Date: Fri, 5 Feb 2010 11:56:04 -0500
From: Evan Williams <classic14rider@gmail.com>
Subject: Hip Hop Hoes Part 2

This story is a work of erotic fiction. It is intended for entertainment
purposes only. It may contain racial slurs and sexual acts which some
readers may find offensive. This story is not intended to be read by minors
or by anyone who might be unduly influenced by its contents, or where
community standards prohibit this type of literature. If any of these
prohibitions apply to you, please find something else to read for your
entertainment.

*****************

Jikiris, a wannabe rap star who has a considerable following in "the hood"
found himself in financial difficulty and decided to visit the offices of
the owner of the record label he works for, Mr. Van Schmidt. Every time
Jikiris had to leave the hood and go downtown he became apprehensive. This
was no different from any of his other visits. Record label owners are
notorious for fucking with a young nigga's mind.

After passing through a battery of body scans, wand scans, and hand frisks,
where Jikiris strongly suspected that the security guards were getting off
by deliberately feeling his nuts and his ass, the young black thug boy
finally reached the top man's office.

Jikiris walked into the office of black marble and polished wood. Mr. Van
Schmidt came from behind his desk to greet the boy. He held out his hand
and Jikiris awkwardly shook it -- still not quite accustomed to the normal
business ritual and relying on his memory of how he saw white businessmen
behaving on TV.

Jikiris was amazed every time he saw Mr. Van Schmidt because every hair on
the man's perfectly styled blond head was impeccably in place. Jikiris
looked into the blue pools of the man's eyes and immediately forgot all of
his street bravado.

"Mr. Van Schmidt ...sir...I just wonderin' if you might be so kindly as to
gib me a few dollas so's I can make my car payments, sir." Jikiris hated
himself when he talked this way. He didn't do it on purpose, it was just a
vocal pattern that seemed to kick in whenever he was in the presence of a
rich or powerful white man. "I done gots myself into too much debt and I
bees in ovah my head."

Inside Jikiris was kicking himself, trying force himself to sound more
cocky and self-assured. He shifted nervously on his feet.

Van Schmidt coolly eyed the boy. "Sure, I can give you a few dollars," he
said -- pulling a checkbook out of inner breast pocket of his suit jacket
but not taking his steely blue eyes off of the boy. "I can give you a few
dollars, but it will be an advance on your allowance for the next CD. I'll
just take it off the top of whatever the CD grosses."

"Thank you kindly, sir," Jikiris awkwardly blurted out before biting his
lip in embarrassment at the way he sounded.

Mr. Van Schmidt scribbled on a check and handed it to the boy.

Jikiris reached out for the check, but the man let it drop from his
hands. The negro boy stood stooped shouldered, watching the check slowly
float to the floor at the white man's feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Van Schmidt said with false sympathy. "How clumsy of me; I
guess you'll have to bend down and pick it up."

"Yessir," Jikiris mumbled, familiar with this little "game." Jikiris knew
what was coming. He always hated this part of their interaction. He knew
how he was about to be treated and he also knew how his own body would
betray him by being aroused, robbing him of his right to be angry.

Jikiris bend down and scooped up the check, but before he could straighten
his back Mr. Van Schmidt said, "While you're down there be a good boy and
dust the dirt off of my shoes, will you?"

Jikiris made an annoyed face. He thought Mr. Van Schmidt was always asking
him to do demeaning things like this. Still, Jikiris needed the money, and
if dusting off Mr. Van Schmidt's shoes was a part of the bargain then so be
it.

The black boy brushed his fingers over the man's leather shoes, but Mr. Van
Schmidt shook his head. "No, not like that -- be a good boy and lick my
shoes with your tongue. Get them good and clean, will you?"

Jikiris made a face. He figured he wouldn't get off so easily. Here he was,
a male role-model and idol in his community, someone all the "homeboys" and
"shawties" looked up to, and he was about to get down on his hands and
knees and lick this man's dirty shoes. But he knew this was the way the
game was played and there was nothing he could do about it. What he really
bothered him was the fact that he always got a raging hard-on every time he
did something like this.

