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From: classic rider <classicrider14@excite.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cafe Afternoon
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Date: Mon, 31 Dec 2007 01:10:01 -0500
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This story is for adult erotic entertainment purposes only. Readers
should be advised that this story is about consensual and non-
consensual heterosexual and homosexual interracial sex, sometimes
involving adults and teenagers. It also contains derogatory racial
material.

Phyllis and Connie sat at the outdoor café sipping their drinks. The
two young women enjoyed sharing their inner-most thoughts with each
other; thoughts and deeds that they could not share with others in
their social circle for fear of being shunned by the friends and
disowned by their families. A black busboy moved gingerly between the
tables, cleaning up discarded pieces of meat and wiping up spilled
wine. Phyllis' eyes rested on the boy. She soaked in the sight of his
young muscular ebony arms as he vigorously wiped grease from a table
top with his soapy rag. The boy darted back to his portable plastic
tub that was filled with dirty dishes and made his way to kitchen.

Phyllis sighed. The sight reminded her of something she needed to talk
about. She toyed with a cherry on her tongue before biting into it and
turning to Connie, "You know, earlier today I watched a black teenaged
boy at the health club bench press what looked like several times his
weight. The boy exuded such strength and coordination of body motion I
couldn't help but to think of him as being a giant Negro phallus. I
was overcome with the desire to have that boy thrust between my legs
to fuck my pussy into ecstasy. I began creaming in my panties right
then and there while the boy continued to pump away in muscular body
motion. He smelled of masculine energy. I could smell his musty
underarms from where I was standing, but I was only several feet away
from him. His smell was not offensive; rather it was pure, dark,
masculine energy. He not only had animal magnetism; he embodied it in
his black skin."

Connie looked away from Phyllis as if she were repulsed. "Really, do
you want that young nigger's dick between your legs? Maybe you should
chase after the busboy."

Phyllis was intense. Her gaze focused on Connie like a laser beam.
"Yes, I think I would love the feel of it. There is nothing like
having a thick nigger cock humping between your legs. I love the way
they thrust their dicks deep inside of me. They have a certain rhythm,
you know? They carry it with them into the bed. It's almost like
they're dancing while they are fucking me."

Connie let out a loud Whoop of laughter, "Do tell! Well, it doesn't
surprise me. You always did enjoy being nailed by the help."

Phyllis calmly looked down at her drink and stirred it and smiled
slyly, "Yes, I do. Why do you think I get along so well with them?
There is nothing better than calling a tall, lanky black houseboy into
your room on a winter night. Feeling his warm brown body on top of
you; embracing his firm, hard muscles. I love feeling the warmth of
his fleshy dark lips pressed against my white skin and the heat of his
breath as I make him expend himself inside my vagina. You should try
it, Connie."

Connie blushed as Phyllis continued, "He gently caresses my white
breasts and treats me like a goddess. I can transform any nigger boy
in the world simply by giving him what he needs in the privacy of my
apartment. I don't know what kind of loud and boisterous character he
might be when he is out on the streets with his buddies, but when he's
with me he becomes a respectful, awe-filled tamed Negro boy who can't
get enough of the privilege of having a warm white pussy tight around
his cock."

Connie was curious, "I see...But isn't getting fucked by one of those
dark, manly jungle creatures kind of like being fucked by a wild beast
- like a baboon or a chimpanzee?"

Phyllis smiled wickedly and tossed her hair, "Yes, I would have to
agree with you it's like getting fucked by a wild beast; but I can't
go along with the 'baboon' or 'chimpanzee' part. It's more like
getting fucked by a big black snake only a warm-blooded one, if such a
creature can be imagined. But unlike a snake their skin is smooth and
sleek; their buttocks are firm, nice to grab hold of while they are
thrusting inside of you. They do not at all feel like the hairy hide
of an ape or chimpanzee that some men I have been with feel like."

Connie gazed off, pretending to be bored, "Hmmm. I really hadn't
thought of it that way."

Phyllis continued, "Of course, they do have a lot of sexual energy,
like creatures from the wild. They can sometimes hump quite violently.
They beast-fuck me, like they think they are still in an athletic
competition on the basketball court. I've had even the youngest of
nigger boys fuck my pussy for hours. They never seem to get tired.
They keep saying over and over, between gasps for breath, 'Ah sho do
loves yo puzzy, Miss Phyllis.'" Both women laugh.

"Sometimes, overcome with passion, I cry out, 'Fuck me you Black
Beast. Fuck me Nigger!'"

Connie looked alarmed, "Ooooo. I bet that got him angry."

