he was going to do some raping on his own. The fuck-team had aroused his animal instincts. He was out for blood, even if it came from his wife Elouise.
Of his lewd observation, ass-fucking turned him on the most. He had never done it. He had never felt his brown cock getting hugged by the tight walls of a female bunghole.
He had watched his wife's pretty asshole on many an occasion. Now he observed it very carefully as she slept on the bed with her little rosebud of a hole up for him.
In between the two half moons of ass, he could see the place where the crack became a rounded hole.
Gently, so as not to wake the sleeping black beauty, he pulled the cheeks apart to expose the asshole fully.
The rosebud of a hole was creased and seemed to be slightly damp, perhaps from sweat. Elouise had turned off the conditioner because she was nude, and she had fallen asleep without turning it back on again.
By now the temperature in the room made the walls swelter. Jesse didn't try to cool off. He was feeling very hot, and he liked to have sweat dripping off as he entered into sex.
He looked at the pussy of his young wife, and he imagined the sensation which he knew so well. He knew how it felt to have that juicy vagina close around his dick.
But he had never tried her anus!
That would be much tighter, having never been entered from the outside in. That would really give a friction to his prick.
He thought about the white girls who had so recently been raped. He imagined that the girls had been fucked in the face, besides being fucked in the cunt and ass. He imagined that their throats were still hot with cum.
Now he wanted to bum Elouise up the ass with hot dick fluid. He wanted to flood her narrow asshole with his potent scum.
He mounted the bed, and placed his knees on either side of her rump. Then he positioned his long tool so that the head was ready to plow into the virgin black asshole.
With Elouise sleeping soundly, this anal fuck would be like rape to Jesse. It would still be playing rape, to some extent, because Elouise was his wife. But she would not be a consenting fuck partner in this encounter. She would realize what was happening only after it was too late, and she would be helpless to fight off her powerful young husband.
He expected that she would be shocked to discover this savage component in her husband's psyche. Even he had surprised himself.
But now he was into the full force of his twisted desires. He was going to rape his sleeping wife as a trial run for the big time.
The primitive instincts of this man had been aroused, and there was no holding him back now. He was a loving husband and a respected community man. His assistant teacher position at P.S. 9 was winning Jesse Hodges praise. He was proving himself to be a sensitive, understanding young teacher.
But the thought of rape, and the subsequent observation of the act, was bringing the worst aspects of his character to the surface. He was a Dr. Jekyll - Mr. Hyde character now, and his wicked side was overtaking him.
He had to rape, and his first victim was going to be his own lovely wife! His prick was hard, and he dipped it into a jar of Vaseline. This left a deeply burrowed hole in the extra-large economy jar which had been bought at the Bathgate Avenue dime store.
It also left his prick all slick and slippery, and ready to burrow into the tight warm channel of her asshole.
He pressed his stick up against the puckered hole. In one sharp push of his pelvis, he jammed his full cock inside of her.
He felt the channel open up for him. It was a very unique sensation on his dick to go through a tight virgin asshole. He was the first man to sink his shaft into Elouise's asshole, and the woman's chute provided a glove-tight passage for Jesse's probing pecker.
Her man started swinging his dick in and out of her and she woke up screaming. She had been dreaming pleasant dreams, and suddenly she was impaled by a hurting stick.
It drove her to screams.
She started to pound her fists into the bed. She kicked her feet like a ranting, raving child, throwing a tantrum and bucking on the floor. She was trying to bear the pain of this surprise anal assault.
At first she thought that she was being raped by an intruder. Her husband Jesse had never fucked her asshole before, and even when he fucked her pussy, although he fucked her silly, he never used such violent strokes as were pummeling her now.
He was slamming his weight into her from the pelvis. All of his strength was directed there and it made Elouise cry with pain.
She'd had her husband's prick in her cunt many times, and it never hurt like this. She thought that this rapist must have had an even larger penis than Jesse, because this one stretched her with such hard motions. She didn't realize that this was indeed her Jesse's dick, and that her asshole was simply more narrow and more shallow than her pussy.
But Jesse was pushing forward, making her asshole as deep, if not deeper, than her oft-fucked cunt. He was screwing her ass with a fury.
He started to use a corkscrew stroke to pile-drive down into her body via her asshole.
He whispered hotly in her ear, and still Elouise didn't realize that she was taking this anal abuse from her husband. He would never use, such language to her; or try to hurt her feelings as this man was doing.
"You fuckin' black nigger bitch," he rasped, "Your tight asshole twitches like a little cunt. Yeah, I really dig banging your buzzing butt. You're a real black pig."
He accented his words with the volley of strokes which ripped her asshole open in the way he'd watched the street gang rip open Virginia's cunt.
Her ripe bunghole was taking a frigging. It was like a tight love glove on his mauling prick. That wedge-shaped cock nearly split her hole apart.
When he reached around and began twisting the taut nipples of her knockers, she turned her head backward far enough to catch a glimpse of him in the light which filtered in from the other room.
She was shocked to see her own husband. He started to talk hotly to her once again, and this time she certainly didn't recognize him as her husband. Her husband was a college educated black man who spoke perfect English. This man was a nasty rapist who fed her nigger talk as he fed her yielding ass his dick.
"Oh, bitch, dat feels so fuckin'good to this nigger," he groaned. "Mah hot dick-cream is gonna rocket up dat first class ass. You is sumpin' else, ain't ya, bitch?" he growled.
Elouise was too stunned to answer. For her lack of response, she was rewarded with an especially hard thrust from Jesse's thick mauler.
His nuts were banging up against her ass cheeks. He fucked her and fucked her. She cried and cried.
He had already shot two loads of cum within recent hours. The first load had spewed up Elouise's cunt during their earlier fuck session. The second blast landed on the ground as he watched the rapists.
It would take him longer to cum this time. The liquor dulled his senses in that area, too. But the liquor made him even more aggressive, and more wild for rape.
He reached over and turned on the radio. He wanted to hear the, latest reports on rape while he raped Elouise.
As fate would have it, after the toothpaste commercials for whiter teeth and sweeter breath, and a mouth with sex appeal, the news broadcast restated their top local news story.
"In the South Bronx at 138th Street and Fulton Avenue, down the dark alley known to residents of the depressed and largely burned-out area as 'Gill Alley', a teenaged girl was raped repeatedly by a gang of youths."
The words incited Jesse to more frenzied fuck strokes up the captive asshole of his dark and beautiful wife.
Jesse knew that the girl was white, and that she had been ass-fucked, and cunt-fucked by no less than six horny spade-men.
There was a time in life when he didn't want to face the black-white issue. He didn't want to hear about it and he didn't want to talk about it.
Eventually he had to face the reality that as long as there were black people and white people on the face of the earth, there would be questions and conflicts regarding their co-existence.
"Black people are a very beautiful people." his white supervisor had told him. "The blacks I know are God-loving, sensitive people, who are possibly more wise and understanding than their white brothers and sisters because of the oppression they have suffered for being different from the majority, and for being penalized because of their natural attributes and birthrights."
"Yes," Jesse had answered, "but it's time that black folk stopped looking in the past for answers to why we are the way we are today. All we really have is right now. Now we must stand up for our rights as our rights are threatened, but we must begin to see that our differences are only what makes us different from the white people."
"Right, one is no better than the next. We all have the same basic needs and desires. We all want to be loved and to be at peace with ourselves, don't we?" His supervisor said.
It was a long discussion. It was the kind of discussion that could go on for years, in all corners of the world, and still it would not be completed until man rose above petty differences and miscommunications. When man begins to accept all people the way those people are, or are not, then the conflict will fly away in the clouds.
'That man has not, by and large, reached that level," Jesse had said, "'is evident in the turmoil that exists in the world today. Look at all the strange feelings black people feel for white people, and vice versa. Everybody has some kind of reaction to the issue."
As he deep-fucked his wife up the ass, imagining that her smooth, chocolate buns were white and creamy, and that her dank anal tunnel was a tight white pussy on the other end of a raping dick, he thought about the words he had expressed.
How true they were for him. Jesse still had a lot to work on, regarding feelings about race. That was obvious from the feelings he was going through, and from the depraved little thoughts which were dancing in his head, making his big cock grow harder as it became ever-engorged with blood.
Every vein of his huge black penis was thick with blood as it coursed in and out of Elouise's backside. It felt bigger and bigger than it had ever felt before.
He was hot to trot his prick up her ass, and he was doing a good job of it, imagining that he was performing the rape which the radio droned on about.
Just when he thought that he would pop his cork, and shoot enough cum to fill a fucking glass, he pulled his now-dank dick out of his wife's raped behind.
He picked her up in his strong hands and tossed her over. She landed on her back. sinking into the soft bed, but bouncing at the boobs. The tits stood up like hot cherries.
Elouise had an agonized expression on her good-looking face. Gorgeous enough to be a famous black model if she'd directed her attention toward that goal, Elouise really felt as if she'd been raped.
Never had her gentle husband revealed this other side of his nature. It was the dark side of his nature, if she were to follow that black as bad, white as good analogy.
He turned her over, pressing her sore ass down into the sheets. Her pussy was available for plowing into, as was her throat.
Jesse looked at her thick Negroid lips. He knew how warm those lips felt clamped around his cock. He Thought about the many hours, all tolled, that he languished with his huge hard-on buried down within his wife's deep throat.
She was able to keep his penis down her throat for long periods of time. One night she even fell asleep while sucking on his prick the way a sleeping baby sucks on a bottle, or its mother's breast.
She'd been very contented to do just that, and to nuzzle her broad nose in the thick-skinned, bronzed balls which hung low from her man's private area.
But that was when he'd approached her as a loving young husband. That was when he'd been the upwardly-striving young man who was beginning to make it in the white world with his interest in helping young children.
Now his other character was revealing itself. He was getting acquainted with his violent side, and so was his wife.
The man who taught and cared for young children, black and white, was now interested in fucking them, and fucking them hard.
He was interested in raping them until their young pussies couldn't take any more of his heavy screwing.
No one would have guessed that this gentle man, this extremely gentle man, would be as extreme in his hedonistic desire to rape young white girls.
But as Jesse looked at those thick lips on Elouise, and as he thought about the warm membranes of her deep throat, he decided that he was going to take the hard prick which had just fucked her ass, and shove it down Elouise's throat.
And he was really going to shove it down there, He was going to ram it repeatedly; really throw it down her throat and fuck her face.
He was going to rape her throat!
Now, of course, there was no doubt in Elouise's mind that it was indeed her own husband in bed with her. When she saw the thickly creased and veined cock hovering wetly over her face, she recognized his unique equipment.
She thought that he was drunk, which he was, and she thought that his drunkeness might account for his exceptionally rough behavior with her.
As his black pecker approached her lips, and touched them, she hoped that he'd calmed down sufficiently to begin fucking her throat with that sweet hot love motion which always ended up in the spilling of his sticky syrup down her throat, until it dripped thickly into her black belly.
But when his pelvis bucked forward with all his manly strength, Elouise thought that the pressure from his prong would knock the teeth clear out of her head.
She couldn't get away from him. He used the technique he'd observed the rapists use of Virginia. They continued to plow her, and impale her with their pricks. They went even harder if she dared to resist. Soon they'd raped her into submission.
He was doing the same thing with his wife. He was treating her body like a bunch of fuck holes provided for his pleasure.
That's all she was to him at this moment; a bunch of very warm, wet, yielding, womanly holes, there to be raped into ecstasy.
Her oral cavity was the next to be cruelly filled and banged, as her asshole had been.
She tried to scream, because the horror of rape was tremendous, even with her own husband as the rapist.
In fact, it was even more terrifying for Elouise, because she was watching her husband turn from a decent man into a mad rapist, in addition to bearing the torment of violent rape and sexual abuse from him.
Her scream was muffled by lots of plunging cock. The woman's voice was reduced to the gagging gurgling that comes when a woman struggles to swallow man-meat the likes of Jesse Hodges's tool.
He was endowed with inches, and fucking skills, too.
"Groan, bitch, groan," he rasped at her, as he slammed his dick in her, while squatting over her on the bed.
His balls hung down on her chin, and his ass rubbed over the firm nipples of her tits.
She was beginning to believe that her husband might even have been the rapist who was terrorizing girls in the area. He was so violent, and so abusive.
"Suck up every drop of my cuntbustin' dick, and swallow the ball-juice," he warned her, "or I'll slap the fuckin' shit out of your black body, bitch."
When he realized the tremendous sexual anger he was directing at her through his cock, he felt the semen begin to come up from the hot wet depths of his scrotum.
The very thought of how he wanted to brutally rape her, and the thought of raping young white pussy, brought Jesse to one of the most powerful climaxes he'd ever experienced.
The scum gushed from his deep piss slit, down her throat, and into her heaving stomach. She was choking, because the volume of scum was so abundant. All that thick white, white motor oil churned up into a froth in her lubricated black insides.
Jesse pulled out of her and went into his own world as he lay beside her. She had been his rape victim, but now she was his wife again.
The impact of the orgasm snapped Jesse back into reality.
He was sweating and breathing hard.
"What got into you?" Elouise asked gently, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel, and patting his saliva-coated dick dry.
"I don't know, baby," he said, still breathing hard. "I lost my head. I can't explain it."
"These things happen sometime, baby," she told him. '"Everybody goes through the same kinds of problems. Life in the ghetto isn't easy. Tension builds up. We're subjected to a lot every day."
"This must have been building up for years. It was like a pressure cooker," he told her. lying back in the bed beside her, and staring at the ceiling with a blank look on his face.
"It certainly exploded all the pressure down my throat,'' Elouise tried to joke.
"Yeah, it sure did. All the anger must have been building and then the lid just couldn't stay on any longer," he said.
"Were you angry with me?" Elouise asked, momentarily stopping her stroking of Jesse's brown chest as she waited for his response.
