Date: Tue, 21 Aug 2012 14:39:07 -0400
From: Evan Williams <classic14rider@gmail.com>
Subject: Interracial Buddies Part 2

Interracial Buddies Part 2

This is a work of erotic fiction.  It is not to be read by minors.  It
includes eroticism involving teenagers. If this type of fiction disturbs
you, or if you find that you may be unduly influenced by it, please search
for something else to read for your personal erotic fictional
entertainment.

*********

Tyrone stared out of the window of the empty classroom, looking down on the
soccer field where Timothy and his buddies were engaged in a spirited game.
A red-haired boy kicked the ball and it rose in the air until it slammed
into Timothy's chest. Timothy's shoulder-length golden locks tossed wildly
upon the impact, but he rose with the ball to meet it and directed the
object toward one of his teammates, who bounced the ball off of his head in
down the field toward the other team's goal.

Redness spread across Timothy's smooth white chest, where the ball had made
impact, but the blond haired boy trotted down the field as if he didn't
have to register the pain. His golden locks flowed in the breeze like the
wings of Mercury.

Tyrone watched the half-naked, young white warriors on the field and felt
his cock swell. He ripped open his trousers and pulled out his thick, black
member and stroked it vigorously. He gasped in the empty room as he
stroked, "Fuck me, white boys -- fuck me."

The teenage gods continued to prance back and forth across the green. Their
white skin glowed in the sun. Rugged arms flailed the air and were
gradually splattered with mud. The contrast of brown mud on the luminous
white flesh of the teenagers made Tyrone stroke himself even more
vigorously and whisper to the sweet white angels, who were unable to hear
him, "Oh, white boys...white boys."

Tyrone's cock erupted in an orgasm, spewing thick globs of cum all over his
brown arms and his pants. He was a smelly, cum-soaked, teenaged mess. Now
there were streams of black boy cum oozing down the window pane.

Tyrone zipped himself up and rushed to the boys' room to get some soaked
paper towels. He blotted his trousers clean and wiped his cum off of the
window. He cleaned splashes of his thick, clam chowder cum off of the desks
and the floor. There was black boy cum everywhere.

When he stood up again, and looked out of the window, he saw that the white
boys had abandoned the field. Those angelic warriors had headed for the
showers to wash the sweat and the mud off of their skin. Tyrone wished he
could go down to the shower room to see them, but that would be too
obvious. He had no reason to be there other than to ogle their naked white
bodies. How he longed to be in the shower room with them, watching their
smooth skin, slick and wet, as they soaped themselves off and restored the
purity of their whiteness.

He longed to bury his face in the blond, brunette, and red haired arm pits
and fuzzy pubic hair of these glowing young heroes, and worship them as he
knew they fully deserved.

Tyrone felt his cock getting hard in his trousers once again. Just then
Timothy yanked the classroom door open. Tyrone jumped. He fixed his gaze on
the boy's smooth white face, gentle peach fuzz emerging on the boy's rosy
cheeks.

"I left my fuckin' towel and my gym bag under my desk," Timothy strode
across the room like the confident young warrior that he was, sweaty blond
hair clinging to the sides of his face. "What are you doing in here?"

"Me? I was just ... you know ..." the black boy stammered, shrugging his
shoulders as if this would help him get the words out, "I was just starin'
outta the window..."

Timothy eyed the black boy suspiciously. "Maybe you outta wash them while
you're so busy staring out of them..."

Timothy was in charge of assigning chores to all of the school
boys. Whenever he gave Tyrone an order the black boy's dick got hard. This
time was no different. Tyrone blushed. He wanted to stroke himself off
right then and there.

Warmth rose inside of the black boy as he stared into Timothy's grey
eyes. The soft, smooth whiteness of the boy's face was a glowing
blur. Tyrone felt his legs getting wobbly. He wanted to kneel in front of
this white boy and do whatever the boy told him.

"Hey? You okay?" Timothy cocked his head to the side quizzically as he
studied the black boy's face.

"Yeah, Yeah -- man. I'm aiiiight." Tyrone forced his eyes to look away
from young white god. He stared at the floor, hoping that his face hadn't
revealed too much. Timothy's concern for him was touching.

"You look like you need to sit down or something..."

"I ... I'll be aiiiiight, man. Th-thanks." Tyrone shifted nervously. It
slowly dawned on him that he would follow this white boy anywhere. He
glanced at Timothy's glistening, sweat-streaked chest and felt an urge to
lick the boy's pink nipples. His eyes surveyed the smooth muscles on the
boy's arms and for the briefest of moments he imagined himself to be the
white boy's slave, whose duty it was to give his master pleasure.

"Just tell me what to do," he whispered to himself, not loud enough for the
white boy to hear, "and I'll do it."

"I ... I"ll be aiiiight, man."

Timothy turned away doubtfully, "Okay, I gotta take a shower or I'm gonna
be late for my next class."

Tyrone eyed the boy's smooth, sweaty back and ran his eyes down to the
white boy's buttocks, then to the sweat-soaked blond hairs on the back of
the boy's legs. Tyrone wanted, so badly, to kiss the boy's cock and lick
his balls, just to get a taste of the white boy's unwashed purity.

As he watched the young white god leave the room it began to sink in with
Tyrone that it was not just any white boy that he desired -- it was this
one. If he allowed himself to be drawn to any other boy then he would not
be faithful to this one.

He fancied himself to be like a woman, who was only interested in her man --
or none at all. Like a woman, he wanted his white boy to excel over all the
rest and he -- Timothy's faithful black servant -- would do everything
he could to help his young white master to succeed. Timothy had conquered
Tyrone. He had won over the black boy's heart. He now dominated the boy's
mind.

Tyrone sank into a seat at one of the desks and dropped his head into his
hands to stop his mind from spinning and his heart from pounding from the
flood of passion that rushed over him. He knew he was ripe for the picking.