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From: WannabeWhitman <wannabewhitman07@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} A Thug's First Photo Shoot - Part 4
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Date: Sat, 05 May 2007 08:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "A Thug's First Photo Shoot - Part 4.doc" begin>

A Thug's First Photo Shoot (Part 4) 

By WannabeWhitman (MM, interr, ds, reluc, rough)

NOTE TO READERS: The following is a story about another encounter
with Kevin, the young black thug from "A Thug's First Photo
Shoot" (<a
href="http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/interracial/thugs-first
-photo-shoot/">http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/interracial/th
ugs-first-photo-shoot/</a>). The story is 100% TRUE. If you're
offended by stories depicting interracial gay sex and
"prostitution," DO NOT READ!

If you enjoy this story, please let me know! Any and all feedback
is welcome and desired! I would love to hear constructive
criticism, scenes or themes you particularly enjoy, stories and
fantasies of your own, and anything else you might want to share.
E-mail me at <a
href="mailto:WannabeWhitman07@yahoo.com">WannabeWhitman07@yahoo.c
om</a>. 

If you share my obsession with the beauty and sexuality of black
males, check out my Google group! Explore your TABOO erotic
fantasies about black males: slavery, domination/submission,
economic coercion, prison scenes, youth themes, gangbangs, and
more. Discuss your forbidden fantasies, share photos, and post
erotic stories. Join me in looking at interracial desire in a way
that most are too timid to talk about!  This is NOT your average
interracial group. Stay away if easily offended! 

<a
href="http://groups.google.com/group/black-boy-addiction/">http:/
/groups.google.com/group/black-boy-addiction/</a>


If this were a fictional erotic story, I'd end it with the tender
encounter described in Part 3. 

But real life rarely gives us cheerful, clear-cut endings, so I'm
left with the strange, sad story of my most recent experience
with Kevin. 

Kevin called me around 11 p.m. last Monday night, and said he had
a "suggestion" for me. What would I be willing to pay, he asked,
for him to spend an entire night with me? 

Of course the idea of enjoying Kevin's body and company for
several hours without worrying about the clock was too tempting
to turn down, so I told him to come on over and we could
negotiate a price in person. 

Kevin showed up within the half-hour, sweating and smiling and
looking sexier than ever. 

He wore a wife-beater that clung tightly to his lean, toned chest
and showed off the smooth caramel skin of his arms and shoulders.
"Golds" flashed from his teeth, and his hair was still the
mini-Afro I'd so much enjoyed running my fingers through the last
time. And as always, his pants sagged so ridiculously low that
they practically bunched around his knees, exposing his perfectly
round buttocks covered only with the thin, coarse fabric of cheap
boxer shorts. 

I drooled over Kevin's tall, lanky body decked out in its gaudy
hip-hop gear. A wicked part of me wanted to skip all
conversation, throw Kevin across my futon, yank down his ratty
boxers, and shove my dick up his tight sweaty asshole without
warning. 

I noticed that Kevin looked a bit thinner, SCRAWNY even. He had
virtually no body fat on his upper body, but little muscle
definition either. I assumed his greasy ghetto diet, heavy
drinking, and daily drug use were beginning to take their toll on
his body. Lucky for me, I like the tall, skinny, "hood rat" look,
so while Kevin's health might be compromised, his sexual appeal
certainly wasn't. 

But something else was different. 

From the moment Kevin sat next to me on my futon, I sensed that
our usual chemistry was "off." He was friendly and talkative, but
at the same time somehow detached and distracted, like his body
was with me while his mind was wandering. 

Of course a lot of this probably had to do with the fact that he
was high as hell after smoking weed all day with one of his
"homeboys." 

As I caught up on his life, I learned that he'd quit his job and
now spent most of his days drinking, getting high, and playing
"Spades" with his "niggas."

My heart sank when I heard this. 