Phyllis was nonplused, "No. It would only make him fuck me that much
harder and with even more passion - the way I like it."

The busboy comes back and starts wiping down the seat cushions from an
empty table next to them. Both women gaze at him. He moves uneasily,
conscious of their gaze.

Connie looks at Phyllis, "I wonder where they get all of that energy?"

Phyllis takes a swig of her drink. Her hair is now almost wildly
tossed and her body is losing its poise, "I dunno," she slightly
slurs, "Maybe it's the corn bread, fried chicken, ham hocs, and
watermelon."

Both girls laugh. The busboy looks up at them with an annoyed but
quizzical expression on his face, as if he is not quite sure what to
make of their comments. Phyllis smiles hungrily at him and boy
politely returns the smile.

Connie presses her, "No, seriously; I wonder if we could harness some
of that energy for ourselves."

Phyllis turns away from the busboy as if he is no longer there and
takes another swig of her drink, "I don't know; maybe we could get
somebody to capture one of them and tie him up. Then we could milk his
balls like a cow. Make him give up his cum so we can drink it for
energy."

Connie forces a laugh, unsure if Phyllis is mocking her or not. "That
would be fun, wouldn't it?"

The busboy's eyes widen. He straightens his back and moves on to a
distant table.

Phyllis continues breezily, "Yes. We could have him tied to a rack and
we could masturbate his big nigger cock until he shoots out endless
streams of cum that we can save in plastic containers. We could
masturbate him over and over again. They never get tired of having
someone playing with their manhood, you know? But I imagine we would
eventually wear him out."

Connie pumps her fists in the air, "Yeah. Exhaust the black boy!"

Several patrons look up. The busboy shakes his head, but there is a
noticeable protrusion in his pants. He hurries off to the kitchen,
holding himself.

Phyllis ignores the patrons and waves her hands excitedly, describing
the scene to Connie, "Yes; exhaust him. Masturbate him until his whole
black body becomes limp in our arms and he can no longer shoot his
cum. He would breathe heavily from exhaustion while we milk the last
cock juice from his penis. Then we would sip it like aphrodisiac
nectar anytime we got tired. We could sip it when we are exhausted
from a long day of shopping and need energy to go out on the town,
dancing at night. We could sip it every morning to prepare for our
workout. It would be a great way to get a morning and evening jolt."

Connie high-fives her, "Yeah. Ha! It would be better than steroids."

"Yeah! I bet we could bottle and sell it."

Both girls laugh. Phyllis' eyes grow distant. She seems to be catching
another thought in mid-air, before it drifts away. "Did I tell you?
I'm taking a most exciting college history course. It's about Negro
slavery. The professor is having us read a series of short, obscure
books to give us information that is not commonly known by the general
public."

Connie sips her drink, girlishly, through her stirring straw, "You
don't say..."

"Oh yes. Let me read a few passages to you that I really enjoy."

Phyllis pulls a slender volume out of her purse and thumbs through the
pages of small dense print. She smiles and clears her throat.

"A hidden part of the history of slavery has always been the
relationship between young adolescent slave boys and their masters.
Slave masters would often go on hunting expeditions that lasted for
several days. They would take a teenaged slave boy, usually around the
age of 16. The Negro slave was strong and could be used to carry his
master's food supplies and other essential items. To economize,
however, the master would only bring one tent that would have to serve
both of them. At nightfall, both slave and master would huddle
together in the tent to keep dry and warm. The master being quite
robust, with a normal man's physical needs, would become quite
aroused. It had nothing to do with homosexuality, but the temptation
of the smooth-skinned slave boy lying next to him, in some ways
resembling a young girl, would awaken the master's needs and required
immediate attention. He would rip the slave boy's clothes off of his
body, revealing the boy's youthful brown skin. Silently the master
would crawl on top of his slave boy and commence to mounting his firm
black buttocks. All that could be heard outside of the tent that night
were a series of grunts and groans as the master released his sexual
tensions inside the slave's body. The slave boy and the master never
exchanged a word; they both accepted this as a natural part of the
relationship between the races."

Connie clasped her hands underneath her chin enjoying the wicked and
forbidden images she was hearing, "Oh that does sound exciting."

Phyllis thumbs through a few more pages and continues.

