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Subject: {ASSM} Young Black Men on the "Down-Low"  bb, humiliation
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Date: Tue, 16 Mar 2010 15:10:02 -0400
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The Mystery of the Black Man's Secrets
This story is a work of erotic fiction. It is intended for
entertainment purposes only. It may contain racial slurs and sexual
acts which some readers may find offensive. This story is not intended
to be read by minors or by anyone who might be unduly influenced by
its contents, or where community standards prohibit this type of
literature. If any of these prohibitions apply to you, please find
something else to read for your entertainment.

*****************

Part One: Leroy and Jamal Discuss the Black Man's Secrets, wherein two
high school students confront the secrets they try to conceal from
themselves and others

Leroy and Jamal sat on the steps outside of the high school gym after
a long day of basketball practice. They sat side-by-side, still in
their practice shorts. Their ashy black knees occasionally bumped
against each other. Leroy had a pained expression on his face as he
stared off into the horizon.

It was unlike Leroy to be lost in thought. Jamal looked over at his
homeboy, studying the boy's face. Leroy's thick black lips were pursed
as if he were trying to solve a problem. He gently rubbed his chin
with a forefinger and at thumb, imitating what he had seen pictures
smarter people doing when they were in deep contemplation.

Jamal felt uncomfortable with the silence, "Leroy, man - wassup wit
chu? Why you aint talkin', man?"

Leroy took in a heavy breath and leaned back against the white
concrete steps, his arms propped on the rough, cracked surface. "I'm
jus sittin' here thinkin' bout da black man's secret n' the black
man's plight."

"Wha chu talkin' bout, man? What secret? What plight?"

"I mean the secret 'bout what we all don't want da white man know n'
what we all try to keep from ourselves."

Jamal made a stone face and stared at the ground, "I aint got no
secrets from da white man. Only time a nigga needs to have a secret
from someone is if he scared of them - an' I aint scared of no man;
especially if he be white."

Leroy let out a half-whistle, half-sigh of exasperation, "See, dat's
what I be talkin' bout. Scared aint got nuttin' ta do wit it. I'm
talkin' bout need. I'm talkin' bout desire..."

Jamal continued as if keeping up a front, "Thas right; I gots desires.
I fucks a white man's sister. I fucks his mama if I feels like it. I
got dey desire fo my nigga cock."

Leroy tried to cut in, "Check it out. Listen to what I'm sayin..."

Jamal wouldn't yield. "I be the king of dat white puzzy meat. I fucks
all da white girls in dis here high school - least de ones that aint
skank bitches. I fuck em' like dey hos."

Leroy grabbed his buddy by his shoulders and shook the boy's body
violently."Shut da fuck up. Shut da fuck up; I'm tryin' talk some
sense to you."

Jamal seemed stunned, but his shocked silence gave Leroy an opening;
"You loves somethin' white aiiight. Yeah, dats fo sho. But it ain't
jus white pussy; it be somethin' mo'."

Jamal looked at Leroy with a quizzical expression.

Leroy let go of the boy's shoulders. His eyes focused on Jamal as if
he were trying to penetrate the boy's soul. "You still workin' as a
stock boy at da convenience sto?"

Jamal nodded his head.

Leroy continued, "An you got that white boss ovah you, who loves to
give you orders?"

Jamal nodded again.

Leroy leaned forward and nearly whispered, "What I'm sayin' is, don't
yo dick get hard when yo white boss tells you to move ah stack ah
boxes? Don't yo dick get hard as you be thinkin', 'dayum - dis dude is
really be hard core. Dis dude gots real power. He a real man,'?"

Jamal jerked backward and let out a sharp embarrassed laugh, "Nigga,
I'm sixteen years old. Mah dick gets hard jus' by lookin' at a sack o'
potatoes. Jus cause my dick get hard, dat don't mean it got nuthin' to
do wit a white man gibben me orders."