When I first met Kevin, he was an ambitious, bright-eyed high
school graduate preparing to attend a "Historically Black
College" with the help of an athletic scholarship. Now, less than
two years later, he's dropped out of college, spent six months
locked up, quit his job, and currently wastes his days getting
high, playing cards, fucking girls, and selling drugs. 

So much for graduating college, going to law school, and becoming
a judge, I reflected with a pang of sadness. So much for
traveling to Europe and visiting "that city with the big tower."


But who was I to judge? 

Even if I could find a way to express my disappointment
constructively, without coming across as self-righteous or
patronizing, I doubted he'd ever take my words to heart. I was
just a horny white man who paid to enjoy his body. What right did
I have to concern myself with his mind, health, or future? Didn't
his lazy, aimless, self-destructive lifestyle ultimately work to
my advantage, guaranteeing his continued economic dependence and
granting me consistent access to his sexy young body? 

I shrugged off my uneasiness and changed the topic to a
negotiation over the night's activities and price. 

I proposed a lump sum for the entire night, but insisted it
include anything I wanted to do with him ("within reason"), and
that he had to cooperate without complaining. I stressed that
this meant I could be as rough and dominant as I wished, even to
the point of "nutting" on his face if I wanted. 

Kevin winced and looked away in embarrassment. I think he found
the idea of TALKING about me turning him into my bitch more
unsettling and humiliating than simply submitting to the role in
silence. 

"That shit's nasty," he mumbled, clearly hoping he could talk me
out of it. 

"I'm not talking about cumming in your mouth like last time," I
explained impatiently. "Just on your face. But it's up to you." 

"Okay," he begrudgingly agreed, after a minute of comical facial
contortions. 

Knowing I had the rest of the night to relax and enjoy Kevin's
body at my own pace, I spent the first hour engaging my young
thug in conversation. I asked him a series of questions that had
been on my mind since our last visit. 

First, I was curious to know what he planned to do with the money
I gave him. 

When I posed this question during our first session a couple
years ago, he talked a responsible game about putting the cash in
a savings account for his college education. 

Now, he rambled eagerly on and on about all the weed he was going
to buy, and the new tattoos he planned on getting the next day.
He also said he was going to put some of it toward a $1,500
birthday gift for his mother........for the express purpose, he
explained shamelessly, of showing up his older brother who bought
their Mom a plasma television last year. 

When I arched my eyebrows skeptically, he said that his
grandmother criticizes him for wasting money. 

"But she can't say nothin'," he mumbled. "I'm a grown-ass man. I
GOT my diploma, she can't complain." 

I smiled weakly, and felt the sadness and frustration rising in
my chest again. 

I wanted to seize Kevin by the shoulders and literally shake some
sense into him. I wanted to show him the foolishness of his
financial choices, the stupidity and futility of the ego-driven,
hyper-materialistic hip-hop mentality he's clearly embraced. I
wanted to tell him how much he's selling himself short by
accepting a high school diploma as the ultimate measure of
success. 

But the words got choked in my throat as Kevin rambled on and
on.

I asked Kevin why he continues to get together with me when he
can earn a lot more money selling drugs. 

He explained that his encounters with me were "safer."
Especially, he confessed, because he recently started selling
BIGGER drugs than weed, behavior that brings with it a
considerably greater risk. With me, he explained, he might make
less money but it's a lot less "work," and he doesn't have to
worry about getting shot or going to jail. 

I strained a smile and tried to ignore the growing pit in my
stomach. 

How's his girlfriend, I asked? 

Kevin's face lit up. 

"We cool," he said with a wide grin. "We REAL cool." 

His reaction surprised me. Typically he responds to my questions
about his girlfriend with little more than grunts and shrugs. 

"You mean sexually?" I asked, confused and a little jealous. 

"That too," he nodded, still beaming. "We been talkin' 'bout
makin' a baby." 

The pit in my stomach expanded. 