Jesse thought about that. He knew that he wasn't angry at Elouise. She was a wonderful woman. He had to look only so far as her understanding manner now, after she'd been raped by him.
She wasn't pulling her skirt up and showing him her big ass as a tease any longer. He'd raped her, and she was his loving, adoring wife. She was calm now.
As she lay there thinking of the most appropriate answer to give his darling Elouise, the thought of the scene he'd witnessed earlier in the day came back to him.
In fact, he thought that he would probably be plagued with that image for a long time.
He saw the small white pussy of Virginia Stephens get ripped apart by probing black meat.
He recalled the expression on her face, as she bit her lip, closed her eyes, and squeezed her legs tightly closed to avoid the intrusion.
But the black brothers were breaking in. They wouldn't take no for an answer. Her pleading only made them all the more eager to rip into her with a fury.
As he thought about the real reasons behind his sudden desire to rape cunt, his pecker began to grow heavy. It grew heavy, which did not prevent it from rising, slowly, inch by inch, until the thing was sticking straight up like the fuck-pole it was.
He grasped his big, black fuck-pole in his hand, and squeezed the thick shaft until a salty tear emanated from the ever-juicing piss slit.
A look of horror came to Elouise's face once again. She couldn't believe her eyes. Jesse was getting hard again, and he was salivating like a rutting dog.
He was thinking about the rape of young white pussy.
He eyed Elouise once again. Although he'd had sex with his wife countless times since their marriage two years before, and numerous times before they were married, she now looked like a new virgin to him.
She was like a new virgin because her holes had been fucked, but they had never been raped.
This young man, who had a terrible hatred of violence, and especially a terrible hatred of rape, was strongly attracted to violent rape at the very same time.
For all his gentleness, a lot of anger existed at the other end of his menial spectrum. It existed there simultaneously with his humane instincts. And it was certainly as strong a force.
His own mother had been raped, and he harbored a great deal of anger about that. Now, as he admitted, his pressure cooker had exploded.
He'd raped his sleeping wife's virgin bunghole, and he forced his way into her mouth and down her throat with the hard cock he extracted from her ass.
He still had her quivering pussy to work on, in a manner which he'd never worked on it before.
He spit a gob of hot saliva in his hand, and started rubbing it on his cock shaft.
"You know what that means," he told Elouise, after she heard the spit fly from his mouth. "It means that I'm wetting up." He sneered at her, meanly, and then he reverted into nigger street talk. "I is gonna rape yo'fuckin' cunt-hole off!"
Elouise, stared back at him, wondering if her husband had turned into some kind of raving maniac.
^P^P^T Four
Anthony and Bernice Stephens were at home in their little Bronx apartment.
They stayed in the Bronx, while many of their white neighbors moved away, because the rent was very low for the room they had.
The building was kind of run down by this time, with garbage flying around in circles in the small courtyard which led to their building, and hallways which were so dirty, that they seemed to stay filthy even after mopping.
The courtyard looked better at night, when a yellow light in the black gate out front, gave the six story building the appearance of being located on a quiet street in Paris.
Of course, during the summer, people stayed out on the streets later in the evenings, and the quietness of the streets gave way to noise.
Anthony had written to the landlord, complaining about the noise, and complaining about the elevator, which rarely wound up exactly on floor level, and which had no mirror. The mirror had been stolen, and Anthony believed that it was the landlord's obligation to replace it.
Inside, the apartment was quite pleasant. Bernice believed in keeping a nice household, and there was enough space in this apartment for their daughter Virginia to have her own room.
There was also an eat-in kitchen, which many New York apartments didn't have. Anthony and Bernice didn't want to move into Manhattan, where rents were higher, and where they would probably only be able to afford an apartment which had a small kitchenette.
Even now, they sat in the kitchen, Anthony reading the newspaper, and Bernice sewing Anthony's white socks.
"Black bastards," Anthony said, as he read the lead article about rape in the area. Like the news report on the radio, the first newspaper account of this most recent rape did not specify that the rapists were black, or that their victim was white.
Nevertheless, Anthony had a gut feeling about this rape. Before he could be certain of his accusation, he put the blame on neighborhood blacks. "Why don't those darkies stick to nigger nookie?" he complained.
His wife hushed him up. "How can you say things like that?" she; asked. "We live among black people. You know full well how kind and generous the people we know personally are. I think it's a shame that you curse an entire race for the wrongdoings of a few prominent examples."
"Well, I'll admit that Sam Kennedy is a wonderful guy. He's that boy from the Islands; Jamaica. And then there's Edith Hicksenson. She says she hates the whites, but when the Revolution comes, she'll have you and me spared."
They both started to laugh.
"And don't forget all those sports players you admire so much. Plenty of them are black. And the singers and actors and actresses and..."
'"Alright, Bernice," Anthony replied, "You've made your point. You think I'm behaving like a white cracker. Well, I don't think it's safe for Virginia to be out on the streets. She's a nigger-lover, I think. I've heard her talking with friends on the telephone, and she jive-talks like one of them."
"Anthony, you shouldn't have been listening in on Virginia's conversation in the first place. If you'd mind your own business when it comes to your daughter, everything would be fine. She'll come to us if she's in trouble about anything." Bernice said, gently. "We have to allow her to do her own thing. The young kids today, they see differently than we did when we were their age."
"Hell, back when I was Virginia's age on the sidewalks of New York, if my father caught me talkin' with a black person, he would have knocked my head around for me," Anthony said, closing the newspaper and going to the refrigerator for a beer.
"My father once caught me kissing a black boy," Bernice smiled coyly.
"Kissing one! You never told me about that!" Anthony exclaimed.
"You never asked me," Bernice replied. "It was nothing, really. He was very black and very beautiful. His face was shining as bright and as dark as coal. My father just didn't understand, that's all. I guess that why there's so much trouble over race and color. It's hard to love somebody of another color when there are so many people against it."
"I don't believe in the mixing of the races. If God wanted us all to be the same, he wouldn't have made some of us white, and some of us black," Anthony insisted.
"I hear what you're saying, but the fact is, there are whites who like blacks, sexually, I mean. And there are blacks who prefer whites. I think the contrast is very attractive. And I think that children of mixture are very beautiful."
"It used to be that families would never allow intermarriage, ever," Anthony stated flatly.
"That was why in-breeding produced disease and physical characteristics which were not to the advantage of the descendants of one-color families. I read that in a magazine." Bernice said.
"You and your magazines," Anthony smiled, releasing his anger about the whole thing. For a moment, he couldn't even recall what had brought on the discussion. Then he remembered. Rape. Rape and Virginia.
"'Where is Virginia?" Anthony asked.
"She's out visiting a friend. She told me that she'd be home after ten. She's having dinner over at her friend's house," Bernice explained.
"Yeah, which friend is she with?" Anthony asked.
"I don't know, Anthony. I didn't ask her," Bernice replied.
"Didn't ask her? What's wrong with you?" the concerned father shouted.
"Anthony!" Bernice said, speaking firmly, also. "I trust our daughter. Virginia is old enough to take care of herself. She doesn't need her overly-concerned father breathing down her neck."
Anthony realized that Bernice was probably correct. He was a bit over-bearing at times.
"You're right, of course," he said. He kissed his wife on the forehead. "I just thought that if you knew where she was, we could telephone her and make sure that she was alright," he justified.
"I'm sure that if she's not alright, she would call us," Betrnice said. "She's a big girl, now."
Neither of them knew that their daughter had been taken to the hospital, where she was being treated for shock and sexual assault. She hadn't been able to tell them where she lived, or who to contact in this emergency. She didn't carry identification, except for a fake I.D. which she used to get into places where it was required that she be over eighteen years of age.
She had been admitted to the hospital on the basis of this false identification, but of course, it was not enough to track down her guardians.
Bernice had the kitchen fan swirling in the window, but the breeze from the fan seemed a hot one.
"I think I'll go out for a while," Anthony told his wife. "There may be more of a breeze out there. Do you wanna come for a walk with me?" he asked.
"No, honey," Bernice replied. "I have sewing to finish, but you can bring me back a thick shake from the ice cream store. That would taste good on a night like this."
"What flavor do you want?" Anthony asked her.
"Chocolate," she replied,
As Anthony walked the streets, he thought about what Bernice had told him. He thought about her admission that as a girl she had kissed a black boyfriend. He wondered what else they might have done.
He knew, of course, that his wife had been a virgin on their wedding day. He pushed through her hymen himself.
So he knew that Bernice had never been fucked by black cock; at least not before they were married. He certainly didn't suspect her of fooling around with spade dick after their marriage. His honkey hook took care of her cunny just fine, didn't it?
Anthony walked by the neighborhood sex shop. It was a secret little place where people sneaked in to buy those special sex goods which they used to spice their sex lives.
Anthony had never gone inside, feeling that the presence of the sex shop was a detriment to the quality of the neighborhood.
But on this night His curiosity, for some reason, was up.
He sneaked inside the front door. The glass had been painted over with red paint, so that outsiders could not see inside.
Anthony was slightly shocked by what he found inside. There, in his very own neighborhood, was an assortment of sexual items that nearly blew the socks off of him.
His eyes went directly to the plastic blow-up dolls. There were brown-skinned dolls, and pink-skinned ones. There was even one inflatable girl whose plastic epidermis literally turned inside-out, so that she was a black doll on one side, and a white doll on the other.
These plastic dolls came equipped with flesh-like breasts, a hairy pubic patch, and a dip-hole that was supposed to feel like real live pussy on a man's dick.
Anthony wondered which life-sized doll he would buy, if he were in the market for a rubber doll with holes in all the right places.
He wondered if he would have been able to satisfy his curiosity about wet hot black pussy, by loving one of the blow-up black dolls.
He didn't really think that it would be worth the effort. If he wanted to sample black pussy, he would have been able to find some in the neighborhood for the price of this doll.
But he wasn't really all that interested. His major interest was still in Bernice. He was in this shop looking for something to please her in an extra special way; a sexual way.
Sexual surprises were the favorite surprises he liked giving his still attractive wife.
Elouise Hodges enjoyed teasing her hubby Jesse by leaving a trail of perfume-scented underthings from the living room into the bedroom, to let him know that she was waiting for him there.
Anthony Stephens liked to tease his wife with special little sexual surprises, like leaving a package of condoms on the table for her to see. The sight of the package set her cunny creaming, because she knew that she could soon expect hot sex with her fuck-happy husband.
In this sex store, Anthony found a number of interesting items which he thought might spice his sex life that night. There were an assortment of cock creams, used for lubricating the penis in a special manner.
Some of the serums were flavored, so that when a cocksucker gobbled up a prick, the flavor of penis would mix with strawberries, or peaches and cream. But Anthony didn't think that was so hot. He thought about Bernice's pussy, and he realized that he much preferred her cunt to be nature-scented and naturally flavored.
He liked the taste of fresh pussy. He didn't have to disguise, it!
Other creams brought a hot, tingling sensation to the head and shaft of a dick. Such potions would no doubt sting the hot cunny of the fuck partner as well. That might be nice, Anthony thought to himself, but he passed that one by, also.
There were creams for desensitizing the penis, which Anthony didn't need, and there were attachments for the penis that were guaranteed to make a pussy feel real special fucking, but Anthony didn't favor those, either.
No, he found something that suddenly struck his fancy just right. He didn't like paying the rather high price for the item, but he knew that if he were to leave the sex shop without it, he would only wish that he'd spent the extra money on this extra-special item.
A tall, lean, black man named Pop stood behind the counter wearing a broad-brimmed hat with a feather sticking out of it. He saw that Anthony was looking rather hungrily at one particular item in the glass counter.
"May I help you with anything?" Pop asked graciously.
Anthony felt a bit peculiar in telling the black which item he especially wanted for his wife. The item would be a real pussy-thriller for her, but Anthony was embarrassed to speak of it.
However, he knew that if he didn't speak up, he would leave the store and wish that he'd been man to ask for the sex object he wanted to purchase.
He wanted to buy his wife a big black dildo for her white cunny!
"Uh. I'll take that," Anthony said, pointing to the black rubber tool. "And I'll take some of that Joy-Gel," he added, including the lubricant in his purchase, only so it would appear that he had other interests besides big black cock.
Pop was accustomed to the nervousness of customers in the sex shop. Everybody has some secret desires, and often they are reluctant to expose them to anyone else. They take their hidden sexual stirrings very seriously, and guard them accordingly.
"You can wash this with soap and water," Pop said casually, taking the black dildo from the shelf and flexing it before Anthony's eyes.
Anthony was already imagining the rubbery black joy-stick fucking up his wife's white cunt-hole.
"Could you wrap that for me please?" Anthony asked, still nervous about the purchase.
"I'll wrap it very well," Pop smiled, knowing that most customers hid their purchases in briefcases, or under their coats upon leaving the sex shop.
Being a hot summer night, Anthony had no coat in which to hide his purchase. He could have stuck the rubber prong in his pants as if it were his own black piece of prick, but recognizing the man's vulnerability at this moment, Pop pleasantly wrapped the dildo in brown paper, after finding a box that was large enough to accommodate it.
Anthony hoped that Bernice's cunt would be large enough to accommodate the thing which appeared to be slightly longer and thicker than his own and blood handle.
He paid for lust items in cash, and looked both ways before leaving the sex shop, because he didn't want to be seen shopping there. He thought that he was lucky in not having run into any of his buddies in that shop. That would have been embarrassing for him.
If they were in the shop, they would be as guilty as he was. There would be no way for his -buddies to call the kettle black; a pot calling a kettle black, being another catch-phrase of insult to black people.
If they caught him buying a dark-colored dildo to please his wife, then it would have been a real disaster for Anthony, as far as he was concerned, at least.
His mouth was dry from nervousness, and his underarms were clammy after making the purchase. He needed some refreshment
Then he remembered that Bernice had asked for a chocolate thick shake. He crossed the street to the ice cream shop, and thought about how he was going to shake up Bernice's pussy with something thick and chocolated.
