This is a fictional story, any similarities between the characters and anyone living or dead is totally coincidental. Furthermore, this story is not intended for minors. The following story contains hardcore unprotected interracial sexual acts between men, one aged 18 and the other in his twenties, the use of racial slurs, and the sexual coercion of an 18 year old male. If such content is offensive to you, please do not read. I welcome comments, critiques, suggestions, and feedback of all types, please email me at TopOfNewYork1989@aol.com.
De'Quarious frantically paced back and forth in his bedroom, his stomach churning from nausea. He couldn't believe that he'd been so stupid as to allow some bitch to make off with three hundred dollars worth of Nimrod's weed. In less than four hours, he'd be expected to present Nimrod with his product, and De'Quarious knew that if he showed up empty handed, he'd be lucky if he was allowed to live. Nimrod was one of the most ruthless drug dealers in the city; he'd been known to amputate fingers for as little as one missing penny, so De'Quarious could only imagine what he'd do for three c-notes. He'd watched another guy get the shit kicked out of him, get tied to a car by his feet, and then dragged three blocks for stealing from Nimrod. Although De'Quarious hadn't stolen anything, he knew that Nimrod wouldn't believe him when he told him the truth, and even if he did he'd still have De'Quarious fucked up for being so stupid.
De'Quarious was eighteen years old, six feet tall, and weighed about 165 pounds. He had a body toned from playing sports like basketball and baseball as well as lifting weights. He had a perfect eight pack cultivated by doing an obsessive amount of crunches each night. His skin was the color of a dark chocolate Hershey's bar, with wide doe-like brown eyes, thick full lips, and a broad nose with flaring nostrils. His kinky hair was braided in tight cornrows that brushed his shoulders, and his face was clean shaven, making him look younger than he really was. There was a diamond shining in each ear, and like many of his peers, De'Quarious always wore his pants sagging, giving anyone that cared to look a perfect view of his round bubble ass, always covered by boxers and basketball shorts.
Girls loved him, and he loved them back. De'Quarious had been fucking girls since he was twelve, he was the project stud, no one's daughter, sister, niece, or female cousin was safe from the horny adolescent. And it was a girl that got him into this situation, Patrice, a light skinned cutie that he met while out with his boys buying the newest Jordans. She took his number and promised to call him, which she did, right after he picked up Nimrod's weed. Although he knew that he should have dropped Nimrod's product off first, or at least brought it home and stashed it under his bed or in his closet, De'Quarious remembered Patrice's fat ass, sexy lips, and green eyes and he said, "Fuck it." He met her at a motel, they smoked weed and fucked for hours, and then the stupid teenager fell asleep. When he woke up, all he had was his clothes; the thieving bitch stole everything else, even the earrings out of his ear.
De'Quarious couldn't think in the house, he had to get out, so he grabbed his cell phone and keys and left the apartment that he shared with his mother and two younger sisters. He was walking down the street, wondering how he was going to get Nimrod's money when a gray Land Rover slowed down beside him. De'Quarious looked towards the car, nodding approvingly at it because it was a nice and expensive whip, when the passenger's window rolled down. There was a white guy behind the wheel, a little older than De'Quarious, perhaps in his early to mid twenties. There was a baseball cap on his head, and with one hand on the wheel, he turned and focused his sky-blue eyes on De'Quarious. De'Quarious thought that he was lost, white people didn't normally show up in his neighborhood, especially at night. Then he thought that maybe he was an addict, showing up to score some weed, crack, or heroin. "Yo!" The white guy shouted. De'Quarious looked around and then pointed at his chest. The white guy nodded. "You wanna make some money?"
"Huh?" De'Quarious asked dumbly.
"Do you wanna make some money?"
Of course De'Quarious wanted to make some money! Even if he didn't owe Nimrod he'd have still jumped at the chance to make some money. De'Quarious considered himself the consummate hustler, money made his world go around, and he prided himself on having never turned down an opportunity to earn some guap. However, he wondered what this white dude had in mind. De'Quarious was naturally suspicious of white people and was, on a certain level, a bit prejudiced. He considered himself superior to white males, he considered himself better endowed, more virile, and a better athlete than whites. He lusted after white women, believing that he could satisfy them better than their little dick white boyfriends. He strutted to the Land Rover's window and asked, "Doing what?"
