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From: "classic rider" <classicrider14@excite.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Boy and the Man (Mm/humiliation/slurs/anal/oral)
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Date: Mon, 12 Jun 2006 05:10:02 -0400
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This is a work of fiction. It is not intended for minors. This work
includes force, homosexuality and racial slurs. If you are offended by
this kind of fantasy, please search for something else to read.

Sam rode along the back roads in his red pickup truck, with a junked
enamel stationary tub basin sliding around in the back. He chewed on a
pinch of tobacco as he glanced at the trees rushing by the vehicle and
the warm glow of the morning summer sun. It was already humid and his
white t-shirt had patches of sweat stains.  Sam looked over at his
young black passenger, Tyrone, who was gazing sullenly out of his
window. The teenager obviously didn't want to be there, but money was
money and work was work.

Sam leaned toward the boy in an attempt to strike up a conversation,
"Today we've got to pick up a bunch of scrap metal from Weston's
Warehouse. Sounds like they haven't thrown out any of their junk in
years; now they're running out of storage space. It looks like a big
job; might take all day."

Tyrone just rolled his eyes as if none of this was his concern.

Sam, spat tobacco juice out of his open window, "Typical 16
year-old," Sam thought to himself, "teenagers are always moody."


Tyrone sank his boyish frame deeper in his seat so that his eyes barely
cleared the dashboard. A person looking at the moving vehicle from
outside would see the large frame of the weighty white man, and the top
of the head of the young black teenager, baseball cap turned sideways,
sitting beside him.

Sam shot a glance at the kid from the corner of his eye; he could see
that he wasn't going to get a response from the boy. He drummed his
stubby fingers on the dashboard and whistled absently, trying to ward
off the boredom and forget he even had a passenger with him.

As he drummed the dashboard he silently cursed himself for not taking
the time to get his busted radio fixed. At least if his radio were
working he wouldn't have to try to spark up a conversation with the
sullen black kid.

Tyrone folded his lanky arms across his chest and pouted, glaring
beneath his sideways twisted baseball cap. His baggy pant legs flapped
open and closed, as if he needed to keep his legs moving in order to
keep himself awake.

The dust rose from the road and drifted into Sam's open window.  He
rubbed his eyes, almost knocking his glasses off his sweat-coated face.
Sam thought about the good old days when a job like this paid enough to
hire mature labor - someone old enough to talk to about money, women,
high school memories, sports, and hunting. But now he was stuck with a
punk teenager who had lots of attitude and no personality.

More dust drifted into the window as the truck plowed its way down the
unpaved road. Sam thought about rolling his window up, but then the
truck would be too hot. Sam looked at the dashboard and cursed himself
again, counting the things that didn't work - radio not working,
air conditioning not working, anti-social black kid to help with the
workload; he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

Sam looked over at the boy to see if the dust, the hot air and the lack
of music was getting to him. The kid looked cool as a cucumber. Nothing
seemed to bother him.

Sam decided to take another stab at a conversation, "Bet you'd like
to hear some music, huh?" The boy just rolled his eyes and looked
away.

Sam persisted, "I wish I could get this radio fixed, then maybe our
drives through the backcountry wouldn't be so boring." The kid
smirked and shrugged, "I don't care. You'd prob'ly just play
some ol' white redneck music anywayz." He turned away.

Sam's face flushed red, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Then he relaxed a bit. He thought to himself that at least he had
managed to get a response from the boy - maybe this is progress.

Sam pulled out a rag to wipe away sweat that was streaming down the
thick folds of his face. Once again he stole a glance at the boy.

The kid wasn't sweating, but his cinnamon brown skin gleamed under
the golden sun. The boy's smooth arms, folded across his chest,
showed signs of emerging muscle tone.

