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Subject: Shaba (m/f,m/m,humil,inter) one
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that they would because they seemed to fight constantly.  I was seldom privy to
the reasons for the fights but I doubted that it was due to finances.  My
father was quite successful in his business and my mother was a full-time
nurse.  I know it was really hard on my dad when mom demanded the divorce.  She
got the house and me, their only child.

I guess what surprised me most of all was how quickly my mom found another
man.  Within six months she was getting married to my step-dad.  It bothered me
a little at the time because my new step-dad, Jerome, is black.  I know it
bothered my real dad a lot.  But Jerome turned out to be a pretty cool guy and
he's always treated me fairly well, if not like a real son.  The only problem
was Jerome's son from another marriage, Shaba.  Shaba was 14 years old and was
to be my new step-brother.  He and I didn't get along well from the beginning.

We were a world apart, Shaba and I.  I was a 4.0 GPA student.  I was captain
of the debating team and a damn fine tennis player.  I already had offers from
several prestigious colleges and my future seemed assured.  I was dating the
prettiest girl on campus, Buffy Burke, a cheerleader, from an established
family that dated back to the Mayflower.  Buffy was blond, blue-eyed royalty,
with big boobs thrown into the bargain.  While we hadn't done the big nasty yet
we had, on several occasions, engaged in heavy petting.  We made a handsome
couple and were destined to be married and produce a brood that would set the
world on it's ear.

Shaba Jackson was slightly different.  He had been raised on the margins of
poverty.  He listened to rap music incessantly in his locked room.  His friends
were all black and dressed in baggy jeans and wore bandanas on their heads. 
Red bandanas, which I surmised meant they were involved in some sort of
criminal gang.  Shaba didn't sit at the dinner table with my mom, his dad and I
in the evenings.  He was seldom home in the evenings.  Shaba had frequent
visits from a suited official that I later leaned was his probation officer.

Shaba and I passed each other in our home without any signs of recognition. 
It was as if we were in alternate universes, or ghosts.   I did occasionally
detect a look of what can best be described as contempt from his dark, moody
eyes.  Although several inches shorter than myself, Shaba was wiry and lean. 
When he walked around the house in the summer with his shirt off you could see
the definition of his muscles on his skinny frame. His torso bore several
keyloid scars that I learned later he had earned in various fights.  And when
Buffy visited Shaba would lick his lips and leer at her in a way that was both
obvious and discomforting.  If she had to pass him in the hall way he would not
move and she would have to squeeze past the shorter, black boy.  His wide nose
would flair, drinking in her scent, and he would absently tug at his crotch.
"I don't like him," Buffy told me one day as we lay on my bed feeling each
other.
"Aw, Buff, he's my brother.  Sure he's a little rough around the edges..." I
protested meekly, stroking her panty-clad pussy.  She spread her legs slightly
and continued to rub my erection through my jeans.
"He takes liberties with me," she continued.
"Like what?" My interest was suddenly piqued. 
"Well, a few times he had placed his hand on my bottom."
"He has?  Why didn't you tell me?  I would have given him a round thrashing."
"I know you would have.  I didn't want any violence.  And you're so much bigger
than him," she gazed longingly at the tent in my jeans, "in most areas, any
way."
"What do you mean by that?"  
"Uh?  Oh, nothing.  Never mind," Buffy seemed to regret her admission.
"No, honey.  Tell me what you meant."
"Well, last week when I came to visit, I had to walk by Shaba in the hall.  He
pressed up against me and took my hand and placed it on his crotch.  I could
feel his...er...organ, and it seemed very large."

I was flabbergasted.  I did not know what to say.  Shaba had assaulted my
girlfriend.

Buffy added quickly, "Only a woman of low class would be impressed by such
things, surely."
"Uh, Buff, why don't we ‘go all the way' now?  We've been dating two years and
all we've done is rub each other.  I love you with all my being and I know you
love me.  It wouldn't be a sin."  I was desperate.  
"Now Jack.  We've been through this before.  You know I want to save myself for
you on our wedding night.  It's my family tradition and my religion.  You know
I want to do it as much as you but I have to be responsible.  Waiting will make
it so much better for us both, don't you agree?"
"Yes.  Yes you are right," I lied.