The black boy crouched down at the white man's feet and made another face
of displeasure. Slowly he ran his tongue over the man's shoes, wiping them
clean. As usual, Jikiris felt his cock getting rock hard, making a tent in
his baggy jeans.

Jikiris tasted the man's shoe leather. Somehow this racially forbidden act
seemed so right to the boy. This was something his homeboys would never
imagine seeing their hip hop hero do in a million years, and yet if they
saw it they would also get hard. There is nothing like the shock of
humiliation to get a black boy's cock hard.

Jikiris looked up at the blue-eyed white man who was glaring down at him. A
lock of the man's blond hair had drifted over his forehead. The man seemed
intent on keeping Jikiris at his feet. Jikiris looked at the man as a dog
looks up to the leader of the dog pack.

Maybe that was it, Jikiris thought, as he continued to lick the white man's
shoes. "I know I'm a dawg, and my boys be dawgs too, but maybe dis here be
da head dawg. He da dawg all us niggas gotta look up to because he got da
money an' da power."

Van Schmidt seemed oblivious to the boy's logic. The only thing that
interested him was how easily and thoroughly the boy could be subdued.

But to Jikiris this logic gave his life order and meaning -- the law of the
jungle -- domination and submission -- the conqueror and the conquered --
as he licked this white man's shoes he felt himself affirming the social
hierarchy. His cock throbbed in his pants.

Jikiris thought that maybe this law of the jungle was why his pecker was so
damn hard and wouldn't go down. In the streets the only thing that matters
is power -- and this dude, Mr. Van Schmidt, had it in spades.

Van Schmidt sensed the boy's confusion. He enjoyed the prospect of burning
whatever lesson the boy was learning deep into his mind. He lifted his shoe
slightly so that the boy could lick the soles of his feet. "Lick those
shoes, boy -- that's what you're good for."

"Yeah, dat's it," thought Jakiris -- his stiff cock now leaking pre-cum and
creating a dark stain in the front of his pants. "I jus be gibbin dis dude
respect because he done earned it. He da man."

Van Schmidt gave Jakiris a slight shove with the bottom of his foot against
the boy's face -- pushing him away. Then Van Schmidt turned and walked out
of the room.

Jakiris was still on all fours in the middle of the floor, looking like a
dog, his thick black cock twitching inside of his pants, pumping pre-cum
into his boxer shorts.

The boy almost didn't notice that Van Schmidt had left the room because he
was so caught up in his own thoughts about how it is that in the ghetto, as
with monkeys in the jungle, the stronger male humiliates the weaker male --
often ending up with the weaker male sucking the stronger male's cock and
swallowing his cum as a sign of respect.

Jakiris also knew that the weaker male turns up his ass to the stronger
male -- as a sign of submission -- allowing the stronger male to mount him
in order to demonstrate his dominance. Jakiris was well aware that this is
why he and his buddies sagged their pants all of the time.

*******************

Jakiris wasn't exactly the brightest jungle bunny in the forest but he did
know enough to figure out that what a white man could do to him, he could
do to one of his younger homeboys. When he got back to his streets in the
ghetto he had just such a boy in mind.

The boy's name was Darrius. Jakiris had had his eye on Darrius for some
time. The younger boy was about 16 years old, the color of sweet
caramel. He wore his long curly black hair bunched up in a frizzy pony tail
and topped it off with a bright colored cap -- usually red or green or blue
or white -- depending on the color of his jersey and his sneakers on that
day. His thick red lips were topped by a gentle shadow of a peach fuzz
mustache, hinting at that boy's emerging manhood.

Jakiris found himself somewhat hypnotized by the younger boy's flawless
skin, especially when the boy was wearing gym shorts allowing Jakiris to
see his smooth brown legs. For some reason Darrius struck Jakiris as being
"innocent" so, Jakiris took it upon himself, as a challenge, to help the
boy discover his erotic passions.

When Jakiris saw Darrius walking up the street he called him over. "Hey
Darrius, come ovah here man, I gots a job fo you."

Darrius' eyes brightened. It's not every day that a budding recording star
like Jakiris even bothers to pay attention to a nigga, much less offer him
some work to do. He rushed over and stared at the older boy in expectation.

