Date: Sat, 24 Apr 2004 18:45:06 -0500 From: John Candu Subject: Special Endowments SPECIAL ENDOWMENTS By John Candu I arrived for the interview wilted because of the heat and self conscious because I was apparently the only white face on campus. The small private college seemed dreary and deserted at that hour, late afternoon. I strolled into the administration building and an empty executive maze, passed through an extravagant warren of offices and went on into the executive secretary's grand chamber, the final stronghold before approaching the president's lair. For the first time in days, I felt safe from malefic scowls and prying eyes. E. Norm Usmann, Ph.D., sat deep in thought, hunkered over paperwork at a majestic cherry desk illuminated by a banker's lamp. President Usmann was a Denzel Washington-lookalike, athletic yet distinguished with wisps of gray at the temples. The 6' 6", 200-lb. Usmann was undisputedly one of the state's most powerful men as head of the region's oldest black college. He controlled the state's considerable Black voting bloc, making his royal ass perfect for white kissing. Usmann sensed my presence and looked up. A broad grin jumped to his face as he rose and offered a hand. "Dr. Druel N. Rosebud? Thank you for seeing me so promptly!" Usmann's enormous hand enveloped my own as I looked up into the smiling eyes of this towering, kingly man. At 5' 6" and 140 lbs., I felt dwarfed by Usmann's physique and room-filling ebullience. He directed me to a sitting area in his and offered a bottle of cold water, which I gratefully accepted. Usmann quickly dispensed with pleasantries and got to the point. "Dr. Rosebud, at age 25 you distinguished yourself as the youngest man ever to hold the position of state finance commissioner. You are a financial genius -- no, don't even try to act humble. Your only fatal flaw, as some have put it, is the, um, indelicate situation involving another man, which made you a grave liability for the governor. He had absolutely no political choice but to fire you. But, I tell you this: none of that matters to me. I don't care about your sexual preferences. I need your financial expertise. I'm offering you a job with salary and benefits doubling what you earned as a public servant." I was flabbergasted. Just days ago I teetered on the brink of suicide after watching my career vaporize. AP photos of me and the black lobbyist emerging from my statehouse office at 2 a.m. in rumpled suits, arm-in-arm -- him with his fly unzipped, pants spattered with cum -- left little to the imagination. The episode branded my face instantly into South Carolina's public consciousness as an outed faggot and a disgrace to the party. Threats against my life poured in from redneck thugs. And my careless act called into question the governor's own morals by implication. The fact that I had been caught in a trap arranged by the governor's enemies was not provable and did nothing to change the outcome. I managed to pull myself together quickly enough to leave the state in search of anonymity. I was packing when Usmann rang my cell phone and invited me to come for a visit. "I won't lie to you -- it will be tough here, or anywhere for that matter," Usmann said, snapping me back to the present. "In your shoes, I would probably turn down this job and run. I'd probably go to some shithole town out of country, where I could be completely anonymous. But I'm offering you a chance because our college is in a financial crisis. If you want to do so badly enough, you can build something here, for yourself and this institution. You can try to stand tall and prove how wrong these bigots are. You can turn your wound into a positive statement for the oppressed -- black, gay, no matter who they are. You can show this state and the world that a person's sexuality is irrelevant -- that what a man chooses to do with his body is a private facet of who he is. Sexuality should and can be regarded as morally neutral and completely immaterial to what a person can offer in honorable service. With enough of us fighting to make it so, one day we'll live in a better world. I'm sure of it." Usmann was just as persuasive in private as in public. I accepted his job that day and the title of special endowments manager. I buried myself in work. I also locked myself away from the public. For more than a year I lost myself in a world I understood -- finance, investing. I rarely ventured far from my office or campus apartment, which was situated behind the president's home. I experienced a time of profound healing. I began to see the full nature of who I am. Then one day Usmann called me into his office. "Druel, I want you present with me in Chicago next week at our special endowments committee meeting. Some of the bastards laughed at me before you joined us -- said it could not be done. Many black colleges are going under or are on the brink. But you've set a fine example here, turned us into a model institution. We've outperformed all financial expectations -- we're on the road to viability. You're going to Chicago -- no arguments!" Usemann had been good at pumping me full of pride and reinflating my wounded sense of self. And over the past year we had grown to be close friends. I viewed him as my mentor, and he tirelessly prodded me to help him understand the intricacies of investing. He even began to do quite well personally in the stock market. As the college improved financially, Usemann rewarded me liberally with raises and bonuses. And it was time to crawl out of my shell. I relented and made plans for Chicago. Until that evening in Chicago, though, I had only speculated once or twice that Usemann might be a kindred spirit sexually. I had been hurt so deeply by the statehouse scandal that I had shut off my own sexual circuitry. Certainly, Usemann had never said or done anything to make me think he had the least interest in a man-to-man romp, but, still, he did trip my gaydar from time to time. When we arrived in Chicago, instead of having separate rooms, we were "by mistake" booked for the same room. The hotel was full, so we laughed it off. Then, right on cue, as if I were a character in some cum-dripping porn story, we discovered that the room had only one bed. Fortunately, it was a queen, so we decided to make do, at least for the night. I took a shower, slipped into a fresh pair of briefs and turned on the reading lamp on my side of the bed. I was just finishing the stock section of the Wall Street Journal when Usemann emerged from the bathroom toweling his hair. The meatstick dangling between his legs was a good ten inches at the very least. His balls were smooth-shaved and hung deliciously low, and the hair around his cock was well-groomed. I tried hard not to stare. We exchanged a little small-talk about the next day's meeting as Usemann remained naked and went over some numbers on his laptop, then snapped the machine off. At this point my gaydar pinging. My sexual circuitry was coming to life. Indeed, I was needing relief, and a cum-spattering session with a hung black man was just what I needed. "I sleep in the buff -- hope you don't mind," Usemann said. "It's been a lifelong habit." "Not at all," I said, trying to avoid eyeing his cock. I didn't want to seem too eager or to spring an erection at the merest glance at this Nubian king's royal staff. I snapped off the lamp on my side of the bed and made a show of plumping the pillow and adjusting the cover. I closed my eyes, turned over on my right side, with my back to Usemann, and relaxed. Soon he snapped off his light. Maybe ten minutes passed in silence. Then I heard Usemann squeeze something from a tube, lotion probably. A few more moments passed, and I felt one hand on my asssighed and another caressing my hole. He inserted his middle finger, covered with KY or something similar, and slowly fucked my eager crinkle. I moaned, met his thrusts with counterthrusts. He reached around and started jacking my cock. I felt his engorged cock entering my cunt. I moaned louder and impaled myself on his cock, taking all of it in one movement. Usemann chuckled, and his blacksnake moved happily in my pussy. I reached back to lightly grasp and feel the veined monster dominate my eager cunt. He slipped out for a moment, then I positioned my face between his legs. His dick was solid and heavy, and I could get only a few inches into my mouth. Usemann gasped and grunted as I worshipped his cock with my lips, tongue and throat. The monster was leaking a prodigious stream of salty-sweet nectar, and my tongue teased open his pee slit . I could not help making obscene smacking, slurping, sometimes gagging noises as I feasted on his circumcised pole and heavy nutsack. "I knew it might come to this," he gasped. "Please fuck me," I said. "God, it has been too long. Dick me. Dick me now!" I sat across his thighs and slicked our precum around the head of his cock, lubing it as best I could. I knew it would hurt, but I wanted this almost-obscenely huge cock back inside of me. He gripped each side of my waist as I rose and positioned his cock at my hole, and then I slowly impaled myself. Entry was again painful at first; I cried out. My sphincter had grown unaccustomed to such use. But my ass was also hungry that it somehow swallowed Usemann's engorgement, and my own erection raged painfully hard. Usemann leaned back against a stack of pillows and gored me, using his large hands to cup my butt-cheeks as he assisted me in riding him. My cock was small compared to the monster inside me -- more like a child-sized dick, erect and flopping around like a clit, as