White Bitch Chronicles: Episode 4: The Intern
(c)2017 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Please note: this story depicts oral, anal, and group sex between males of different races. If any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further. The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
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This is the fourth episode of the White Bitch Chronicles. The entire series covers a time span of nearly two decades. Each episode records the experiences and self-discoveries of a different white narrator who encounters authoritative black masters. In episode 3, Kenny entered college. Episode 4, occurring eight years later, recounts how Kenny as a senior oriented a freshman to life on campus and that student, when he graduated, found a job.
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I couldn't believe today was actually the day. I hardly slept last night, I was so excited. I had received rejection letters from every law school I applied to. I don't even know why I bothered. I knew once they saw my college grades they wouldn't want me. So I couldn't believe it when I got the letter from Phil Johnson, a partner in one of the most prodigious firms in the city, offering me an internship. I was just as excited as I was that Friday night four years ago when Kenny showed me around campus.
There I was at Forester, a mere Freshman very wet behind the ears, waiting by the front door of my dorm when the football team's massage therapist, a Senior, pulled up in his Lexus GS F. I almost peed my pants as I half skipped, half stumbled to the car and got in the passenger door. Here I was, riding around campus with a football legend. I felt so fuckin honored. The windows were open and everywhere we drove, students, male students at least, would call out to us and wave. I was getting a lot of attention and I loved it. I had made it! After driving past the library, computer research building, and other campus highlights that I was already familiar with, Kenny took me to the stadium, and stopped in front of the attached field house. "That's where the team gets ready for the game," he explained, as if I were ignorant of the fact, but he seemed to want to spell it out in detail. "They get there a few hours before kickoff and take their time getting out of their civvies. They're not in a hurry to get into their uniforms. I go around and check if they need anything massaged. They joke around a lot, some of them totally naked and they slap each other on the butt as they talk about the girls they've already fucked and the ones they want to get into bed. And they compare dick sizes. You should get a load of those mammoth black man tools." Hearing him talk like that made my little cock stiffen. I hoped he didn't notice, but he probably did because he kept staring at me to judge my reaction as he talked. Then we drove past the local watering hole. "Maybe, later tonight, we might end up back here for a little refreshment. You like that, Cochran?" I was about to point out to him that I was underage but that didn't seem the right time. We came up to his Frat house and some of his brothers came over to the car, and Kenny introduced me. I recognized several as members of the team. "And you already know Greg here, he's one of our pledges." I did know Greg. He was on our High School team. He gave me a big grin like we were actually friends. We exchanged small talk. Then Kenny drove out to a hill that overlooked the whole campus, parked and turned off the engine. "You know what this place is?" I had heard about it, but this was the first time I'd been there. "This here is Mount Make-out." He grinned proudly.
"Kenny, I gotta ask you something."
"Anything, little buddy." He put his right hand on my knee.
"Why are you showing me all this stuff? telling me all this stuff?"
"Hey, Cochran, I've been noticing you."
"I know, I do sorta stick out in a place like this."
"Well, to me you looked lonely. It can be tough at first, being a white kid at a black college. Believe me I know."
"But you seem to fit right in. Everybody likes you. Shit, you even drive a Lexus!"
"A gift from an alumnus. Trust me, in time they'll like you too, Cochran." He squeezed my knee. "You're a sweet kid. And I thought to myself, maybe this boy needs someone to show him where things stand around here. So, I asked Greg to tell me about you."
"So, he probably told you I was gay."
"Yes, he did, Cochran. So am I."
I stared at him. "Really? And they accepted you? I mean like you're in a fraternity and all."
"Yes, Cochran, and like you, I'm strictly a bottom."
"Wow! So you know about that, too."
"Yep, Greg told me about your exceptional talents."
Ah, yes. My exceptional talents. My official title back in our little high school was Equipment Manager. But that wasn't what Greg and the others called me. To them, I was Cocksuckin Cochran. After a game, I would collect their dirty uniforms and their sweaty jockstraps, while they hit the shower. Then, before getting dressed again, a few of them would give me their rods to blow while the whole team watched. Even the coach caught us a few times, but he never said shit about it. As long as they performed on the field, he didn't care what they did for extracurricular fun. Now the cat was out of the bag. Not that I minded really. I enjoyed sucking cock. I mean, really enjoyed it. It was the only way I ever got my jollies.
"So, Cochran, was Greg the only black on your team in high school?"
"Yeah, he was. In the little town we came from, he was the one who stood out."
"I bet he stood out in another way too."
"Hehe, yeah. Greg had the biggest fattest cock by far of anyone on the team. I loved sucking that dark meat. I guess maybe that's why I applied to come here. I kept dreaming 'bout all the black cocks here at Forester. But I haven't gotten to suck any of them yet. What should I do, Kenny?"
"Leave it to me, Cochran. I'll spread the word. But you got to be ready for a few things. A few differences between here and your high school."
"Like what?"
"Like, first off, they're gonna start callin you Boy and Bitch. Can you handle that?"
"In high school I was always Cocksuckin' Cochran, so I have no problem with Bitch. Boy is a new one to me."
"It's a black thing. They are your superiors. Always remember that. You will start addressing every black male as Sir. And you must be ready to serve them anywhere and any time. Even if it means missing a class now and then."
After that evening on Mount Make-out (and by the way, we did end up back at the watering hole where Kenny had no trouble getting beer for his new little friend), I showed up at the field house after every game. Security knew I was allowed in. They probably knew why. Sometimes, some of the team would call on me throughout the week for my special services.