"I wan' chu to help me out wid' a song I be workin' on ..."

Darrius couldn't contain his excitement. He warm brown glowed with
anticipation.

"But first u gotta cum wid me someplace where I kin see if u man enouf ta
handle th' job."

Darrius' face became quizzical but he kept up his game face, looking
street-hardened and deadly serious, "Thas wuz up." He silently followed the
older boy into an empty storage room. Jakiris locked the door.

Jakiris faced the boy, "Pull down yo' shorts"

Darrius looked at Jakiris as if he was unsure that he heard what Jakiris
had just asked him to do.

"You heard me nigga, I say pull yo pants down."

Darrius slipped his gym shorts down below his knees.

"Boxas too."

Darrius looked embarrassed but he figured this must be some sort of ritual
of initiation. He slowly tugged down his boxer shorts revealing a thick
healthy cock nestled on top of two pendulous testicles with a dense bush of
dark pubic hair above -- all resting between the boy's smooth brown thighs.

Jikiris studied the smooth brown curves of the boy's body and the boy's
tender bulbous ass. He sighed in spite of himself. His eyes went dreamy. If
a white man, like Mr. Van Schmidt, could own any young nigga's body he
wanted, then a nigga like Jikiris, who had everyone's respect in "da hood"
should be able to own a nigga's body too.

Jakiris pointed to a box in the center of the room, "Sit down on dat box."

Darrius followed the older boy's orders. His eyes grew wide with disbelief
as Jikiris stooped in front of him and began fondling the boy's cock,
making it hard. Darrius looked away, embarrassed for Jikiris who was
kneeling in front of him, playing with the boy's dick, and embarrassed for
himself for getting a hard-on in front of a nigga when there were no
bitches around to play it off as something other than what it actually was.

Jikiris leaned in; he looked up at Darrius and mumbled, "Don't tell nobody
`bout dis." Then he stuck the boy's cock in his mouth and sucked on it like
it was a caramel Tootsie Roll pop. The boy's cock quickly expanded and
filled Jikiris' mouth.

Darrius let out a sound that was a cross between a whimper and a moan. He
had never felt a sensation like this in his entire young life. Jikiris'
warm moist mouth was wrapped around his cock and his tongue massaged the
underside of the boy's shaft giving him pleasures he never dreamed of.

The boy tried to keep his "street mug." He was deadly silent and serious,
but he couldn't repress the moans and sighs that escaped from his lips.

Jakiris grabbed the boy's hips buried his face in the boy's crotch. Darrius
forgot himself, forgot the pecking order of the ghetto, forget his position
in the social hierarchy -- he grabbed that back of Jarkiris' head and
pumped his cock in and out of the older boy's mouth, completely absorbed by
his own uncontrollable teenage lust.

Jakiris chocked on the boy's thick cock. He swallowed his saliva and the
boy's precum.

Darrius grunted and thrust in the black boy's mouth. His thrusts grew
harder and harder as his needs became more and more urgent. Darrius picked
up speed and breathed heavily -- panting now with restless excitement.

Jakiris went with the flow and allowed to boy to aggressively fuck his
face.

Before long Darrius' body tensed -- he let out a deep moan -- his cock
twitched in Jakiris' mouth. Thick blasts of creamy man-juice landed heavily
in the back of Jakiris' tongue and the roof of his mouth. Jakiris nestled
his face in the boy's pubes and nursed on the younger boy's cock without
apology.

After Darrius had finished firing his load, Jakiris sat motionless with the
boy's softening cock still resting on his tongue, leaking the remainder of
his joy juice.

Jakiris swallowed all of the boy's liquid man-nectar before lifting his
face from the boy's crotch.

When Jakiris realized what he had just done he became embarrassed. He
looked up at the younger boy who was still in state of bliss.

"Don't tell nobody I done sucked yo' dick," Jakiris said in a threatening
tone.

Darrius straightened up. He nodded, looking somewhat confused about what
had just happened. He silently pulled up his boxers and his gym shorts.
Both boys hardened their faces before returning to the streets.

The two boys left the room -- Jakiris couldn't even look at the Darrius and
Darrius avoided eye contact with Jakiris. They didn't say another word to
each other.