Date: Wed, 24 Mar 2010 01:25:39 -0400
From: Evan Williams <classic14rider@gmail.com>
Subject: Hip Hop Hoes Part 11

The following story is a work of erotic fiction. It is for entertainment
purposes only. It is not intended for minors. It includes teenagers and
racially offensive language. Anyone who might be offended by this type of
story, or unduly influenced by it, should find something else to read.

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

Trayshawn, a black boy, the color of dark cherry wood, with thick braided
corn rows, thick luscious lips and a small gold ear stud that twinkled
against his dark skin, hung out with his boys at the mall every
night. "Dere go yo pops," one of the boys snickered, as a feeble elderly
man wobbled by. The black boys fell over each other with laughter causing
the poor elderly white man to look at them in fear and confusion.

"You can tell she like her man's dick," another black boy wise-cracked as a
pregnant young white woman strolled by holding a young child by the
hand. The woman gave the laughing boys an annoyed glance as she quickly
pulled her child along, hoping the child wouldn't hear the profanity and
lewd comments the boys were making.

"Yo, dat white boy a faggot – he jus' got dat bytch on his arm so people
think he straight," Trayshawn sneered as a handsome blond teenager, with
his girlfriend on his arm, strolled by. The boy shot the slovenly group a
piercing look as Trayshawn and his boys doubled over with laughter. And so
it went all evening.

But it's not that Trayshawn was really as bad as he seemed. When he was all
alone in his bedroom he spent hours devouring comic books depicting
courageous heroes who stood up for truth, justice, law and order against
all manner of thugs and villains. Trayshawn only played the role of
society's menace when he was with his "boys" and he felt he had to impress
them. He humiliated decent and upstanding citizens when he was with the
wrong crowd, and felt pangs of guilt later that night when he had time to
reflect on what he had done.

Like any teenage boy, Trayshawn admired the strength of heroes such as
Superman, Thor, Tarzan, and the Lone Ranger. He secretly wished they would
come to the ghetto and put an end to all the crime and lawlessness that
surrounded him.  He longed for one of those heroes from the funny pages to
confront disorderly gang-bangers who prowled the streets day and night, the
predatory drug dealers, the shady loan sharks, the shameless prostitutes,
and other assorted knuckleheads who preyed on innocent law-abiding folks.

Trayshawn was feeling pangs of guilt, especially for humiliating that
handsome white couple a few hours ago in the mall. He knew he was wrong for
his behavior, but there was nothing he could do about it now. But the more
he thought about it, the more it bothered him. The blond haired white boy
looked a little bit like those drawings of "Buck Rogers" that Trayshawn
read about in the comics.

Trayshawn's guilt started to get the better of him. He had to go out and
get fresh air. The streets in his neighborhood weren't safe because they
were overrun with wild "niggers," as Trayshawn called them. He hopped on a
subway and went down to a public park in the college section of town, where
he could hang out, without fear, late into the night.

Trayshawn sat on a park bench, subdued now, because he was away from the
negative influence of his black buddies. He watched college couples walk
by, arm-in-arm. He was lost in a daydream, wishing he could be in a
relationship like those white couples had, when suddenly he saw him –
the blond boy he had harassed earlier that evening.

Trayshawn did a double take – it was him alright, only this time the
white boy was alone. Trayshaw, hands in his pockets and head bowed down,
ambled up to the boy. When the boy recognized who Trayshawn was his body
tensed, he started to run.

Trayshawn noticed the boy's evasive posture. He called out, "Hey man, sorry
about earlier tonight. Me and my boys just get a little carried away
sometimes."

The blond boy eyed Trayshawn cautiously. He didn't know what to believe. He
looked the black boy over, sizing up the situation. He eyed Trayshawn's
smooth reddish dark skin, his thick nappy corn rows braids, his gleaming
gold ear stud – and his low-sagging jeans; always a sure sign of someone
looking for trouble.

"Forget it," the boy said to Trayshawn, trying to get away from this dark
figure of the night. "It's nothing."

But Trayshawn followed him. "Naw man, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to
make fun of you in front of your girl n' all. Is there any way I can make
it up to you?"

"No, just forget it," the blond haired boy said firmly, trying to put some
distance between the two of them; not wanting to get caught up in anything
that could make the situation even worse. "It's nothing. It's over."

But Trayshawn persisted, not knowing why he was drawn to the boy or why he
felt so compelled to keep apologizing to him. "Naw man, I done dissed you
– now maybe you can diss me back in someways."

The blond boy looked quizzically at Trayshawn. What was his game? What was
this strange creature up to? Was he trying to rob him?

Even Trayshawn was confused by his own behavior and his motives.