After Buffy had left for the evening I went into my bathroom and jerked myself
off into the sink while holding a formal picture of her attired in her
cheerleader uniform.  I still had her scent on my fingers and I held them to my
nose and I came copiously into the sink.  

I looked at my wilting penis in my hand.  It was about five inches long and
fairly thin.  For the first time a pang of fear hit me.  Wonder if Buffy will
be disappointed in my equipment on our wedding night?  I have heard that some
women find larger ones more to their pleasure, but those are usually low class
women of some disrepute.  My penis was aristocratic, I reasoned, and fully
capable of doing it's job.  It was nestled in a thin forest of wispy blond
curls that snaked their way to my navel.  My scrotum that largely hairless and
about the size of a walnut.  I wondered if it was of a normal size.

A few weeks after Buffy's revelation to me I was at school.  I felt ill and
decided to miss my last two periods (I didn't need them to graduate, at any
rate) and came home to rest.  As I neared the closed door to my bedroom I could
hear moaning.  I listened at my door and decided it was Buffy's voice I was
hearing.  She must be in some sort of pain, I thought, as I flung open my door.

To say that the scene that met my eyes upset and perplexed me is an astounding
understatement.  There, on my own bed, was Buffy, naked, and straddling Shaba,
equally innocent of clothing.  I could see Shaba's unbelievable long and
monstrously thick cock sliding in and out of my girlfriend's stretched pussy
lips.  They didn't notice me for a long while and I watched in amazement,
mesmerized by the sight.  
"Oh God, Shaba!  I never knew it could be like this!" hissed Buffy. 

They had not seen or heard me.  I stood stupefied, unable to move, speechless.

My sweet, virginal girl friend was gladly, madly fucking my step-brother!  She
had never been willing to give it up to me, her intended, and now she was
riding Shaba's horse cock.  And she didn't even like Shaba.

An odd thing happened.  I noticed, to my horror, that my penis was getting
hard.  I tore my eyes away from Buffy's cute, stretched pussy and looked at the
front of my pleated slacks.  Yes, there was a small tent growing there.  I
couldn't understand it.  I had seen documentaries on animals on TV, where the
dominant male in a troop of, say, monkeys was mounting one of the females.  The
subdominant males would sit around and watch, all of them sporting chubbies.

Buffy was picking up speed as her twat loosened up.  Shaba was matching her
downward stroked by upward strokes of his own, lifting his tight canon-ball
buttox off my sheets to meet her.  His legs were spread widely on the bed for
maximum leverage, and his large balls bounced up and down on the lower part of
his shaft.  Shaba would hit bottom in Buffy's vagina with a jolt, two or three
inches of unused penis still showing.  With each thrust Buffy would moan. 
Their fucking was making slurping sounds.  Shaba's wide, black hands cupped and
kneaded my love's round, white ass.  He dug his fingers into her butt so hard
that I knew she would have bruises tomorrow.  Then he slid one hand around and
slipped his long middle finger into her pursed, pink asshole.  The effect was
immediate.  Buffy began thrashing on his cock, her head twisting from side to
side.  Her whole body appeared to vibrate and she let out a low scream.
"Oh, Shaba!  That was fantastic!" Buffy moaned as she leaned forward, her
heavy, full tits smashing on his thin chest.  I could hear sloppy kisses.  She
had stopped her thrusts on his cock and he lessened his to short jabs into her
satisfied pussy.
"Shaba. . .I love you. . . " Buffy said, her voice croaking with emotion.  She
slowly moved her ass from side to side.
"God!  You're still hard!"  she exclaimed in amazement.
"I haven't got my nut yet," came Shaba's laconic response.
"Wow.  A long distance runner!" she said playfully, her ass beginning to move
up and down again.
"Doesn't that white boy last this long?" Shaba said.
"Who?  Jack?  I wouldn't know.  We've never done anything like this," she said
flatly.
"You mean that chump been wit' you all dis time and he ain't even had the pussy
yet?  Shee-it!"

Buffy giggled.  "Pussy," she repeated.  "I love it when you talk nasty!"
"Well, why don't you suck on mah black johnson again?"  Again!  My fiancee had
engaged in oral sex with my step-brother's wanger!?