"Did you ever try putting some whiskey in your thick shake?" Anthony asked his wife upon his return. "It makes a freaky flavor, and it packs a nice kick."
"Anthony Stephens!" Bernice declared. "I think that you want to get me dizzy and tipsy!"
He wanted to fulfill her fantasies and her realities, by working a black dildo around in her pussy. He wanted to manipulate the black stick as if he were controlling a black man in the fucking of his woman.
He wanted to stir it around her cunt, and maybe even have her suck on it while he used his dick after she'd been opened up by a black dildo.
Bernice was willing to engage in Anthony's sex play. There was still time to play in the privacy which came up on nights when Virginia was away from home. That, quite frankly, was the reason Anthony didn't persist in seeing that his darling daughter Virginia was home before ten.
He enjoyed having a special opportunely to fuck the evening away. It happened rarely, but when it did, he liked to take advantage of it.
He almost assumed that Bernice expected some hard dick on this night. He told Bernice that he did want to feel her a little high, because he had a dickful of scum which he wanted to release up her cunt.
"And I've got a special surprise for you, too," he added. "But you can't have it until you've finished your chocolate shake, with the whiskey in it."
"Ow, that sounds exciting," Bernice cooed. She was in her thirties, but she was like a hot and horny teenaged girl when her husband talked to her about sex. Her talented twat was hot and her clit was like-a red hot button of desire.
Anthony poured a sufficient amount of whiskey into the thick shake. The plastic carry-out container had been filled to a line three-fourths of the way from the bottom.
He filled the last quarter up with booze.
The overpoweringly sweet chocolate flavor, masked the harsh taste of the liquor. Bernice drank it down in big gulps, not realizing that it was going straight to her head.
"Oh, that's so good," she enthused, half-way through the mixture. "That's so good!"
She would soon be saying those same words about something else that was to enter her. The chocolate that was entering her body via her mouth and oral structures, would be no sweeter than the chocolate that was to enter her cunt.
He waited until his wife got nice and high. The result came on rather quickly, and they were evident to Anthony.
He knew that when his wife started licking her lips, it meant that she was getting hungry for cock in her cunt. He knew all of her signs very well. She was a refined, sensitive woman, and yet, when Virginia was away from the house, and her ardor was aroused, her pussy would begin to drip.
It was wet now. It was wet for her husband, and fur his surprise.
"Take me to bed, honey," Bernice told her man. She was panting.
He took her in his arms and held her close. He could feel her tits pressing into his hard chest. The soft mounds against his hard muscle, was a delightful contrast.
The hard muscle between his legs, the lump of man-meat which he pressed between the softness of her cuntal lips, was throbbing.
He was thinking about putting that black dildo in her cunt.
He was thinking about the expression that would come to her face, and he would soon be seeing the writhing passion take hold of her body.
Bernice was a little woman, with short red hair. Her figure was excellent for a woman her age. Her breasts were full and upturned. Her legs were shapely. Everything went together just right.
Anthony was able to lift her in his arms like a baby, and toss her gently on their marital bed.
She was on her back, and she had slipped into her nightgown when her husband was out for his walk. The sheer material of the pink gown allowed her firm nipples and silver-dollar sized aureoles to show through on top.
On the bottom, the orange curls of her pubic patch showed through the pink material in a lovely clash of colors and textures
Anthony's rammer was raring to go. It was hot to get into his wife's vagina. He didn't need the stay-hard pills he saw in the sex shop. He didn't need the French ticklers, or the pills which were supposed to add life to the orgy by stimulating takers like Spanish fly.
All he needed was his own body and hot soul, and the slick black cock which would drive his Bernice into spasms of lust.
She was on her back, and she pulled the sheer nightie up higher on her thighs, giving her husband more of a look at her red-haired snatch area, which was only partially covered by the thin nightie.
Half of the red-haired pubic patch was exposed to the hot night air, and the rest was still peeking out seductively through the sheer material.
"Oh. Anthony, fuck me really good tonight, baby," Bernice begged. ''Make me feel something really special."
"I have just the thing your cunt needs," Anthony grinned. He was thinking about his black cock, which was wrapped up in the surprise package.
Hoisting it on her, and in her, would be better than a present at Christmastime for Bernice.
Hot black cock was what she needed for diversion, her husband was certain. Otherwise, she probably would never have brought the subject up in the manner that she did.
"Screw me, honey," she said, writhing about on the bed like a bitch in heat. She was looking for a black panther to spring on her and give her that rutting fuck of a jungle animal.
She was looking for something special and she was going to get what she never imagined her white husband could give her. She was going to get black cock up her cunt!
"Oh, honey, you really turn me on when you get slightly drunk and you move around like that," Anthony told her. "You really, really turn me on."
"Stop talking and use your mouth on mine," Beniice rasped.
Anthony unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off to reveal his broad chest. He was a hairy guy, and Bernice liked that. She liked to run her fingertips through the hair on his chest, and then go down to the hairy pubic patch, and then to go down even further, caressing his hairy leg muscles.
He pulled the belt off his belt loops, and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He stepped out of them.
On this hot summer night, he hadn't bothered to wear underpants, and the head of his naked cock was out. He brought the dick up to Bernice's cuntal triangle, and felt the flared head against the material of the sheer nightie.
The material was very feminine-feeling. It was the kind of material expressly used in nylon stockings and negligees such as the one which accentuated Bernice's voluptuous charms.
Some white sticky stuff oozed from his cock onto the material of the nightie. It soaked straight through the material, and wetted the curly red hair underneath the nightie.
It was eight o'clock in the evening. It was practically dark by this hour on this night in June. Bernice knew that Virginia would be home in an hour. That left sixty minutes of heaven before their daughter's return.
Maybe they would be so hot that they would continue to play even after their daughter returned home, but for now, first things were to be taken care of first.
Anthony nuzzled his head in the cleavage between Bernice's twin tit globes.
''Oh, he wants his mommy," she cooed, when she felt her husband's rough beard stubble scratching the diaphanous gown and the soft skin underneath.
"You think I want my mommy, huh?" he growled, teasingly. "I'll show you what I want!"
He moved downward along her body, with his nose pressed into the flesh of her chest, then her stomach, and on down to her nether regions.
There he lingered.
His face had unintentionally pulled the nightgown back down over Bernice's cunt, but it probably was actually his intention that, that happen. After all, he always got what he wanted, and he had pulled the nightie back over the red-haired cuntal realm.
He went down on her snatch and sucked at the slit through the material of her nightie.
He sucked and sucked, swirling his tongue around and enveloping the nightgown along with the moist and luscious pussy of his lovely red-haired wife.
Bernice was a natural redhead, and her skin was milky white in paleness.
The pink of Anthony's tongue muscle slicked out and slithered into the slit of her hot snatch.
"That really makes my hole get wet,'' she moaned as he licked her pussy.
"That hole feels real good on my tongue," he told her, pulling his head up momentarily; just long enough to speak the words before diving back down in her muff.
"Oh. Anthony, baby," she cooed. "You really know how to eat my little cunny."
"You give good nookie, baby," he said, and then he again sailed into her cunt with his mouth.
The dipping of his tongue into her snatch continued until she was really slicked with saliva and pussy juice. The combined mixture was dripping down her legs.
Anthony decided that his wife needed a little friction. He climbed on top of her, let his body fall down on hers, and he began to rotate his prick on top of her cunt, through the nightie, as he pushed his body back and forth on hers.
She felt his cock through the thin material of the nightie, and it really slid back and forth in a sensuous manner as he rocked his body on top of hers.
She felt all fluttery inside. Her cunt lips were flapping. Her inner pussy and her fat clit were buzzing like locusts. That's how hot she was for her man,
Her big breasts moved back and forth, up and down on her chest, as her man's chests pushed on top of her. His tongue was buried deeply in her mouth now, and she battled him with her own tongue in a hot sexual battle. A wet, hot sexual battle, to be sure!
Their marital bed was a real hotbed of sexual activity, with Anthony grunting and groaning, now, as much from the sensations which were bringing him enflamed sexual passion all over his body, as from the thoughts of what was coming up next.
He was thinking of his plan; the plan he had to give his wife a surprise taste of her secret desire. Her secret desire, that would please both Bernice, and her husband as well.
Anthony would be pleased because he would be able to give his wife's twat a taste of something he might otherwise have felt threatened about giving. He didn't want any black man fucking his woman, especially considering some of the negative feelings which he himself harbored for his darker brothers.
With this black dildo, he would be able to give his wife untold pleasure, and not feel threatened in the process.
He was using his tongue like an animal, now, deeply thrusting it down her throat, and allowing it to stay down there. It was warm down there in the pit of her oral structure, and he liked feeling his fat sloppy mouth fill her deeply, no matter where the filling took place; in her mouth, her ass (they tried it there twice) or in her ripe and juicing pussy.
''Oh, baby, my pussy is really moistening," she said as she wrapped her strong legs around the torso of her husband who continued to ride back and forth on top of her, giving her a friction that was setting her nerve endings on edge.
"You asked for it honey." Anthony rasped, when he'd finally been taken to his limit at that point. He knew that he was hot to give her what she wanted. He was going to give her the black cock of her secret sex dreams.
Bernice's deep dark secret, would be a secret no longer.
But it would be dark, and it would go deep! Deep into her burning snatch!
If she had a burning need for the thick, long male-meat of a nigger cock, then that was what she was going to get. And she was going to get it from her husband!
He got up off her body, and went to the other room, where he had left the package.
Bernice was writhing about on the bed, thrashing around and begging to get fucked.
Anthony remained cool as a cucumber, while he was actually burning up with his own, hot desires. The size of his stiff prick was proof of where his head was at.
He decided to take advantage of the situation. His daughter Virginia was not at home, and they had the whole apartment to play in. They didn't need to keep their fun confined to the bedroom as they usually did.
There was the bathroom! There was that eat-in kitchen. He could give it to Bernice on the kitchen table, and she could really learn what an eat-in kitchen was all about. She had a lot of fresh cunt meat to be sampled and nipped.
And devoured!
Anthony started in the living room. He unwrapped the package and took out the dildo. It was a monster; a black monster. It was soft enough to be flexible, but it was hard enough to penetrate a cunt the way a boner-prick would.
It was very realistic-looking, with a deep piss slit, and thickly engorged veins along the shaft of it. It came with a big, heavy set of nuts at the base, and Anthony certainly planned to stick that thing up into Bernice's snatch until the balls rested against the cuntal mounds.
He planned to turn the dildo around in her cunt by holding onto the heavy rubber scrotum which was packed with two oversized balls.
He was curious about something. He wanted to stick this black cock down his own throat to see how hard it would be to swallow it. But then he decided that doing that would be a bit peculiar. He'd heard of straight men who liked such stimulation, but he hadn't reached that stage yet. He was just getting to the point of being able to satisfy his wife with the black cock she desired, despite his own qualms.
By now, his qualms were quieted and his sex drive was leading him ever-closer to the moment when that thick dong was to enter the tender white cunt portal.
He shook the black bone back and forth, and watched how it moved. It almost looked alive. It looked so real. It would send pulsations up Bernice's cunt that would have her pussy gagging from the special brand of dark meat which she needed.
Anthony looked around the living room. He was looking for a place to put the black dildo.
"Anthony, come back to me," his wife called out from the bedroom. She was very hot. He left her in a terrible slate of sexual desire. She needed some dork plugged into her, and she needed it soon. She would, of course, be getting it soon enough.
Anthony placed the dildo under a cushion in one of the two chairs which stood opposite the purple couch in the living room. Then he returned to the bedroom where Bernice was still thrashing and throwing the sheets to the floor in the process.
"I have something out there in the living room," he told her.
"I don't want to see it," she answered. "All I want is for you to fuck me. Fuck my hot little pussy and fuck it now!" she begged him.
"Oh no," he countered. "When you find what it is that I've left out there for you, then I'll give you a real hot fucking that you won't soon forget. Now get your pretty little tail out there, and start seeking!"
Still wobbly from the whiskey Bernice wended her way into the living room. She stood there in the center of her nicely furnished room, and she was surely the most attractive and comfortable piece in the room.
Her nightie moved agahist her body, rustling slightly as it brushed over her soft, creamy flesh. The nipples on her breasts were very firm by this time, and they stood way out like little missiles about to be launched, which in a way, they were. They were like missiles, and they would be launched when the black cock entered her.
She had been told to look for the hidden surprise, and she scanned the room, but came up with nothing. Then she started looking behind things. She looked behind the sofa she looked behind the stereo. She came up with nothing.
Then she started looking under things. She looked under the sofa, she looked under the chairs, and then she looked under the cushions of the chairs.
Low and behold, she came up with something! And what a something!
Anthony had thought that he might lie down on the bed in the bedroom and wait for Bernice to return with the fat joystick in her hot little hands. He would just have to give her a look, and she would be able to read his expression clearly.
She would know that he wanted her to report to him, bringing the fuck-pole for his use in her cunt, or in any other of her luscious fuck-holes of his choice.
But the idea of being able to watch her face as she discovered the surprise was too inviting for Anthony to resist. Indeed, her pretty face lit up with the discovery of the giant mauler which was bought especially for her pink-lipped, deep-valleyed channel of lust. Her hot little love-tunnel. Her white cunt!
Chapter Five
^P^P^T
Bernice's cunt tingled with desire.
Anthony brought her into the kitchen, making her hold the big black bone of a dildo which was going to fuck her.
"Get down on the kitchen table," Anthony told her. "I'm going to wet up your cunt with my mouth. I want you to suck on that licorice stick while I eat you."
"But Anthony," Bernice replied. ''If I suck on this dick while you eat me, I'm afraid that I'll cum. I'll spray my stuff in your mouth."
