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From: zifferman@aol.com (Zifferman)
Subject: Shaba two
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My mother paused, digesting what I had said.  She turned her face away.
"Jack. . .there are many things you don't understand about men and women.  I. .
.I just think you need time to grow and understand.  It will save you much
grief later in life."  

My mom rose and patted me on the head, then left the room.

She was right.  I did resent that she had married Jerome.  That ass seemed to
live off her.  He didn't work, said he had a bad back.  My mother worked long
hours as a nurse and supported Jerome, Shaba and myself on her salary and my
dad's child support alone.  I usually found Jerome lounging in the living room
on the couch watching daytime TV.  We seldom acknowledged each other.  When my
mom got home from work she had to clean and cook for him.  It bothered me that
through all this my mom was cheerful, content, and it tortured me to think that
the reason for her cheerfulness was that Jerome was taking care of business in
their bedroom.  My mom was only 34 and still very pretty.  She was often
mistaken for an older sister when we went shopping together.  I just felt that
she should be content with a white man.  If not my father, some other white
man.

Part of my feeling were a reflection of my father's.  I would spend some time
with him at his apartment across town.  He would drink heavily in the evening
and call my mom a whore, a "spade freak" and other un-niceties.
"Your mom met that black bastard when he was a patient in the emergency room. 
She told me that he had pulled a muscle in his leg or something.  I wasn't any
muscle in his leg that caught her eye, it was the one dangling from his
crotch!"
"Dad, please.  I still love my mom. . . "
"Oh, sure.  You love her.  I guess I do, still, in a way.  I just didn't have
the cock to please her."
"Can we talk about something else, dad?  How about those Dodgers. . .?"
"You'll find, son," he paused to take a deep pull on a bottle of Jack Daniels,
"that women are slaves to a big unit.  And blacks have the biggest units
around.  If you're smart you'll keep your girl friend away from black guys."

Those words echoed in my head as I sat alone and dejected in my bed room.


Monday I returned to school, my cheeks still burning with my silent shame at
what had happened.  I imagined that traces of Shaba's wad were still in my
mouth and I found myself spitting frequently to rid myself of the phantom
sperm.  It was difficult to concentrate on the lectures but I tried to lose
myself in my classes.

At lunch time I saw Buffy standing with a group of girls across the cafeteria.

I waved at her and smiled.  Buffy waved, then turned back to her friends, said
something, and they all turned and looked at me.  I could see their shoulders
shaking with laughter and I knew that Buffy had told them.  I couldn't eat and
I sat out lunch on a bench outside.

When it was time for my PT class I walked into the locker room.  All
conversations stopped and all eyes turned to me.  I felt the color rising in my
face.  Guys slid away from me on the bench while I changed.  

Finally, one of my "friends" came over and stood before me, naked.  His dick
was inches from my face.  
"How's it goin', Jack?  We missed you last week."  Joe stood with his hands on
his hips, his pelvis jutting forward.

I could hear someone snicker.  My face was by now crimson.  Joe now flexed his
butt, causing his cock to move out and in slightly.
"I'm doing. . .fine, Joe," I managed.
"How's Buffy?"

By now there was open laughter in the locker room.  
"Fuck you," I grunted, gathering up my PT uniform and throwing it in the
locker.  I slammed it shut and stormed out of the locker room.  Gales of
masculine laughter followed me.

I drove home, skipping my last two periods.  All I wanted to do was disappear,
to sink into the earth without a trace.