Buffy unstradled Shaba.  When she was fully off the boy I could see the total
length of his erection.  I gasped in disbelief.  It looked to be eleven inches
or so.  So fat and heavy was it that it leaned over his flat belly, glistening,
black and wet.

Then they saw me.
"Shit!" shrieked Buffy, her hands modestly flung up to cover her pendulous
breasts, leaving her thick bush visible.  At the ‘V' of her crotch I could see
her pussy lips, red, abused, distended.
"Oh Jack!  It isn't what it looks like!"
"Oh?  Just what is it, Buff?  What are you doing?"  I demanded.  
"I'm so sorry..." Buffy said, her voice quaking with emotion.

Shaba had sat up on the bed.  "Why don't you run along, white boy.  Me and dis
bitch got some more work to do.  She don't belong to you anymore.  She be
mine!"
"You rounder, you!"  I yelled.  "Stand up and take your beating like a man!"
I raised my fists.  I didn't want to hurt Shaba. . .well, yes I did.  I wanted
to redeem myself as a man in Buffy's eyes.  She must have been raped or seduced
or drugged, I rationalized, and she wasn't responsible for what I had seen.

Shaba slowly rose from the bed.  His long woodie bobbed hypnotically in front
of his lithe frame as he approached me.  He moved with the coiled tension of a
panther ready to pounce on a small animal.  I rose my fists defensively.  When
Shaba neared her threw a single punch that caught me on the nose.  I fell to my
knees like a sack of flower, my nose running blood freely.  I was dazed, stars
filling my eyes.

I could hear Shaba's low laugh and Buffy's scream.

Shaba leaned his hips forward and grasped his massive cock by it's base.  He
began beating me about the face with it, like it was a club.  I could feel his
cock hitting me, hard, hot, heavy.  I tried to protect my face with my hands
but Shaba slapped them away.
"Don't hurt him!" Buffy pleaded.  Yet, there was a wild look in her eyes.  She
was digging this!
"Lookit!  Jack's got a boner!" Shaba laughed.  It was true.  My own cock was
still rock hard. 

Roughly, Shaba grabbed the hair hanging down my forehead and pulled it back so
that my face was upturned to him.
"Open yo' mouth, white boy!" he growled.

Without thinking I obeyed.  I only wanted the beating to stop.  My eyes were
blurry with tears of humiliation.  Suddenly, I felt something hot and hard
pushing past my teeth.  The spongy mass hit the roof of my mouth and the smell
of Buffy's pussy filled my nostrils.  I realized, to my horror, that Shaba had
slipped the head of his cock into my gaping mouth!  I sputtered and tried to
pull my head back but Shaba wrapped one large hand around the nape of my neck
and began slowly, forcefully pulling my head onto his organ.  Since my nose had
swollen shut as a result of his punch I found that I could not breath with his
grotesquely large tool filling my mouth to the walls.  I began to gag
reflexively.
"That's it!" he hissed.  "I like that feeling!"

With his free hand Shaba began jacking that part of his cock that wasn't
already in my mouth.  I placed my hands on his muscular thighs and tried to
push him away but he was much stronger than I had thought possible.  Try as I
might I could not dislodge his prick from my stretched lips.  
"Stop!  You'll kill him!  Can't you see he's turning blue?" Buffy pleaded.

I was near blacking out when Shaba suddenly put both of his hands on the back
of my head and began thrusting his hips wildly, forcing the spongy head of his
cock against the back of my throat.  I looked up and saw that his eyes had
rolled back into his head.  All I could see was the whites of his eyes.  Then I
felt a large, hot gob hit the back of my throat.  Then another.  And yet
another.  I swallowed instinctively, trying desperately to keep my airway open.

Shaba's lips were curled into a cruel sneer and spittle was flying from his
lips as he shot wad after wad into my gullet.  He seemed past all human
reasoning, the animal within him having taken command of his senses.  I could
feel his cock pulse with each mighty eruption with my tongue, a large knot
moving down the underside of his cock with each shot.  I could feel his sperm
burn all the way down my esophagus to my stomach.  So far back into my mouth
was Shaba shooting his seed that I couldn't taste it.  It had completely missed
my tongue.