Kevin explained that he didn't want to MARRY his girlfriend, but
basically just use her to give him a son. He seemed confident he
could get custody in the future, and that his son would be the
only thing he needed to be happy. He wouldn't need friends, or
any of the "bullshit" that a wife brings into the picture. He
swore he'd be the best damn father in the world, and that he
couldn't wait to teach his son everything he knows.

Kevin's immaturity was mind-boggling. He talked about fathering a
child with the giddy, nave optimism of a little kid talking about
growing up to become a cowboy or astronaut. 

Annoyed, I asked Kevin if he ever has misgivings about cheating
on his girlfriend, the future mother of his child, through his
encounters with me. I think the question came out of a spiteful
urge to ground Kevin in reality and force him to take some
responsibility for his choices. 

The amoral arrogance of his response was chilling. 

"It ain't none of her damn business," he shrugged
matter-of-factly. "I'm a grown-ass man." 

He added that because his girlfriend benefits directly from our
encounters through gifts he buys her with the money he makes, he
feels like the deception is justified. 

I was both amused and appalled by the casual, cocky ease with
which he embraced such a laughably pathetic rationalization. 

But who was I to judge, being equally complicit in the betrayal
of the nameless, faceless black girl who calls Kevin's cell-phone
at least half a dozen times every time he's with me? (Many times
while my dick's firmly lodged in her boyfriend's mouth or ass). 

But then again, that infidelity is part of what makes my
encounters with Kevin so exciting. Picturing him bucking between
his girlfriend's legs like a wild, sex-crazed animal. Then
imagining the shock and disgust that would surely show on his
girlfriend's face should see ever see her handsome young "nigga"
splayed on his stomach, grunting and groaning while an older
white man's cock turns his shit-hole into a stretched-open pussy.


By this point, I felt sickened and helpless. 

It was like I was watching Kevin turned into a statistic before
my eyes, but powerless to stop it from happening. 

In that moment, I knew with a queasy, heartbreaking certainty
that Kevin will be dead or incarcerated within the next year or
two. If he's lucky, he'll continue on his current lazy, aimless
path........pot-smoking, binge-drinking, and bitch-fucking away
his youth until he's a glassy-eyed bum outside some ghetto liquor
store, with no education, no job, and seven or eight
"baby-mama's" raising another generation of fatherless black
boys. 

I reflected on all this with an intense mixture of compassion and
contempt. 

Compassion, because I know the cards are stacked against black
boys like Kevin from the start. Because I know he never had a
father to teach him how to save money, respect women, or value a
college education. And because I know that things are rigged so
that the average aimless, pot-smoking, pussy-loving WHITE boys in
Kevin's circumstances have enough people look the other way or
give them a leg up that they'll still end up graduating college
and landing in positions of wealth and power. Hell, if you don't
believe me, just look at our PRESIDENT! 

Contempt, because I know that obstacles or no obstacles, Kevin
still has choices, and right now he's making some really STUPID
choices that are wasting away his sharp mind and immense
potential. 

More than anything, though, I just felt heartsick and helpless,
knowing there is no way for an older white male like myself to
inspire and guide a black boy like Kevin to a better future,
especially after I've proven to both of us that I care more about
exploiting his body than enriching his mind or encouraging his
goals. 

This combination of guilt, anger, sorrow, and helplessness fueled
my most aggressive encounter with Kevin so far. 

Things started off gently enough. 

Kevin showered and then spread out on my bed, naked and on his
stomach, his deep-brown skin still glistening with beads of
water. 

I popped in a porn DVD, and for the first half hour we lay naked
side by side, not even jerking off but simply talking quietly and
making fun of the dialogue and actors. 

By this point, it was already the wee hours of the morning, and
it was becoming hilariously obvious that Kevin could barely keep
his eyes open. 

I lay on my back and pulled Kevin's body on top of mine for our
normal routine in which he nuzzles my neck, sucks on my nipples,
and eventually takes a deep reluctant breath before diving down
on my dick. 

This time, however, Kevin literally fell asleep while kissing my
neck. I laughed with good-natured amusement the first time it
happened, but when it happened again a minute or two later, I
grew annoyed. 

