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Subject: {ASSM} Rashad's Lesson in Social Biology
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Date: Thu, 04 Jan 2007 19:10:02 -0500
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Rashad's Lesson in Social Biology

This is a work of fiction. It is not intended to be read by minors. It
includes acts of homosexuality and dialogue with racial slurs. If you
are offended by this kind of fantasy, please search for something else
to read.

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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