Thankfully, Jerome's Cadillac wasn't in the driveway.  I supposed he was at
the track, where he likes to waste my mother's money.  I parked my Honda and
went in through the kitchen.  As I walked down the hall to my room I saw my mom
coming out of Shaba's room.   She froze instantly, with that
deer-in-the-headlight looks in her eyes.  She tugged the silky, short bathrobe
she wore tightly around her.  I could see that her nipples were hard, tenting
the front of the robe.  I could also smell sex on her, a mixture of pussy,
sweat and wad.
"What. . .what are doing home from school?" my mother sputtered.
"I didn't feel well.  What were you doing in Shaba's room?  Is he home?"
"No...No, he isn't," my mom said, closing Shaba's door behind her.
"Is that Jack, woman?" I heard Shaba's voice call from behind the closed door. 
My mother hung her head in shame and didn't say anything.  I could see her
shoulders shake as she sobbed.  
"Mom . . how could you?"  I choked.

Then Shaba was in his doorway, leaning lazily on his shoulder, his arms
crossed over his thin chest, his fat dong swaying slightly over his balls.  I
don't know why my eyes went to his cock, they just did.
"Go on, Michelle, tell the white boy.  Tell him you've been getting dis," he
grabbed his cock and shook it at me, "evah since yo' married my dad."
"Please just shut up, Shaba!" my mother hissed without looking up.
"Shut up?  Yo' don't talk that way to me, bitch!"  With that Shaba reached out
and slapped my mom on top of her mussy blond hair.  It wasn't a hard slap.  It
was more symbolic than painful.

I instantly struck out my fist and caught Shaba on his fat lips.  His head
shook slightly and I felt pain in my fist.
"Well, get dis white boy!  You wanna play?" he grinned.

I was shaking my hand in pain.  I had cut open one knuckle on his large white
teeth.  Then I felt a slap across my face.  I looked into the wild eyes of my
mother, her lips pursed in determination.
"How dare you hit your step brother!" she wailed.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I ran into my room, slamming the door.

I laid on my bed and cried like I had not cried since I was a child.  My whole
world seemed turned upside down.  In the past few days I had lost my
girlfriend, been force to give head to my step-brother, been humiliated in
front of the whole school, and found my mother fucking my step-brother.  How
could things get worse?  I was to find out, very soon.
Chapter 2

I must have fallen asleep.  I had cried all day and most of the night.  I
awoke, bleary-eyed, and glanced at my bedside clock.  11:34 P.M.  I was still
in my school clothes so I groggily stood and began undressing.  I looked for my
pajamas and a fresh pair of jockies and stood shivering in my nudity.  

My bedroom door suddenly opened and my mother brought in a tray of food.  I
turned in my surprise and saw her looking at my body, my privates.  I quickly
covered my meager equipment with my hands.  
"Uh. . .um. . .I brought you something to eat, dear.  You missed dinner," my
mom began.
"Uh. . .thanks.  I guess I am pretty hungry," I offered.
"Why don't you put something on?"
"Uh. . .yeah.  I was just getting my PJ's on."  I turned and searched the bed
sheets for my pajamas.

My mom moved my Darth Vader bank and sat the tray on my bedside table.  She
sat upon my bed as I pulled on some briefs, my back to her.  As I was pulling
on my pajama pants my mom said, "I wanted to talk to you about what happened
this afternoon.  Jack, you know you are the most important person in the world
to me.  I love you more than anyone.  You just have to understand, however,
that I have certain. . .womanly needs."
"I don't understand.  You're a married woman.  You have a husband.  Why do you
need to. . .to. . make love to a child?"
"My poor baby.  I don't make love to Shaba.  I fuck Shaba."

I was thunderstruck.  My mother never used profanity.  
"You see," she continued, looking at the floor and choosing her words slowly
and deliberately, "I never liked sex with your father all that much.  I think I
am making up for lost time.  Both Jerome and Shaba have awakened feelings in me
that I never knew existed.  It's purely a physical thing, Jack, something you,
as a man, can't understand.  Maybe someday, if you get married, you can talk to
your wife about it.  Hopefully she can help you to deal with the reality."

She paused.  The silence was deafening.  
"I want to give you a word of caution, and then I'll never bring it up again. 
If you chose to give oral pleasure to someone else, please take some
precautions.  I know Shaba and Jerome are safe."


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