I shook him awake and he mumbled some laughable excuse about how
he wasn't really ASLEEP, his mind had simply wandered someplace
else. He lowered his head to my nipples, but sucked on them so
sluggishly that I thought he was joking at first. 

"This isn't working," I concluded impatiently, pushing Kevin off
of me. 

"Huh? What I do?" he responded defensively, slowly stirring
awake. "You ain't tellin' me shit to do 'cept 'kiss my neck,' and
I don't feel like doin' that shit all night cuz your neck tastes
like SWEAT." 

This was the first time in all of our encounters that Kevin had
ever "talked back" or criticized something about my body. I was
both taken aback and pissed off. I actually came VERY close to
calling the whole thing off and sending Kevin home without his
money. 

But I took a deep breath, and calmly but sternly reminded him of
our deal. 

I told him I wasn't trying to be an asshole. I knew it was late
and understood he was sleepy, but the amount of money I was
paying him was no small sum to me, and I didn't want to wake up
the next morning feeling like I didn't get my money's worth. 

Kevin glared at me, and mumbled more lame excuses. 

At first, I resented the fact that Kevin was forcing me into the
role of grouchy authoritarian white male. Then, for a brief,
arousing moment, I felt like an angry overseer chastising a lazy,
rebellious slave in the 19th century South. 

"Just shut up and suck my dick," I snapped in an uncharacteristic
flare of temper. 

Kevin looked at me with surprise, but sullenly obeyed my orders.
I felt my erect dick slip into his mouth as his thick Negro lips
slid tightly down the length of its shaft. 

Crouched between my legs, Kevin settled into his routine of
grasping my cock with his fist so that his mouth is left with the
easier task of slurping on its tip. 

But I had no more patience for his laziness, and I pushed away
his hands to leave his mouth and throat at the mercy of my dick.


He started to protest, but stopped himself, clearly aware that he
was going to have to step up his game and submit to me completely
if he wanted to leave with his precious money. 

I took it easy on him at first, curious to see how much
initiative he'd take at this point. He slowly but voluntarily
took the entire length of my dick into his mouth so that its head
poked against the entrance to his throat. When he started to gag,
he pulled off gently, leaving a shiny coat of warm spit along the
length of the shaft. 

He took a quick breath and again lowered his face on my cock,
repeating this countless times with increasing speed. His hands
rested tensely against my stomach as his juicy lips ascended and
descended my red-hard pole in sensual twisty-turning motions, his
eyes squeezed shut in disgusted but diligent endurance. 

When he needed air, he lifted his mouth off my cock, gripped my
dick by the base, and whacked it rapidly back and forth between
the corners of his lips, producing wet noisy popping sounds that
made me want to splatter my cum all over his face and lips right
then and there. 

But I was enjoying the pleasure and power of fucking my macho
thug-boy's face too much to bring it to an end too soon. 

I decided to test his limits and see the full extent to which
he'd allow me to use and degrade his young brown body. So far,
I'd let Kevin maintain control while sucking my dick. But now I
was eager to take total mastery of his mouth, to fuck it as if it
were a wet sloppy cunt, wildly and without mercy. 

I clutched the back of Kevin's head with both hands, and his
entire body stiffened in dread of the assault he knew was about
to come. But he didn't complain or resist, much to my surprise
and excitement, and simply braced himself for the ordeal. 

Seizing two handfuls of Kevin's soft wooly Afro, I raised my hips
off the bed and pushed my throbbing prick slowly up-up-up and as
deep into the back of his throat as possible. 

Kevin's eyes bulged out in alarm, but I held the back of his head
firmly in place and refused him the option of retreat. I rested
my hips back on the bed and pulled my dick slowly out of his
throat, but not far enough to escape the suction of his lips or
allow him the chance to breathe. 

Instead, I jerked my hips upward in a sharp, sadistic thrust,
burrowing my cock even deeper in his throat than before. I
tightened my grip on his now-disheveled Afro and forced his face
downward as I shoved my dick upward. 