"Never mind my cunt-eating mouth or when you're going to cum. You'll shoot when I tell you to shoot. And that will be with a big black cock up your twattie."
"A black cock in my mouth, and my husband on my cunny at the same time! Oh, baby! I don't know if I can do it," she sighed, although she was certain that it would be a great pleasure to try it. She'd take as much as she possibly could.
She spread her luxuriant thighs, and begged him to shove his tongue into her. Then she opened her mouth as wide as she possibly could, and inserted the thick prong of black prick meat into her tight oral cavity. She inched it into her throat at her own pace. There was no pelvis attached to it to make her take it all down quickly.
Still, she didn't dawdle. She wanted to suck black cock while her husband ate out her snatch. She hoped that this would be a prelude to more of the same at another time when the black would be replaced with real black man-cock!
For the time being, flat on her back on the kitchen table, this was more than she could possibly have asked for.
Her body was hungry for his. She scratched at her husband's naked back as he ate out her opulent pussy and she sucked the dark dildo.
The black cock wouldn't shoot a spray of hot jism into her body, but she had her Anthony there to give her plenty of jizz. He dripped like a faucet. All she had to do was turn him on, and it was like turning on the tap.
She discharged profusely, too. She had a feeling that she would be mopping the juice off the kitchen table.
The entire affair was most unlike anything Bernice and Anthony had ever tried before. They had never had sex on the kitchen table, and Bernice's deep dark desire had never surfaced before.
With the thick rubber cock impaled part of the way down her throat, Bernice was able to use her hands, not only for Anthony's back but for frigging her cunt.
She reached down and parted her cunt lips, spreading the sex-slit open enough so that several fingers could massage the tender area and make it cream even as her husband's fat tongue muscle sliced in and out of the cuntal pudding.
She was able to stretch her cunt open enough to afford Anthony full entry into the tempting cuntal jam. He pumped his tongue inside of her, and she went insane with the sensations which sent shivers up and down her spine. Wow!
She was beside herself with desire. That thick black cock stayed down her throat, impaling her, while her husband's tongue muscle lapped at her vagina the way a thirsty cat might lap at a bowl of warm milk.
After working her cunny into a lather, Anthony looked up at her from the triangle of her snatch and told her that he was going to frig her twat with black dick.
"You must be creaming in your panties all the time. Every time you see one of those dark dudes in this neighborhood you must be hot to snap your twat down on their dicks, aren't you, baby," Anthony rasped. "Aren't you?"
He pulled the spit-soaked dick from her mouth so that she could respond to his demanding question.
"Oh, Anthony, I may have thought about black cocks, but all I ever wanted was you," she told him.
"Bullshit!" he said. "This dick is as brown as bullshit. I'll let this dildo dick do the talking. This black dildo dick doesn't tell lies."
No, it didn't tell lies. It just ripped her cunt apart. Anthony rammed it into his wife's hole and it touched bottom. The pink fuck meat between her vulva was wet and puckered from the insertion and subsequent twisting of the artifical penis rod inside of her.
"Oh,God!" Bernice screamed. "I feel like I'm being raped by big black cock, but it's my white husband who is turning the screw. Oh, it's too much. It's just too much," she cried.
"You're finally getting fucked by a big black buck. That's what you've wanted, isn't it?" he groaned.
Well, it had been one of Bernice's secret desires to get stuffed with hot black meat. That desire was certainly being fulfilled. But basically, she loved her husband, and there was no substitute for a real prick in her very real, very warm, very wet fuck hole.
"I want you. baby." she cried. "I want you to pin me to this kitchen table with your white cock!"
He was amazed. He would have thought that Bernice wanted to be fucked and stirred with this black dildo all night and into the next morning. He thought that she would never want to stop.
But time was running out. Virginia was expected very soon, and Bernice had to tell her husband the truth.
She loved watching the black prick go in and out of her white flesh, but it was her husband's fucking that she wanted.
"I'm panting for you," She told him. "Please, Anthony, fuck me!"
That was all he needed to hear. He pulled the black prick out of her hole, and tossed it to the ftoor. It landed with a wet thump, forming a puddle of cunt juice on the yellow linoleum.
By facing his fear of having to compete with big, bad, black cock, he won the battle. His wife wanted him. She wanted his dick to fuck her.
That was just what she got, and she got plenty of it. He deep-dicked her with all his power, flailing the inside of her honeybox with his penis.
Bernice responded by undulating her cuntal muscles, making ripples of excitement envelope his bony peter.
They were both breathing hard. They were both getting closer to orgasm.
Anthony could feel his body stiffen. Every muscle in his body was taut. His balls were tingling as if a hundred little needles were sticking him gently.
Bernice felt dizzy. Her head was spinning. She felt light-headed, from the drinking, and from the entire fuck scene. She thought that she was on the top of the Cyclone ride in an amusement park. From the uppermost hump of that ride, there was a long and bumpy trip down.
Every time the ride soared downward at a lightning speed, it would curl back up again, crawling, teasing, and then it would go over the edge, plunging downward all over again.
As a child, that ride had always played tricks with her head. It really put her through some changes. It fucked her body up pretty good, too.
Now she felt that she had been at the top of the Cyclone, and that she had made the steep descent several times.
Riding the Cyclone was like reaching climax for her. It was harrowing, and it left her body in a frazzled state afterwards. That was probably because she came with such force. She spasmed and convulsed repeatedly.
But she loved it! She loved the Cyclone, and was always drawn back to it. She loved flying into orgasm, and she always came back for more of that.
"Oh, baby, baby, baby," she cried.
She sounded as much like a frenzied little bitch as a white woman.
Anthony was grunting and groaning. He was gritting his teeth, trying to hold back the fountain of boiling scum which was about to bubble up from his cock into her ardent snatch depths.
"Oh, shit, I can't hold it back anymore," he told her hotly.
"I can't either," she breathed. "We're going to shoot together!"
It was like a rocket to the moon.
"Ohhhhhhhh!!!!'' he groaned.
"Ahhhh!!!" she cried.
They came together, and he stayed on top of her; inside of her; with his panting mouth on her smooth, soft neck.
His tongue flicked out and he swirled it in her ear a few times. This kept her nipples hard against his chest. The firm tips of them were pressed between the curly hairs which formed the thick down on his chest.
They stayed like that for quite, a while, with only the ticking of the kitchen clock and the distant sounds of street laughter to interfere with their private place. Why, they could have been resting in each other's naked arms on some tropic isle. The kitchen table could have been a sandy shore, and the cool night air might just have easily been caressing their naked flesh as the hot air of this summer night was doing.
The large blades of the kitchen fan continued to whirl, and Anthony, coming to slightly, began to flick his pointed wet tongue tip in and out of his wife's ear in double-time to the whirls of the fan blade.
That is, he flicked in her ear, two times for every swirl of the fan blade. This kept her nipples firm, and kept his cock firm, too.
Then the telephone rang, piercing the night.
Let's not answer that," Anthony said, feeling related and horny at the same time, but not at all in the mood to answer the telephone and start getting into conversation with dippy Aunt Hazel, or Bernice's Uncle Harold. Then, it might have been Mr. Mooney, Anthony's boss at work, and he certainly didn't want to talk with Mooney at this hour of the night. His work day was over. He'd see Mooney tomorrow.
"But Anthony," Bernice said. "It might be Virginia."
He hadn't thought of that. He jumped off her body, pulling his prick out with a pop to equal the popping of a champagne cork when it's first pulled from the bottle. He ran to the phone in the living room.
"Shit!" Bernice heard Anthony curse after picking up the receiver.
"Is something wrong?" She called out.
"I was too late. Whoever it was already hung up, just as I picked up the phone on this end. I heard the click on their end, and then a dial tone." he answered.
"If it's important, they'll call back. You know Virginia. If it was Virginia calling us, she'll call back again. She's a determined one.
"I suppose you're right," Anthony told Bernice. He didn't know that Virginia had become the victim of black rape.
He got into the mood once again. His prick was hard again. He picked his wife up in his arms and carried her into the bathroom.
"If Virginia will be home soon, we only have a little time to have our fun. I'm going to get in the shower with you. We'll save water by showering together. That's important in the summer, in this neighborhood when the kids turn on the hydrants and the water is wasted so. Those damn little niggers."
"Now, Anthony," his wife intoned. "You're not still cursing black people after all we've just been through. Or at least, after what this hot little box has been through, are you?"
She looked up at him with her green eyes twinkling. She patted her little cuntal mounds.
He had her in the white-tiled bathroom now, and he turned the water on. Steam came up and filtered out of the tub, filling the bathroom.
"You're right again," Anthony told Bernice. He was smiling. ''Keep reminding me, will ya?''
She was feeling horny again herself, and she slid down on the floor, with the flesh of her knees digging into the raised tiles which covered the surface of the bathroom.
She didn't put her warm mouth around her husband's dong. She hoped to do that once they were both in the shower. She hoped that he would soap up her pussy until it was good and slippery. Then she wanted him to slide in and bang a homer into her ballpark.
For now, she took the still hardened nipple of her right tit, and inserted it into the oozing piss slit of Anthony's prick.
He threw his head back and rolled it around. He liked the intrusion of the tan nipple, spreading out his piss slit in the way he spread her sex-slit.
The ooze from the slit made the tit nipple rotate inside the head of his prick. Shit, he was getting fucked in the cock! Fucked in the cock by his wife's hard nipple!
"Oh, baby," he groaned. "You sure know how to make your man hot."
His dick was slithering around in his woman's hands. She was teasing his ball sac with her fingertips, gently running the tips over the wrinkled flesh.
The man thought that he would explode again. He thought that he would shoot a bunch of scum out of his cock, all over her breast. He told her, that if she kept up that twisting of her nipple up his slit, that he would have to cum.
He warned her.
"That twisting your doing, that fucking corkscrewing of your fat nipple up my cock, well, I'm gonna shoot my jizz if you keep it up.
Shoot his jizz. Somehow it sounded like the kind of thing a black buck would tell her. It rang in her ears, along with the sensation that buzzed through her cunt from the black dicking she had received earher.
But she didn't stop twisting. She'd been warned, but she kept it up.
In fact, the hot little woman twisted more furiously. She continued to corkscrew his piss slit with her hard tit nipple until he was frantic with emotion.
His nuts were bobbing up and down in the sac. Shit, he had just shot a gigantic load and his hot-snatched wife had taken it all greedily and with utmost desire.
It was unbelievable.
He didn't think that he would have that much spunk inside of him.But he did. He was trembling. It was like the build-up of an earthquake. The first tremors started tingling through his body. His legs grew wobbly. He thought that he would collapse from strain.
Then it happened. It gushed like the hot lava from a volcano.
It came up from his nuts and splattered out all over the breast of his wife. In fact, there was such a blast, that the startled Bernice backed away, only to get splattered all over the front of her body.
Some of the wet slime landed on her mouth. That's how high and far it shot. It dnbbled wetly down her lips, down her chin, where it mixed with more of the same, except heavier gobs, which had decorated her cleavage, and both full bosoms.
"Oh, shit, I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to stop it," he breathed. "But I warned you."
"I asked for it." his pretty wife said, with a saucy little smile on her pink lips and a pinkness of cheek which flushed the pale skin.
The thick cream dripped down into her red pubic patch, sticking the wires of hair together. She didn't bother to wipe the stuff off.
"I should make you leave the cum on you," Anthony told her, flexing his muscles lewdly for her benefit. I should make you sleep with it on you."
"But Virginia would know about it. It would fill up the room with scent," Bernice answered. "Besides, I thought we were going to take a shower together."
"'We have the bathroom free, without a teenaged daughter in there combing her hair, staring at her face in the mirror, and all of that crap. We can take a shower and a bath! Bath first, and then a shower to clean us off."
"That sounds wonderful," she answered. "We haven't done anything like that since before we were married.''
"Oh, we did it two or three times after Virginia was born. She was a baby at the time. I scrubbed your back until you came in gushes. Don't you remember?"
"Oh, I think I do," she replied, although she really didn't recall. There had been so many sexual experiences with her husband. Most of them had taken place between the sheets, especially in the years since their daughter was born.
"What does she do in that bathroom, anyway?" Anthony asked.
"What does who do?"
"Virginia, our daughter! What does that girl do in those hours that she locks herself in the bathroom? She can't be sitting on the john all that time."
"Oh, Anthony," his wife said laughing."You don't know don't know all that much about teenaged girls, do you?"
"Well, unlike you, I've never been one. I've never been a teenaged girl, and, for that matter, I never had a sister, or anything like that. I don't know about teenaged girls, no, I guess you're right. I really don't," he mused.
The water was turned on, it started gushing in the tub, very hard.
"Let's put some bubbles in the water," Bernice suggested.
"You won't be able to see my cock coming at you if there's too much soap in the water." Anthony told her. "If I had a deep black cock, you might be able to see it sliding toward you in the water."
"Swimming toward me, you mean," she laughed. "Swimming toward me like a big black whale."
"Or a big black whale cock. The cock of a big black whale. That would be fat and slippery in your cunny hole, wouldn't it?"
They both started to laugh. It was a very hot idea, though. It was probably something that she would think about during her next session of finger-frigging in her pussy when she was alone without Virginia or Anthony.
But she wouldn't have to fantasize about black cock being man-cock or whale-cock, when she had her Anthony around. He knew how to handle her.
The redheaded beauty went to the linen closet outside the bathroom. She used to have a box of bubble bath in that closet, she was sure of it.
'I don't see it," she said, turning over towels which were stacked neatly, "it's not under here," she added, looking behind a stack of freshly pressed sheets which were also piled up on a shelf in the closet.
Finally she turned toward Anthony. She could not believe that she had really lost a box of bubble bath. It was a fairly large sized box, and it couldn't have walked away of its own accord.
"Did you use my soap bubbles?"' she asked Anthony.