Leroy smirked confidently, "Sure it don't, sure it don't." He studied
the boy's nervous facial expression; then leaned in again. "Don't yo
dick get hard when you thinkin' bout the boys in our class? When you
thinkin' about the power they daddies got - don't you wanna kneel in
front of them and suck on they hard white boy cocks? I mean secret-
like; on da down-low; deep-down inside?"

Jamal let out a loud, deliberate, self-conscious laugh and tried to
wave Leroy's question off. Then the boy fell silent. He shifted his
eyes away from Leroy to avoid his penetrating gaze. Leroy looked down
at Jamal's basketball shorts and noticed an unmistakable tent in the
boy's crotch.

Jamal tried to pull his smooth, muscular black legs together to
conceal his condition, but there was no hiding the excitement and
sexual frustration in his pants. It seemed as though Jamal's black
cock was about to burst through his silk shorts.

Leroy tried to reassure him; "Dat's aiiight. We all dat way. We been
conditioned; brain-washed by the white man widdout his even knowing he
be doin' it to us. We brainwashed by his television n' by our history.
We brainwashed to wanna serve dem innocent white boys in our classroom
an' dey don't even know it. We wanna entertain dem. We wanna amuse
dem. An we wanna suck da nutt right out of dey throbbin hard white
cocks. It be our secret. Deep inside o' every nigga is th' need to
serve white boys n' dey daddies."

Jamal, stood up and did a little dance, "Nigga - you is crazy. You
talkin' some crazy sheet. Don't no black peoples really think dat way.
Nigga, you must be outta yo mind."

Leroy persisted. "Tell me dis aint true; dat more den a nigga love
white pussy, a nigga most of all love to be suckin' on a white boy's
cock. Be honest. When you be sittin in remedial math, an you look ovah
at a white boy sittin dere, wit his shiny good hair n' his rosy
cheeks; don cha' jus wanna bend ovah an' pull down his pants, right
dere in de classroom, n' wrap yo' lips around his hard white cock, and
be suckin on dat cute white boy's master dick till he shoot his nutt
all ovah yo tounge?"

Jamal half-laughed and shouted his strong objection, "Oh hell naw.
Man, I ain't suckin' any white man's cock. I aint suckin' any nigga's
cock neither. If I be doin' anythin' I be fuckin' dat white boy's
sista." Jamal stood hunched over and made fucking motions as if he had
his arms wrapped around a girl from behind and was humping her like a
dog in heat.

Leroy looked up at the performing boy and rolled his eyes. He wasn't
impressed by the display. "You know how you be wrestling deese white
boys in da gym, an they white body be pressin up against you. They be
climbin on top o' you and pressin yo' black body down on de' mat. You
feel dat white boy takin' control over you. You never dreamed you
would feel like dis, but you jus want dat boy, wit his smooth white
skin, to fuck da' shit outta yo' black azz. You feel his dick gettin'
hard in his gym shorts, pressin up against yo body. Yeah, it aint dat
big, but it a white cock nonetheless. An you jus' lie dere on da mat
and let him have his way wit chu. You done met yo' massah."

Jamal squealed in embarrassment while trying to hide the raging hard-
on in his basketball shorts, "Awww Nigga, you done lost yo mind."

Leroy kept teasing the boy, "You be kissin da muscles on his white
arms, callin' him Thor, da thunder god, wit his long blond hair. 'Fuck
me wit yo Nordic cock.' You be lettin' him grind his hard white dick
between yo' smooth black legs. Europe conquerin' Africa. You be
lettin' him take yo nigga azz ovah and ovah again, jus' like he done
for centuries."

Jamal was now frantically pumping his legs in and out, trying to
relieve some of the tension in his crotch without taking his big black
fuck meat and stroking it. "Nigga, you needs to quit. Seriously; you
really needs to quit."