"Well," the white guy began, "I'm rearranging my apartment, my roommate moved out and I'm taking his room. The problem is, I've got this thick and heavy bedroom set, I can't move it by myself. I was hoping I could get someone to move it for me. I'll give you five hundred bucks." De'Quarious' pretty brown eyes almost bugged out of his head with surprise. Five hundred dollars?! This weak ass white boy was gonna offer him five hundred dollars to move some furniture around? That would be enough money for De'Quarious to pay Nimrod and still have enough money left over to cop the new Jordans coming out that Saturday. However, De'Quarious had to be sure.
"Hold up, you finna give me five hundred dollars to move some shit around your apartment?" The white guy nodded. "You dead ass?"
The white guy smiled. "I'm dead ass. Five hundred dollars to move my bedroom set into my old roommate's room."
De'Quarious opened the passenger's door and hopped in. "Aight yo, let's do this then."
The white guy--he told De'Quarious his name was Scott--lived in a part of the city that De'Quarious had been to several times, a part of the city filled with multimillion dollar brownstones, newly built condos, and other thriving businesses. However, at that hour of the night, it was virtually quiet and the streets were nearly empty. Scott's building had a parking garage underground, and this was where he pulled into when he and De'Quarious arrived. He parked the car and De'Quarious hopped out, and so did Scott. When De'Quarious walked around the back of the Land Rover, he got his first real good look at Scott.
Scott was taller than him, perhaps six foot four or five, he weighed about 200 pounds and he looked athletic. He had a healthy ruddy complexion, a slender slightly pointy nose, and red lips that were neither too full nor too thin. The hair visible under his cap was golden-brown and his face was clean shaven. He was wearing a blue Hollister t-shirt, tan cargo shorts, and flip-flops. De'Quarious thought that he looked like one of those All-American types, the kinds of guys that he saw on billboards for Ralph Lauren or Abercrombie and Fitch. He felt awkward staring at Scott and instead looked down at his own crisp white Nikes.
Scott took in the handsome black teenager before him, admiring his toned arms, full lips, pretty brown eyes and the uncomfortable look on his face at having looked at Scott for so long so unabashedly. Scott really loved the snow-white wifebeater t-shirt the adolescent wore, and the contrast that the white cloth posed against his sleek dark skin. Scott smiled warmly and ushered De'Quarious forward, and the black boy complied, and Scott stayed behind a little so that he could see that De'Quarious--like other black boys Scott had observed--wore his jeans very low, and Scott's dick got hard at the sight of De'Quarious' fat bubble butt, which jiggled slightly as the black boy affected a thug swagger to the elevator.
De'Quarious liked Scott's apartment. He had a huge flat-screen TV, an X-Box, and a radio that blared music so loud that De'Quarious flinched when he turned a knob and it turned on. Scott chuckled and turned it off, took off his cap, and then showed De'Quarious to his bedroom. The room was about half the size of the project apartment that De'Quarious shared with his family, and he looked at it with a dropped jaw. Scott's bedroom set didn't appear to be that heavy, and when De'Quarious went to lift the bed, he found it to be quite easy. He smiled cockily at Scott and lifted the bed, effortlessly carrying it from Scott's room and into the room next door. Scott offered to help but De'Quarious waved him off. "Nah, I got this." For some reason, he felt compelled to show his strength to Scott, to make the weak white boy feel his superiority. Scott sat down at watched the young black adolescent at work, working hard to move each piece of furniture from one bedroom to the next. At some point he peeled off his wifebeater, which was wet with sweat, and stuffed it into his back pocket. Scott thought his body was as beautiful as a black panther's, his young muscles rippled, and Scott started to rub his crotch, where his dick was getting hard.
When done De'Quarious stood before Scott, sweat trickling down his smooth chiseled chest, to his protruding navel, and down underneath the boxers and basketball shorts that the boy wore. "Aight, I'm done." De'Quarious said. "Where the money at?"
"Chill out." Scott said. "Relax. Don't you want something to drink? You've been working real hard."