"What for? Of course I didn't use your bubble bath. I never take bubble baths alone, and Virginia and I haven't gotten together in the tub as yet."
"As yet, huh?" she teased.
"We can use some laundry powder instead. That ought to work just as well,'' Anthony suggested. "It sure bubbles up in the washing machine.''
"I don't think that it would feel very good on our skin," Bernice countered.
"Yes, I suppose you're right. Does Virginia have any in her room?" Anthony asked. He was ready to try anything. He just wanted to hop into that tub before his daughter returned home from her evening out.
"I'll look and see," Bernice replied.
Bernice entered her daughter's room. It was a typical girl's room, It had been painted pink some years earlier, but Virginia herself had redecorated it by painting three walls in a creamy white, and one wall in black.
Her father had objected to the one black wall. He thought that it was very odd. It was unusual, but then, Virginia was an unusual girl.
If she wanted to have one wall in her room black as the skin of the guys in the neighborhood, the dark ones, then she had that right.
Virginia didn't leave the wall totally black. She hung up some the favorite pictures she had found in magazines. She had a number of favorite teen stars and she hung them up in special places on the wall
Some of her favorite young performers were girls, from television shows starring girls who were not that different from Virginia. They too, were teenaged and pretty, and smarter than average, and sexy, too! Young girls enjoy seeing the success of other girls, as long as they keep the hope that they too might someday be in a television show or a movie. That was Virginia's hope, at least. She also had a number of male favorites. Some of them were young singers, heart-throbs with teenaged fan following. These boys were cute, and non-threatening. They were sweet boys. They were good boys. They were clean-cut, with wide smiles and a million screamy boppers getting wild over them.
Then there was one picture on Virginia's wall which really bothered the hell out of her father Anthony. It bothered him more than the black wall under it.
It was a picture of a black athlete. He was in the locker room after a big game. He was sitting on a stool, with his muscular legs spread wide apart, and the impression of his huge tool, his cock, could be seen hanging along one leg.
He was sweating, and the sweat dripped in rivulets down his emotion-contorted face. It had been a really big game, and his team had been defeated.
His face conveyed an expression of mixed emotion. He was sad. There was an underlying sadness. But he looked real mean, too. He was a big black daddy.
The caption, under the photograph, (which Virginia had clipped from the Daily News) read, boldly, "Super Bad. Super Black."
"Why in the hell do you have that nigger's picture hanging on your wall?" Anthony had asked his daughter when he discovered it there.
"Don't blow up, Dad." Virginia said, making a slightly sour face. She wanted to let her father know that she found something very attractive about the man. She lived in a neighborhood of black people, and she was going to be part of the group.
"My black friends at school talk about anything in front of me. I've never been hurt by any of the black gangs, the way some of the other white girls have been. I'm one of them. They call me their white girl friend, or their black friend."
"Their black friend!" Anthony bellowed. "Are they crazy?"
"No, Dad. They just mean that I'm like they are. We're the same. No different. Really! It doesn't matter what color you are."
"Well. I don't like my daughter hanging around with niggers," he insisted.
"Daddy, you hang around with black people." she said.
"Ihat's different. You are my daughter. My blonde teenaged daughter. There's a big difference between me; a grown man, hanging out with niggers, and you, a blonde teenaged girl with a pretty little butt that wiggles too much, doing the same thing."
"Well, I'm going to keep that picture on my wall, and I'm going to pick my own friends. I'm fifteen years old, and you don't have that much of a say over me anymore. I'm not your little girl any longer. I'm a woman!"
Anthony looked at his daughter. He was stunned by her remark.
Had he still been treating as his little girl?
He took a look at that. He wanted to see the situation clearly. He didn't want to be one of those fathers who inhibited the growth of their daughters. He wanted to let his Virginia be her own person, and he wanted to let her do her own thing.
He didn't need to make her wrong for doing the things she did. He didn't need to punish her for choosing friends on her own, or being a growing young lady.
"I'm sorry, baby," he said. His voice was soft and loving.
"That's alright, Daddy," his daughter Virginia answered. She twirled a strand of long blonde hair around a finger.
"I was only looking out for your own good. I was only looking out for you, when I guess I should have trusted your good sense."
Virginia smiled. Little tears filled her eyes. She knew that her father was only trying to take care of her. At the same time, she was glad that he allowed her to go off on her own.
"Thanks, Daddy," she said.
"Just promise me one thing," Anthony had told her during this discussion.
"What's that?"
"Promise me that you'll stay away from Gill Alley. It's dangerous down there. The street lights have all been knocked out by hoodlums throwing rocks at the lighlbulbs. It's dark down that alley, and it's dangerous."
Virginia still understood that her father was simply trying to see that she remain safe, but she felt that he was trying to control her again.
If she gave into this request, then he might make her bow to more and more requests of that nature.
She didn't want that to happen.
"I don't know if I can promise you that Daddy," Virginia finally replied. The silence had been deadening. Naturally, Anthony had expected her to respond affirmatively to the simple request which was, after all, for her own protection,
It was dangerous down that dark alley. Black gangs drifted around that area. Anthony had said that no decent person would be seen on that street, and therefore the area had been taken over by dope-using punks. Black ones he was quick to add.
Black punks meant black pricks to Anthony Stephens. Black pricks and white girls like Virginia Stephens meant rape, as far as the father was concerned.
Down the dark alley, he feared that her lily-white love slit, her little white nookie, would be raped by black cock!
Bernice thought about the discussion that her daughter Virginia had had with Anthony. She thought about it now as she looked through the girl's things.
The room was fragrant with girlish perfume. Bernce opened the top drawer of the girl's white bureau, and she found, among the slips and silky underthings, a leatherbound diary.
She was too much of a lady to look in her daughter's diary. She had been a teenaged girl herself, once, and she was not too old to have forgotten about the importance of a girl's privacy.
She left everything as it was, and did not come up with any bubble bath.
It didn't really matter. She didn't feel that anxious, for the bath and shower with her husband now. Something had happened to change her mind and dampen her interest, even though that interest had been great.
Something had happened in the time that she spent in her daughter's room.
She couldn't explain it, but Bernice felt worried. She was nervous about her daughter for some unexplained reason.
Perhaps it was the vibrattons that a mother and daughter have; especially in a relationship as close as the 'sisterly' mother and daughter team of Virginia and Bernice.
Of course, the very truth, the shocking, horrible truth, was that Anthony's worst fears for his daughter had been realized.
Even as Anthony and Bernice had played hot sex games with an ebony cock, and even as Jesse Hodges tried to cope with the strange feelings that were coming over him, Virginia Stephens had been raped! Virginia Stephens had been brutally raped!
Chapter Six
^P^P^T
That hot summer morning had begun in much the same way as any other. The sun rose and when young Virginia Stephens awoke, she found the sun rays beaming in through the window.
It was no wonder that even the rays of the sun were lured to use Virginia's pretty charms as a playground. The sunlight streamed in over her naked breasts as she tossed and turned in bed.
She really didn't want to wake up and go to school. There were so few days left of the semester. Ten more days, and school would be out for summer - unless, of course, Virginia's report card was a bad one. In that case, it would be summer school for Virginia.
The teenaged girl was not a stupid girl by any means. No, not at all.
It was just that she got into habits. She became lazy from time to time, when other things interested her more than boring schoolwork. She would much rather spend her attention learning about life on the streets, than spend those lush afternoons in a stifling hot classroom. How stuffy that was for a girl like Virginia!
Her black friends taught her what she needed to know.
"Street smarts is something altogether different from book-learning,'' a dude named Willy Clyde told Virginia.
"How is that?"
"Book-learnin' has no place in the ghetto. We live our life on the streets. Why would we want to know about boring honkey family life, or the white folks who cut us down all those centuries?"
"That's history. And it can help get you out of the ghetto," Virginia explained. "If you get some education, go to college, and so on, or to a training school, you can move on up. You cain get a good job and high pay."
"You sound like one of those whitey ads in the bus. Get off that shit, Virginia," Willy Clyde said. He was being honest with her he was coming from his head, and his principles. She was coming from her own values, which were white values, perhaps, and certainly different from his.
"If you live in the ghetto, you gotta learn street sense, he continued, "You gotta be able to talk to everybody. You gotta be able to relate to the highest people, like the fuckin' cops, and you gotta know how to deal with the lowest scum, like some of the gang leaders in this sewer system."
"The cops never bother me," Virgnia replied.
"Yeah, cause your a lily-white little virgin. But they get hot on a nigger's tail if the nigger don't know how to talk to them. Shit. I'd like to bang those motherfuckin' coppers up the side ot the head. Pigs. But I know better. I got street sense. I'll go about and do what I damn well please, breaking laws and breaking in virgins, but hell, I gotta be fair with the Man."
"Do you think that I could learn street sense?" Virginia asked.
Willy Clyde laughed.
"All you gotta do to learn street sense is to do it. No trying," he told her. "Just do it. Can ya?"
"I'll try," she said meekly.
"That's not street sense. I just told you, white girl, that you can't try. Look, see this watch," he said, taking his wristwatch off his wrist and placing it on a chair.
''Yes, I see it," she replied.
"Alright. Let's see you try and pick it up."
"You mean, lift it up off the chair?" she asked.
"That's right. Lift it up off the chair. Try to."
Virginia smiled. She thought that there must be some trick involved. She felt silly. But She reached over and picked the wristwatch off the seat of the chair.
"Good," Willy Clyde said. ''You picked the watch up off the chair. Now let's see you try and lift it off the chair."
It was getting confusing. Virginia had to ask him what he was talking about.
"Street sense," he told her. "You didn't try to pick that watch up. You just went ahead and did it. You knew that you could do it, and you just went about your business.''
"I did it in the easiest way. Of course, it was an easy job."
"No more difficult or easy than a lot of other things. Whitey fools himself more than us black folk. We know the score. We have to."
"Street sense, huh?" Virginia smiled.
"You're catching on fast, for a white girl." Willy Clyde said. '
They cracked up in laughter. In fact, after the laughter died down, they spoke more about the subject. The boy agreed that he would do some studying if Virginia learned some street sense,
It was fair enough, and they both would learn from the experience.
Virginia thought about that conversation with her friend Willy Clyde as she, lay in bed. She wondered if she'd make any failures on her report card. Then she remembered that she had done her best, most of the time and she felt better.
That morning she stretched, finally, like a cat, and turned her radio on to her favorite station. Some romantic pop music came through the speakers. It had an infecttous beat, and the lyrics were cute.
Virginia started dancing to the music. Her naked boobs were shaking.
There was a full length wall mirror attached in the door frame of the door to her room. The door was closed, and Virginia watched herself bounce around to the music in the mirror.
She was wearing pajama bottoms of a very thin, lightweight material. The drawstring in front was pulled tightly, making the material cling at her waist. It billowed down into loose-fitting legs below.
When she danced, she arched her body all around. Her ass globes were full for a fifteen year old girl. Her nipples were pointy. Her breasts were upturned, and very nicely shaped for a fifteen year-old blonde.
Those boobies bounced as she danced to the beat. She was practicing her disco dancing for a future night of disco fever, if the chance would arise for her.
With a pretty girl like Virginia, that chance would have to come along before too long. Pretty soon a boy would simply have to ask to take her to a dance. He'd just have to.
Her naked feet were moving about, and she was really getting into the song, but she decided to switch the station; to see if anything better was coming out over the airwaves. She was always looking for something more.
The dial skipped over a -number of talky stations, and a muzak statton, and a classical station. This fifteen-y ear-old girl had no use for them.
When she came to the station at the end of the dial, she knew that she had found what she was looking for.
The beat! It was so funky!
This was soul radio. She had heard the catchy tunes many times, on the radios of black and Spanish kids passing her in the street. The record shops in the area sold nothing but this Afro-sounding music, with its very hot beat.
It seemed more advanced than the white music she had been dancing to. At least, to her ears it did.
She started dancing more wildly. She let go of her inhibitions, and began tossing her long blonde hair around in all directions. She bounced her little boobs all up and down. The jugs really bounced to the heady beat.
She turned the sound up even louder. She was really dancing. The sound got to her soul. No wonder it was called soul music. It really got to her. It filled her core with animal movement and the rhythms overtook her.
Virginia danced herself around the room in those pajama bottoms, seeing the thin material cling to the little mound of her cunny. She pulled the material back on her lower torso, which, made the front crotch soak up with moistness and stick in the slit of her cunny.
"Jesus Christ! Are we back in the jungle with jungle bunnies?" her father's angry voice intoned. He slammed his way into her room. "Turn off that noise," he told her.
Virginia was very angry. She didn't at all like the idea of her father busting his way into her room like that. After all, she was naked-breasted, and the front of her pajamas were wet!
"Daddy! You're bothering me again. I thought you said that you were going to let me live my own life from now on," Virginia complained.
"I will not allow this noise to blare through our house. You may think that you are black, young lady, but your parents certainly are not!"
It was not the best way for Virginia to start her day. After her father turned the radio off with a click, Virginia slammed the door of her room behind him. The attached mirror rattled, and nearly came off its hinges.
Virginia was pouting. She felt angry. What disturbed her most, perhaps, was that she didn't use street sense. She shouldn't have slammed that door.
She decided to apoligize to her father, but by the time she got herself dressed and downstairs, her father had left for work. "Oh, well," she sighed to herself, "there will be plenty of time to apologize later." She didn't think that her father was the kind of man to carry around anger all day. He would let go of his anger pretty quickly, she was sure of it. And, she was quite was quite correct about that.
She sat back down at her dressing table and pouted her lips. She ran a clear gloss over her lips, which made them shine. She loved using Stay-Put lipstick. It gave her those oh-so-kissible-lips.
She brushed her long blonde hair until it, too, was glossing in the light. She flipped the long locks all around, to make sure that her hair had soft bounce.