Usemann dominated me and made me his bitch. We were both gasping hard and the headboard was banging on the wall. "God, I like it like this," I gasped. "I could do this for hours." Usemann groaned with pleasure and allowed me to guide the impaling for probably a half hour. I grasped my little clit, probably four inches or so, and masturbated as my starving ass dilated further and further, consuming my new master's prick. Finally, I could hold back no longer. As I came, I said "Make me your bitch, turn me into your cumslut" I hissed, slamming myself down harder, taking his entire organ inside me, squeezing my anal canal and sphincter tightly around his mast. He began ramming harder, and I returned each move with a forceful counter-thrust and a ragged gasp. The fucking got easier and faster, and Usemann began lifting me higher on each outward movement then he began dropping me harder on his cock before he thrust upward again. I rode him like that a long while, and again I felt my balls begin to tighten. This time he reached around and jacked my dick. "You are now my white bitch-slut sissy-boi whore," As he said that, once again cum boiled up from my girly core. I realized without words, in a spiritual/physical euphoric swoon, that I would never again feel shame about what I am, a cumslut. My cum spurted in torrents from my aching cock, coating my chest and face with my cream. And suddenly his scalding elixer filled my pussy and overflowed. I knew I would never again care what others might say. I would never again deny myself carnal pleasure with black men. My pussy would begin to gap open, I knew, but a little plastic surgery would keep it tight for those massive cocks. "Fuck me! Fuck me harder!" I shouted even after I came the second time. By now Usemann's cock was deflating but still massive and fuckable, still impossibly large, but I didn't care if he split me open. He slammed into me harder and faster, taking me hungrily, then he roared at the top of his lungs as his cum geysered deep inside of me a final time. My own cock began to spurt again, only a dribble this time. Usemann left me no reserves. My ass began leaking cum of my royal master in prodigous amounts. Usemann was finally satisfied and stopped thrusting, and I lay back, collapsed on top of him. For many minutes I enjoyed the feeling of fullness as his cock stayed put. Then I feel into a deep sleep. Some time later, Usemann pulled out. My ass was sore and open, feeling as if it were hanging loose like well-banged pussylips. Only better than pussylips. I feel asleep again with a smile. The next morning I woke to the sound of the shower. Usemann was removing the sex-scent before the board meeting. The sheet beneath me was plastered to my ass, which had oozed cum all night. My cock began to stiffen as my mind replayed the evening. I noticed that my hole had closed again -- that it wasn't irreversibly mutilated by Usemann's monster blacksnake, as I had feared -- and not even very sore. Cumming had relaxed me; I got the release I needed. But now I shamelessly wanted more and proceeded to masturbate, but when Usemann entered the bedroom he growled irritably. "I own you now -- you don't cum until and unless I say so!" I thought he was joking, and I leaped from the bed in a playful mood and smarted off in jest. But Usemann bitch-slapped me. The blow was not hard enough to hurt much physically, but suddenly I felt very afraid. He said, "Remember what you begged me to do last night? You wanted me to make you my Bitch! My Cumslut! Well, that's exactly what I am going to do -- IF you should decide to remain in my charge. If you stay, you are to consider yourself in training. You will be my property, and I will be your Owner. You will remain in training indefinitely -- until such time as I am convinced that you have absorbed with a high degree of excellence everything I shall teach you. Now get down on your bony white knees and suck the cum out of my balls!" In shock, I fell to me knees and swallowed his soft but massive meat. Was this change of character real or a put-on? Usemann hardened in my mouth. He grabbed my head with one hand and began throat-fucking my face like a John using a whore. "Yeah, that's it, take my black cock. You will learn to do it without gagging. You will learn every feature and nuance of your master's cock. And you will learn to serve me to the fullest of your ability, and that includes serving as my toilet slave when I so desire." With his other hand he opened his cell phone and dialed. The morning light highlighted the thick muscles of his abdomen and thighs. He smelled of Irish Spring. He tasted delicious and strong, and I swallowed the salty essence as fast as it leaked into my mouth. Despite my fear over Usemann's sudden personality change, I was fully aroused