But Leroy wasn't quitting. "You want his white jizz inside yo' mouf.
You want him pumpin' some a' dat white jizz in yo azz. Yo wanna see
the da' contrast o' thick white jizz runnin down yo smoof black chin.
You want ta' taste white boy nutt. It be mo' den jus' sex. It be yo
destiny."

Jamal leaned forward, his face almost touching the ground; both hands
clasped over his throbbing hard nigga cock that would not give him
rest. "Nigga, I aint got no destiny. Not like dat. Not like what you
talkin' bout. I'm jus afta white bitches; I don't swing dat way wit no
dudes, man."

Leroy leered at the horny boy. "Oh yeah, you will swing dat way if a
white boy get you alone an' tells you to. You want him grabbin yo
nappy head and fuckin yo thick nigga lips wit dat hard white cock he
got. You want him shootin his master seed all ovah yo nigga face. You
want him ta' bring his buddies ovah, an' dey bend you ovah whilst dey
takes turns fuckin yo tight black azz. Yo want dem grabbin you from
behind n' usin' yo azz like nigga' puzzy meat. Dat wha you really
want, aint it?"

Jamal shook his head violently. "Naw man; I don't want none o' dat
shyt. Dat be yo fantasy. Dat what you get nasty dreams about at night.
Dat what you be thinkin' bout when you bitin yo pillow and jerkin' yo
dick at night while yo mama getting her pussy stuffed downstairs."

Leroy nodded somberly, "Yeah, dat what I dream about, n' it's what you
dream about too. It what every nigga dream about if he be honest."

Jamal violently shook his head "no," but he couldn't make his
throbbing dick go down.

Leroy leaned forward and tried to reason with the boy, "Look, it only
be natural. A nigga grows up all his life surrounded by white boys. He
sees their straight hair and dey peach colored skin. He see dey nice
red lips and dey soothin' blue eyes. Da white boy look like an angel
to the nigga. Den da nigga remember dat at one time da white would'a
had him as a slave. Dat boy aint no diff'rent from any otha teenager -
he got a dick dat needs taken care of. Normally he would just stroke
dat dick off, like three o' fo' times o' day; but if he got a nigga
slave aint no reason why he shouldn't order dat nigga to wrap his lips
around dat white boy's throbbin hard dick. An' da nigga glad to do it,
too. He glad to use his thick nigga lips to gib pleasure to a white
angel. He glad to get dat angel off and have him nutt down da nigga's
throat. He glad to service his young white massah ovah and ovah again,
as much as his dick need taken care of. Dat's only nature. No reason
to be ashamed."

Jamal shook his head violently as if this might exorcise the images
that Leroy was reviving in his mind.

Leroy continued, "Dem white boyz don't know we been bred n' raised to
use our dark bodies for dey throbbin' red cocks. Dey don't know our
minds is all fucked up so's we needs to wrap our soft fleshy dark lips
around dey throbbin white pricks. Dey aint even got a clue dat when
dey tells us to drop our pants and turn around n' bend ovah fo dem, we
is glad to have to do it..."

Just then the two black boys heard someone barking their names:
"Leroy! Jamal! Get you boys get your black asses over here and clean
up the locker room. It looks like a pig sty."

It was the coach. From the tone of his voice he wasn't playing. Both
boys slowly and defiantly stood up; noticeable bulges protruded from
the front of their pants. The coach looked at his obedient young nigga
boys and couldn't conceal a satisfied grin. Jamal leaned over,
motioned to his buddies involuntary condition upon hearing the white
man's orders, and whispered in Leroy's ear ""See? You love dat shyt,
don't chu? Don't be ashamed. It's only natural."

Jamal shook his head defiantly, "Naw, man. I'm sixteen. I gets hard at
anything."

Leroy smirked, "Yeah, let dat be da reason." The two black boys slowly
made their way into the locker room with their stiffies leading the
way.