Tyrone caught Sam's glance and gave him an intimidating glare. Sam
just laughed it off, making the boy all the more sullen. The kid
shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Sam reached out with a fleshy sweaty arm and slapped the boy on the
thigh of his pants, resting a hairy paw there. The boy looked annoyed.
The big white man gave the boy a tight, controlled grin, "You've
gotta lighten up, son - we've got a lot of work ahead of us and
this would all go much smoother if you acted like you had some interest
in carryin' on a conversation."

The boy said nothing. He just bounced in his seat with the bumps in the
road and seemed to want to block the white man out of his world.

"What's the matter with you, kid," Sam blurted out, "you got a
dick in your mouth or somethin'?"

The boy shifted in his seat as if he wanted to fight. Sam swallowed
hard, realizing that the words had come to his mouth before he had the
chance to suppress them. This wasn't one of his forty-year old white
buddies he was talking to - who could dish out trash talk as well as
give it - this was a sixteen year old black boy who didn't even
know him. There was no telling how he might react to that kind of
ribbing.

Sam studied the boy's reaction. The boy seemed flustered, needing to
counter the insult, but not knowing quite how to do it. Same relaxed a
bit. Maybe he had the upper hand in the situation. He decided to test
his advantage.

He moved his thick hairy hand down the inside of the boy's thigh,
"You work for me now, son, you got that? It would do you some good to
learn to respect your elders and to respect some authority."

The boy looked away from the beefy white man and mumbled, "All I
gotta do is load up dis here truck wit scrap metal, like you payin'
me to do. I aint gotta talk to you or do nuttin' else."

Sam began to kneed the boy's thigh with a beefy paw, "Well, see -
that's where you're wrong, son. You're my worker, and that means
you've gotta do whatever I say."

A sly expression crossed Sam's face, "Matter of fact, I think I'm
gonna have to prove it to you."

He pulled the truck over to the side of the road. When the engine
stopped Sam and the boy could feel the total isolation of the place. A
green leafy branch swayed in the morning breeze just above the
truck's windshield. The golden glare of the morning sun flooded into
the vehicle. The only sounds were chirping birds and the ticking of the
metal hood of the vehicle as it was cooling.

Sam queried the boy, "You ever have a boss before? You ever work for
anyone in your life?"

The boy seemed uneasy. He unfolded his arms and tightly clutched the
seat of the truck. He managed to stammer out, "no."

Sam chuckled to himself, "Well that means somebody's got to break
you in, then, right?"

The boy's eyes shifted back and forth from inside the truck to the
isolated fields and dusty road.

Sam took his hand off of the boy's inner thigh and knocked the
kid's baseball cap off his head. "First thing you gotta do is lose
the rebellious clothes. No boss likes to tolerate rebellion in his
subordinates."

The boy's eyes grew wide with anger and aggression, but Sam was on a
roll; he had no intention to back down now. With all the dramatic
skills he could muster, Sam narrowed his eyes like a sheriff laying
down the law and spoke in a low, even tone, "I said 'lose the
rebellious clothes.' I don't like to repeat myself."

The boy's voice became whiney and desperate, "What do you want me
to do? You already done knocked the cap off my head."

Sam sat back in his seat, enjoying the boy's panic. "I want you to
lose the rest of your rebellious clothes. You can begin with the baggy
pants and your oversized T-shirt."

The boy's eyes widened and his mouth hung open in shock. Sam smiled
slightly, "Don't sit there with your mouth hanging open; someone
might stick a big white cock between those thick nigger lips."

Tyrone involuntarily blurted, "Muthafucka..." but then caught
himself. Tyrone was insulted by the racist comment, but he couldn't
figure out why he felt his dick getting hard in his pants. Sam wagged a
hairy finger at the boy, "Now, now, now - is that any way to talk
to your boss?"

Tyrone bit his lip, trying not to give this white man any more insolent
comments. Sam did not take his eyes off of the boy, boring in like a
hawk who has caught his prey, "Now step out of the truck and take off
your shirt and pants and leave them outside; then you can get back
in."

