White Slave Teacher
by Edward Mitchell


CHAPTER ONE 

"TWENTY-FIRST BLACK CHILD MISSING IN ATLANTA____" read the headlines of the 
morning newspaper folded in quarters in Carrie's skirted lap. The public 
school teacher glanced down at the muddy newspaper photo of a young black 
boy, Rufus King, age 9, missing from a shopping mall parking lot. His 
watery, dark eyes implored up into her blue ones. 

Senseless murders, racial tension... children arming themselves with 
baseball bats and karate lessons. What sadness compared to bucolic northern 
Minnesota where the most violent crime involved a useless, starving horse or 
a dog's case of rabies! 

Perhaps, the thought struck home, moving to Atlanta to teach school and 
marry Phil showed poor forethought. Perhaps she was biting off too big a 
chunk of something. If only she knew what that elusive something was! 

Whisperings of pain sparked a fidgety anxiety as the Delta jet cut back its 
engines in preparation for landing. Nervously, she fumbled in the bottom of 
her leather handbag for the smooth cardboard of the Dunhill Cigarette box. 
Above, the red light pinged, just as she slipped the filter between her 
glossy lips. 

"Excuse me, M'am... " a voice crept up behind her. "We're about to land, 
you'll have to extinguish your cigarette." The blonde haired stewardess 
drawled in a honey voice and fixed a plastic smile on Carrie's un-amused 
face. 

"But I haven't... " 

"And fasten your seat-belt, we're circling... " 

Cooperatively, she slipped the cigarette back into its box and found 
distraction in the greenery below. Virulent, rich, sweltering in humidity 
_" Atlanta, Georgia, her new home! 

The elation of change choked in her throat. Something felt amiss, wrong, 
poorly planned. 

The splash of green came closer, whizzing past the windows as the wheels 
touched down on Atlanta's airport runway, jolting her backwards in her seat. 
Like the loss of virginity, she thought with a shiver of dread. Coming to 
live in the racially tense south was like shedding adolescence and becoming 
a woman. 

Carrie twirled the diamond chip set in gold on her left hand. Her puffy 
nipples hardened fearfully at the dreaded implications of what that simple 
band meant. To this date, a few sessions of making out with Phil was the sum 
total of their romance _" in the physical sense. Sex was still a fantasy to 
Carrie, and the hardcore reality of succumbing physically to a man refused 
to cement in her brain. To succumb to a man's prurient wishes was not far 
different from being raped _" or beaten. Carrie's mother could attest to 
that, having endured twenty years of marriage to a drunken brute who thought 
nothing of blackening his wife's eye or bruising a rib, while his children 
shivered and cried in bed. 

Carrie's blue eyes stared absentmindedly at the grey strip ribbon, her ears 
ringing from the sharp roar of engines. Time seemed suspended in space and 
that space filled with the sharp Germanic features of her mother. Helen 
Osgood, a proud, well-educated woman from Munich, Germany, married to an 
ironworker _" a hard drinking, hard working man. 

Leaves on the family tree rustled with rumors of rape. Oscar had forced 
Helen into submission, so went the story, and out of pride, Helen had 
married him. 

Never had Carrie's mother accepted the humiliation of marrying a man far 
less educated and sophisticated than her polished European veneer. She loved 
her daughter Carrie, but hated her husband, and staunchly built cases 
against men. Dirty brutes, drunken womanizers... 

It was with this distaste for men that Carrie matured. Sex was never 
mentioned. How well Carrie remembered her first menstruation. Terrified, 
fearing she was bleeding to death, she sheepishly approached the school 
nurse, only to learn she was becoming sexually mature. Her lack of knowledge 
about men fed fears and fantasies. She loved her father, but was terrified 
of his strength. Nights when he would come home smelling of irony earth, his 
breath reeking of alcohol, he would peel back her covers over her shivering 
body, his face close to hers. His drunkeness made him unpredictable and 
mean, but something she couldn't identify, couldn't name, stoked a far 
deeper, more subconscious fear. It was fear of a reality, not of a 
circumstance. 

Now circumstances were leading to that reality, trapping her in its grip. 

Phil... Phillip Edward Carmichael. Sandy brown hair, wide shoulders, 
handsome... and short on tolerance. Proud as Southern men are, he didn't 
want his fiancee working. After long, expensive telephone calls, he agreed 
that if she were to make the commitment of moving to the South, it was only 
reasonable that she have a trial run at adjustment. One year of teaching and 
depending on how she and Phil related to each other and she to the South, 
either she would move back to Minnesota or marry him. The verbal contract 
seemed a bit knotty to Carrie, but considering Phil's masculine ego, it was 
a gross compromise that she would be wise to accept. 

The plane rolled toward the airport and Carrie could feel the steaming 
humidity as the vents were turned off. Northern Minnesota with its wheat 
fields and bucolic corny calendar vistas was another galaxy compared to the 
South with its frightening history of racial tension! Blacks hating whites, 
whites hating blacks, Cubans and Mexicans fighting the blacks _" now the 
killing of innocent children. 

She sucked in her breath, her heavy bosom rising and falling under soft 
snugness of her cotton dress. Bending her head, she put a trembling hand to 
it and clamped pearly teeth over the glossy succulence of her quivering 
lower lip. Why was she so uptight? Age twenty-one was ripe for moving away 
from home; indeed, she had lived in dormitories in college. So why the 
butterflies? 

A habit born of nervousness, she hummed snatches of Madame Butterfly and 
envisioned operatic stage sets, a passion passed down from her mother who 
ensconced herself in cultural distractions to wipe clean reality and 
unhappiness of marriage. Tucking a wisp of soft blonde hair, straight and 
worn shoulder-length, behind one shell-like ear, she squirmed in the narrow 
cushioned seat. Three hours in the air had cramped her calf muscles and she 
stretched her long, stockinged legs. 

"Your first trip to Atlanta?" 

"Huh... oh," she blushed at the man sitting across the aisle, dressed in a 
leisure suit. 

"Yes... " 

Her head snapped back to the window as she caught his eyes roaming over the 
lush swells of her body. Like Daddy... touching me, hugging me with his 
breath foul and hands dirty... 

Why couldn't a woman dress like a woman without being humiliated by 
frustrated men who gawked and stared? In cold Minnesota, men of Scandinavian 
and German backgrounds were discreet in their indiscretions. She prayed to 
God, wiping her satiny forehead clean of perspiration, that men weren't as 
hot in Georgia as the weather! 

This discomfiting nonsense of fearing men's hungry gazes had started with 
her first brassiere. Negligent in all matters regarding sex, her mother had 
waited until her daughter was fully developed before fitting her with her 
first brassiere, a matter of deep emotional distress to the curvy young 
blonde. Men always gawked at her. Because of her golden hair shimmering 
about an apple cheeked face _" or was it the pale blue eyes under 
fluttering eyelashes? Men made her blush_" easily. Feeling the 
businessman's eyes on her, she swung around and caught his tight smirk as he 
gawked at her breasts. A wormish feeling of disgust rippled through her. 
Even Phil, the man she should trust, raked over her bumps and curves with a 
salacious hunger, that turned her cold. Why couldn't men be her friends? Why 
did they always treat her like an object? 

Turning her thoughts inward, she bubbled with a forced anticipation of 
living alone. Being able to lock her door and say no to late night knocks 
seemed a good protection against the heated arguments she and Phil were 
slowly and painfully (on her part) growing accustomed it. Fights were 
commonplace in her family, and she accepted them as part of the marital 
package. Phil had suggested they live together as a test before marriage, 
arguing that Atlanta wasn't the safest place for a woman to prove herself 
single. 

Shimmering mirages of heat wrinkled perspective; hot flashes of white light 
reflected off the luggage cart and parked airplanes. Unlike Minnesota, 
everything here seemed congested and ready for explosion. A shyness, a lack 
of self-confidence tightened her throat. Her heart thumped in her chest, her 
breasts pressing anxiously against the bodice of her dress. Phil was here to 
help her, she reminded herself, hysterical at her silliness. 

Phil... the image of his sandy hair and tanned cheeks made her squirm in her 
seat. A tingling deep within her womanhood moistened the nest of her womb. 
In a rustle of stockings, she crossed her legs and clenched shut her eyes. 
Behind her flickering lids, flashed white light. 

She stiffened then at the crackly voice of an airline stewardess announcing 
their debarkation. All five feet and five inches of her creamy flesh jumped 
as she realized this was it. 

"Give me another whiskey, bartender," slurred Phil Carmichael, then turning 
to the Chicagoan sitting next to him perusing the Atlanta Times where the 
wide dark eyes of Rufus King, latest victim, stared up at him. 

"Ah, don't get emotional over that shit... " snickered Phil 
unsympathetically. "Atlanta's full of niggers... one less kid's ten less 
bastards on welfare!" 

The man next to him stiffened, then turned his back to the offensive young 
man, bolting down whiskey. 

"To hell with ya, then," snorted Phil, turning to two young men sitting 
across from him in the square-shaped bar off the Seven Sea Restaurant in 
Atlanta's airport. He snapped his fingers at the bartender. "Give these boys 
a drink in honor of my gal comin' in from Minnesota!" 