Part Two: Rashad's Lesson in Social Biology, wherein two college
students explore the underlying condition


Rashad seemed agitated. His eyes shifted rapidly as he sat in a corner
table at the student union. The young college freshman was absorbed in
an animated conversation with his best friend, Jamal. The upper
classman was the only one he could confide in - and Rashad had a lot
he needed to work through with the older boy's guidance.

Jamal noticed Rashad's uneasy glances and his constantly jiggling leg.
"What's wrong, man? Is life as a freshman too much for your ass?"

"It aint nothin' I can't handle. But I been havin' these strange
feelin's lately, Jamal, man - I need to talk about them with
somebody."

The older boy leaned back in his chair, giving Rashad time to
formulate his thoughts.

" I been havin' strange feelin's causin' me to do strange things
lately - like with my roommate..."

"Oh, you mean that white boy?"

"Yeah." Rashad just hung his head in silence.

Jamal tried to break through all the heavy drama with some light-
hearted kidding, "I know you aint been suckin' that white boy's dick,
bro."

Jamal laughed. Rashad didn't. Jamal's eyes widened at the boy's solemn
reaction, "Damn, nicca - you aint really been suckin' that white boy's
dick? I hope you aint no faggot."

"Chill man, I aint no fag. You know I been fuckin' pussy since I was
thirteen. Still, me and that white boy got drunk the other night..."

Jamal leaned forward and listened. Rashad looked around nervously.

"Well, it was like - I be lookin at the white boy's long silky hair
and his face turnin' red while he was drinkin' I be thinkin' I wish I
had good hair like that - maybe if I had a little bit of his genes
inside me I could have good hair for a nigga."

Jamal just nodded his head, encouraging his friend to continue.

"And the way that white boy's skin be blushin' like a peach really be
turnin' me on, yo - and his eyes looked like pools of blue water; they
was refreshin' and invitin' I wanted to jump right into them."

Jamal laughed, hoping it was appropriate to try to break the tension,
but Rashad was lost in his testimony.

"Then, I don't know what came over me, man. It was like all of the
sudden I had to have that muthafucka's hard white cock between my
lips. I had to have him shoot his jizz inside me."

Jamal seemed taken aback, "But damn, you is a proud black man. You be
a member of the Black Student Action Organization. Yo peeps be
promotin' black pride and Afrocentrism. How you gonna get down on your
knees and be suckin' on a white boy's dick?"

Rashad hung his head talked into his chest, "Yeah - I be confused
about that myself, man. I be tryin' to figger that shit out. It was
like suckin' on that white cock be givin' me my freedom, man - like I
been hidin' somethin' from myself all these years, and suckin' on that
white boy's cock made the truth about everythin' break through."

Jamal seemed sympathetic. Rashad continued, "Alls I know is that white
boy musta been thinkin' the same thing I was 'cause without a word he
loosened his pants as if he wanted me to reach inside and do what I
needed to do."

Jamal sat back in his chair, studying his friend fidgeting hands as
Rashad continued with his story. "Next thing I knew I was kneelin' in
front of him, suckin' his cock."

Jamal couldn't hide his amazement, "Damn."

Rashad continued, "But that wasn't the weirdest part. After I be
suckin' on his dick for awhile he be talkin' about how he always
wanted a nigga's big juicy black lips around his cock. It was like he
got comfortable with me and I got comfortable with him and we both
could be speakin' the truth. It was like suddenly he was trippin' and
so was I - we was both getting' into it like crazy. He be grabbin my
head and pushin his dick in my mouth, and I be slurpin' up and down
his thick white rod like it was emancipatin' me from slavery."

Both boys had to pause and adjust themselves because of the
uncomfortable bulge each had in his pants.  Rashad continued, "Before
I knew it he shot his nut down my throat again and again, man. That
white boy sure had a lot of nut he needed to release. He filled my
mouth up with that shit - and I swallowed most of it."

Jamal covered his mouth and gasped. Rashad kept talking, "When that
white boy came down my throat it made me shoot my own shit in my boxer
shorts. My pants was soaked with hot nigga jizz by the time my dick
stopped pumpin in my shorts. I just couldn't help it; I can still
taste that white boy's nut as it was slidin down my throat."