A bit of a product of the television commercials she saw, she was, however becoming more and more interested in another way of life; a way of life practiced by the street people. Those television commercials weren't directed toward them. Willy Clyde had told Virginia that.
"All those whiteys seeing which one has the whiter wash! Now they got a few colored peoples to feel the baby's diaper and check the laundry for cum-stains. Those washing machine bitches should plug themselves with the extention cords from their fucking washers and dryers. Hell, my Momma washes ctothes in the sink."
Virginia thought about Willy Clyde's words as she slipped into the clogs he had bought her. Hed saved his nickles to get the clunky-heeled, back-less shoes for Virginia, because he wanted her shapely legs to look good in the summer.
She told him when he presented her with the gift that he shouldn't have done it, but he had wanted to. It wasn't often that he spent the money he earned after school, especially not on any white, chick.
But Virginia was special.
Virginia was dressed for school. She had a little skirt which hung down almost to her knees. Underneath the skirt, she had on a pair of very short shorts.
Her plan was to wear the skirt out of the house so that her mother wouldn't see her in the short shorts. Those faded shorts were very tight on her. Every curve and crevice of her lower body was fully revealed through those shorts.
When she arrived at school, she would slip out of the skirt, and tease the boys with her figure. She was glad that her school didn't have a dress code. If she had been attending one of the classier schools which charged tuition, she might have been forced to dress in a certain manner. She might have even been made to wear a schoolgirl uniform, which she would have found very unsexy.
At her school, in the heart of the black ghetto, a girl could wear whatever she wanted, even if her father advised her not to flaunt her girlish charms for the eyes of black boys.
With her school books under her arm, and her little skirt wrapped around the more revealing shorts underneath, Virginia skipped out of the house after giving her mother a kiss on the cheek.
"I won't be home for dinner," she told her mother. "I'll be having dinner with a friend. I'll be back by ten o'clock."
"Ten o'clock? Isn't that a bit late?" her mother Bernice asked. "I mean, will somebody be walking you back home at that hour?"
"Mother, you're beginning to sound like Daddy. This is June 21st. The day is very long. The sun will be setting late, and it will still be light when I return. I'll be alright, she told Bernice.
"Alright, then," Mrs. Stephens said, releasing her fears. "Have a good time. And don't do anything that I wouldn't do," she added, winking.
Virginia always thought that, that was a silly remark to make. It sounded especially silly coming from her mother, because Virginia was certain that many of the things she'd do were different than the things that her mother would do.
Her mother wouldn't smoke pot all night, listening to records. Virginia, of course, would. She was getting into that way of life. She was attracted to it.
Her mother wouldn't drink Ripple, and start petting with black studs. Virginia sure would! Would she ever!
They were not of the same worlds. But, Virginia had to admit, that she, at least, had her virginity. She was still a virgin, and she valued the commodity of her virginity. It was precious to her. That tightly stretched membrane m her little girl pussy was precious to her, despite the manner in which she showed her pussy around in her short shorts.
When Virginia got to the bus stop, in the direction of her school, she found that many people were waiting at the stop. Very unusual. Transportation in the area was horrendous.
The people didn't wait on an orderly line.
Instead, they bunched together in groups. Some kids were going to climb on board the bus using the back door. They'd avoid paying the fare. They didn't feel that they should have to pay for such lousy service and such a crowded, unpleasant ride.
The trip was usually pretty lousy and unpleasant.
When the bus finally creeped along, pulling into the bus stop, a surge of people pushed forward.
"One at time, let em off first," the driver said wanting the departing passengers to get off before new people climbed on but it was no use. The tough kids sliced their way through the crowd and made their way on board the bus. People were cursing each other and it was a most unpleasant beginning
Virginia used some street sense and just shouldered her way on the bus without getting all upset over the situation. She had some pennies in her hand, and she tossed a few of them into the coin box. She was supposed to pay a fare of fifty cents.
She felt glad that she had tricked the bus driver, who was too busy defending himself against the rush of people to notice that Virginia was about forty-three cents short on her fare.
On board the bus, Virginia saw that there were kids on the rear bumper of the vehicle. They had climed on there for a free ride, although, it would be a dangerous one. They would be hanging on the back of a moving bus in heavy traffic.
That was the thrill in it for them. They wanted some excitement in their lives. They were tired of watching television and seeing other people with all the riches and luxuries of life. They wanted their chance, too. And they were bored with the wishy-washy things they observed on television. They were hot to go out and find their own excitement.
And if they couldn't find it out there, they would create it!
Virginia had to grin when she saw these kids hanging on the back of the bus as it pulled from the stop on the hot summer morning. They were howling like bandits, and hanging on for dear life.
Many of the people on the bus shook their heads in disbelief. They thought that it was a worthless, stupid thing that they were doing.
"If one of those kids falls off and cracks his black head open, we'll all be delayed. We'll be late for work." one woman complained loudly to her friend.
"Fuck you, lady," a young kid piped up. "If you don't shut your mouth, I'll personally see to it that you ride up on the roof. I'll punch you up there."
The woman didn't utter anothe word.
Virginia had been at the center of such arguments and conflicts many imes before. Usually she took the side of the righteous people. She stood by the more conservative opinions of her parents and people like them.
And there was nothing wrong in that. They were entitled to those opinions.
But Virginia was now beginning to see things differently. She was beginning to see where some ot these, black kids were coming from in terms of their demands on society. She was beginning to see things from their viewpoint.
There was nothing wrong in that, either.
She was entitled to make up her own mind.
As she stood there on the bus, stretching her arm up to reach the strap which hung down for those who had to stand during the bumpy ride, she felt the eyes of several people. She felt their eyes on her.
When she stretched up that way to reach the strap, her naked nipples pushed insistently through the thin material of her summer blouse. It was just the way that she was positioned. It was just the way that she leaned forward.
A big black dude was sitting down on the seat in front of where she was standing. Her cunny was at eye level when he lifted his head and lowered his gaze ever so slightly.
He was sitting there, very relaxed, with his feet crossed over one another at the ankles, and a fat cigar sticking out of his mouth.
Smoking was not permitted on the bus. There were signs to that effect. But this man didn't care, and nobody on the bus mentioned anything about the cigar to him. Perhaps they were afraid to. He looked rather mean.
In fact, he looked like a fucking King Kong man; one who might btow up at any moment. Nobody wanted to see that.
He was, however, taken with the sight that was there before him. He made no bones about the fact that he was staring Virginia's pussy down.
His gaze was intent. It burned her through the covered cuntal mound.
He watched her cunny, licking it with his eyes! From time to time he raised his head slightly, to look at Virginia's pretty face.
He had a newspaper in his lap, and as the bus continued on its way, he lowered his hand beneath his newspaper.
Virginia observed this. Then she watched as the newspaper's surface began bouncing. The man was playing with himself under the paper!
She was sure that he was doing just that. The stroking rhythm with which the paper bounced as the bus moved along convinced her. This was going to be a hot ride. Her little cunny started undulating deep inside because she knew that a full grown black man was looking at her little white pussy and getting hot.
She wondered if he had unzipped himself under that newspaper. She wondered if he was massaging his lump through his trousers, or if the black thing had been unleashed from his pants.
She wondered how big it was, and she wondered if the color of it was darker than the rich shade of brown which covered his face and hands.
The bus came to a stop, and more people piled on. They pushed down the aisle, forcing Virginia's body to lurch forward. She made her movement from the groin,
It really wasn't a conscious effort on her part to stick her pussy in the face of this big black daddy. She was really trying to get out of the way of those who wanted to move to the rear (another expression some blacks found distasteful, considering the fact that they were forced to stay on the back of the bus in the South not long ago).
Consciously-made or not, she did stuff her cunt right up close to the face of this mean-looking black dude.
A young black kid on the bus shouldered his way through the crowd to stand directly behind Virginia. He reached up to share the same strap with her.
She felt his hot breath on her neck. She felt him press his body into hers, involuntarily, due to the thrust of the crowd on the sardine-packed bus.
Then she felt something very strange! She could have sworn that she felt a hard lump pressing into her anus through her clothes.
She didn't believe it, at first, but when she thought about what was happening, directing her attention to her back door, she did, in fact,, distinctly feel a lump about eight inches long, pressing into the crack of her ass.
It was a dick! A black dick; and she could feel the pulsing of it as he worked some muscles down there. He was panting and pressing his black dork into her from behind, all the while that her cunt was stared at by another big black buck.
The pale-skinned blonde teenager was the attention-point for two black males. Both black guys were turned on by her youthfulness. And her whiteness.
And she was turned on by them, and their manly blackness.
She was getting it from the front, with a pair of dark, staring eyes, and from behind, by a person who looked to the rest of the people on the bus, to be just another boy along for the crowded ride. The fact that he was up against Virginia did not seem out of place on this crowded vehicle that morning.
The boy behind was wearing shorts. His dark legs were as bare as her legs were. He started to rub his dark flesh agahist her white flesh, and he used the fingers of one hand to cup her ass cheeks while he wiggled his dick around between her cheeks.
She didn't back off. She stayed right there and she even arched her cheeks to give him a better feel of the rounded buns against his dick.
For the time being, at least, his black stick was safely tucked beneath the materil of his shorts, as was the ass meat of Virginia Stephens.
His sex play was the secret sex play of strangers on a crowded bus in New York. Such things had happened to Virginia before. Being such an attractive girl, it was natural that these hings would happen to her.
There had been that man who had unzipped his cock m the back seat of a bus once. Nobody but Virginia, who was seated beside him, could see what he was doing. But she could see it very well. He was milking his cock.
She thought about that as the bus rocked back and forth, causing the cock of the black dude behind her to get shoved harder against the crack of her ass.
At one point, her skirt came undone and it fell to the floor. She was standing there in her short, shorts. Her beautiful, hairless white legs were naked to the upper thighs. The material of the shorts hugged her so tightly, that a little ripple of flesh stuck out from under the hems of the shorts.
The man who was watching her cunt, and jerking his cock under a newspaper on this public bus, was really in for a treat when the skirt fell away. His eyes almost bulged from his head, and there was no telling how his cock bulged.
For sure, it was bulging.
She knew, of course, that the skirt had fallen away from her body. She saw that it had fallen, but she didn't dare bend down to pick it up.
If she bent down, she would get really shoved in the ass with black cock.
Besides, the skirt was under the feet of some new people who piled on the bus. It was very crowded in the area where Virginia was standing, but she didn't want to leave that spot. It was too much fun! She was having a ball.
It was the perfect way to start the day, after a few less than pleasant things had taken place. They were all forgotten now, with the pressure of a penis sticking into her behind, and the sight of a black man, looking her over as she stretched her tits to hang onto the strap, and undulated her now dripping cunt.
The cuntal mound was really moist, and slight traces of girl-nectar showed through the material. The big black buck was sucking on that cigar. He was salivating.
He took the fat cigar and removed it from his lips. He placed his elbow on his knee as he held the unlit cigar in one hand. When the bus tilted, his hand just naturally was directed toward her little virgin vagina.
That fat cigar was like a big brown dick rubbing up against her covered virgin pussy with every chance he had. The brown cigar was wet on the end which had come from his hot-salivaed mouth. He rotated it gently around the little cuntal mound during the opportunities which arose when the bus tilted that way.
Virginia looked down at the man opposite her. He was really a big, older man. And a black man. He was, in fact, the first black man who had ever made any type of a really overt play for this hot-boxed little virgin.
She felt all wet inside her cunt. She was hot. It wasn't only that this man represented such strength, such virility, such wisdom of age. What really excited her was his darkness. All those things that she had heard about black people and the darker side of nature.
She wanted someone who was strong and ammalislic, as she had heard black people were. And if she had a choice between a large cock and a small one, she thought that she'd like to make it big. She'd heard that about blacks, too. She'd heard that they were hung.
The dude poking her in the behind seemed to verify that.
Virginia was cooking in her hot little girl-oven. All she needed was the sausage that her cuntal walls would barbecue. And she'd be sure to cook that dark meat until it was well-done!
Chapter Seven
^P^P^T
Virginia's eventful bus ride was to continue beyond her expectations.
The bus was so crowded, that she missed her stop. First of all, the driver didn't bother to bring the bus to the stop, because he didn't want new passengers filling the vehicle up any more than it was already filled.
Passengers were pulling the signal cord to tell the driver that they wanted to get off the bus. Others yelled out curses. It was that kind of ride.
In any event, Virginia missed the school stop, as did a lot of other kids who were on their way to class. They didn't complain, though. They laughed. They would be late for school once again, but that didn't make a hell of a lot of difference to them.
Virginia was disturbed that she might be late, but then she decided that it was all right after all. She would have a few more minutes to enjoy the attention of two black males.
The young man behind her, who was hard and sticking his tool around her ass, had to turn to make his way out at the next stop, so poor Virginia had to do without that.
But she still had the man in front of her, and he was still twirling that wet cigar, and staring her pussy down with a hard glare.
His glare was no harder than his dick, which was black and shiny. It was indeed out of his pants, sticking up like a thick lump, under his newspaper.
To Virginia's surprise, the man began to speak to her.
"On your way to school, little girl" he asked.
"Y-y-yes, Sir," she stammered.
The man didn't say anything after that. He just kind of looked at her for a while longer.
The bus pulled into the stop, and Virginia knew that it did. But she couldn't move. She didn't want to move. Something too exciting was happening to her on the bus. This black man was talking to her.
She'd spoken with black men many times before. However, never had she spoken with a big black man who was wet at the dick from having played with it on the bus while staring at her pussy and her twin boobies.
The man was no fool. He, too, realized that Virginia had missed her stop. And he knew that she was still on the bus; still riding along so that the connectton between this sex-hungry black dude and herself would not be broken
"You wanna have some fun?" the black man finally said, after staring at her cunt, looking at her tits, and then raising his gaze up to her.