Eyeing the rakish man disdainfully, the gray haired bartender tweaked his 
moustache cogitatingly and silently complied, pouring the two men drinks. 
Everyone in Atlanta was edgy from the murders, saddened that such ugliness 
had tainted the reputation of their city. All but one, that is, and it was 
his ill fate to have to serve him. Snatching the bills from the bar and 
slapping them in the cash register, he overheard the man's distasteful 
discussion of his girl friend who apparently was on the concourse waiting 
for him while he got drunk with strangers. The bartender shook his head, 
having seen this movie before. 

"Yeah, got my little woman comin' in from up North. Christ, I can't wait to 
get my hands on her! Hookers don't make it with me no more," he boasted. 
"Nothing like a tight-assed blondie to get me hard and make ya happy!" 

"Yeah? She got nice tits?" one of them asked. 

"Christ, she's got a pair of knockers you ain' seen on black chicks! He 
yanked his tie loose and held upturned palms as if weighing his fiancee's 
breasts in each. Below, behind the gabardine trap of his suit pants, his 
cock lurched. "Hey, bar keep... give us another round!" 

He slapped six bills on the bar ostentatiously. 

"Don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender leaned his hands against 
the bar and glared Phil in the eye. 

"Ah, shit____" Phil staggered to his feet and headed toward the Delta 
concourse. 

Blonde shimmering hair dancing in the air conditioned breeze near the ticket 
desk could belong to only one woman. His woman. Shouldering his way brazenly 
through the crown, rousing cold stares, he charged towards her The unsteady 
gait and bloodshot eyes were childhood indications. Carrie's eyes slitted. 

"You've been drinking... couldn't you wait until I got here?" she sniped. 

"Hey, not drinking, celebrating!" he defended with a toothy, disarming grin. 
He slunk his heavy arm around her shoulder, crushing her to him suffocating 
her with alcohol breath and unwanted embraces... so much like Daddy! she 
pulled away. 

"It's hot in here... please, Phil!" 

"It's the South, honey... climate's hot and the men are hotter!" He dipped 
his head to kiss her on the neck, breath snorting from his nostrils. Sex and 
alcohol were two sore points with Carrie, and for that reason he loved to 
exaggerate their importance. 

"You didn't have to get drunk!" she averred, tutting, starchly, she charged 
down the carpeted concourse, up the ramp, past the security station and 
heading for baggage claim beyond the restaurants and bars. 

Phil was fast on her heels. "Stop, Carrie... so help me!" he hissed between 
clenched teeth as he charged after her swaying skirt covering the half moons 
of her firm buttocks. His eyes traveled from the slender ankles, up the firm 
calves and over the rich swell of her hips to the nipped in waist line. 
Christ, what a looker she was! Feisty and prudish, fun to tease and Christ, 
what he'd give to sink his cock into her right now! 

"Hey, you two have a fight?" Taunted one of the men Phil had been buying 
drinks. 

Phil turned red with rage. Closing in on her, he grabbed her by the elbows. 
"Don't you ever embarrass me like that again!" he sneered, squeezing her arm 
painfully. "I'm happy to see you, is that so crass?" 

The sweltering heat and blowing air conditioning was eating at Carrie's 
humor. Her blue eyes lifted to his brown ones that sizzled with something 
she could not, dared not, define. 

True, she had been rash. Letting out a deep sigh she apologized _" 
lifelessly. "I'm sorry... 

It was a long trip and its so hot here... and, and there was this man on the 
plane staring at me like I was naked or something!" She raked polished 
fingertips through long straight hair. Blue eyes turned upward to study his 
expression. "You know how I hate being stared at!" 

He plucked her luggage from the carousel and led the way to the parking lot. 
The automatic doors hissed open and a gush of hot air so moist it felt like 
liquid against her face, punched her like a balled up fist. She drew a deep 
breath, fighting dizziness. 

"It's so hot here .. I never would have believed... " 

Phil threw the luggage in the car trunk. "Cut the complaining, will you... 
and appreciate being with me!" 

She had been a nag from the moment she stepped off the plane, and knew how 
he despised nagging women. He couldn't tolerate anything short of 
perfection. Unfortunately, number two son failed to measure up to number one 
son. Phil, consequently, never finished college, having accepted a job as an 
electronics mechanic for an Atlanta based firm. 

"Where's my apartment?" she asked, slipping into the hot plastic car seat. 
She felt sticky and grimy, but fought down ill-tempered urges. 

Sliding into the seat, Phil started the motor and put the air conditioner on 
high. His fair lady would hit the ceiling when she laid her blue eyes on her 
new home! Oh, it was modern, like most low-cost tenement projects in 
Atlanta, but not far enough away from the steaming black ghettos. He 
snickered to himself conspiratorially as he revved the motor. 

How long would it take before she begged him to move in with her for 
protection? 

His bloodshot eyes swept to the luscious ripple of her bouncy breasts. 
Stemming temptation, he clenched his teeth to keep from grabbing those milky 
mounds. 

"What part of town will I be living in?" she wanted to know, slipping a 
lithe arm along the car seat and tucking a stockinged leg beneath her firm 
buttocks. "I won't have a car for a while... I hope it's within walking 
distance of my school. George Washington High?" 

Throwing back her blonde head, she giggled. "Wouldn't it be funny if that 
was your alma mater?' A lecherous grin creased his handsome face. "You're my 
alma mater, honey. I'd love to graduate with all your honors!" 

An arm swept about her shoulders and happy for the contact, Carrie nestled 
against his chest, relieved the tension had smoothed. Still, his drinking 
and treating her like a sex object was offensive, two elements of marriage 
she must get used to. 

"Missed you, babe," he whispered hotly. This time she didn't fight him. 
Casting her a quizzical glance out of the corner of his eye, he let his hand 
drift down over her shoulder to the firmness of her full breasts. His leg 
slid across the cooled plastic seat and rubbed against the suppleness of her 
firm thigh. Usually sudden contact frightened her, but today, in Atlanta, 
she was loose and reckless _" the way Phil Carmichael liked his women! 

"Tell you what," he whispered, kissing her hair. "Why don't we take a spin 
to your school. If I'm not mistaken, it's about eight blocks from here." 
Then in a concerned tone: "Hope you don't get stuck with too many niggers in 
your class... Christ, those bastards have been raising hell down here. 
Nigger vigilantes, nigger karate teachers... pretty soon they'll be ruling 
the place!" 

"PHIL CARMICHAEL!" she snapped, temper flaring. "How can you say something 
so-so-so utterly inhumane!" She pulled away from him. "Can't you understand 
they've been underprivileged and that Americans are responsible for their 
being in this country?" she tutted. 

Phil stiffened behind the wheel. Carrie was a fragile thing, fragile as a 
magnolia blossom and just as sweet. Perhaps it was cruel to get her an 
apartment so close to the black projects, but if she was going to live in 
the south, he averred stoically, she was going to have to toughen up and 
shed some of her goodie goodie ideas about life. A month of living on Hayes 
Street and teaching in Washington and she would be elated to stay home, 
watch soap operas and cook stew for her husband. 

"You're right... I'm an insensitive bastard," he sighed, capturing her 
shoulders again and pulling her to him. His finger traced the outline of her 
bee-stung nipple through the soft cotton. Predictably, she pulled away. 

"Phil, you're so aggressive sometimes." 

"The word is macho, and women like it," he defended. 

Blue eyes rolled to the side, taking in the masculine square-jawed strength 
of his handsome features. Air conditioning blew under her dress, cooling her 
warm, stockinged inner thighs. She shivered from the caress. She pulled away 
impulsively; it felt too good. 

Times when he closed in on her, like now, her mother's screams form the 
adjacent bedroom chilling the walls, echoed in her brain. She stiffened, and 
not from the air conditioning. 

He felt her tension. "Relax, honey. Doesn't matter how frigid you are, you 
can't ice up in Atlanta!" 

It was intended as a joke, but sourly. Carrie's button chin began to 
tremble. Why did he have to say something like that? As much as calling her 
half a woman? Trains of thought chugged through her psyche _" and not for 
the first time on this subject. If she were frigid, afraid of sex, then why 
did men insist on staring at her? It didn't make sense. Tutting in 
annoyance, covering hurt, she reached for the radio dial and turned it on. A 
news report crackled over the radio. 

"Atlanta police today discovered the grisley remains of a nine year-old 
boy... no report on the cause of death____" Quickly she turned the dial. 
Enough of murder and racial tension and fear! Resolving to lighten her mood, 
she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, tasting his sweet after shave 
lotion with her glossy lips. She must forgive him his brassiness, because it 
was that strength, almost cruelly judgmental, that she loved about him. 
Funny, in a perverse way, her father, despite his drinking and lack of 
tolerance, possessed that same strength. 