Tyrone awkwardly opened the passenger door and slid out of the truck.
He stumbled in the weeds as he kicked off his tennis shoes. The boy
undid his pants and allowed them to sag to his ankles. Then he pulled
them all the way off and laid them in the grass beside the road. The
kid stood there as the white man watched, smirking through the
windshield.

The rich brown skin on the boy's smooth muscle toned legs gleamed in
the summer morning sun. The white man smiled with approval. Tyrone
slowly peeled off his T-shirt. His smooth brown body emerged from
underneath the oversized cloth. The boy's muscles were tight and
defined, but not bulky. His earthy skin, baked for centuries in the
sun, had a deep copper hue.

The boy laid his T-shirt on top of his pants and climbed back inside
the truck, sitting next to the beefy white man.

Sam leaned back in his seat and undid his belt. "Now, if you really
know how to be a subordinate and get paid, you should have no problem
sucking on this thick white cock. All good subordinates know they have
to suck the boss' cock."

Sam undid his fly and pulled out large flabby white penis and let is
flop on top of his slit in his undershorts. Tyrone eyed the big heavy
cock. Tufts of dark hair jutted out from under the white man's shirt.
Long tufts of pubic hair made their way through the slit in the man's
shorts, and seemed to provide a soft bed for the white man's dick.

Tyrone's eyes grew wide with shame and embarrassment. He leaded over
and gently rapped his tender lips around the older man's cock. Sam
grabbed the back of the teen's nappy head and pushed the black
boy's face deeper in his lap.

Tyrone breathed in the heavy smell of the white man's musky pubes.
His face was nestled in the man's hairy flabby thighs, and he felt
the man's cock harden in his mouth. The boy tasted the man's pubic
sweat. His mouth filled with the taste of his new boss' manhood. His
nostrils filled with the sweaty sexual smells of his demanding older
master.

Sam grabbed the back of the young black boy's head tighter and pushed
down on it. He groaned deeply and pumped his hardening dick in the
young nigger's mouth, "Yeah, suck on that dick, black boy. Suck
that big white cock like a good nigger boy."

Tyrone wanted to get upset; he wanted to become angry. He wanted to
protest the racial abuse that the white man was dishing out, but the
boy's own long, thick dark cock was now fully hard an jutted through
his boxer shorts. The tough streetwise black boy knew he could no
longer conceal his excitement.

Tyrone choked as he serviced the man's thick white cock. Sam's
throbbing member probed all the way to the back of the straight
teenager's throat. The older white man humped in the younger black
boy's mouth. His hairy white balls underneath the cotton shorts
slapped the eager youth's chin.

Sam softly growled at the boy, "Serve that white cock, nigger; serve
it." Tyrone couldn't help stroking his own cock as he sucked the
big white man off. The boy felt the weight of the man's hairy white
belly resting on the side of his face. The man continued to use the
black boy's mouth like a moist thick pussy - leaking pre-cum on the
boy's tongue and allowing his body sweat to wash over the black
boy's face.

Before either of them knew what was happening, Sam fired several thick
shots of cum on the boy's tongue. Tyrone was started by the sudden
discharge. He swallowed the first few loads without thinking. The smell
and taste of the white man's semen filled the young black boy's
mouth and nostrils. The boy was at once disgusted and aroused. His
thick black cock lurched with excitement and fired its own load of
potent teen boy cum, as he yanked his thick nigger lips off of the
white man's dick, allowing a large dollop of white cum to fall from
his mouth onto the man's work boots.

Sam pushed the black boy's face back down in his lap, "Don't
waste a drop of that cum, boy - that's your boss' cum, your
Master's seed."

Tyrone dutifully sucked up the rest of the white man's cum,
thoroughly cleaning off his hard knob. Sam pulled his hairy white nuts
out of his shorts and made the black boy lick the sweat beneath them
until they were good and clean.