I could feel Kevin's mouth filling up with warm saliva, but he
didn't flail his arms or groan in protest. He simply clenched his
eyes shut and surrendered his mouth to the violation. 

Urged on by Kevin's uncharacteristic submissiveness, I
intensified the strength and speed of my thrusts. As I stabbed
his throat with increasing violence, I savored the pleasure
caused by the friction of his fleshy spit-drenched lips. I sighed
with ecstasy as I repeatedly submerged my dick in the warm
gurgling fluids of Kevin's mouth. 

But more than anything, I relished the thrill of watching my
white cock make a sloppy-wet cunt out of a cocky black boy's
mouth. 

As if to emphasize my total control in that moment, I groped and
slapped Kevin's face while I raped his mouth. I smacked his
cheeks, yanked on his goatee, played with his nostrils, and
tugged obnoxiously on his thick, spit-slick lips. 

Kevin knew what I was doing. I was deliberately degrading him,
turning him into my bitch just as he and his "niggas" had done to
countless black girls over the years. And he knew if he wanted to
get paid, he had no choice but to play the role and endure the
humiliation without complaining. 

I jerked my hips wildly up and down, fucking Kevin's mouth with
accelerating brutality. I imagined Kevin's mouth in drastically
different contexts: Talking trash while "ballin" with his
"niggas"; swapping macho stories about his sexual conquests,
while smoking weed with other thugs who probably drool over his
tight young body as much as I do; or sensually tongue-kissing his
girlfriend as the two of them try to make a baby. 

It turned me on beyond belief to look down and see that same
mouth helplessly stuffed with a white man's cock as drool leaked
out the corners of its wide-stretched lips. If only his "niggas"
and "bitches" and mother and grandmother could see him now, I
thought with amusement, and slammed my cock in his throat even
harder. 

This time the impact was too much for Kevin to handle. He made a
noisy desperate retching sound and jerked his head wildly up and
off of my cock. He jumped up from the bed, pointed at his mouth,
and mumbled some incoherent excuse before running to spit a
mouthful of phlegm and saliva in my wastebasket. 

"It went too deep," he apologized, gasping for air. 

I chuckled sympathetically (or was it sadistically?), and
motioned for him to return to his crouching position between my
legs. I detected a flash of resentment cross Kevin's face, but he
kneeled obediently and slipped his wet lips back over my dick. 

I resumed pummeling his slobbery raw throat as if nothing had
happened. I clutched the sides of his face and forced his mouth
to accommodate every brutal thrust. 

When I needed to postpone my mounting orgasm, I pulled out and
ordered him to lick the shaft, watching with delight as his long
sexy tongue lapped sensually from its base to its beet-red tip. 

After enduring this ordeal for close to a half hour, Kevin pulled
his head off my dick and climbed forward to place his face close
to mine. With slobber literally dripping off his lips, he shot me
a cute puppy-dog plea to give him a break. 

"You're being a real trooper," I smiled encouragingly. "Now
THAT'S what I meant when I told you to start earning your money!"


I kissed Kevin on the lips, sucking on his spit-juicy lips and
tasting my own dick and precum on his hot breath. 

My dick felt cold and neglected, however, and craved the
comforting warm wetness of Kevin's mouth, so I pushed his head
back down and poked my dick between his lips, demanding
re-entrance. 

After several minutes of rapid-fire face-pounding, I pushed Kevin
onto his back, crouched over his face, and slipped my pulsating
prick back into his mouth. 

I initially slid my cock in and out with slow, sensual strokes,
but in no time I began pumping in and out with merciless,
maniacal strokes. Kevin tried to push back on my hips with his
hands, but his resistance only made me throttle his throat more
vigorously. Something wild and cruel possessed me, and I bucked
my hips into his mouth like an untamed stallion. I've never
fucked a guy's ASS as fiercely and relentlessly as I raped
Kevin's mouth that night.  