Abruptly her attention was drawn to the car window, noticing that the 
tree-lined avenues were slowly relenting to the pressure of buildings, 
apartments, apparently, identical in design. Identical, except for the 
graffiti scrawled over the stucco walls. Her blue eyes widened, pulse 
quickening, as she gawked at children playing in the streets while their 
mothers sat on the grass, fanning themselves. The streets were littered with 
trash, abandoned furniture and kitchen appliances rusting on sidewalks. 
Broken windows and boarded up windows. This was the ghetto. 

"Welcome to Atlanta," snorted Phil disapprovingly. "These are the kids 
you've come to save." 

Carrie was wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Children, noticing the white couple in 
the new Toyota, scattered from the sidewalks. Some darted for baseball bats 
hid- den under shrubs. Angry, twisted expressions lined their young faces 
with bitterness; their eyes sparked threateningly. 

"Let's get out of here!" Carrie grabbed his arm. 

""You said you wanted to see George Washington High____!" He cast her a 
challenging look. 

"But this is____" 

"Yup... its where all those kids have been disappearing! Not a nice sight, 
is it?" 

Carrie's blue eyes squinted. "And the school I'll be teaching in... " 

"Is near here." 

Carrie sucked in her breath, rubbing her temples with pinching fingers. Her 
heart pounded in her chest. Why hadn't Phil told her? Why hadn't he helped 
her find another job in a safer part of town? 

"You don't have to work, you know. We could get married and find a bigger 
place across town." The suggestion came softly, but refused to soften 
Carrie's mood. "Oh, no! I came here to teach school and that's what I'm 
going to do!" Every goosebumped inch of her creamy flesh was charged with 
anger as Phil pulled up to a curb and put the car in neutral. "I would love 
nothing better than to have you with me all the time honey. I don't want you 
endangering your life teaching a bunch of black ghettos thugs." Frustrated, 
reading the suspicion of deceit in her eye, he shook her by the shoulders. 
"Can't you see I love you?" 

Her eyes descended to her lap. "Let's go see the school." 

To her amazement, the school was relatively new. Splattered graffiti marred 
the walls and a playground resembled more the prison exercise yard than a 
high school football field. 

Wire fences encircled the property and the building wore the air of 
something ominous and cruelly mature compared to the youth educated there. 
Civics... what do I know about civics... about government and poverty and 
racial tension? she thought defeatedly to herself. Her social consciousness 
centered around German Christmas with a jolly St. Nick and listening to 
Puccini on Saturday afternoon FM radio stations crackling over the air from 
Minneapolis. 

"Listen, honey, they've got a million day-care centers around town... how 
about... " He eased into the subject for the last time. 

"No! I'm going to teach high school and that's it!" she spat out the words 
in measured rhythm, letting each one sink into his brain for the final time. 
Repetition always bored her. 

The trapped, claustrophobic feeling engulfed her again, and she felt herself 
sinking into a world of fantasy to dispel despair. Everything, she assured 
herself, trying to quell her heartbeat, would be okay. Yet she felt like a 
newly landed alien from a foreign planet, looking at American society at a 
first glance. It wasn't a pretty sight. She shivered, shoulders quivering. 
Times when this feeling crept up on her, she needed Phil more than ever. 

"Seen enough, honey? Want to go back to your place?" 

She nodded, staring down into her lap's wringing hands. A U-turn and the 
yellow Toyota was headed back through the ghetto' project. At a stop sign 
and cross walk where a buxom black lady in fuzzy bedrooms slippers waddled 
across the street, both arms laden with grocery bags, Carrie sucked in her 
breath. From nowhere a street gang jumped out from behind the scraggly 
shrubs, armed with baseball bats wielded over their shoulders. 

The incongruity of youth versus cruel maturity masked their faces. Large, 
chocolate eyes snappy with hatred. Muscles developed from a fight for the 
fittest. 

They surrounded Phil's new Toyota and started to rock it. One young black 
boy jumped on the hood of the car and glared, down at Carrie's creamy 
fleshed body. Through the windshield her ears stung with his racist 
accusations. 

"White honky bitch!" The boy spat, his black face greasy with lusty 
vengeance. "Big titted bitch! Get the fuck outta our neighborhood!" His 
voice was garbled, his tongue thick. 

Pooching out his thick black lips, he spit a wad of drool onto the 
windshield. 

Inside, Carrie shuddered with fear, her body rocking from right to left with 
the movement of the car. Fear tightened in her throat. "Get us out of her, 
Phil! They hate us! They'll kill us!" 

Balancing herself, she threw out her arms on either side of the car seat, 
her breasts bouncing from the rocking of the car axis. She blinked, blue 
eyes glassy with fear. 

The hood jolted as a second boy jumped onto the hood, baseball bat clutched 
hatefully in his fists. Up on his knees, he pulled it back over his 
shoulder, ready to crash in the windshield! 

"Yeah... Miss Tits," her second tormentor grunted. "We wanna see dem white 
tits or dat windshield's gonna crack into dat pretty face!" 

"Oh, my God, Phil... get us out of here!" 

Phil stared at the baseball bat and back into the snappy, hate-filled 
pupils. "He's not kidding... open your dress!" 

"PHIL! You can't mean that! Get us out of here!" 

Between clenched teeth Phil repeated his demand. "This is a new car... I 
haven't the fuck paid for it, and if you don't want your face in bloody 
ribbons _" SHOW HIM YOUR FUCKIN' TITS!" 

A cold shiver of dread sent a ripple of dizziness to toy with her senses. 
Her mouth felt as if she were chewing on a wad of cotton. Blue eyes sparred 
with black ones _" two sets of them _" leering down at her, knowing they 
had her cornered. Carrie's eyes lowered from the sweat glistening foreheads 
crowned with kinks of Afro hairdos long uncombed and unwashed, down the oily 
cheeks in their strong muscled chests covered flimsily in fish net tops 
dirtied with sweat. Their strong, domineering bodies, tight young thighs... 
Oh, God! 

She clenched shut her eyes while trembling fingertips worked one by one at 
the pearl buttons of her cotton dress. 

Tears, wetted her eyes, her ears buzzing from their lewd tauntings, making 
her an object of their hate. 

Slowly, she pulled open the jacket of her dress, showing off the white lace 
of her brassiere. That wasn't enough for their hate-filled hunger. 

"We wanna see dem tits!" 

Choking down disgust, a wad of fear-born nausea clogging her throat, Carrie 
pulled it open wider. 

"Take off your dress... or we're both dead!" hissed Phil. 

"I can't... " she whimpered, her face taut with fear. 

Through one fear-dilated pupil she watched the first tormentor, up on his 
haunches, baseball bat balanced on the car hood, yank at the tab of his 
zipper and peel down his pants. His young black penis sprung into view, 
spearing toward her, jumping from a black kinky mass of pubic curls! 

Carrie thought she might faint as numbly, she watched his black fist descend 
to his groin and pump the black snake. A pearl of pre-cum oozed from the 
tip. She gagged, cheeks burning with disgust, revulsion and rage. 
Compliantly, she slipped one arm, then the other from her dress bodice and 
peeled it down to her waist. 

"Take off that bra!" Phil was as angry with her reluctance as with the 
street gang's damage to his new car. 

The feel of her own hands on her clammy flesh sent a shiver to worm up her 
spine. Her back goosebumped as her normally nimble fingers, now 
uncooperative as hunks of stone, unhooked clumsily the hooks of her 
brassiere and pulled let it flutter from her naked breasts. Shamed, 
humiliated, she lowered her head and wept. 

Through the glass the boys on the car hood whooped and screamed to their 
friends to come take a look. Black faces mashed to the glass windows taking 
in the milky loveliness of Carrie's breasts. Their black eyes bored into her 
flesh like tiny lice. Her nipples hardened into diamond chips and the fleshy 
orbs swelled, throbbed in shame. 

Beside her she heard Phil suck in his breath. Damn him! How could he sit 
there gawking while she was exposed naked to these tormentors? How could he? 

Lifting her head she let out a screech and covered her burning face with her 
hands. On the car hood, a black boy pumped at his penis, threw back his head 
and whooped toward the skies as a white jet of male cum spewed geyser and 
dribbled in thick, creamy rivers down the windshield. 

"Ta's for you, white bitch!" rasped the boy. "BASTARDS, FUCKING BLACK 
BASTARDS!" 

yelped Phil, stomping on the accelerator. The yellow Toyota's tires 
screeched down the block, zigzagging to avoid the hammering baseball bats 
cracking the brake lights and denting the new chrome bumper. "Dirty fucking 
bastards...!" 

Beside him, Carrie cried into her hands, sobbing in shame and feelings she 
could not define. She hugged her brassiere to her breasts and bracing her 
elbow on the car window, let all emotion flow. 

She jumped as he cupped her shoulders. "You can put your dress on now honey. 
Let's forget this happened, okay? Let's just forget it and enjoy each 
other." 

Forget? How could she possible forget such ugliness? If only she could 
understand the reasons behind it. She must be strong, she thought, raising 
her head, tears burning down her flushed cheeks. Or she could never teach in 
this tension-filled city. It could have happened to anyone, she assured 
herself. No, she hadn't been singled out as a victim. It was a circumstance, 
that was all. Not her personal reality, because she had done nothing to 
provoke the incident. 