Virginia didn't answer. She was quivering in the pussy. Her quim was trembling.
She knew that the man must have many things in his head about what would be fun.
She didn't know exactly what he meant by his statement, but she was almost afraid to find out.
Almost afraid, but 'almost' doesn't count.
She was also mystertously drawn to him.
Maybe it was the excitement, the thrill.
Those kids who had been hanging on the back of the bus were putting themselves in danger, but they did it for the thrill. It was worth it for them,
Virginia understood. It would be worth it for her to experience this thing out. She knew that it would be dangerous for a fifteen-year-old white girl to go home with a stranger, a black man, she'd met on the bus.
She should have also thought, about the circumstances under which their introduction took place, if it could be called an introduction, at all.
He was a black man who got his kicks jerking his cock off under a newspaper on a crowded bus while observing the white pussy of a teenaged blonde.
But rational considerations had no place in Virginia's head at the moment. Her cunny was telling her yes-yes-yes! Yes, her cunny was telling her. Go and have some fun. That's what you want. That's what you need.
She thought about Willy Clyde, her black friend with street sense. What'd he say? What advice would he give Virginia? She wondered.
She thought that he would probably ask her which she would rather do; spend a day like every other day in a stuffy classroom, or spend the day as the lover of a man who would give her memories she could never forget.
Virginia didn't bother to think about what her mother would say. And she certainly didn't care to think about what her father might tell her to do.
God, no! Her father had told her never... well, her father had told her never to do a lot of things, and most of them she tried, anyway.
No, it was no accident that she gave the most faith to what her pal Willy Clyde would say. He would tell her to get out and live and do those things she dreamed about doing. They weren't that hard. They weren't impossible.
Deep inside, she already knew that she really wanted to be with a black man. She knew that she wanted to experience a black man's prick inside her white cunny,
"I don't know," she said softly, finally answering the man's question. He wanted her to go with him, for 'some fun' but she wasn't sure.
"Come on," he said, glancing sideways at the pulsing bone beneath the paper. He moved his muscles to make the paper move up and down. That turned her on.
"I'll pay for your bus ride back to my place. It's not far. Come on."
So saying, the black buck got up from his seat and flashed Virginia a momentary glance at his naked prick before he quickly stuffed it back in his pants. Nobody else had a chance to see him do it.
Virginia sure did. She couldn't possibly have missed anything that he did. His flared nostrils breathing, his kinky-haired head perspiring, the bluntness of his fingers; she took note of all of these things.
The strength of his hands, the thickness of his neck, the darkness of his skin; all of these things made a strong impression on Virginia.
She had spent years dreaming about the things she wanted. She had the pictures of her favorite sex objects up on her wall, but she'd never even petted with a boy, except for Bobby Johnson, back in the third grade.
Now she had a chance. It was there for the taking; all ripe and juicy.
She just had to reach out and take the challenge. She didn't even have to say 'yes'. All she had to do was follow him like an adoring little puppy.
All she had to do was follow him like his little pet; his little white pussy!
The black man had shown her his cock, and he had shown her his interest. One she saw very briefly, the other she had seen throughout the entire hot ride.
She wanted to see more of his cock. She wanted to see the slick, dark dork - in a mirror - as it slicked up her lips with semen.
She turned and follwed the man who iust might be able to lead her to a new life. She had to have him. She just had to.
He didn't look back to see if she was following him. He was in complete control of this pretty blonde doll. And he knew that he was. If she hadn't followed him, he woud have been very surprised.
He pulled the door forward, and held it for a moment, as one would upon leaving the bus. Virginia's white hand grabbed the shiny silver handle. The soft warmth of her pale flesh felt the dark wrinkled skin of his strong hand.
It was the first time their flesh had actually touched.
When they were both off the bus, the man lit his cigar. Puffs of smoke billowed about her head, causing her to cough. She was just a fifteen-year-old white girl. His strong black man smoke was overpowering for her.
Virginia didn't say anything, because she didn t know what to say. She was afraid that the man might have changed his mind. If he had, she would have just walked back to school, arriving a little bit late.
He solved the problem for her. When the smoke cleared, he dropped his hand to his crotch again, briefly, and told her to cross to the other side of the street.
He didn't ask her. He ordered her to do it! And when he said the word, she swallowed it!
They waited until the traffic stopped zooming across the broken-down streets. He knew, even though he had nearly stared her pussy to flames on the bus.
He didn't want any snoopy person seeing him with a pretty liltle blonde teen who was supposed to be in school. She was jail bait, and he was a big black stud.
It was obvious that he would have to play it cool until he had the white angel inside his private chambers. Once inside his apartment, he had special plans for Virginia.
Once across the street, they waited for the bus that would take them in the other direction. They would be going back beyond the point they had come from.
"My name is Master," the big black dude told Virginia when nobody was near enough to hear him except the pretty little girl.
"Master?" She thought that it was a very unusual name.
She didn't realize that he was her new black master. He was the man who was going to take her down the path that would lead to sexual pleasures she had never known.
The bus came by. It was a dirty-looking thing. Somebody had written 'Wash Me' in the filth on the back window. The sign in front which was supposed to announce the destination of the bus had been pulled off, but 'Master' knew that this was the bus back to his apartment.
It was a lot less crowded than the bus which went along the same route in the other direction at that hour of the morning.
Master handed Virginia two quarters, and she stepped on and paid her fare. She didn't know if Master wanted her to sit next to him, or to sit by herself. She followed his lead. He nodded his head in the direction of a seat that he wanted her to take.
She began to have second thoughts about her wild idea. In fact, when the bus went by the school, she thought about jumping off.
She spotted a few of the kids she knew from school going into the school building. That was where she should have been. She hoped that the principal wouldn't telephone her mother for any reason. She didn't want to get caught playing hookey from school.
And then she realized that she was doing more than playing hookey from school. She looked over at the powerful black Master. He was a real man.
The little white girl felt a tremble in her wet little cunny. The tight girl-lips were puckering slightly. She had never been entered. She wondered if Master had that in mind when he suggested that he join her for some fun.
She didn't know if her tight little hole would be able to handle that big stick of his. She had only glimpsed it for a moment, but she was very well able to see that it wasn't what one would call small, even for a man who wasn't black.
And it was black, which made Virginia stay right on that bus. She was glued to her seat by the sap from her sassy pussy!
Which of the other white girls in her class had made it with a black man?
None, she was positive of that. She felt that very strongly. She felt that she was one of the more mature girls in the class. While the others verses in an un-air conditioned classroom, she would breathe in the scent of a black man's crotch, and maybe take his chocolate love pole in her wet little mouth.
The bus continued on its way, and as it got closer and closer to where it was going, new fears came up for Virginia. The bus was headed back in the direction of her parents' apartment.
In fact, since the black man with the cigar had been on the bus when Virginia stepped on, there was every reason to believe that his apartment was beyond that point, and that Virginia would have to pass by her parents' apartment in order to get to Master's place.
That really worried her, because she kept thinking. "What if my mother should step out the door and see me with this black man. He must be ten years older than I am, at least. Maybe even more. And he's black'"
Indeed, she would hardly be able to come up with an excuse for being with Master. The only thng that she would be able to say would be the truth. She wanted her white body to be introduced to hot chocolate loving.
She wanted to make it between the sheets with a black man.
As fate would have it, the bus continued beyond 153rd Street without her mother stepping out of the building to catch Virginia with a black monster.
She had been holding her breath the entire time, but then she let it out with a sigh of relief. Master got up from his seat without even looking at her.
He hulked his hefty, muscular black frame to the rear door. He walked off the bus and Virginia followed in his footsteps, some two feet behind him.
He came to a brownstone building which was in much need of repair. A couple of women sat on the outside stoop with their young babies. One mother nursed the baby there on the street. The other polished her toenails a bright, fiire engine red, while her baby cried in a little blue carriage.
The man who called himself Master, at least for Virginia's benefit, walked up the steps of the building without saying a word to the women out front. He just grunted past them, like a hulking mass of black animal.
The big black bear was chewing on his cigar, which emerged from his mouth in the way that Virginia imagined his dick might emerge from his crotch - thick and brown, and effusing hot smoke.
Virginia wondered if this man was indeed very mean and unfriendly. He hadn't said a word to the women who sat the stoop outside, and it was such a small building. She was sure that he must have come in contact with his neighbors before. Why hadn't he responded to them, or they to him?
His large feet clicked heavily on each step as they climbed the stairs, up to the top floor. It seemed to Virginia that whenever she visited someone who lived in a walk-up, the apartment she was visiting was always located on the very highest floor. It never seemed to happen that somebody she knew lived on a low floor.
But three flights was nothing to climb when she thought about where that stairway was leading. It was leading her into forbidden games; things that would best remain secret from the white girlfriends she had at school. They would never understand where Virginia's head was at. They would think that she was twisted.
And maybe she was. Maybe she was a twisted little girl, to follow an older black man into his tenement. Maybe she was being depraved at a very early age, to be so excessive as to skip school and take off with a nigger on a sex fling.
The door to his apartment opened after the turn of one key. The door opened up onto a small apartment which seemed to have only one room which served as bedroom and living room. It was stark in its furnishings. All that it had was a large water bed, floating somewhere like a king-sized playpen in the center of the room.
There were a few other items, perhaps, but Virginia's eyes were directed toward that water bed. It was filled with healed water which would warm the body as it clung to the flesh.
Virginia could see the rippling of the plastic with the water underneath. She wondered how it would feel, clinging to the curves of her body; going inward and outward along with her little girl charms.
On this summer day, the room was stifling hot. Master apparently didn't have air conditioning. He didn't even have a fan.
The sweat was making Virginia's short shorts cling to her cuntal realm. She felt very damp. The climb up the stairs had left her breathless. Or was it that this black man made her breathless, and the climb just made her calves swell more, and her breath come in little girl catches.
Master turned toward her, after closing the door behind them, and fastening the latch so that nobody could come in. Virginia was trembling, and she didn't move. She didn't put her arms around him, the way that he put his around her.
She just stood there and let him take hold of her, pulling her body close to his.
Virginia was close enough to feel the heat emanating from his crotch, which was, of course, nearly touching the trembling little virgin pussy.
Virginia could taste the stale cigar flavor which remained on the man's tongue, when he forced his wet tongue into her mouth. His tongue was exceptionally hot in temperature. It held a sort of wet heat.
Virginia didn't quite know how to behave with this black man, but she figured that if it was alright for him to stab her throat with his fat swollen tongue muscle, then it would be alright to swirl her little pointed pinkdart of wetness around in his mouth, too.
She ran her tongue across the bottoms of this black cave man's teeth. Her tongue ran flatly across the slightly jagged teeth, and then the tip flicked over every point and crevice of his pearly white teeth.
When she placed her wet tongue on top of the black master's tongue, she could feel the little creases in it. She could feel the saliva from his fat, pink muscle, coming off and sticking with the girlish mouth juice of her own oral cavity.
This was deep kissing; kissing like she had never experienced. It was truly soul kissing with this big black soul brother.
She pressed her little body into his. Her little dick-thriller was throbbing. It had a pulse beat of its own, from the delicate outer lips into the wet pink insides of her deepest hole.
She didn't resist. She stood there, willing to be taken by the masterful black man. He was like a great black god, or a statue of ebony marble.
She was so soft, so young, so innocent. And her pussy was pure as freshly fallen snow. She was a virgin.
This big black man holding her in his arms breathing on her with his hot breath of passion, was going to lick her, and caress her, and love her and fuck her. He was going to sniff her and bite her and pick her up in his powerful black arms and put her to bed. He was going to feed her chocolate ice cream and fuck her inside-out. She was a beautiful little child, a beautiful little white girl, and this big black buck was going to have his way with her.
She was blonde and she was willing.
He pulled back from her and began unbuttoning the buttons of her blouse with his blunt, dark fingers.
Virginia could not remember ever having been undressed by a man. She certainly knew that no man had ever undressed her in this manner.
No man had ever looked at her the way this black man looked at her. No man ever made her little pussy quiver and moisten like this. No boyfriend, no television actor, and not even her father had ever made her feel like this.
He was grunting under his breath as he unbuttoned her blouse until her little teenaged tits peeked out. She didn't wear a bra because it was a hot day and she didn't require the uplift. Her soft white breasts required no special uplift. They stood up on their own and they were really beauties. She was a knockout.
When he had her top off, he went for her bottoms, but he wasn't able to maneuver the clasp. Virginia placed her soft, white fingers over his dark fingers, and she helped him undress her.
Together they pulled the soft material of the shorts down her naked curves. The shorts remained in a little ball at her feet. Her little pussy, practically hairless, peeked out at the crotch of the big black man.
Master pulled back to get a full view of the little teenaged Virginia.
He blew a low Whistle out his thick lips. Then he went to the telephone as he undressed himself. He rested the receiver between his ear and his shoulder as he unzipped his pants.
He stood there in his undershorts, and then that went down to the floor, also. His big black cock was bronze-colored and shiny. It stood out a good ten inches in front of him. It was stiff, rearing its head, and bobbing up and down.
"Hello," he said in a very deep voice. "It's me. I won't be into work for a while I'll be late."
He didn't give a reason. Obviously, his boss recognized his voice and accepted his flat-out statement that he wouldn't be in.
Virginia felt terribly important. She was so taken with the fact that this man was missing work so that he could spend time with her. It was an honor.
She didn't realize that she was taking off from school so that she could be with him. It was most certainly a two-way agreement. They were both very hot. He had a black cock and she had a white pussy. Together, they would be like the keys of a ragtime piano, making very hot music together.
He was naked, and sweating.
She was all soft, white, and trembling like the petals of a white rose in a breeze.
Master picked his little white Virginia up in his arms, and tossed her downward on the waterbed. Instantly she felt the bed mold to her form. She rocked lazily in the relaxing bed.