Shaba's knees were half bent and he kept up an unbelievable thrusting by
pivoting his hips.  He was fucking my skull, his torso finally bending over my
head so that all I could see was his dimpled belly before my eyes.  He was
lifting himself off the ground on the toes of his feet, reminding me of a
naughty dog humping one's leg.

At last his thrusts became ragged, irregular, and then stopped altogether. 
For what seemed like an eternity he stayed wrapped around my head, his sweat
dripping and stinging my eyes.  Then slowly, he began pulling that long thing
out of my mouth.  It flopped downward after it cleared my lips and hung
heavily, wet with my spit, over his bloated balls.  I marveled at it still. 
Even now, deflating, it's foreskin creeping over the swollen head, it was
tremendous.

I looked to Buffy.  Her face was aglow with desire and excitement.  She was
grinning broadly.  Shaba was pulling on his crank, milking it.  
"Get on dat bed, bitch, and show me dat pussy!"  Shaba commanded.
"Okay!" Buffy responded gleefully, hoping onto her back on the messy bed and
spreading her long, tan, cheerleader legs.  Her twat was bushier than I had
imagined.  Her pussy lips were still ruby and stretched, sagging in places, no
doubt from her earlier fucking.  Shaba crawled onto the bed between her legs. 
Between his thighs, below his ass, I could see that his cock was lengthening
again, his heavy black balls slowly rising and falling.

They were going to fuck like I wasn't even here!  I cleared my voice and rose
shakily to my feet.
"Excuse me," I began, "do you mean to engage in intercourse right now?  With me
in the room."

Such was Shaba's contempt for me that he replied without turning, all the
while guiding his cock into Buffy's willing pussy with one hand.
"You can leave, white boy, or yous can stay.  Don't get uppity or this ho'
gonna tell everyone one at that faggity school you go to that you sucked on my
johnson and that I turned you into a punk.  Ain't that right, ho'?"
"Oh, certainly!"  Buffy giggled, between gasps as Shaba's cock cleared her
labia.  "I will tell everyone at school, Jack.  You'll be ruined."
"Buff, why are you doing this?" I croaked 
"Ohhhh. . . Jack, are you blind?  Shaba's made me feel things I've never
imagined.  I. . .ohhhhh. . . love him and. . .mmmmmm. . .want him."

By now Shaba had begun his slow, deliberate jabs into my girlfriend's womb.  I
could see her hips rocking up and down, her pussy devouring his pole.
"I don't care if you come in me, Shaba.  You can make me a baby if you want
too!" 

I could stand no more and I left the room.  The sounds of their lovemaking
haunted me and filled my ears long after I was out of rang of his room.
******

I was in a funk all that weekend.  I didn't want to leave my room.  It had all
seemed like a dream. . .a nightmare.  And just when I began to believe that it
had been a dream I would accidentally touch my broken nose and feel a stab of
pain again.  I felt sick and ashamed.  

My mother came to my room and, being a mother, sensed my despair.  
"What's the matter, Jack?  How can mommy make it better?" she said in that baby
voice she reserved for special occasions.
"It's nothing, mom.  I had a fight with Buffy.  That's all."
"Over Shaba?"

I was shocked.  It was THAT obvious?
"Uh. . .has he spoken to you?"  I began, wearily.
"No.  I just noticed that she has been visiting him a lot this weekend.  She
told me that she is helping him with his homework.  I understand if you're a
little jealous.  But you have to be a big brother to Shaba.  You know, he
hasn't had an easy life.  Our society isn't kind you young black men. . ."
"Oh mother.  Spare me the sociology lecture," I spat.  She recoiled in
surprise.
"Now Jack.  Is this is what this is about?  You are still upset about my
marrying a black man?  I know you love your dad but he and I just couldn't get
along.  Jerome provided me with things your dad couldn't, and I have to live
for myself, too.  I needed a life."

My mind raced with visions of my own, rather youthful mother being impaled by
the monster black staff of Jerome, Shaba's dad.  I guessed that Jerome was
similarly hung as Shaba, such things being genetic.  I had to admit, my mother
was much more happy with Jerome than she had been with my own father.
"I'm afraid that Buffy is getting something from Shaba that I couldn't offer
her, too," I moaned.


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