"Honey," he whispered hotly. "Please don't teach here... let's live 
together... please." 

Her blonde hair shook in a firm negative. No... she had come here to learn 
to be independent. "No... I want to teach." 

CHAPTER TWO 

From outward appearances, the stucco walled apartment building Carrie was to 
call home, resembled suspiciously the low-income projects where the 
disgusting street scene had occurred. Feeling guilty, dirty and shamed, she 
blew her nose and waited for Phil to remove the luggage from the trunk. As 
she buttoned up her dress to the neck, she heard him grumble as he inspected 
the damage to his new car. 

Damage to his car... how meager in comparison to her womanly pride! His 
priorities, it seemed, were grossly unbalanced. As these thoughts tumbled 
through her brain, she surveyed her new neighborhood. A sandbox under a 
small tree was filled with two children _" both white, she thought with 
guilt and relief. Tricycles were scattered, turned over; Volkswagens and 
compact cars lined the streets. 

The inside of the apartment compensated for any misgivings she might have 
harbored. 

Modern kitchen, fan and hood, built-in oven, garbage disposal. Off the 
living room was a small balcony for sunning, catching the westerly setting 
sun. Drawing open the glass doors, she heard Phil's warning. 

"Make sure you keep them locked. Most robbers get in through balconies." 

"Just what I wanted to hear!" she sniped bitterly, spinning around on her 
heel and clamping her arms over her chest as if the young black boys' eyes 
were still peeled on her naked breasts. A shiver quivered up her spine and 
she felt her cheeks flush. 

He cupped her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm going to get 
some champagne and a couple of steaks and salad. Sound good? Make yourself 
at home. Be back in a minute!" 

Throwing open a suitcase, she probed for toiletries and a towel. Thank God 
the apartment had come well cleaned! Home, she thought, peeling out of her 
dress, her eyes scanning the semi-furnished apartment with its well-used 
semi-modern, style-less furnishings. 

Sterile and impersonable... 

In the shower, she soaped her creamy skin with soapy lather and ran the 
palms of her hands over her slick body. Carefully, as if the boys' eyes were 
still upon her, eating up her flesh with lusty stares, she massaged the soap 
bar between her slender thighs, running her fingers into the cleft of her 
buttocks and polishing the virginal area of her vagina. Up over the soap 
slickened mounds of her firm breasts she rubbed, weighing them, massaging 
them in the palms of her hands. Heavy and firm they were. A pain of 
humiliation stabbed through her then, recalling the young vigilantes' 
gawking black eyes fixed on her naked breasts, swelling before him nipples 
hardening. 

The boy's hard muscled, black body, shimmering like a race horse... She 
sucked in her breath to quell the pain. His black cock... hard and virile 
jutting out from his masculine loins, black fist pumping its veiny girth. 
Visions of the open slit dripping with pre-cum fled to mind. All because of 
her breasts! 

Why her breasts? Experimentally, she ran a fingertip around the puffy nipple 
and watched, awed, as it changed from pink to puckering red. The titillation 
of her touch made the other nipple harden into a bud. Carrie scrubbed faster 
now, clenching shut her eyes, thrusting out her throat to feel the punishing 
pinpricks of shower spray. 

She fought the urge, but the urge was boiling within her. She slipped one 
creamy-soaped hand down between her slender thighs, down to the soft fleece 
of her pubic curls and massaged the swollen mound while behind her 
flickering eyelids that young black boy's cock squirt its creamy load a lick 
away on the windshield. Her eyelashes fluttered, her hand loitering between 
her thighs, fingers pressing down on the swollen, ragged lips of her pussy. 

Ahhhhh! Her eyelids flew open as if on springs. Pleasure succumbed to guilt. 
As her hand lingered massagingly between her thighs, sparks of hot desire 
shot though her. God help her, but she had experienced that same pleasure 
when the black boy demanded to see her breasts. Hadn't she secretly 
delighted in showing off her body? 

Her middle finger refused to move, stubborn as the vision rolling in three 
dimensional color behind her fluttering eyelids. Leaning against the ceramic 
shower wall, feet apart, knees bent compliantly, her middle finger drubbed 
at the swollen bud of her clitoris, sending sparks of lightning lust to 
ripple up through her belly to the hardened nubs of her milky breasts. 
Carrie sucked in her breath as shower spray matted her blonde hair to 
shoulders and head. Private moments like this, in the shower, the dams of 
desire could let loose and flood to satiation. Her only means of release, 
she savoured it for precious moments such as now. Mmmmmmm... 

Then her eyes flew open as if on springs. The slam of the front door, the 
crinkle of grocery bags. A quick squirt of shampoo into her shaking palm and 
Carrie finished her shower. 

Guilt-ridden and frustrated, she wrapped the giant jacquard towel around her 
naked, dripping body and stepped into the air-conditioned coolness of her 
bedroom. Through the window the afternoon sun splashed fiery orange; mothers 
were calling their children in from play, weary husbands parking their cars, 
slamming doors. She stood rummaging through her open suitcase when Phil came 
through the door with a glass of wine in each hand. 

"You look great wet!" he smirked, handing her a plastic wine glass sloshed 
with wine. 

Obviously he had indecent plans. His hungry eyes streaked up and down the 
sixty-five inches of lusciously dripping flesh, scantily covered with a 
towel. 

With downcast eyes, terrified he knew of her masturbatory romp in the 
shower... after refusing to let him touch her, she blushed. Her last defense 
was anger. 

"I'll be dressed in a second," she retorted sheepishly. 

"Why get dressed?" 

The clink of plastic on the dresser caught her attention. He grabbed her 
elbow and lifted the wine glass in her hand. He nibbled at her ear and 
rasped hotly: "Let's get that suitcase off the bed." Pressing his body tight 
to hers, he nudged her backwards until the backs of her knees touched the 
mattress and he plunked her down on it. They fell in a fleshy heap, his nose 
pressed into her creamy cleavage. His tongue snaked over the luscious, 
shower-cooled mounds, down to the hardened nubs of her nipples. 

"Please, Phil... don't be such an animal!" she whined, levering her hands 
against his chest to push his weight free of her. She sucked in her breath. 
Her nipple were hard and he could read her excitement. Snarling, she fought 
him off, rolling from under him. Wet blonde hair clung to her forehead and 
cheeks. Her dimples deepened as she ranted, screaming more at her traitorous 
body than the man who commanded it. 

Through clenched pearly teeth she screamed at him, cheeks flushed. "How can 
you act like this after what happened an hour ago?" 

Ego pricked, he snickered up at her. "You mean your cute little strip tease 
for the local black boys?" He sat up on the bed, anger building, sparking in 
his dark eyes. "You loved it... you loved showing off your tits... don't you 
deny it!" 

Horrified at his accusation, she spat down at the man she was to marry. "How 
can you say such a _" horrible thing? They had baseball bats, they would 
have killed us!" 

"Happens every day in Atlanta, honey... better toughen up," he said with a 
bored groan that infuriated her. 

"Liar! You were as scared as I was! You told me to let them see my breasts!" 

"You didn't have to enjoy it!" he snarled back, upper lip curling in hot 
male jealousy. 

Eyes blazing, she squinted down at him. "Get out... get out before I call 
the police." Her voice was barely a whisper. 

In a rage, she swung around, clinging to the dresser for support, her 
weakened body deserting her. The movement unloosened the towel shrouding her 
wet, naked body. 

Grunting with dismay and anger, she grabbed for it, but Phil was quicker. 

Staring at her naked buttocks, he snickered lewdly. "You got a nice ass, 
hon." One hungry paw clamped over her ass cheek, the free arm slipping 
around her waist. Laughing in victory, he pulled her down on the bed and 
with his foot, gave the suitcase a shove; it landed upside down on the 
carpet, contents recklessly strewn over the floor. 

"Oh----" she groaned. "How dare you____" She writhed under his grip, but his 
superior masculine strength overwhelmed her. Now she lay on her back, naked 
and trembling. 

Quickly he scrambled on top of her squirming body, pinning her to the 
mattress. 

"I've been wanting you a long time... you're not going to tell me to get 
out!" he snarled, his eyes bloodshot with rage. With a grunt, he dipped his 
head and ground his lips cruelly against her rosebud lips, his snaking 
tongue sneaking through her pearly teeth to slip into the moist cavern of 
her mouth. He delighted in the fresh toothpaste taste of her mouth, compared 
to the alcohol-soured warmth of his own. Carrie moaned from deep in her 
throat, as he sucked at her tongue, vacuuming it back into his mouth. 

Pinning her lithe arms above her head with the force of one fist, he used 
his free hand to grasp her left breast, first titillating the milky flesh 
with gentle strokings, then, as lust raged in his groin, he clawed at it 
cruelly, mauling the tender flesh. Beneath his one hundred and ninety 
pounds, she thrashed feebly, ineffective against his fingertips that were 
slowly tightening her nipples into diamond chips. 

With a deep groan, he pulled his mouth free of her and mashed his lips down 
upon one trapped breast, while the free hand mauled at its twin. 