Jamal sat back now with an air of authority. As an upper classman he
had the opportunity to spend considerably more time reading in his
major, which was social biology. He was amazed at how closely his
younger friend's testimony matched what he had always suspected as a
result of his studies.

" 'Shad, man - that story's deep; but I gotta tell you it aint no
mystery what be goin' on there."

Rashad looked at the older boy in shame.

"What you be doin' is actin' on 300 years of breedin.'"

Rashad looked puzzled, "What you mean?"

Jamal began to school his younger classmate, "For more than 300 years
the white man been breedin' niggas in America. Sooner or later we all
gotta act on 300 years of breedin.'"

Rashad tried to follow the boy's reasoning.

"You see, the so-called 'American Negro' is really just the white
man's invention. We been bred into existence over 300 years. You look
around and aint less than 10% of niggas aint got some white blood in
them somewhere. Black peeps aint really African no more, we're all
products of the white man's dick. Actually he really do own us. We
comes from 300 years of the white man fuckin our mamas and creatin'
light-skinned babies. We be nothin' but sex toys produced for the
white man."

Rashad swallowed hard at these words. He felt uncomfortable hearing
this, even though he knew it was true.

Jamal continued, "So when a white man - especially a teenaged white
boy - comes around and wants some nigga to suck on his dick, and maybe
even let him stick it in his black ass; no matter how well we been
trained to be proud and Afrocentric, we be drawn to that big white
cock that created us."

Rashad tried to process this new information. It contradicted
everything he had been brought up to believe about himself and his
people, and yet it also struck a deeper chord of deeply suppressed
truth - there was something very primal about what Jamal was saying.
Rashad believed he was hearing a truth that few people had the honesty
to talk about openly.

Jamal continued to explain how social biology plays itself out in
ordinary experience. "So, when a white man hires a black boy at the
supermarket to carry his bags for him to his car, he may not always
realize it but he's checkin' the boy out. He's seein' how the boy
moves - how his butt is shaped - how his arms is developin'. He's
thinkin' about how good that boy can entertain him. He may think about
it mostly as if he's thinkin' about sports - 'cause that's what peeps
think is acceptable - but his hidden thoughts are on how that boy
needs to serve him sexually."

Rashad was fascinated by this new information. Jamal continued, "But
what that white man don't know - and what that boy may only vaguely be
aware of - is that that white man has every right to be lookin' at
that boy's naked dick and his ass if he wanted to. That black boy is
his product. He belongs to that white man."

Rashad's mouth hung open as he soaked up this revelation.

Jamal kept educating him, "Every young, sweaty black and brown-skinned
boy that white man sees - if he wants to strip that boy naked and
stick his fingers in that boy's ass and play with the nigga's cock
till it cums - is his for the takin.' The same is true for our women.
The white man has the right to fuck all the black pussy he wants,
'cause that's what he spent 300 years breedin' us for. The brownness
of our skin - our thick, red fleshy lips - our semi-straight nappy
hair; all these be signs that we is domesticated products of the
American white man. Male or female - niggas in America is bred to be
the white man's cum buckets."

Rashad's dick got uncomfortably hard upon hearing all of this. Jamal's
dick got hard too. While Jamal had been investigating this topic for a
while he never had the chance to talk about it with anyone else until
now. He found that the very act of sharing his knowledge with others
made him sexually aroused beyond anything he could have anticipated.
It took every ounce of self-control, in both of the boys, to prevent
them from excusing themselves and rushing off to some place private to
beat off their gathering sexual tension.

Jamal continued, "That's right. Niggas aint really got no right to
privacy - the white man can inspect, play with, poke and probe every
part of our dark bodies any time he wants to. He got free reign to
make a nigga or negress cum just cause he wants us to, or to use those
nigga pussies, mouths, and anuses so he can shoot his cum inside us,
just like he been doin' for the past 300 years."