And that's how Boy Cochran made it through four years of college. My grades stunk. I don't know how but somehow I squeaked by enough to get my pre-law degree. Actually, I lied; I do know how. When I was about to fail some course, the professor would take me into his office and make me an offer I couldn't refuse. Apparently, my reputation extended way beyond the football team. So I traded blowjobs for passing grades. I had a few female professors of course and when one of them was about the flunk me, Coach Wilson would have a word with her, explaining how much the team needed me. Incredulous, she invariably passed me.
But today school days are over, and here I am, sitting in this mahogany lined waiting room to see Mr Johnson, my new employer. Maybe he knew that potential legal talent didn't always show itself in a GPA. His secretary Gladys had given me a sheaf of documents to look over and sign. Shit, this was a real job! I was going to have a 401K, two weeks paid vacation, traveling expenses, health insurance, time and a half pay for weekends, the whole fuckin nine yards. I was beginning to get nervous. Was I in over my head? Was I about to blow the opportunity of a lifetime? After collecting the papers from me, Gladys ushered me in.
Phil Johnson was a handsome dude. Clean cut. Square jaw. Broad neck. Intimidating eyes with lids half shut. Large hands. And best of all, black. A rich umber. He stood up when I entered and gave me a firm handshake. He was wearing a black Armani suit and a black,grey and white striped tie. He also wore a dark pink shirt, which provided a striking contrast to his skin tone. He doffed the jacket and handed it to Gladys who proceeded to hang it on a hanger on a rack in one corner of his neat office. She handed Mr Johnson his coffee, asked me how I like mine,--Black,--gave me a cup and closed the door on her way out. Johnson waved me to a chair in front of his desk. He proceeded to sit his ass down on the desk. After adjusting his package, he looked down at me and smiled.
"So tell me," he asked, "what do you see yourself doing here at the firm?"
I had anticipated a question like this and came prepared with an answer. "I expect to assist you research precedents, manage case files, prepare for trials and hearings, meet with clients, help..."
He cut me off. "Look here, kid. There are six other partners here, four legal assistants, two paralegals, and four other interns far more qualified to do the things you're listing. No, I know your expertise lies elsewhere, and if I'm right, and by the way, I am always right, you're going to be a great asset to us. Would you like me to paint you a job description?"
"Uh, yes, Sir." I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted awful.
"You see, I graduated from Forester. I know the coach there very well. Bernie and I go way back." Bernie? Did he just call Coach Wilson Bernie? "I'm a loyal alumnus and an avid football fan. I own one of the sky boxes overlooking the field. Ever been in a skybox, Kid?" I shook my head. "You will. In fact, that's where you'll be performing much of your duty." Johnson readjusted his package. "Are you beginning to understand, Kid?"
"Uh, yes, I believe so."
"Bernie told me how much the team relied on Boy Cochran at Forester. We handle a lot of high profile cases here, as you know. It's a high tension work place. We need to be able to let off steam now and then. Well, no, not steam. We need to blow our wad every so often. Quite often, in fact. You'll be expected to suck all our staff, from partners to paralegals and other interns, the males, that is." He stood up, unzipped, and let his cock hang free. It was jet black, cut and ampIe. I set my coffee cup down on his desk, then reached over, unbuckled his belt and helped him slide the trousers down his legs. Big legs. Dark legs. Legs with garters supporting his black socks. Very sexy legs. He was wearing dark blue boxers and I gently pulled the waistband down below his ball sack. I got off the chair, knelt down, opened my mouth and closed my eyes. I was back home. I was back in the high school locker room, blowing Greg and the other guys there. I was back at Forester where I had succeeded Kenny blowing the members of Coach Wilson's team, and blowing my professors for better grades. I was where I was always meant to be: on my knees, with a lovely black cock in my mouth. I opened my eyes and looked up reverently at my new boss. I needn't have worried about screwing up this job. I knew I had what was required to make a good impression on my first day on the new job. My new career. I stroked his balls. I licked his shaft. I sucked his scrotum. And I kept returning to his cock for more sucking. I reached behind him, pushed his boxers aside and began fingering his hole as I sucked. He looked down at me and smiled. He took my head in his big hands and held it close to his pubes. He began to groan. After a few minutes of pure pleasure, he erupted. I didn't want to allow a drop of cum to fall on to his expensive carpet, so I tried to swallow as fast as he came. In the end, he pulled out and delivered the final volley to my face. I closed my eyes and waited. I was thrilled. Once again I was, and would always be, Cocksuckin' Boy Cochran.
I heard him pull up his pants and walk over to his private lav. I heard the water run. I heard him zip closed. I heard him return to me. "Here." I opened my eyes. He was handing me a warm wet towel. "Clean yourself up."
"Thank you." I washed my face and got back into my chair. He sat back down on the desk.
"You're going to do just fine here."
"So that's it, Sir? All I have to do is come in each day and suck cock?"
"Well, there are a couple other things."
"Yes, Sir. Anything you ask."
"We have an integrated staff here, black and white. You'll suck all the guys. But my black brothers, they're going to want to fuck your pretty white asshole as well, Boy."
"That's wonderful, Sir. And the second thing?"
"Learn to make a decent cup of coffee. Gladys never got the knack." He smiled, then walked over and opened the door. "Gladys, make sure bookkeeping adds Mr Cochran to our payroll. And tell the other partners to come here in an hour. I'd like them to meet the new man on our team, and really get to know him."
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In the next episode of White Bitch Chronicles, four years later, Cochran instructs a lawyer from a different firm on dealing with his clients. As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.