"No, Phil... you're hurting me... please stop this and _" and be friends!" 
she pleaded, chewing on her quivering bottom lip. 

Reveling in her cries, he bit harder on the nipple and licked it to a 
throbbing erection. 

Memories of her drunken father peeling off her covers and pressing his body 
close to her sleeping one sparked a fear of his strength. Another fear 
sidled it... the fear of her galloping desire, once thwarted today. His 
pinching fingers mauled her breast and then roamed to the flat bowl of her 
belly. 

Like a stuck worm, she wiggled against his meaty hands. Now his knees pinned 
her shoulders and arms tight to the mattress. A sadistic smirk creased his 
mouth as he teased at the blonde fleece of her pubic curls, still damp from 
the shower. 

Carrie's blue eyes slitted, her eyelashes fluttering over ruby cheeks. Six 
inches away, Phil's loins throbbed above her face. The outline of his 
throbbing cock strained against his pants, tenting them, wetting them with a 
dime-sized pearl of pre-cum. His hungry hand grabbed one slender thigh and 
yanked it aside, giving his fingers free reign in the forest of her sex. 
Over the sensitive, pouting lips of her cunt he stroked. 

Carrie stiffened. Fear was melding into desire. She clenched her teeth, 
hissing up at him. 

If she didn't get free of him, he would have his way with her _" and his 
way was the cruel way. Lust, not love. Like Mother and Father, she thought 
glumly. 

"Please, Phil... let's stop this!" Her voice was thick with lust, raspy, 
hissing from her lungs. 

"Anything but this... you're trying to rape me... you're supposed to be in 
love with me!" 

she wailed. She stiffened board-like then as he slipped his cold middle 
finger into the hot depths of her virginal cunt. Revolted by the attack, she 
squirmed, trying to extricate herself; yet her body refused to deny a shiver 
of pleasure. To let him finger-fuck her to orgasm was a tough temptation to 
fight... but Carrie fought... and won for the moment. 

"This is no way to make love," she pleaded coyly. "Take off your clothes," 
she cajoled. 

"Hmmmmm?" Phil stared down at her naked body, no longer fighting. Slowly, he 
released his grip on her reddened wrist. 

"Let's make love the right way," she breathed huskily, smiling beguiling up 
into his passion taut face. To prove sincerity, she ground her belly up 
against his pawing palm, arching her back to urge him to massage the swollen 
lips of her pussy. 

Squinting suspiciously down at her, trying to decipher the sudden tight 
smile, he rose up on his knees and worked at his belt. He yanked down his 
jockey shorts and the blood fed head of his cock bobbed free, slapping 
viriley against his belly. 

Now was her chance! Flying off the mattress, she pushed him backwards. Phil 
tumbled off the edge of the bed onto his stomach. She shot off the bed and 
darted for the bathroom. 

But Phil's hand flew out and grabbed one slender ankle, just as Carrie 
screamed for him to get out. She shrieked, kicking at his face and clawing 
at the carpet for a handhold. 

Like a stuffed doll he easily dragged her over the carpet and, up on his 
knees, he grabbed her by the hair and wrapped his knuckles in her wet 
tresses. 

"You bitch!" he groaned. Yanking her head back, he mashed his lips against 
hers in a choking French kiss. Pulling her head back, he pinned her to the 
bedroom floor and ground his hairy groin against her quivering thighs. 

Carried stiffened in rage and fear, twisting in , his arms, but his bruising 
strength overwhelmed her. This is it... a voice within her said. That 
precious thing you've treasured will soon be a cheap nothing! Her mind 
flashed to the young vigilante and his strong, wiry body, panther-like, 
predatory. Her naked flesh quivered and goosebumped in combat with itself. 

"Phil... please... no____" she hissed, twisting her head free of his 
bruising kiss. She gasped for breath while he sucked in his, his hands 
pinching and mauling-her tender flesh. 

"You bitch! You want to get fucked so bad you can taste it! That black cock 
got you horny, didn't it, honey?" sneered Phil accusingly. "That black boy's 
cum dribbling down the windshield... Christ, you almost came in your pants! 
I watched the expression on your face!" His hand dug into her hip. Incensed 
by his words, Carrie watched in horror as his fingers slowly moved down her 
smoothly curving thigh. Her naked body bolted and a sob died in her throat 
as she squirmed backwards on her elbows. But Carrie's fragile femininity was 
no test for Phil's brutal strength. Against her naked belly, his cock 
throbbed as his hands mauled her buttocks painfully. His passion taut face 
was inches from her own, his foul alcohol breath bathing her cheek in hot 
blasts. Locked together in hate and love, they glared into each other's 
eyes. A perverse fascination, almost mesmeric, passed between them. The 
thrill of feeling his cock pressed against her belly, feeling the wet, 
sticky drop of pre-cum dribble into her navel, was lewd and wicked. Yet she 
had made a commitment to herself; No sex until marriage. 

Through slitted, glassy eyes, he glared at her. "You're a fucking gorgeous 
woman!" He stroked the wet hair from her forehead. "I'd love to see you fuck 
another man... Christ, I'd cum in my pants!" 

His hand pressed against her throbbing breasts, streaked with red trails 
from mauling fingertips. Carrie's pale blue eyes lowered to the strong male 
hands dominating her breasts. Deep within her female psyche, she had to 
admit the idea was tempting. 

His lips bruised against her soft ones as his hand gouged between their 
nakedly pressed bodies to dive into the silky tendrils of her pussy hair. 
Like elevator doors, her thighs slid open, a hiss tearing from her chest. 
Cool air bathed her hot cunt, sending a shiver of terrifying anticipation to 
snake up her spine. With a first show of tenderness, he parted the lips of 
her vagina, slipping his extended middle finger into its warm wetness. 

Cringing into the carpet, moaning from desire so hot she could taste it, 
Carrie shuddered, wiggling beneath him, trying to free herself. "No, Phil... 
this isn't at all right____" 

"You love it... all cunts love it!" he sneered, his head dropping, he 
clamped one rosebud nipple between his front teeth. Carrie flexed her hips 
against the bittersweet pain. The movement forced his middle finger an inch 
deeper within the warm, wet confines of her virgin cunt. Eyes clenched shut, 
Carrie had given herself up to him, prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice. 
Sudden the finger pulled free. 

"What... are you...?" She knew his intent then, as he slunk one arm around 
her waist and struggling to his feet, picked her up and dumped her on the 
bed. 

"Say goodbye to innocence, sweetheart, cause you and I are going to fuck!" 

Carrie lay on her back, legs spread wide, the air conditioning blowing cool 
blasts over the steaming morass of her pussy. He slid between her -slender 
ankles and stared at the blonde fleece nesting her legs; her cuntal lips 
were kissed with juice, her lips ragged and ready. They throbbed, inches 
from his mouth. Phil's back arched, his testicles rubbing against the 
bedspread, their sacs filling with hot seed while his hands dug at her 
tender thighs, bruising them. She winced as he slithered forward, dragging 
his tongue down over .her belly until it stopped at the blonde hairs 
tickling his nose. Carrie's head shot up off the bed. 

"No... not that! That's horrible... that's disgusting!" she wailed. 

Mouth watering from the fleshy feast a tongue-lick away, he stared at the 
dewed, petal-like lips and the throbbing button of her clitoris. 

Pie-eyed, she watched him place his thumbs on her cuntal mound and gently 
pull the fleshy lips apart. 

Her eyelids fluttered from the feel of hot breath snorting from his flaring 
nostrils, making her clitoris pound painfully, electrically. She sucked in 
her breath, her head falling limply to the bed with the first slithering 
lick of his hot tongue against her flaming pussy flesh! 

Her body jolted, jerked, as if a hot wire were touching her clitoris. 
Automatically, her body ground into the bed, trying to slither away from the 
damningly maddening feel of his hot tongue worming into her sex. "Gawd... 
oh, Gawd!" she rasped, flailing her wet tresses on the bed. Up and down the 
sleekness of her goosebumped inner thighs, stroked his hot tongue, stopping 
at the throbbing oily nub of her clitoris. She stiffened, corpse-like as 
resistance died! faster and faster, he plunged his tongue up into the wet 
hole between her thighs, while she raised her head to watch the salacious 
assault on her virgin flesh. Sinful pleasure shot through her being, 
sizzling to the bone as she watched her treasured vagina being sucked, her 
juices swallowed. Perverted, disgusting, animal-like... and God help her, 
terrifyingly pleasurable! 

Expertly his hands slipped tenderly under her firm buttocks, cupping the 
flesh in the hot palms of his hands, pressing her mound to his licking mouth 
and lapping tongue, lewd sucking sounds echoing in the silent room. Carrie's 
eyelids fluttered and uncontrollable groans tore from her throat. Her body 
spasmed, pelvis grinding against his face while he slithered his tongue 
deeper into the crying hole of her cunt. A finger probed at the cringing 
hole of her anus then, pressuring against the sensitive flesh. Clenching her 
hands into fists, she dug her polished fingertips in-' to the palm of her 
hand, creating her own hell. 