De'Quarious reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He had three hours to get back to Nimrod's, and now he'd have to go back home and take a quick shower to wash the sweat and funk off from working so hard. "Nah, I'm good. I'll just take the money."
Scott smiled while still rubbing his crotch. He hadn't brought De'Quarious over to move furniture; Scott was larger than the boy and could have easily moved the furniture himself. No, Scott invited De'Quarious over so that he could fuck the young black kid. Ever since he was fourteen, and first fucked his family's housekeeper's son, Scott had a thing for black boys. He loved to humiliate them, force them to submit to his sexual desires, turn them into little bitches, hear them moan and cry while he raped their asses, and then send them back to their hoods with his white cum leaking out their ravished black holes. He loved taking away all their pretensions, stripping them of their dignity, letting them know that they were nothing more than nigger holes for white cocks to enjoy.
And De'Quarious was just the type of black boy that Scott loved to fuck. Handsome, cocky and masculine. The boy probably had girls running after him all day, girls feening for a taste of that nigger cock in between his legs. He probably loved pussy, probably had a girlfriend, perhaps even kids, although De'Quarious didn't look any older than sixteen, Scott knew that blacks started early. Scott sat there looking up at De'Quarious, at how the teenager stood with his legs parted, arms crossed, affecting a dominant pose, his funky nigger scent clogging Scott's nose and making his dick so hard that it hurt in his boxer briefs, and Scott realized that the boy mistakenly thought himself superior to him. That turned Scott on, knowing that he was about to force this nigger to submit.
Scott smiled. "That's fine, I'll give you the money." He continued to rub his crotch. "But I'm gonna need you to do something else for me."
De'Quarious licked his sexy thick lips. "What?"
"I'm gonna need you to get down on your ashy knees and suck my cock."
De'Quarious laughed, a loud bark of laughter that made Scott flinch. "Yo, you crazy! I ain't sucking your dick, fuck outta here!" The boy continued laughing. "Shit, you a real funny dude. Just let me get my dough and I'll bounce."
Scott fixed his beautiful sky-blue eyes on the laughing teenager before him. "I'm serious, or, as you'd say, dead ass. Either you suck my cock or you're not getting anything."
De'Quarious realized that he got caught out there. Here he'd busted his ass moving this cracker's furniture, and now he was talking some faggot shit that De'Quarious could not get with. If he'd brought his gun, he'd have just robbed Scott and kept it moving, but without his gun he felt defenseless. He could fight him with his hands, and, believing that he was superior, he figured that he could beat the weak white guy. He got close to Scott trying to intimidate him, but the white man jumped to his feet and towered over the black boy, looking down at him. "What?" Scott asked fearlessly. De'Quarious backed down, realizing that the white guy wasn't scared of him.
"C'mon man, can't we make some other arrangement?" De'Quarious pleaded. "I really need that money, but I ain't no faggot."
Scott scoffed. "Oh, you're a faggot. You just don't know it yet. But see, that's why I'm here." Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat stack of money. "Five hundred dollars right here, all yours, if you be a good little boy and suck my cock. If not, you can get the fuck outta my apartment and don't get nothing." He waved the stack before De'Quarious, who jumped at it, only to have Scott shove him flat on his ass. "What's it gonna be, boy?" And suddenly Scott was the cocky one, and De'Quarious was the uncertain one, sitting on the floor, looking up at the big white guy that was demanding oral sex from him.
De'Quarious knew that if he didn't have Nimrod's money he'd get his ass kicked or worse. The mere thought of facing his ruthless employer sent the boy's stomach into convulsions. However, the thought of taking this white man's dick into his mouth made him feel the same way. Sweating and shaking, De'Quarious hung his head. "Aight, I'll do it." He said, his voice soft with defeat.
"You'll do what?" Scott demanded.
"I'll give you head." The black boy mumbled.
Scott smiled. "On your knees." After a moment's hesitation De'Quarious complied. "Open my shorts." De'Quarious loosened the belt, unbuttoned the shorts, and they fell to Scott's ankles. The boy made to pull Scott's tight gray boxer briefs down, but the white man stopped him by placing his larger hand over the boy's. "No, suck it through the fabric first." De'Quarious sighed in resignation and pecked the bulge in Scott's drawers. "No boy, you gotta show more enthusiasm than that." Scott picked up the cash. "If you want this." As if the money were an aphrodisiac, the boy began to enthusiastically suck the bulge in Scott's underwear. Scott moaned as his dick let out precum which wet the front of his boxer briefs.