and felt my precum puddling on the carpet between my knees. Usemann began talking into the phone. "Richard! This is Usemann. Yes, I am doing fine indeed, splendid in fact. And soon will be even finer when I shoot this load into my slave's mouth. Listen, make some calls and inform all the other brothers on the endowment committee to come prepared for some entertainment. This girly-boi is one hot, willing slut who wants and needs to serve, and I want everyone to know him well by the end of the day. Hold the phone just a second." Usemann shot off in my mouth, grunting lewdly with each thrust. I couldn't swallow fast enough to take it all, and cum dribbled down my chin. He finally finished, then slipped out with a slick, wet "pop!" and then resumed his phone conversation. "Ten a.m. as planned, and instruct everyone to save back those loads of cum for our special guest." ---------- CHAPTER 2 Date: Mon, 26 Apr 2004 08:10:17 -0500 From: John Candu Subject: Special Endowments - Chapter 2 SPECIAL ENDOWMENTS-2 Usemann grabbed his softening shaft, milked a final pearl of cum from his slit, and smeared it across my white face. Kneeling before him on the carpet, I licked beneath his beefy head and tongued my way slowly down the thick jet-black meatstick, lavishing attention on the veins as I trailed down the pulsing organ until my cum-slick lips found his shaved balls. I sucked a golf-ball sized nut into my mouth and loved on it, rolling it around with my tongue. Then I snaked my tongue ever so gently between his balls, alternately lifting and dropping his entire ballsack with the flat of my tongue as I lapped the salty sweat from the bottom of his scrotum. I continued to move my tongue wetly back and forth between his nuts while I pumped his rod with my hand. Usemann stepped forward a little to accommodate my hungry mouth. He lit a cigar and inhaled casually, as if I were doing nothing more than shining his shoes. I put a hand on his muscular thigh and moaned as I jacked his cock slowly, kissing and slobbering back and forth from one nut to another. Just moments ago I had gulped down his huge load -- its taste was still on my tongue. Now Usemann was already getting hard again. "You love my cum, Boi? Let me hear you say it, White Boi. From now on your name is White Boi, or simply Slave, at my whim and discretion. And not `boy,' neither -- it's `Bo-ee!' Now, tell me, Boi, do you love the cum from my chocolate meat, huh? Say it! Say how much you love to suck down my cocksnot, Boi." The light of day brought a much different reality than I enjoyed so thoroughly last evening, when I came so hard I thought my balls were shooting out through my cock, when I had offered myself as Usemann's sissy cumslut slave. But I had not anticipated his having a cruel streak. Had I made a mistake? No -- my erect cock was saying I had made the correct choice: to stay and train hard to please this man as a devoted sissy-slut. "Speak up, Boi!" Usemann clubbed me across the face with the enormous cock. Even soft it was big enough to hurt. God, I would probably have a black eye. "I love your cum," I said. WHOCK! Again he clubbed me. "Is that the best you can say about my royal cum that I pleasure you with? Try again!" "Master, I LIVE to suck down the cum from your royal cock. It is my food!" "That's better, Boi. From now on, you continue in that respectful manner." Usemann entered my mouth-hole and fucked slowly but forcefully, and deeper and deeper, easing his meat down my virgin throat. I had never taken a cock so deep. I retched and tried to pull away, but he forced my head to be still as he fucked my face til he came. He slammed again and again into my mouth-pussy, gushing spurt after thick spurt of man-juice directly into my stomach. After a short rest, Usemann directed me into the bathroom. He said we would now commence my training as a toilet slave. He ordered me to hold his cock and aim his stream of piss into the toilet, careful not to allow a single drop of urine to hit the floor or rim of the bowl. I felt it would be easy -- which was another mistaken idea. Holding such an enormous cock with one hand -- a cock so large that, even soft, I could not get my fist around it -- was quite difficult, especially when the big man's blast of high-pressure piss suddenly rocketed through his urethra like it was a fire hose. His tube-steak sprung to life with such force it almost slipped from my fingers -- I can only compare it to the recoil of a fired pistol. A lifetime's experience of pissing through my own dick was insufficient practice for holding Usemann's. I watched helplessly as his urine splattered the rim and seat before I could gain control. I had to bend over and grab hold of his cock with both hands to steady the monster enough to hit the bowl dead center. Usemann was