He himself didn't know what he meant by offering the blond boy a chance to
"diss" him in "someways." He also didn't know why he felt so compelled to
press the point. The white boy had forgiven him, why not just move on –
get the fuck outta there? But he persisted.

Trayshawn spoke before he even had a chance to think about what he was
saying, "I want you to diss me in someways – I want you to pay me back;
make things right again, like it was before we even met. I done played the
villain against you, now I need to be punished, like in the comics."

The blond boy had no idea what Trayshawn was babbling about. But Trayshawn
sensed that this white boy represented all that was good and polite in the
world. Only he could give Trayshawn what Trayshawn truly needed. But he
wasn't sure exactly what that meant, or what it was he thought the white
boy had to offer him. He bit his lip and looked at the white boy in
confusion.

Trayshawn was not gay; at least he never thought of himself in that way
before – but at this moment, staring into this blond boy's hazel eyes,
looking at the faint glow of the boy's skin, surrounded by a soft "halo" of
gold from the blond hair of his arms and his neck, Trayshawn suddenly
realized what he wanted to do.

"Let me suck yo dick, man. I need to get down on my knees n' give you
head. In need to swallow yo cum n' make you part of me."

These words that flowed out of his mouth even surprised Trayshawn. He was
shocked and ashamed as he heard the words leaving his lips. He pinched
himself hoping that he hadn't thought or said any of this, but that it was
all just a hoax, some kind of weird dream he was having.

He pinched himself but he was still in the college park at night. The white
boy didn't suddenly vanish. The black boy didn't wake up in his bed in the
ghetto with loud music thumping through the walls 24/7, keeping him from
hearing his own thoughts, or concentrating enough to read something.

The blond boy was shocked, but also intrigued. Could this black boy really
mean what he was saying? He had come across many cocky black hoods who
acted like they owned the streets. They seemed to be drawn to trouble –
there was no getting through their thick skulls. And now here was one who
wanted to be reformed. Here was one who knew he was in the wrong, and
wanted to make things right by sucking on his cock.

Who was he to deny this black boy the opportunity of a lifetime to come to
his senses? But if this boy was really serious about being reformed he
would have to do more than give him head.

"My name's Aaron," the blond boy said, extending his hand – and for the
first time not acting as if he were frightened by the dark figure.

"Mines' Trayshawn," the black boy reciprocated, shaking Aaron's hand.

Aaron studied his new acquaintance carefully, and then decided to take a
leap. "Let's go up to my dorm room and see what we can work out."

The boys went to Aaron's dorm room. Trayshawn was amazed. Aaron's wall had
several rows of bookshelves; all lined with text books, novels, magazines,
journals – you name it. There were also stacks of printed paper on the
white boy's desk.

"You read all this shit?" Trayshawn asked, looking incredulously at the
white boy's collection.

"Yeah – I've read a whole lot more than just those books."

Trayshawn looked at the stack of papers on the boy's desk. "What dat?"

"Oh, those are just papers I wrote for class."

"You done wrote all them papers?" the black boy asked with awe.

"Sure," the white boy laughed. That's nothing. Those are just the papers
from this semester. All college students have to write lots of papers.

Trayshawn shook his head. He wasn't sure whether or not the white boy was
pulling his leg. He always thought of himself as being a bit of a "nerd"
for reading comic books. He figured nobody could read and write as much as
all this stuff this white boy had in his dorm room. Yet Aaron looked like
he wasn't joking.

The white boy jolted Trayshawn back to the reason they were up in his room
in the first place, "So, you want to make up for your smartass comments
earlier this evening in front of my girlfriend?"

Trayshawn swallowed hard, just realizing what he had gotten himself into
and silently nodded, "yes."

"Well, it's gonna take a lot more than sucking my cock. You called me a
`faggot' in front of my girlfriend. There's really nothing you can do to
make up for that," the white boy said, pausing to allow his words to fully
register with the black boy.

Trayshawn was speechless, for a change.

"And while I'd love to stuff your loud-talking nigger lips with my thick
white cock, there's really nothing you can do to make up for embarrassing
me in front of my girlfriend, except letting me fuck your black nigger ass,
so it's clear that you're the one who's really the `faggot.'"

Trayshawn looked at the white boy with astonishment. He hadn't counted on
this. He figured maybe he could just suck the white boy's cock, swallow his
cum, go home and call it a night. Actually, that would be bad enough, given
the code of the streets. He couldn't admit it to himself, but he secretly
hoped that having the white boy's jism run down his throat might even give
him the ability to read and write the way that the white boy does. It might
make him feel beautiful, like the blond haired white boy – it might make
him feel like a hero.

But being fucked in the ass? He couldn't be sure about that. He thought
that would be too painful.