In that moment, I WANTED to cause Kevin pain. I wanted to make
him flinch and squirm and suffocate on my cock. I wanted to stab
the deepest recesses of his throat, even if doing so made him
choke and gag and vomit. I knew it was wrong, but I ENJOYED
making my beautiful black boy suffer.

When I feared an approaching orgasm, I yanked my dick from his
mouth and whacked it against his chin, cheeks, nose, and
forehead, leaving trails of sticky precum criss-crossing his
smooth chestnut skin. 

I held back my dick and dangled my hot hairy balls obnoxiously
against his chin. I ordered him to suck on them, and watched as
he reluctantly slurped them one by one into his mouth. I hadn't
trimmed for months, and when he thought I wasn't looking I caught
him wrinkling his nose in disgust at the tangled mass of sweaty
ball-hair smashing against his nose and lips. 

Eager to take my enjoyment and domination of Kevin's body to
another level, I flipped him onto his stomach and gazed with
greedy excitement at the beautiful upturned buttocks I planned on
splitting open. 

I hurriedly put on a condom, spread open Kevin's ripe round
ass-cheeks, squirted some lube on his tiny, wrinkled asshole, and
poked my cock-head against the tightly-clenched entrance to the
most private and pleasurable part of every young thug's body. 

Every muscle in Kevin's body tightened in anticipation of the
pain to come, and he braced himself by clutching a pillow and
burying his face in it. 

I taunted him by rubbing the tip of my dick across the scratchy,
lube-soaked hair surrounding his asshole, and watched as his
smooth toffee-colored buttocks rose a good two inches in height
to ward off the intrusion. With his buttocks squeezed defensively
together, Kevin's ass looked somehow smaller, but even more
gorgeous and tempting than usual, almost like the tiny firm
ass-mounds of a twelve-year-old boy. 

Impatient to sample the squishy-warm delights of Kevin's
ass-tunnel, I pushed the tip of my cock against its entrance, and
pushed with all my might until it gave way to the invasion. 

As my cock sank slowly into Kevin's ass, pushing against the
stranglehold of his fiercely resistant anal walls, Kevin let out
an audible gasp of pain. 

"You need to slow the fuck down, bro," he grunted, still burying
his face in the pillow. "Now you know I ain't said nothin' all
night, but that shit HURTS," he added, clearly worried I was
going to interpret his comment as a complaint. 

I ignored his request and slammed my cock as far as it would go,
ripping open his tightened ass-tunnel in the process. 

Kevin's head whipped angrily around, but I think he realized I
was past the point of no return, and that he had no choice but to
surrender his ass to me completely. 

I collapsed my sweaty body flat against his back so that I could
watch his animated facial expressions as I bucked in and out of
his butt with short, staccato strokes. 

In all the times I've fucked Kevin, I've never seen expressions
of such excruciating pain and disgust cross his face. He clutched
at the bed and gagged himself with a mouthful of pillowcase as he
gasped and winced and groaned and panted in rhythm to my brutal
thrusts. When I grinded my hips to push particularly deep, his
head jerked up and he clutched at his face with both hands in a
way that suggested both pain AND shame over allowing his body to
be possessed and degraded in this way. 

Of course in my frenzy of desire and domination, every gasp and
grimace only lured me closer and closer to climax. 

I buried my nose in the wooly softness of his Afro, inhaling its
sweet intoxicating smell as I lunged into his body like a
jackhammer drilling for oil. I nuzzled his neck, chewed on his
earlobes, and licked his smooth caramel cheeks, savoring the
sweaty closeness of our bodies. I trembled from the thrill of his
body growing alternately tense and limp as it surrendered beneath
my own. 

"Damn, that feels good!" I panted hotly in his ear as I sped up
the pace of my ass-fucking.

"Yeah........feels good to WHO?!?" he gasped, turning his face to
the side and revealing a cutely strained expression. 

"Just think of the money you'll take home tomorrow," I said
encouragingly, when his grimaces of pain grew especially
grotesque. 