All Rashad could do was let out a heavy sigh as he listened to his
older classmate.

Jamal tutored him further, "When a nigga be chasin' after white women,
thinkin' he needs some white pussy, this is just because he's confused
about what he really wants. He wants somethin' white, alright - but it
aint pussy. He wants to push his fleshy black lips up against that
throbbin' hard red cock and make peace with the organ that produced
him and his whole race. A nigga tryin' to find comfort in a white
pussy is what Freud called 'displacement'. If he knew what he really
wanted he'd be chasin' after the white man's cock."

Rashad listened, transfixed by the impromptu lesson. He bowed his head
and confided in his friend even further about things that could never
be spoken before this conversation.

"I aint never told you this, man - but one time I slipped into a porn
movie booth downtown. I was tryin' to watch videos of them white
bitches, but them booths don't have no doors, so peeps be lookin' in
on me. Most of them white dudes got scared away once I gave them a
look, but this one dude was just standin there, feelin' himself
through his pants and watchin' me beat off. I told him to get the fuck
outta there but he kept watchin' like he had a right to be there."

Jamal studied the boy carefully, taking in everything he was saying.
Rashad continued, "And that's when I realized; my dick was gettin'
harder and harder and I enjoyed strokin' it more and more because the
white man was watchin'. That white man reached out and grabbed my dick
and started strokin' it for me. I let him do it - yo. It was like he
owned me; like I didn't have no more control over my body."

Jamal just smirked, "300 years of breedin,' man."

Rashad continued, "But then he unbuttoned his fly and poked his hard
white cock in my face. He held it in front of my lips like it was a
microphone and I was bein' interviewed. And I opened my mouth and let
him push his cock between my thick fleshy lips. And that man used my
lips, man. He fucked my mouth like it was a pussy. I heard him
whisperin' 'Oh yeah - suck that dick, nigger,' like he was scorin'
some kinda victory."

Jamal nodded sympathetically as Rashad related his tale, "And the
weird thing was I was gettin' off on that action too. Up till that
point I aint never sucked no one's cock - black or white; but now I
was suckin' this white man's cock, and he was standin' over me, and I
felt like I was payin' a tribute to white power over niggas or
somethin' - and it seemed like the dude was enjoyin' it that way too.
And that made it even more hot."

"And you the one always runnin' around here talkin' about how proud we
should all be about our African heritage," Jamal added.

"Yeah, aint that a bitch, man?"

Jamal just smiled knowingly in reply to the younger student's
question.

Rashad paused in reflection for awhile. "You know - when I think back,
this shit be goin' on in different ways for a long time. Back when I
was only thirteen and the teacher caught me and my girlfriend making
out in the school auditorium he said he was gonna do us a favor and
not report us, but instead we would have to let him watch me fuck her
right there on the stage. He pulled out his white cock and stroked it
while he watched my firm, sweaty 13-year old ass pump up and down
between my girlfriend's thighs."

Jamal was transfixed by the image that Rashad was creating for him.
The boy continued, "Yeah, he watched me working that girl's pussy, man
- like we was some kind of sex show for him."

Jamal said, "Yeah - that's what you was. That's what all American
niggas is. We're physical entertainment for white folks, sos they can
see and enjoy our bodies."

***********************

Jamal looked at his watch; he was about to be late for class. He
patted the freshman on the shoulder, "Hey man, it was good talkin'
with you. We gotta do it again sometime. Don't sweat it about your
room mate - that shit bound to happen when a nigga and white boy
sharin' the same room durin' college. Just don't tell nobody about it.
Most people will never understand."

Rashad agreed to keep his experience a secret; but he was grateful to
Jamal for taking the time to introduce him to his first real lesson in
social biology. No doubt this kind of curiosity, and dialogue with a
knowledgeable upper classman, is what produces future scholars.

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