"I dunno about no ass-fuckin," the black boy said slowly – his voice
trailing off. "I gotta think about that one."

"Well don't think about it too long," Aaron said, "I don't have too much
time to waste. My dad and his buddies have a little saying, `you really
aren't a man until you've split a black oak.' When they say that, they're
talking about fucking black maids and housekeepers – you know, having a
little `brown sugar' on the side. But I'll bet it would make me even more
of man to actually fuck a young buck nigger like you."

Trayshawn reeled, the use of the "N word." Actually coming from a white
boy's mouth it hit him like a 2 x 4 on the side of his head. Usually, when
he heard that word coming from a white boy it automatically meant that they
would have to fight, but Trayshawn felt another emotion coming over him
– he didn't want to fight this white boy for calling him a nigger; he
wanted to fuck.

All Trayshawn could think about was how worthy this white boy must actually
be to seize his black ass and fuck him like a slave.

Aaron was as surprised by his sudden use of the word as Trayshawn
was. Sure, he'd used the term plenty of times around his buddies and his
families, but actually calling a black dude a "nigger" to his face; that
was something he didn't think he really had in him. It was so bold, so
audacious – and yet he had already said it. There was no taking it back.

The thing that amazed Aaron even more was the black boy's reaction. He
could see that it really got to the boy, and not in a bad way. Submission
was written all over Trayshawn's dark face.

Trayshawn wanted this white boy's cock in his ass. He wanted this white boy
to be his hero, just like in the comics.

Aaron looked over at his bed. "Go over to there, bend over and drop your
pants."

Trayshawn hesitated, but then followed the white boy's orders. He
obediently went over to the boy's bed and unfastened his pants, which
wasn't difficult since they were already sagging down his ass.

The black boy pulled down his boxer shorts and bent over the white boy's
bed. Shame and humiliation were written all over Trayshawn's dark face.

Aaron gasped when he saw the beauty of Trayshawn's naked ass – it was
smooth and shapely. Aaron's dick became hard, almost to the point of being
painful. The thing that made the deal sweeter, Aaron thought to himself,
was that the ass he was about to fuck belonged to a rather cocky young
nigger. Maybe this ass-fucking would teach the black boy some manners and
how to behave.

Trayshawn crawled on top of the white boy's bed, resting on his knees with
his butt exposed to the air for the white boy to "rape" him.

Aaron walked over to the protruding black ass. He slowly undid his belt and
let his pants drop, followed by his jockey shorts. His thick white cock
pulsated, flushed red, in front of his blond pubes. He rubbed his cock
against the black boy's ass. "I'm gonna fuck some sense into you, boy. I'm
gonna fuck the rudeness out of you."

He pushed on the small of Trayshawn's back, forcing the boy to lower his
butt so that it was even with his cock.

Aaron pulled off his shirt, exposing his hairless body; a lean blond Adonis
of beauty and strength. Quarter-sized pink nipples adorned his smooth white
chest. He grabbed the base of his shaft and rammed his cock deep inside of
Trayshawn, making the black boy howl with pain.

Aaron pulled back and then rammed his cock in again and again. He repeated
this action, each time savoring the jolt that seemed to rush through the
black boy's body, making the nigger's body bend under the pressure of
Aaron's cock thrusts. The white boy also enjoyed the tightness, moisture
and warmth of the black boy's ass. "This'll teach you how to behave in
public," he said.

Trayshawn sniffled as he felt his pride and manhood melting away, being
replaced by a new sense of dignified humility as the white boy laid into
his ass.

Aaron grabbed the black boy by his waist and humped aggressively. He paused
only long enough, to admire the image of his throbbing white cock meat
buried deep inside of the boy's dark body.

Aaron pushed deeper inside of Trayshawn, making him groan in agony. "Take
it," Aaron smirked – it felt good to look down and see this tough, cocky
young street thug on his knees being conquering by Aaron's cock.

Trayshawn's emotions were a swirl of confusion. Aaron whaled away inside of
Trayshawn's ass and the black boy wanted to fight back, yet he also wanted
to submit to his white conqueror. Trayshawn shuttered when he realized what
he was actually allowing this "white boy" to do. Aaron was fucking the shit
out of Trayshawn with his consent.  The white boy was "raping" this black
boy for all he was worth, making him the white boy's nasty dark-skinned
slave boy.

Trayshawn had to do something to salvage some of his dignity. He looked
over his shoulder and grumbled the obligatory insults at his tormentor,
calling him names like "white muthafucka," but deep down inside – even
deeper than Aaron's dick was plowing his black ass – Trayshawn couldn't
shake the feeling that this "white boy" was entitled to this piece of
"nigga butt juices" the white boy was in the process of conquering.