"Oh, BELIEVE ME, I'm thinkin' 'bout the money!" he grunted,
wincing as I slammed my cock deep into his bowels. 

"Think about those tattoos," I teased, awkwardly planting a
slobbery kiss on the side of his face. 

"FUCK tattoos!" he snapped in the midst of his heavy panting.
"I'm going to get me some DRUGS after this shit!" 

Feeling the onset of orgasm, I pumped furiously in and out of
Kevin's body. Just as I had when fucking his mouth, I felt
possessed to inflict as much pain as possible on the beautiful
black body squirming beneath me like a worm pinned on a hook. 

As I lunged into Kevin's body with unrestrained ferocity, I found
myself recalling our earlier conversation. With every
recollection, I slammed into his body all the more violently. 

I thought of Kevin dropping out of college, quitting his job and
smoking weed every day. SLAM! 

I pictured him selling drugs and getting locked up. SLAM!

I thought of Kevin's fake thug persona, and all his bullshit
macho posturing for the eyes of the outside world. SLAM!

I thought of all the girls AND guys he's fucked before me,
willingly and without a price tag. SLAM! 

I thought of his choice to have a baby as the solution to his
fucked-up life. A baby I will never see, with a girlfriend I will
never meet, in a future I will never be a part of. SLAM!

And then it hit me, the reason I want to conquer and control
black boys like Kevin. 

In the end it's about CONNECTION, not domination, COMPASSION, not
cruelty. Fucking Kevin is the closest I will ever be to a cocky
young thug like him. It's precisely because I have no way to
educate, inspire, challenge, or guide Kevin that I resort to
using money as a way of luring him into my life. Money is my only
means to asserting a tiny, temporary presence in a life that
otherwise feels no need and makes no room for a white man like
myself. 

I need to fuck him, and degrade him, and hurt and humiliate him
because that's the only way I have to make black boys like him
drop their cocky posturing long enough to feel a white man's
affection and authority in their fatherless fucked-up lives. I
hurt them because I LOVE them.

This epiphany brought me to the brink of one of the most powerful
orgasms of my life. 

I seized Kevin by the shoulders, pinned him to the bed, and
hurled my body into his with a final euphoric thrust. 

As my cock buried itself in the darkness of Kevin's insides, I
surrendered to an explosive, shuddering climax and flooded the
tip of the condom with several spurts of hot, creamy semen. I
unleashed so much cum that Kevin later told me he could actually
FEEL the condom expanding inside his ass. 

Kevin stood up wearily and stumbled his way to the bathroom. He
showered for what seemed like hours, I suspect to avoid my
groping for as long as possible. 

For the next few hours, we slept restlessly side by side, a good
foot or two of space between us. 

I could have snuggled up against him. I could have kissed him, or
placed his arms around me in a tight embrace. I could have told
him my life story, about the black boys I'd known and loved
growing up. I'd paid for all of those privileges.   

But the moment of connection was over. 

My conquest had only been temporary; my control, little more than
an illusion.


*****************************************************************
*****
 
If you enjoy this story, please let me know! Any and all feedback
is welcome and desired! I would love to hear constructive
criticism, scenes or themes you particularly enjoy, stories and
fantasies of your own, and anything else you might want to share.
E-mail me at <a
href="mailto:WannabeWhitman07@yahoo.com">WannabeWhitman07@yahoo.c
om</a>. 

If you share my obsession with the beauty and sexuality of black
males, check out my Google group! Explore your TABOO erotic
fantasies about black males: slavery, domination/submission,
economic coercion, prison scenes, youth themes, gangbangs, and
more. Discuss your forbidden fantasies, share photos, and post
erotic stories. Join me in looking at interracial desire in a way
that most are too timid to talk about!  This is NOT your average
interracial group. Stay away if easily offended! 

<a
href="http://groups.google.com/group/black-boy-addiction/">http:/
/groups.google.com/group/black-boy-addiction/</a>





<1st attachment end>


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