De'Quarious felt humiliated, on his knees with his face in a white man's crotch. Scott's crotch smelled of sweat and had a slightly pissy scent, which made De'Quarious want to gag. He was glad that he was across town and nowhere near where any of his peoples could see him. They would be totally disappointed if they saw that he, the project stud, had his face buried in a white man's crotch. "Alright, pull them down now." Scott demanded, and De'Quarious pulled them down and then gasped. Scott's dick was huge, larger than his own, and De'Quarious looked up in disbelief. He'd always been told that white guys had little dicks, so how the hell did Scott get a nine and a half inch monster like that? Scott looked down on De'Quarious with amusement and contempt. He grabbed his 9.5 x 6 inch dick and waved it in De'Quarious' face. "Wrap those big nigger lips around my thick white cock."
De'Quarious felt a flash of anger at Scott saying the n-word, but before he could say anything, Scott grabbed the back of his braided head and shoved his huge dick down the young nigger's throat, causing him to gag and retch. Scott's golden pubes brushed De'Quarious' nose, and the smell of the sweaty white man's crotch invaded his nostrils and caused De'Quarious to gag. Scott pulled his dick out of the boy's mouth and then wiped his precum on the boy's thick lips. "Here, suck it." De'Quarious stretched his mouth as wide as he could and wrapped his thick nigger lips around the white man's cock. He had never sucked a dick before, never imagined himself sucking anyone's dick before, but he had his dick sucked many times, and he just did what various girls had done to him over the years. He grabbed the base of Scott's dick and, casting the white man an angry and resentful glare, he wrapped his lips around the dick and started to bob his head up and down on it.
Scott sighed in pleasure as the nigger's pillow lips moved up and down his shaft. "Yeah, that's it. Suck my cock you dumb nigger, suck my fucking cock." De'Quarious continued to suck on Scott's huge meat, while Scott held the boy's head in his hand. He guided De'Quarious' head, all the while he continued to berate him. "Fucking nappy headed nigger, you like that white cock down your throat, don't you? Mmmm, those nigger lips feel so good wrapped around my meat, that's what you were born to do. Why do you think God gave niggers such thick and juicy lips? So that you all can get on your ashy black knees and worship big white cocks like mine. Deep throat me nigger." He shoved his dick so far down De'Quarious' throat that the boy retched and thick saliva flooded his mouth, lubing Scott's huge dick and dripping from the nigger's thick lips and down his chiseled chocolate chest.
De'Quarious body quivered in rage at his humiliation, but at the same time he began to get aroused. Something about the agressive, confident, and commanding tone of Scott's voice was turning him on, how Scott didn't seem afraid of him, how Scott was actually dominating him. Something about hearing Scott utter the n-word with impunity caused De'Quarious' dick to spring to life in his boxers. He sighed and began to suck Scott's dick with a little more than feigned enthusiasm. He began to lick the fat pink head like a lollipop, flinching at the tangy taste of Scott's precum, but still sucking. The more he polished that huge white knob, the harder his own nigger cock got. Without thinking, De'Quarious reached into his jeans, under his basketball shorts, under his boxers, and started to fondle his eight and a half inch uncut jungle meat.
Scott sensed De'Quarious getting more comfortable blowing him, and he pulled his dick out the boy's mouth, a long thick string of saliva connected his dick to De'Quarious' hot, luscious jungle bunny mouth. Scott stepped out of his shorts and drawers, kicked off his flip-flops, pulled off his t-shirt, and stood naked before the prostrate nigger. De'Quarious ogled Scott's body, amazed at its perfection. He looked as if he'd been chiseled from marble, like those ancient Gods that De'Quarious remembered seeing in his high school history books before he dropped out. Something deep down inside him felt compelled to touch Scott's body, to run his black nigger hands over the perfection, to service the white man like the ancient God his body resembled. Scott looked down on De'Quarious with contempt. "Get undressed nigger." De'Quarious scrambled to his feet and proceeded to do as he was told.