Sam pulled the boy's face up out of his lap by the back of his nappy
head. The black boy's face was wet with the heavy white man's
sweat. His thick brown lips were coated with the white man's cum. The
boy's mouth hung open like a baby interrupted from feeding.

Sam looked down at the boy, "Get down on your knees and clean up that
precious cum you let fall from your mouth onto my shoe." He gave the
boy a slight shove to help set him in motion.

Tyrone sank to his knees and licked the white man's boots. He kept
licking the man's boots until he had removed all of the excess cum.
His tongue polished the man's boots until they gave off a shine. Sam
enjoyed the sight of the almost naked black boy down on his knees
cleaning off his boots with his mouth.

The sight of the hapless tough, young street nigga in servitude got the
man horny again. "Get up and lean across the back of seat," Sam
said, "I wanna see that smooth black ass."

The boy hesitantly complied. His belly pressed against the back of the
seat and his face was pressed against the back window. Sam grabbed the
back of the boy's boxer shorts and yanked them down, revealing a
firm, shiny brown-skinned bubble butt.

Sam spread the boy's ass cheeks and rubbed his newly hardened white
cock against the boy's tight hole. He allowed his cock head to probe
the opening of the boy's hole, as though he were kissing the hole
with his piss slit.

Tyrone's face grew tight with humiliation. The white man pushed his
cock into the boy's secure entryway. The black boy grimaced. His face
was contorted with pain. Sam grabbed Tyrone firmly by his hips and
thrust his dick deep inside the boy.

Tyrone let out a loud moan of pain. The white man invaded his black
body and raped it for all it was worth. He rapidly pumped his thick
white hose in and out of the black boy's butt. Tyrone's body rocked
back and forth as the white man took total liberty with his body. In
embarrassment, Tyrone buried his head in his folded arms - but his
young teenaged cock once again stiffened without rhyme or reason. Sam
humped the boy's ass like a dog in heat.

"Take that white cock, nigger. Take it!" Sam thrust his dick in the
black boy's ass as if he owned it. All Tyrone could do was grunt as
the white man's cock repeatedly invaded his body.

Now, Sam firmly held the boy by his shoulders. He pumped his dick deep
inside the black boy, lifting the boy's entire body up with every
powerful thrust inside his body. "Tell me how much you like this
white dick inside your body! Tell me!"

Tyrone gasped for relief. Between whines and moans he managed to shout
back at the man, "I likes yo white dick in mah butt. I likes it."

While Tyrone didn't want to admit to himself that he really meant it,
he couldn't deny that his dick was as hard as a ramrod. The boy's
thick black cock rubbed against the back of the seat with every thrust
of the white man's cock in his ass. The black boy felt like he was
trying to fuck the seat cushion.

Without prodding the black boy cried out again, "I likes dat white
dick in mah behind. I likes it." When he realized what he was saying
he buried his head back in his folded arms in shame.

Sam gave a loud grunt and unloaded his sperm inside his black slave.
His dick pumped wave after wave of fresh hot sperm, filling the
youngster up until it oozed out of his ass and down his legs. Tyrone
moaned and whimpered. His tight virgin ass was hot and sticky with
master cum. He gave a deep gasp and allowed his young body to collapse
on the back of the seat - thoroughly used and exhausted.

A half hour later, the vehicle returned to the road. Its two occupants
were engaged in lively conversation about sports, women, money, and
cars. They also broke into an occasional song. Sam couldn't be
happier with the newly developed social skills of his apprentice.
Tyrone couldn't be happier than to serve at the feet of his master.
The boy felt deeply attached to the white man who had taken him under
his wing and filled him up with his cum. For his part, Sam knew that he
could look forward to many long hours of seeing his creamy white semen
trickle down the black boy's smooth dark face. Having established his
authority, he occasionally felt free to suck the young black
teenager's dick and get energy from the power of his potent jungle
cum (but that may be material for another story). All doors were now
open.

You couldn't ask for better working conditions.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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