"Back at the plantation masters had slave boys draw their water to
prepare for a bath. The master made his smooth skinned black slave
boys wash the master's entire body, including his private parts.
Invariably, as the slave boy washed the master's genitals, the master
would become aroused and demanded that the slave boy take care of it
for him. The slave boy lowered his head, with a little help from the
master who grabbed the boy's nappy hair and pushed down on him, and
the boy wrapped this thick dark lips around his master's hardened
member. The master made the slave massage the shaft of his privates
with his thick Negro lips until the master reached orgasm. The master
discharged his sperm down the slave boy's throat without warning. The
slave boy choked and gagged. He tried to wipe the sperm off of his
mouth with the back of his hand, but he ended up swallowing most of
it. This was all in keeping with the kinds of household services that
colored slave boys were expected to provide for their masters in those
days."

Both women shrieked with delight. Phyllis continued to read from the
text as several tables around them abruptly cleared.

"The teenaged sons of slave owners were given early responsibility for
slaves. Their own personal slave boy was usually 12 or 13 years old if
the slave owner's son was 16 or 17. Often the sons of slave owners
would take their personal slave fishing. Once they were away from all
the prying eyes on the plantation, the slave owner's son would pull
out his irrepressible teenaged cock and demand that the colored boy
suck on it. In this way a young teenaged master's natural need for
sexual relief was nicely taken care of by a slave nigger boy's tender
lips. White teenaged boys of that era, if they were lucky enough to
have a young Negro slave, never had to resort to masturbation in order
to have their sexual needs fulfilled. They also frequently took
advantage of their access to colored slave women's vaginas. Even a
fully grown slave woman who was old enough to be the boy's mother had
to submit to the young teenaged slave master's cock if he demanded it
of her. This led to the production of many mulatto babies during
slavery. White teenaged slave owners were fond of bragging to each
other about the 'wet nigger pussy meat' that they had 'conquered'
during the previous night in the big house or even in the Negro
woman's slave quarters in front of their helpless black 'husband.'"

Connie's eyes were wide with wonder, "That sounds like an exciting
history course!"

Phyllis smiled and put her book away, "Oh, I so admire the days of
slavery. That is my favorite historic period. I can imagine what it
would be like to inspect a teenaged Negro buck before purchasing him.
I would run my hands up and down the inside of his brown thighs and
slide my fingers inside his sweaty, dark butt crack. I'd feel under
his arm pits and rub my hands over his perspiring abs and navel. I'd
feel his low-hanging testicles, gently bouncing them in my delicate
white hands. Then I'd embarrass him by slowly stroking his thick
nigger cock, making it stand at attention in front of everyone,
leaking pre-cum."

Connie smiled dreamily.

Phyllis took another swig of her drink, "But can't you just picture
those slave owners pressing down on those dark Negro boys' bodies,
filling them with sperm? Can't you picture those smooth, dark skinned
negroes naked, lying flat on their stomachs with their arms sprawled
across the bed, involuntarily, while their white master plows their
firm black asses mercilessly, making the colored boys wince with pain,
while silently enduring it?"

Connie seemed lost in a daydream of her own, "Gee, I would love to
watch my boyfriend at work with the Negroes in his detention center
when he makes them drop their pants and boxer shorts below their ashy
knees while he embarrasses them by inspecting their teenaged cocks in
front of each other and the staff. I'd like to see him make them ride
white dildos as punishment for misbehaving while he snaps pictures of
them. Wouldn't that be great?"

Phyllis looked up at Connie in surprise, "Does he really get to do all
that?"

Connie laughs and waves her away, "I don't think so, but a girl can
dream can't she?"

Both women giggle. "Yes, but I'd really like to see him spank their
naked black asses for punishment."

A waiter suddenly arrives at their table and hurriedly hands them
their check. He stands in front of them waiting for them to pay.
Phyllis holds the check between two fingers, inspecting it as if it
were some curiosity blown to their table from the street. She ignores
the waiter and addresses Connie, "That's strange; they usually don't
give me the check until I ask for it."

Connie half-smiles, "Maybe it's because you're with me. You know I'm
not quite as high-class as you are."

Phyllis dismisses the self-deprecating comment with a laugh and hands
the waiter her credit card. As she and Connie leave the café Connie
notices the busboy emerging from the kitchen. There is a dark stain in
his crotch area, as if he spilled something on his pants and had to
wipe it away with a damp cloth. The boy eyes the two women
sheepishly.

Connie half-whispers to Phyllis, "You know, he's kinda cute. I
wouldn't mind walking on his side of the world for awhile, just to see
what it would be like."

Phyllis looks up absently, "Who are you talking about?"

Connie motions with her head, "The colored bus boy."

Phyllis laughs. "Maybe the next time we come here you can offer him
your vagina as his tip. I'm sure he'd love that."

Both women laugh loudly and walk out into the sunlit street.

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