And conquer the black boy's ass Aaron certainly did. He ruthlessly fucked
Trayshawn until the black boy saw stars in his tightly closed eyelids.

After fifteen minutes of banging away inside of Trayshawn, Aaron felt as
though he had been plowing the boy for hours. Trayshawn's face was buried
in the white boy's bed sheets, breathing deeply Aaron's body aroma – the
smell of this handsome blond hero when he wakes up in the morning.

Such smells made Trayshawn's dick hard as he took the white boy's merciless
butt fucking.

Trayshawn was gurgling saliva from his open mouth. The black boy's face was
now soaked with sweat, along with his own saliva. Still, Aaron's relentless
pounding pushed Trayshawn's face deeper and deeper into the puddle of
spittle that had formed on the bed sheets. The spittle and the sweat
mingled with the black boy's nappy hair and made the dark skin of his face
shine.

While Aaron butt-fucked the black boy, Trayshawn couldn't help dreaming
about rocket ships and missile silos – big, powerful white objects
entering his butt hole. Aaron's thrusts grew harder and harder as
Trayshawn's mind was filled with images of a white knight in shining armor
ramming a lance up his butt and saving a helpless young maiden whom was
being held captive in a dark dungeon.

Aaron continued to bang away in Trayshawn's benighted hole; adjusting the
black boy's attitude and correcting his behavior.

Aaron towered like Thor over Trayshawn's dark body. He humped the black boy
from behind, making him submit. Aaron's smooth white body glistened with
heroic sweat, the muscles of his chest, arms and shoulders flexed as he
forced the darker boy to take the grinding thrusts and the power of Aaron's
manhood in his ass.

Trayshawn felt as though Aaron was fucking him into civilization; getting
through to his hard head the only way possible, which was through his soft
bottom.

Trayshawn managed to look over his shoulder and got a glimpse of his
"tormentor." He saw Aaron's lean, muscular body, sleek with sweat, there
was a sense of purpose on the white boy's face as he civilized the black
boy who was crouched under him – the white boy's thin rosy lips were
pressed together as sweat trickled down his cheeks.  Aaron's
perspiration-soaked blond bangs were now covering his forehead.

Trayshawn looked at this white boy, hard at work, and thought, "Oh shit,
I'm being fucked by Tarzan, the King of the Jungle. I'm Apollo Creed being
fucked by Rocky; I've got Superman whaling away in my ass." Aaron saw the
black boy watching him and said, "Take that cock" between thrusts of his
body.

Suddenly Trayshawn understood the meaning of the lyrics, "Superman that
hoe."

With sweat and saliva coving the side of his face and stinging his eyes
Trayshawn accepted his fate as being the black cum bucket for this powerful
young white warrior. "Fuck me, Kimosaabee," he cried out spontaneously and
almost involuntarily, "Subdue my savage black body."

Trayshawn suddenly realized how much he wanted his brave young hero to dump
his load of cum inside of his rebellious hole to clear his head of all of
its vanity.

Trayshawn's mind was filled with images of being butt-fucked by John Wayne,
the Lone Ranger and Elvis.

"Learn you some manners, boy; learn you some manners," Aaron hissed in the
black boy's ear while he ravished Trayshawn's ass. The black boy's ass was
burning from the thrusts of the white cock inside of him "Damn, shit –
I'm learnin'", the hapless boy thought to himself, "I am sho nuff
learnin'".

With a few more powerful thrusts in Trayshawn's ass Aaron let out a loud
sigh. Cum gushed from the white boy's cock inside the depths of Trayshawn's
bowels, giving the black boy exactly what he needed. Wave after wave of
orgasmic juices flowed from white boy's cock into the benighted ass of the
boy whose ancestors hailed from the Dark Continent.

The black boy's eyes were glassy with lust, his thick lips hung open, his
body collapsed on the white boy's bed – he was totally and completely
conquered.

Aaron finished pumping his seed inside of Trayshawn and then he collapsed
on top of the boy's heap of dark flesh.

Both boys were truly exhausted. Their energies had been spent.

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

The next night Trayshawn's buddies where back in the mall, cracking jokes
about all the straight and upstanding hard working people who walked
by. They made fun of straight-laced white people, and hard-working Asians,
struggling Hispanics, and even black people who they said were "acting
white." They made fun of virtually everyone who crossed their path –
including the "wiggers," who seemed enthralled by the black boys'
"culture."

But this time Trayshawn was not among them. Nobody knew where Trayshawn
was. He was actually holed up in his room, studying calculus and reading
comic books. The white boy's cum was still trickling out of his ass. Maybe
the white boy cured Trayshawn after all.