Moaning deep within his throat, he drew her legs up around his neck, lifting 
her buttocks off the mattress and locked her ankles behind him, opening the 
plane of her fleecy cunt. 

Faster, deeper, he rammed his tongue into her cunt, pulling it free then to 
swirl his tongue around the swollen bud of her clitoris. Her ragged cuntal 
lips parted easily and her buttocks spasmed from the pad of his finger 
dipping into the private nether region. 

Snickering to himself, knowing he'd conquered her soul, he lifted her 
buttocks higher and plastering his lips to the button of her anus, sucked on 
the cringing brown hole. 

"Ahhhh!" Carrie sobbed in humiliation and defeat. Her mind screamed one 
demand and her body another as she ground her trembling loins against his 
sucking mouth. She froze, pulling back, feeling her breasts and stomach 
throb in thrills of pleasure. Phil lapped his tongue from the hole of her 
cringing anus to the open lips of her cunt... back and forth, up and down... 
as Carrie's body burned with the need to cum. 

Fiery with lust, the virginal school teacher thrust her pelvis up to him, 
offering herself to his raping tongue. At least she had her precious 
treasure... this only his tongue, thank God! 

She ground her cunt against his cum-smeared face, mashing his nose tight her 
throbbing clitoris. Between her shivering legs she felt his hot rubbery tube 
pound with lust. 

Phil reveled in victory! He ground his aching cock into the rough fabric of 
the bedspread as his mouth watered and feasted on her quivering cunt. Her 
silken pubic curls tickled his cheeks, filling him with a sense of power 
that only a man can feel. If the stubborn German would give up her high and 
mighty ideals about saving black children and cook him three square meals a 
day, he would eat her like this every day! The world was full of frustrated 
women and this one didn't know what a prize she had! Deep inside, he had to 
admit her response was unexpected. Now he let her legs drop, reveling in her 
moans as he lapped his slithering tongue into the cum wetted walls of her 
vagina. His tongue seemed to hit bottom and with a thrill, he realized he 
was licking her cherry! 

He suckled her vagina as if he were a baby sucking on his mother's breast 
_" only the breast was his fiancee's clitoris! He wondered if deep within 
that virginal soul a dark corner harbored lust for sadomasochism. Her small 
hands pulled at his hair, yanking his face tighter to her cunt until he 
feared he might suffocate! Ovaling his lips, he sucked babyishly, 
alternating the suckings with a deep tongue fuck that brought a low groan 
from Carrie's throat _" the death rattle of virginity! Her wetly clasping 
flesh slipped around his tongue and the walls of her pussy contracted in a 
vacuuming rhythm until he feared she might pull his tongue out by the roots! 
Her pussy lips were tight and virginal, her taste piquantly sweet, 
mouthwatering! 

Carrie's body jerked convulsively as every nerve ending in her naked flesh 
sizzled with the need to cum. She writhed and grunted and twisted, pushing 
away from him and yanking him to her in lusty movements reserved for the 
possessed! 

It was cumming... the cum waters ready to flood the dam, "Ohhhhh... 
uuuuugggghhh. 

... " she chanted as he screwed her cunt with his spearing tongue. His hands 
roamed over her body, teasing her breasts, her anus, her clitoris... while 
his tongue dipped deeper, making her tingle from the tips of her diamond 
chip nipples to her curled under toes. 

Delicious pain ricocheted through her body. A dream? A nightmare? What were 
these hellish sensations, these devils with pitchforks, stabbing at her 
naked flesh? 

"Oh... oh... I'm going to cum!" she grunted, jerking and heaving up against 
him, pumping against him. She gasped, moaned, twitched while his tongue 
flicked over the bud of her clitoris. Now he sucked with vacuuming pressure, 
drawing the ragged lips deep into his warm, wet mouth, while his tongue 
licked at the pleasure button between her goosebumped, quivering thighs. 

His hands dipped under her knees and with a lusty grunt, he shoved her knees 
back until her knee caps mashed against the nubs of her breasts. The hairy 
plain of her cunt was his now, from the oily nub of her clitoris to the 
puckered hole of her anus. His slobbering mouth slaved over it. 

"Ohhhhh----" she was one fire! If he stopped, she would die. DIE! It 
shuddered through her with lightning force until at last she settled back on 
the bed, heart pounding, body shivering in the aftermath of orgasm. Laughing 
to himself, he kissed her pussy good-bye and licking his lips, pulled his 
cum smeared mouth free of her cunt. 

"Christ, you've got a beautiful ass!" he hissed. 

Through lust-glassy eyes she squinted up at him, tortured by red-faced 
shame. Her eyes lowered to his hairy chest down to his stomach to his 
throbbing penis jutting out from his loins. It throbbed before her eyes. 
Carrie swallowed dryly, gawking as mesmerically she watched him- pump at it, 
pulling back the thick foreskin. A pearl of pre-cum oozed from the tip. His 
nostrils flared with lust. 

"Phil... please... let's save it... we agreed to, remember?" she choked. 

"Shuddup! You had your fun, now let me have mine!" 

Oh, God, he wouldn't do it to her _" against her will? Like father used to 
do to mother on the nights when he beat her into submission? 

All one hundred and ninety pounds of Phil Carmichael's muscular flesh 
descended upon Carrie's frail one hundred and ten pounds of womanly flesh. 
Pinned to the bed with his hard, throbbing cock snaking slimily against her 
belly, she wiggled like a stuck worm. 

Salty tears pearled from her eyes as she felt his fist guide the mushroom 
tipped head toward the drenched, satiated opening of her virginal womb. He 
prodded at the swollen lips, wiggling it inside the slippery walls. The 
electrifyingly hot contact bolted through her. 

To say it was a disgusting feeling would be a lie. Slowly, stretching 
pressure opened the lips, and then he thrust. 

"Nooooo...!" Her cries vibrated off the walls, mingling with the more 
impatient calls of mothers summoning their children in for dinner. 

Her pressured harder, his veiny penis squirming inch by inch into her 
cringing vagina, making his victim aware of every veiny inch of his blood 
fed hardness drilling relentlessly into her virginal womb. Phil lay panting 
on top of her, nearly spent from the effort of wedging his meat into her 
tight hole. 

"Nnnnggghhh... " Sweat beaded her satiny forehead, cheeks flushed and washed 
in salty tears. The pain was excruciating, like being stabbed slowly. 

He ground against her hymen with drilling force. The pressure was 
unbearable. 

Carrie's fists wadded with the bedspread. Then the pressure gave and a warm 
flood of blood gushed from her hymen. Grunting with the effort, he rocked 
above her, stroking in long, smooth strokes while she flailed her head in 
pain and humiliation, hating herself for believing he would give her 
pleasure and demand none for himself. What a fool! A stupid, naive fool 
she'd been! She felt dizzy with pain. Her body responded in horror as she 
ground her buttocks into the mattress, trying to escape this horrid 
impalement! She squeezed her vaginal muscles, trying to force him out like 
toothpaste from a tube. 

But this hot, rubbery tube was not to be eliminated from the pulsing hole of 
her womb. 

Now the pain abated, dulling to an open, vulnerable sensation. Phil levered 
up on his palms and bent his head to watch his blood smeared penis drill 
into his fiancee's violated cunt. His cock was blue with pounding blood 
beneath the shreds of her hymen. The pink inner lips of her pussy clung 
possessively to his cock. To make it complete, he slipped his hand under her 
buttocks and poked the pad of his middle finger into the spongy hole of her 
anus. 

"Ohhhh... no... no!" she spat up at his taut features, tight with lust. Her 
anus popped open and in slipped his finger to the first knuckle. 

Pain and humiliation were partners in guilt now, as the once virgin was 
fucked in the cunt and fucked in the anus, with a grunting animal riding her 
body. After a few moments of agonizing, the blonde haired school teacher, 
fresh from the countryside of Minnesota, began to experience a strange 
percolation of joy. Never one to do things half way, she ground against his 
pelvis, drilling his penis deeper into her belly. 

His probing middle finger raped her anus deep enough to feel his own cock on 
the vaginal side of the thin membrane. Victory was his! He roared into her 
until Carrie thought for sure he'd pulverized her intestines! Every sinew of 
Phil's body stretched like a bowstring when he pounded into her frail body, 
banging into her cervix with hammering force... right up to the slashing 
sperm filled balls drubbed at her anus. 

The bitch loves it! I knew those black cocksuckers got her horny! Jesus, 
look at her ride my prick! 

"Ohhh... gawd... you're killing me!" she groaned, coughing for breath. If he 
kept this up, he'd tear her womb in half! 

His sperm heavy testicles slapped against her violated,, tiny pink anus, its 
hairless lips puckering from the warm, cum seeping from well sucked pussy. 
Between his hairy thighs, his testicles felt like two loads of cement _" 
waiting to be dumped! His lusty brain swam with the need to shoot his sperm 
into her belly. Maybe knock her up _" that would keep her home! He rammed 
into her, drilled, gored and fucked like a maddened bull into a young 
heffer. 