angry now. He stopped peeing. He slapped me sharply across the cheek. "You incompetent white trash! You are not worthy even to wipe my ass, which you will not be doing if you can't learn to hold my cock!! Down on your knees, Boi! Face to consequences." I again kneeled before him. Usemann aimed his cock at my face and let go a torrent of piss. The strong, salty urine stung my eyes, and reflexively I gasped and tried to turn away from the strong hot jet. Usemann grabbed a fistful of my hair, held my face steady, and ordered me to open my mouth and drink. I coughed and sputtered, swallowing great mouthfuls. He pissed for a great while, and I thought I would surely drown before he finished. But finish he did. And when I opened my eyes I saw a huge drop of piss hanging from his slit. "Clean it!" I opened my mouth and tongued and sucked his head. He farted loudly and withdrew. "Now clean this up! This floor better be spotless before we go to the meeting or you'll lick that up as well!" By the time I finished and then showered and dressed Usemann was his old self, the dignified college president. The special endowment committee would meet in a conference room a couple of floors up in our hotel, so we had plenty of time. Usemann avoided any mention of our personal escapades and focused on the agenda. He asked for specific figures for his financial presentation now and then, made a few notes and kept the conversation businesslike. We rode the elevator up and made our way to the large conference room where people were already gathering. Several black trustees, and women that I presumed to be their wives, were socializing near the entrance, and Usemann began working the room like a politician, shaking hands, cracking jokes and whispering conspiratorially. I had gone over the biographical profiles of each member, memorizing their faces and pertinent information. Of the dozen, four were CPA's, two were company presidents, and four others were independently wealthy. All of them were 40 or younger. The room was filled with some of the nation's most powerful black men. The room was also full of VIP's I did not know, including a few lawyer-types and assorted young black men I took to be student assistants. Though I was the lone white face in the room, many of the dignitaries came over and made me feel at ease. I accepted a cocktail and joined in the small talk. By the time Usemann called the meeting to order I was feeling a little woozy. I usually hold my liquor pretty well, but the room was definitely spinning. I never suspected that my drink might have been spiked. The endowment committee took seats at a couple of conference tables up front on a platform. Then Usemann looked toward a group of young men standing near me and said, "Please prepare our guest." Two of the men moved to my side and a third approached and said, "Please come quietly." We exited and entered an adjacent dressing room. One of my guards revealed the role I was to play. I would pleasure every single person in that large conference room. I reeled from the drugged cocktail, but I knew there were easily 50 people there. The young men preparing me for the ordeal stripped me and began lathering and shaving my body. Whatever they put in the drink was making me exceedingly compliant. "You're fairly cute -- you're going to be a hit," one said with a grin. The other said, "Yeah, the pretty ones like you always see a lot of action -- you'll shit cum for a week. Hell, half of them will want you more than once." After the shaving, the black youths set to work dressing me. One applied my makeup, another the costume, and another the wig. I would be wearing a micro-miniskirt with no panties, a tank top and a platinum wig. I'd never tried to walk in high heels, but they assured me they'd be there for support. Due to the drug, my sense of time was out of whack. But after what seemed to be a short time we returned to the conference room, where the business portion of the meeting was coming to a close. A woman at the door handed me another cocktail and said, "You can have all these that you want, honey, and I advise you to drink up." She reached beneath my mini and fucked a finger back and forth briskly in my hole, now well-dilated from Usemann's thick cock. "You're a hot little bitch, aren't you." Addressing the audience from the platform, Usemann said, "Ah, our lovely guest returns right on time. Now, before we begin our festivities, let me dispense with one last item of business, which is merely a formality. And that is simply to inform you that our guest is here with us today with full consent -- he has come willingly and eagerly into our fold and is asking to join our proud family at one of the nation's foremost historic black schools. Isn't that right, Mr. Rosebud?" "Yesh," I said