But she wasn't going to be relaxing. The water was lower than body temperature so that it would cool the flesh on this hot day. But the bed would also get quite heated up with the sex action that Big Daddy Master had in mind.
He pressed his body into Virginia's, and the young girl thought that she would stop breathing. He was very heavy on her. She was just a little girl and he was a big black stud.
She felt the warmth of his prick as he placed it sideways over her cuntal mound and started to rock his body back and forth against her on the water bed.
All of her juices were coursing through her body at lightning speed. She was moaning very softly, begging him to be easy with her.
That, of course, was for the Master to decide. He was in control. He would, of course, take very good care of her. He wouldn't do anything that could put a black man behind bars.
And he wouldn't rip open a virgin's pussy unless he was really provoked.
He raised his body from hers. "I'm goin' to the bathroom to get some cream," he told her.
He disappeared into another room. The room had been dark, as was the rest of the apartment. All the windows were covered with closed curtains. It made the room private, and hot.
In the light that now shone in the bathroom, Virginia could see the strong, dark legs of this man. She wanted to throw herself around those strong legs and hold on. She wanted to lick every part of his big brown body.
She was sure that black men tasted like honey.
The light flicked out, and Master hulked his way back into the room. He squeezed a glob of something into his hand, and then he reached down and smeared it on the outer lips of Virginia's little cunny.
The cream was like a liniment. It had a very mild sting to it, which bit into the virgin fold's of young cunt flesh.
Virginia had never been touched in the pussy by a black man. The sensation was so intense for her, and the warm stinging on her pussy was a feeling she would always associate with this day and this very special passion.
She raised her hands to the head of Master. His hair was thick and very kinky. It offered resistance to her fondling fingers as they swept through the curly black forest of Afro.
She was writhing from the touch of his strong fingers massaging her most private part. She grabbed his head tightly, pulling him by the hair. She was doing that because she couldn't hold back. She was going to cream her pussy.
She hadn't even felt the blunt head of Master's black cock enter her girlish pussy lips. She hadn't felt him fuck her virgin cunt-hole.
She just started to spasm. It was nothing that she could control. She screamed a little scream and twitched her cunt all around the water bed.
The Master felt the hot snatch juices spew from her discharging pussy. The cream juiced up his hands. The stuff from her slit ran down his greased fingers.
She had flown to heaven on that little trip. She looked into the eyes of the black master. She expected to see his handsome face, shining happily there.
Instead she saw a nasty scowl.
The man was mad. He was angry as a bee. He was going to sting her, and sting her hard.
Whack! He slapped her hard across the face. His heavy handprint remained on the smooth white cheek of her face. He hit her on the side of the head, and she was dazed. She felt a buzzing sensation in her skin. She could feel the outline made by his open fingers on her face.
"Don't you ever cum before your Master tells you to cum," he growled. "I'm gonna have to rape you!"
Chapter Eight
^P^P^T
Virginia was terrified.
She had a big angry black man pinning her to his waterbed in a little tenement room. She should have been at school, where other fifteen-year-old girls all were.
She could not be like other fifteen-year-old girls. This little blonde innocent had been a little wench. Her little tail had aroused the desire of a man who was used to getting his way.
The black brother was not about to be cockteased by a little white teen, and let her get away without tasting his cock.
"Please let me go," Virginia pleaded. "I've made a mistake. I shouldn't be here. I'm sure that my teachers are looking for me. My mother, too."
"Don't try to scare me," Master told her. "You were hot to be here until your overactive little twat shot its juice. But you're not gonna get away that easily. This motherfucker is gonna have you one way or the other. You came up to the apartment of a black man, and you is gonna eat black meat!"
She tried to squirm away, but it was useless. The door was latched, her clothes were off, and there was really nowhere to run. She wouldn't have been able to get by that big black man without his permission and approval.
He kept her pinned, and moved his way up her body. His big black stick was out, and it was hard. He moved along the white flesh until his boner was near her mouth.
"This black Master has some steaming hot dick for you to swallow. Suck it up, white puppy, until the steaming hot reward comes flying through."
He was talking about the thick white scum that would shoot out of his cock head,
Without even pausing for a moment, he slammed his hips into Virginia's mouth!
"Arrrggggg," she gasped. The thick shaft was buried in her. It was lodged in deep, and Master was corkscrewing it down her throat after having rammed it in so hard that she feared her jaw might break.
Once he had positioned himself so that the entire length of his now-slicked piss-shaft was down her yielding throat, he banged himself into her repeatedly.
He was forcing this poor girl to take his enormous prick.
He was actually forcing her to take the cock against her will. He was raping her throat. He was fucking her throat into raped ecstasy.
He rammed her about ten times, very hard. She thought that she would choke. The master seemed to enjoy that. He liked to hear the sounds gurgling down in the back of her throat. They were the sounds of wetness being plowed by black dick.
The stick of his prick was all wet and dripping with the saliva from Virginia's mouth. He pulled out for a moment, and held the dripping boner over her lips so that the wetness dripped down on her face.
He shook the big thing back and forth a few times, to shake off all the excess liquid from his prick. It landed across her face. He wanted to give her throat a real fuck-thrilling. For that, he would start out dry. His shaft would soon be soaking wet all over again from Virginia's damp channel.
"If you snap at this dick with your teeth little white bitch, you will be very sorry. I'll slap you so fucking much, they won't know whether you're a white chick or a black one when they find you all black and blue from my workout," he rasped.
She wanted to tell him that he was a real mean guy. She wanted to tell him that he was the meanest motherfucker she had ever seen. But she didn't dare.
He took a deep breath, to indicate that he was about to give her a real slamming. He arched his body, and wham! The fat hard-on roared into her oral cavity once again.
He rammed her throat as if it were a deep cunt.
"I'm gonna fuck that throat of yours until I shoot a load. This black cock is gonna give you lots of hot milk. Drink it into your white belly. Maybe it'll make you pregnant with little nigger babies," he told her, and he spit in her face.
He was banging her with his, dick so badly that she thought about biting into it. But she didn't dare. She simply didn't dare.
She took his abuse, and she walked out. He had street sense, and she had obviously goofed on the street, in the bus, and in the water bed.
But the fucking, which was, in fact, a mouth raping, was building to a climax for the masterful Negro buck.
She could hear his breathing grow heavy. The light in the room was quite dim but she could actually see the flush of blood engorge his upper torso, even though his skin was dark brown in color. He blushed with a crimson redness which made his dark flesh warmer in hue.
The veins in his head began to pulse and the sweat was really flowing, dripping on the girl's naked body in large splats.
He began to grunt and groan. His grip was so hard, she thought he would squeeze her to death.
His hardened penis was really tearing her up. It was ramming into her with tremendous force. It was slapping into the back of the throat faster and harder than it had done up until this point.
"Get ready white bitch, 'cause here it comes!" he warned. "Ahhhhhhhhhh!"
The heavy fuck fluid filled her throat with sex jizz.
She had never sucked a cock; never swallowed cum; never been with a black man.
Suddenly, all of those things were part of her history. She would never forget a one of these things. Not a single one. It remained to be seen whether she would shrink back into her former self, and return to school, or forge further on the path of sexual encounters with black men.
Only time would tell if she was to stick to the straight and narrow road after this dangerous mouth rape, or if she would seek bigger and better adventures in violent sex with hot-blooded black masters and rapists. The choice was hers.
Master pulled out of her after he was certain that his impaling dick had served as a plunger to force the hot scum down her white toilet. Her throat was like a long, finely shaped, white porcelain toilet, just sitting there, waiting to accept his gifts of black nature.
Virginia curled up into the fetal position. She needed to be in a nice warm place like her mother's womb after a savage mouth and throat raping. She needed the loving protection of a black boy like Willy Clyde. She needed something.
When Master got up to wash off in the bathroom, Virginia used street sense.
He closed the door behind him, and this gave Virginia time to quickly step into her shoes, take all of her clothing, and slip away from this inferno.
She tiptoed quickly and quietly to the door. She unlatched the chain lock, and. holding her clothes in her hands, she slipped out the door.
Her clothes were up in front of her, but she didn't have time to put them on. She didn't want Master to get mad at her again, because he might try to pull her back, and rape her all over again
If he got a hold of her this time, he, might not let her go at all.
Also, he had raped her throat. She still had a virgin cunny, and she was now determined that her little snatch was not going to be raped by his black meat No, that tightly stretched hymen would not be broken by that black Master.
She ran down the street with her clothes in her hands. She ducked into an alley to put the clothes on. She flicked her hair back off her face. The long locks were wet with sweat. It had been most uncomfortable for her.
Out on the street, the blinding sunlight beat upon her. It was too hot to stay out on the streets. There were no beaches or swimming pools nearby. The parks in the area were littered with glass.
She had nowhere to go. She couldn't go to school, because she had already been marked absent, and most of the day of classwork was already over.
She couldn't go home, because her mother would ask why she was home from school so early, and she would ask why Virginia hadn't gone, on to her date.
Her date! She had planned to meet Willy Clyde after school, and spend the evening at his house. She knew that Willy Clyde wouldn't be in school at this hour, because he had dropped out. He had a job, and he roamed the streets.
Often, he could be found in his neighborhood, a long twelve blocks away, through the short-cut of Gill Alley.
Virginia had a few dollars in her purse. She decided to treat herself to a movie, since she had taken the day off from school and she rarely was able to catch a flick during the daytime hours when the price was so low.
She pulled her hair over her face so that the cashier wouldn't be able to see her age that clearly. At fifteen, she needed the accompaniment of an adult.
How ridicutous it was, she thought, that she would not legally be permitted in the movie theater without an adult, when she had just been throat-raped by a big black nigger stud. The world was strange about such things.
There was nothing on the screen in the theater that was any more severe than the real-life incident which had befallen her with Master.
Actually, the movie was a drag. A four star drag. The best thing that she could say about the day was that the popcorn in the theater was good. It was nice that the theater was very cool. That helped on the hot day.
She slipped out of the theater and started walking the blocks toward the house of her friend Willy Clyde. She knew that she had been warned against walking through Gill Alley.
It was always dark along Gill Alley, and terrible things were said to have happened there.
Her father had gone so far as to tell her that the walls of the alley were red with blood. He told her that blonde-haired girls were the most likely victims of terror in the deep, dark alley.
She was not so empty-headed as not to realize that her brief attire would not stand in the way of being attacked. She knew damn well that it would attract attackers to her.
But she didn't follow good advice. She had to find out things about life for herself. Otherwise, she wouldn't really be living. She would be living her life through the words of other people. She didn't want to live her life by her father's ideals. She wanted to live it on her own terms.
She cut through Bathgate Avenue, and then she met the crossroad. She could have taken the long route, or the short one. The short one cut through the dark alley.
Virginia took the short, and dangerous way. She walked down those dark, empty streets leading toward Gill Alley.
It was dark. It did look dangerous
And then she heard the footsteps, coming close behind her. She heard the raspy breathing and she pulled her compact out of her purse In the top of her powder compact was a mirror which she held up to her face. With the mirror out in front of her, slightly to one side, she was able to see the black face of a grown man who had been tralling her.
It was Jesse Hodges, and he didn't look like a rapist to Virginia.
She flipped the top of her compact back again, and tossed it into her purse. She continued her wiggle-walk down the street.
The sound of her heels echoed through the empty streets of dark Gill Alley. She didn't see the eyes squinting at her in the darkness. She didn't see the switchblades, glinting in the light of the single ray of sun which penetrated the clouds on this hot summer day.
June 2lst, the day that six black studs jumped out from Gill Alley and raped Virginia Stephens until her numbed body lay on the street, with blood dripping from her tattered pussy.
It was a very fateful day for Virginia. She did not die. She suffered, but not for very long. Her friend Willy Clyde was quick to pick up street news. When he learned that a blonde teenager had been attacked in Gill Alley, he ran right over there to help out.
Discovering that the battered girl was none other than sweet Virginia, Willy Clyde kissed her gently, and made a lot of her pain go away.
She didn't think that all black guys were evil, even though she had been throat-raped by one, and gang-banged by six of them on that fateful day.
She had Willy Clyde, and he cared for her. He was gentle, and loving. He took care of getting to her to a hospital.
Willy Clyde had been kicked out of school for being a troublemaker. He had been called every vile name in the book by white teachers who were afraid of him, yet more powerful than him when they used their education and white community standards as their backup.
Willy Clyde might have been a leader of a gang of street toughs like the six who raped Virginia Stephens. But he didn't go down that path. He made his choice. He used street sense.
And street sense didn't mean that he had to join a club of punks. He didn't have to be part of any conformist group.
That was just what he was getting away from.
He didn't wan to wear the silly little bow ties of his square, crew-cutted teachers. He didn't want to try and fit the white middle class mold projected in a million television commercials and in the very movie that Virginia had found so boring that afternoon.
But he didn't want to join a gang of street youths either. He wanted no part of raping white girls.
It was interesting that while Willy Clyde a black hoy who seemed to be a wicked boy on the outside because of his rough appearance and his scorning of rules, was actually all tender humaneness on the inside.
It was interesting because Jesse Hodges, the well-dressed, articulate, young 'Negro' assistant teacher at P.S. 9 appeared so straight and acceptable on the outside.
He was admired by white people and black people alike. They looked up to him as an outstanding member of his community.
But he stood there and watched as the girl was raped, and it affected his brain in a very strange way. It incited his desire to rape. It made him want to be dominant with his wife Elouise, and it brought his pecker to erection when he stood in front of the class of young girls at P.S. 9, and thought about their white pussies.
He wanted to plug them, and rape them. He wanted to fuck them until they cried.
He had all the chance in the world to be the person that he wanted to be, but Jesse was trapped by his secret, dark desires.
He would never be satisfied.
Once a man gets a taste for rape, he can never quench that thirst.
Enough is never enough. He feels plagued because he always wants more, and he can never get enough.