Carrie's naked breasts, sheened with perspiration, bounced and her legs 
jerked out convulsively on the bed. Blonde hair streaked across her face in 
wet strands as she moaned out her litany of fulfillment. Arching her back, 
she thrust her pelvis against his groin, struggling to get every hotly 
throbbing inch. 

"Oh... oh, Phill... I'm, I'm cummmmming!" she groaned. 

Cum, she did... in torrents! 

Carrie's cuntal walls sucked at the spewing tube shooting waves of boiling 
sperm into her wildly gyrating cunt. She chewed at her swollen lower lip 
feeling the walls of her pussy milk him down to the last drop. Even her tiny 
puckered anus squeezed in joy, pulling his finger deeper into the spongy 
depths of her bowels. 

With a sigh of satiated fatigue, Carrie fell weakly to the bed. Her 
fluttering eyelids closed over glassy eyes. Shimmers of damp blonde hair 
clung recklessly to her forehead and cheeks, dampened by the sweat of her 
labors. She cooed contentedly. 

The air conditioner's chill evaporated the sweat of her swollen breasts and 
forehead, rousing her to consciousness. Immediately her blue yes flew open 
to glare hatefully at the man lying on top of her, squeezing the breath out 
of her as he had squeezed the blood from her hymen. His thick, deflated cock 
felt sticky and wormlike in her vagina. Pleasure fled. A pain deep within 
her soul jabbed and stabbed. 

"Get off of me, you brute!" she spat, shoving against his chest. Her eyes 
were reddened slits, hatefully directed at the man she had intended to marry 
_" once. 

"Don't be that way, Carrie," He pleaded. That was fantastic... " 

"I said GET OUT!" 

Too exhausted to put up a mental fight, Phil snatched at his clothes and 
muttering under his breath about uptight virgins, left his bride-to-be 
sobbing hysterically on the blood stained bed. At the door, he paused, 
reconsidering. Maybe force wasn't the way to handle a woman like Carrie. 
Then how the hell, he cogitated, raking strong fingers through his hair, did 
most men cope with women? 

CHAPTER THREE 

"Carrie----"A rap of knuckles on the door. "Carrie... I want to talk to 
you... open up." A deep impatient sigh. "Don't be stubborn... let me in!" 
The voice grew in volume and deepened with impatience. 

Two watery blue eyes gazed sleepily toward the kitchen where a splash of 
yellow light bathed the room in a warm glow. Carrie shuddered under the 
covers pulled tight to her chin and listened apathetically to the male voice 
pleading from the door. 

Fiery sunlight intense as a sunlamp shone through her bedroom window early 
the next morning. She awakened with the discomforting feeling of separation, 
like awakening from a dream. Reality had not set in. Better it hadn't. 

Drugged with depression, Carrie forced herself out of bed and into the 
shower. Dressed, she busied herself about her apartment, making lists of 
things to buy: Rug for the bath, new curtains for the bedroom.-Disheartened, 
she gazed about the small, semi-furnished apartment with the enthusiasm of a 
traveling salesman flopping down his suitcase in the tenth hotel room in as 
many nights. With time, it would feel like home. Now it felt foreign and 
stale. 

Like my mental state, she snickered bitterly to herself. 

But badness is balanced by goodness, and more determined than ever to 
fulfill her dream of teaching sociology, explaining the state of society, 
she unpacked a box of textbooks and thumbed through her notebook of lessons 
_" her senior thesis project. 

Two days later, the sterile bathroom was brightened with a crisp yellow rug, 
in a bowl vase floated magnolia blossoms plucked from the tree brushing 
against the rail of her balcony. 

A pink satin coverlet replaced the scratchy plaid one, now folded up and 
forgotten, stained with virginal blood. Slowly patiently, 133 Badger Street 
was becoming home. She made friends with the woman across the hall, a rather 
rumpled woman who wore housecoats late into the day and sported a penchant 
for hair rollers, though Carrie had never seen her socialize. 

This wasn't friendly northern Minnesota, but she would cope, she decided on 
the first morning of school. Phil had not succeeded in cajoling himself into 
her apartment and that strengthened resolve a notch. Once friends with her 
pupils, the constant distraction of counseling and preparing lessons would 
fill her nights and she would forget the animalistic beast who cared more 
about his plumped up ego than her feminine preciousness! Selfish man, Sex... 
sex... sex... that's all men think about! she tutted, grabbing her handbag 
and book bag and storming through the door, happy to be at work at last. 

Happy, until she crossed the sidewalk from the bus stop and entered the 
fenced-in asphalted parking lot outside George Washington High. 

Like a convict being escorted to prison, she thought, stiffening and 
watching hordes of teenage girls with less innocent faces than her own in 
skin tight jeans swagger up the steps. Negro girls with Afro hairdos worn in 
braids with beads jiggling about their shoulders, and others with huge combs 
stuck recklessly in the black bushes of their hair. 

Sassy attitudes, defiant, rebellious and sporting a self-confidence no one 
felt even as an adult, she thought mingling with the crown toward the front 
steps littered with cigarette butts and candy wrappers. And the boys, if one 
could call them that, dragging on cigarettes and staring glassy eyed at the 
women parading past them for their prurient pleasure. 

True, Carrie's apple-cheeked, blonde haired, blue eyed features didn't mix 
well with the potpourri of humanity. Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Blacks, with a 
poorly represented percentage of whites. Like salt and pepper, mused Carrie, 
scurrying past them and down the hall. Halfway down the hallway whose walls 
were decorated with posters advising against smoking, drinking and drugs... 
fresh and free of graffiti on this first day of school _" Carrie stiffened. 

"Hey, if it ain't the white honkie with the tits! Hey, man, you seen 'er 
before! 'Member the white bitch in the car done stripped for us?" 

Oh, dear God... it can't be him! Blood pounded in her ears, vision fuzzed. 
Forcing a stiff upper lip, she swirled around and stared into the black face 
of the fifteen year-old boy who'd masturbated on Phil's windshield four days 
prior! She would recognize him anywhere: Proud Afro hairdo, sparkling 
chocolate eyes, wide nose, high cheekbones _"and the tight faded levis 
hugging his muscular thighs, belt riding low on his hips. Biceps bulging 
with panther-like strength. It was him and he was taunting her, humiliating 
her in front of the entire school! 

Shooting him a threatening glance, she stomped toward the principal's office 
to be assigned a classroom. Breath snorted from her nostrils. Dizzy, she 
pressed her fingers to her forehead for a light massage and stood before the 
secretary's desk. 

A kind faced black woman stared concernedly up at her. "Are you okay, Miz?" 

"What... ? Oh, yes, I'm fine... just a bit warm for me. 

The black woman's buxom breasts bounced with laughter. "I can tell you don' 
be from this part of the south! White skin like yours gotta be from up north 
somewheres... " 

"Minnesota _" where the sun never shines," returned Carrie, calmed by the 
other's kindness. "I'm Carrie Osgood, sociology teacher and I'd like my room 
assignment, please." 

The black woman's glasses sat on the tip of her nose, thick lips pooched in 
concentration as the chipped polished fingertip ran down the computer sheet. 
"Ah, ha... here we be! Miz Osgood, Sociology 101, Room 102." The woman shook 
her head and dark eyes rose over her bifocals to stare at Carrie. "Don' envy 
you none teachin' that class... boy we got us some rough ones now. All them 
killin's makin' everybody jump outta their skin! Ain' no way to live, no way 
at all... " 

An alarm sounded in the hallway, proclaiming ten minutes until first hour. 
"Thank you, I'd better rush off... " 

101, 102... muttered Carrie to herself, perusing the freshly painted numbers 
on the glass windows smelling freshly on this first day of school of 
ammonia. 

Half of her class had seated themselves when she rushed through the class 
room door. 

Laughing, telling jokes, radios blaring, there they were _" her pupils. Her 
blue eyes swept over the rows of black ones staring defiantly back at her. 
Abruptly she stiffened. In the back row next to the window, smouldering Kool 
cigarette dangling from his thick enigmatically smiling lips, sat the boy 
who had caused her nothing but anguish from her first two hours in Atlanta. 

"Put out that cigarette this minute! This isn't a pool hall!" she spat in 
retaliation. Plunking her handbag and bookbag on the desk, she glared at him 
and watched in stupefied horror as his lanky, tight muscled body unfolded 
from the desk and opening the window, flicked the lit butt into the parking 
lot. Settling back at his desk, he muttered something that tore a chant of 
obscene laughter from the thick lips of his companions, and made girls clamp 
hands over their mouths. 

His dark liquid eyes, predatory and hungry, scanned the rich bumps and 
curves of Carrie's svelte body, settling on the round sells of her breasts. 
"My name's Cederick... pleased to make your acquaintance, m'am." 

Accept it as cruel ridicule or politeness? That was Carrie's dilemma. 
Forcing a warm smile, she made a quick survey of the room. Late comers 
filtered in as the last bell rang. 

"Class, I'm happy to be your sociology teacher. My name is Carrie Osgood 
and, as you can probably tell," she announced with a twitter of fear for 
repercussions, yet wanting to be honest with them,"... I'm from the north." 