foggily. "Absho-fhucking-lootly." The room erupted in laughter and applause. A few camera flashes popped around me as people captured historic stills for the annals of the institution. "And although you've enjoyed some libation to put you at ease, you do have your wits about you and understand that you are free to leave this celebration at any time, am I correct?" I nodded. "And with that, let the party begin," said Usemann, removing his clothes. Someone locked the conference room door and the entire roomful of people began flinging clothing into heaps. Someone led me over to the platform, which by then had been cleared of all but one small conference table. They assisted me as I stepped up cautiously in high heels onto the riser. A lithe young woman approached and spoke into a microphone for the entire room to hear. "Mr. Rosebud, our alumni chairman conveyed to me a very special gift for you just a few moments ago," she said, indicating her cum-matted bush, "and now I want to honor you by allowing you to work the flavor out of this for me." She leaned back and sat on the edge of the conference table, facing the audience, then scooted back just a bit, with her butt on the edge of the table and propped back on her arms and spread her legs wide. Thick, white, gelatinous globs of hot cum awaited me. So thick and fresh it appeared to have been whipped in a blender. And I was very sure the blender was her cunt. I sank to my knees and dove in, nose and all, and worked my tongue deeply to scoop out the first tongue full of treasure. "Oh, he KNOWS his BUSINESS," she said with a loud moan, which caused the auditorium to detonate into loud peals of laughter and hoots. She grabbed my hair and guided my face further into her gooey cunt, which was practically steaming with fresh spunk that I somehow managed to even suck up into my nostrils. From the mixed taste and volume of it, I estimated that more than just the alumni chairman had contributed to my gift -- perhaps she had entertained an entire alumni chapter. I sensed rather than saw the audience gathering around us. I hugged her ass tightly as my tongue probed deeper and deeper. I made a rude sucking, slurping noise like a redneck sucking the marrow out of a greasy broiled pig bone. I felt the crowd press in tighter and heard cameras clicking away. My tongue twirled round and round her clit, bringing her off magnificently, causing her to go into an involuntary fit of jiggling and snorting, and she clamped her thighs tightly around my head, cutting of all sound as the muscular flesh covered my ears, then her shaking subsided a moment and she relaxed only briefly, then she started over again, all the while talking dirty, demanding that I suck her black pussy harder. Just when I thought I had cleaned her out, I spotted a tendril of white goo oozing from her shithole. I pressed my tongue into that dark nether region and was rewarded with a sluice of man-juice. I fucked my tongue deeper and deeper into her pit and stroked her clitty-button with a wet finger, setting her off yet again, this time accompanied by a fit of ear-splitting shrieks of pleasure. I returned to her cunt and was sucking her clit between my teeth, flicking her erect knob with my tongue, when someone entered my ass. Usemann had stretched me so out of proportion the previous evening that I was loose and ready. My ass-cunt swallowed the cock in one quick gulp, and I squeezed my chute tight around the meatstick. More cameras captured the action. After Usemann, this dick felt tiny, though I'm sure it was of better than average size. The lady on the table moved quickly out of the way -- she may have been hurled off the table, for all I know, by people waiting to be serviced. Into view came a man's ass and balls. My tongue darted between his black cheeks as I furiously jacked his uncircumcised cock. The man in my ass came loudly, pulled out and was replaced by another. The man in front of me turned around and I devoured his nice, 8-inch cock, which had a nice chunk of ripened head cheese waiting for me. He gushed into my mouth, humping my face so hard I feared he'd break my nose before it was over. His loud commotion set off the latest dick in my ass -- whose owner grabbed my hips and thrust home faster and faster, practically howling as he went into spasms, spewing seed into my bowels. My lovely costume was a wreck. Someone shot a load across my face and into the wig. My lipstick was long gone from the first few minutes of cunt-sucking. Cum seemed to cover me head to chest, totally ruining the makeup. Hands felt me up and tore at my blouse. I had hoped to save the miniskirt, but some heathen just ripped it right off of my ass. I have no idea how long I was there. I know I gulped load after load of cum, threw up, drank some more of those delicious cocktails, then sucked down much more cum. I had arrived before noon and left sometime that night -- I remember opening my eyes and wondering where the sun went. Whether I was fucked continuously or had the luxury of passing out and resting between times, I cannot tell you. But I became a legend in the black community that day. As a slave, I could truly say I was black owned and operated. The last recollection of that day is of the woman who fucked her finger into my ass as I entered the conference room. She was wearing a gigantic dildo covered in knots and bumps. "I've got the last sloppy piece of this boi!" she yelled as she banged away. --------- CHAPTER 3 Date: Mon, 31 May 2004 20:52:45 -0500 From: John Candu Subject: SPECIAL ENDOWMENTS-3 SPECIAL ENDOWMENTS-3 By John Candu I woke up under a heavy burden. Usemann. He was asleep on top with his huge black cock rigidly planted in my squishy, cum-soaked, white-boi ass. Despite all the cocks I'd had the previous evening, his dick felt good. My ass-cunt was molding itself nicely into a customized fit. I had to go pee, so I gently nudged him. He was as immovable as a black granite statue. I tried to be polite about it. "Hello up there? Yooooo-hooo?? O Mister Usss-maaaaan." Not one response. I dropped back to Plan Two. I whimpered and pleaded with him like the Black-owned sissy-slut cunt that I proudly am. When even THAT didn't work, I began to panic. I ~had~ to go pee. Bad. I squirmed around some more trying to roll him off. Exasperated, I knew nothing else to do. So: "HEY! Mother-PHHHUCKER!!!" I shouted it right into his ear. I HATED being such a meanie, and I knew my disrespect would probably earn me another bitch-slapping, but my bladder was about to pop. Jeez, he still wouldn't budge a bit. I figured Usemann must've had quite a few of those drugged cocktails last night. I mean, his was the sleep of the dead. In fact, those drinks got me so messed up I wasn't even sure if it WAS last night when I got so fucked and fucked up. Anyway, I was impressed -- and pleased, truth be told -- that a sleeping man could keep such a stiff cock. And Usemann, true to form, was just so totally relaxed and cool about it. Downright cold. Suddenly a weird thought crossed my mind. And that thought turned ugly and popped my pretty hazel eyes wide open. With a mighty explosion of effort I reared up and nearly bucked that sonofabitch right off my back. Usemann was dead!! Frozen into a dreadful position. Eyes locked, teeth barred like somebody gettin' a nut. Rigor must have extended all the way to the tip of his cock, which was still glued into my ass-pussy from all the congealing Black-stud semen. I screamed, jerked my ass side to side, and then shook and jiggled all around like a holy-roller at snake-tent revival as I tried to work that dick loose. All the while Useman's dead body kept tailgating my ass all around the bed. Call me disrespectful, but I DO NOT LIKE DEAD PEOPLE! With a swift combination of elbow jabs, bucks, and farts I flung that motherfucker away! Free at last I bolted from bed leaving a long wet skim of cum in my wake. I stood there a minute chewing my bottom lip with my eyes squinched shut hoping it was all a bad dream. After awhile, my heart going pitty-pat, I forced myself to turn around, open one eye, and look as closely as I dared to make sure Usemann wasn't just passed out and needing medical attention. Now, I consider myself a humane person. I really do. But when I saw that frothy-bubbly stuff smeared like meringue around his frozen sneer, I totally lost it. Honey, I screamed louder than a 747 at takeoff. I was in NO mood to go pulse-checking. This queen bitch dialed the hotel operator, jabbered hysterically, and then screamed again for emphasis just in case they didn't understand my English. Then I fainted. Next thing I knew, a cool, callused hand was patting my cheek and a lovely male voice was calling out. "Me oye?! (Can you hear me) Esta bien? (Are you okay?) Debo tomar usted a un doctor!" (I must get you to a doctor!)" My eyes fluttered open and looked into the most beautiful male face I've ever seen. A flawless bronze face with liquid brown eyes and the prominent nose of an Aztec god. This roomservice boy was just what a girl needed. Now, honey, I have learned there is one indisputable fact about queers. They get absolutely NO commiseration from straight motherfuckers hired to serve and protect.And so when I woke up in what looked like a crime scene from Miami: CSI -- you know, where Khandi Alexander the medical examiner always has a kind word for the dead body -- all I saw was my beautiful Aztec roomservice god and a horrid circle of smirking Black faces in blue uniforms. Now I was truly fucked. (To be continued. . . .) ------ Constructive comments always welcome at too_hot_in_bama@hotmail.com.