She felt his eyes on her making a casual but extremely thorough examination 
of her lush young body under the thin cotton dress. "I will expect you all 
to be on time and anyone tardy will be forced to stay after school. As your 
teacher, I expect a modicum of respect. 

... " 

A hand shot up in the back row. Predictably, as she'd feared, it was 
Cederick's black paw waving in the air. "Yes, Cederick." 

"What's modicum mean? I ain' never heard tha' word before." 

"Modicum means a moderate amount of... " she explained, hoping she'd 
misjudged his intentions. 

"Oh," he returned. "I though tha' had sometin' to do with cummin'... you 
know, cunts and dicks and all tha' shit... " 

"There will be no vile language in this room!" she snapped. "Let's keep the 
garbage in the streets _" please!" 

"How's 'bout they keep it in the north----" came a guttural reply. 

"Yeah!" echoed a comrade of Cederick's whom Carrie feared might have been 
involved in the baseball bat vigilante group. Her cheeks burned as she 
recognized him as the one who'd plastered his face to the car window and 
licked his lips as she slumped in the car, naked from the waist up, head 
bent, sobbing in abject humiliation. 

"Yeah... I thought they done promised us a black teacher! We gittin' real 
tired down here in Atlanta of da white folks givin' us shit! You talk 'bout 
garbage in the streets, m'am... we can't even walk da streets no more wif 
out gettin' killed and dumped in da river!" 

"Yeah... " echoed another, followed by a chorus of acquiescence rumbling 
about the room. 

Fearfully, Carried counted a total of three whites in a classroom 
accommodating twenty-two. Clearly, she was in the minority, and they 
wouldn't let her forget it! Sexual innuendoes were to be expected, but the 
naked truth of self-defense, righteously stated, was impossible to rebut. 
Still, the fact that she was from the north and white, didn't make her 
responsible for the killings, or the attitudes slated against blacks. The 
mere fact that she was here teaching in a predominantly black school should 
be proof of that! A deep hurt, deeper than Phil's rape, darkened her 
spirits. She tried to ignore the comment and take roll-call from the 
computer printout sheet sitting on her desk. 

"Rufus Stone... Janet Smith... Cederick Waters... Charlie White... Clara 
Jones... " On and on, down the list, her heart sinking with each name. After 
clipping the list of absentees to the clipboard outside the door, she asked 
if there were any questions. Of course, there would be... with rebellious, 
defiant teenagers like those sitting staring at her with hate-filled eyes. 

"I got a question." A pretty young girl with a cocky, barnyard attitude, 
straightened at her desk. She wore a tight yellow sweater, cupping the 
lemons of her budding fourteen year-old breasts. The dark areolas of her 
nipples poked through like bumblebees. Her hair was braided, decorated with 
beads. In kinder circumstances, Carrie would have judged her a very 
beautiful young girl -- modelish and leggy and very, very self-assured. "I 
wanna know why it jus' be blacks gits vic'mized. How come there ain' no 
black man killin' white kids... 

snatchin' em out from under der mothers' noses and stranglin' em? Nobody 
cares if a black kid gits killed... but... " 

Carrie cut her short with a silencing had. "Please, let's not get carried 
away. I understand the tension black youth are experiencing in Atlanta and 
I'm... " 

"You understand! You understand! A black boy next to Cederick shot to his 
feet, jabbing a bony finger in her direction. A young Stokley Carmichael he 
could have been. Better still, a Huey Newton, she amended mentally, 
considering his handsome features. "How cin you understan' when you been 
here four days! Shit, my ol' lady won' even let me sit on the stoop at night 
no more! You ever live in a house wid eight kids an, two bedrooms! I can' 
even sit on ma stoop!" 

Carries eyes shot toward the door. She felt her cheeks burning. Certainly 
someone in the hallway must have heard the angered outburst. Security 
guards? The principal? 

"Perhaps," she sighed with a quick intake of breath, "we could relate these 
matters to our sociology lessons, Write a letter to our congressman, senator 
maybe." 

A groan of contempt roared from the classroom. 

"Dat kinda shit don' do no good!" grumbled Cederick, brandishing his hand in 
a dismissing gesture and clearly robbing her of control. 

"We're going to teach this class my way," averred Carrie staunchly. "There 
will be no more racial slurs, no more complaints. If we want to make changes 
within society, first we must change ourselves. Attitudes give rise to other 
attitudes, bitterness to bitterness... and quite frankly," and here she 
crossed her arms defiantly over her chest and stared point blank into 
Cederick's eyes, "I see nothing but bitterness and hatred here in this 
room." 

Straightening, she rose from her chair behind the desk and leaned against 
the front of her scratched, metal desk. "I will make no apologies for being 
born with white skin... I could be purple for all I care! I'm here because I 
want to do something for society and if you can't accept that, I would 
happily have you transfer to another class. Is that understood?" 

Another kind of derision separated the room now. The pretty young black girl 
was staring hatefully at Cederick. That a private battle ensued between the 
new white teacher and Cederick was starkly evident. Each time he stared at 
Carrie's svelte, buxom body, the girl thrust out her chest and rubbed a 
polished fingertip over the nipple of her left breast, trying to pry her 
boyfriend's eyes loose from the teacher. 

Carrie, catching the movement out of the corner of her eye, stopped in 
mid-sentence, horrified at the girl's brazen lustiness. Not wanting to rouse 
the other students' attention, she blatantly ignored the lewd gesture. 
Finally, it was Cederick himself who threw a cigarette at the girl to put 
her fingers at rest. The Rose, whose name she found on the seating chart, 
smirked hatefully back at Miss Osgood, as if to say, "You won this bout, but 
baby, don't cross my path!" The hour wore on and wore thin. Weakened from 
maintaining defenses for sixty accusing minutes, Carrie nearly yelped for 
joy when the bell rang. 

A stampede of students shuffled out the door, casting their new teacher 
challenging looks over shoulders bearing chips. They had laughed at her, 
rebuked her, challenged her sincerity. She collapsed in her chair, 
frustrated, personally abused. She was in the midst, like it or not, of a 
horde of vigilante youth, ghetto children under the threat of death... and 
they wouldn't let her forget it! 

Massaging fingertips worked at the lightning rod tension sizzling through 
her head. Her stomach rumbled, and she remembered she hadn't eaten 
breakfast. The south, she was learning, was a difficult place to live. Silly 
it would be to ask herself why she' come to this hate-ridden corner of the 
world. Why not San Francisco, romantic and cool, she wondered, willing the 
sweat from her brow. Or Chicago? At least it was a cultured city. 

Phillip Jay Carmichael was the answer to it all. Now he was out of the 
picture, leaving a dark, empty hole. She had planned to offer spare time on 
community committees to advance the consciousness of Atlanta slums... now 
that was a forgotten dream. Still, she couldn't afford to dump her job, her 
apartment, her future because of one miserable man! 

Wearily, she gathered up the computer printout sheet, and seating chart, 
stuffed them into her bookbag which she slung over her shoulder and headed 
for the teacher's lounge down the hall and one flight down. 

A quarter plunked into the candy machine and the weary-faced blonde haired 
teacher ruminated on the merits of Jack LaLaine candy bar opposed to the 
traditional Snickers, when a tall, square-faced man wearing sweat pants and 
a sweat shirt, sauntered silently in Adidas gym shoes behind her. A 
basketball was tucked in the crook of his arm. He bounced it twice to get 
her attention. 

"Hi... " It was a heartless greeting on her part. Turning back to the candy 
machine, she pulled the lever and a gold wrapped bar plunked in the tray 
below. 

"Good choice," he offered in a deep voice. "I eat 'em myself all the time." 
His toothy grin melted into concern. "Hey, what's the matter? Students 
giving you a hard time?" 

"Hard isn't the word for it!" she burst, amazed at her aggressiveness. "All 
they talk about is these killings... I admit it's horrible, murderous, but 
it's not my fault!" She found herself yelling at him, transmitting the 
concern to him. "I'm sorry," Her head bent and her voice softened. "I don't 
mean to take it out on you." 

"Ah, I know how it is... this is a hard school to teach in. Hey, you don't 
sound like you're from the south." 

"Minnesota," she answered almost apologetically, taking in the muscular 
height of him and feeling a sense of familiarity. Phil's height, weight, 
build. 

"Care for a drink after school? God knows I need one. We're starting off the 
season on a losing note. I gotta put us on the top if I wanna keep my job." 
He returned her accepting smile, Amazingly, Carrie's second class of the day 
was comprised of a smattering of well-mannered Mexicans - mostly girls _" 
and the remainder white. She slipped through that class easily and met 
Jason, the basketball coach in the parking lot. He opened the door of a 
green MG and she slipped in. "Glad to see you survived the first day. Lots 
of teachers don't," he commented, revving the engine and backing out of the 
parking lot. A crunch of broken glass drew a wince from the coach. "Damned 
kids leave their beer bottles under the wheels. Think it's funny!" He swore 
under his breath and tore out of the parking lot in a screech of burning 
rubber. Carrie glared at his foul-tempered expression out of the corner of 
one blue eye hiding behind ovalled sunglasses perched atop her perky nose. 

"Students are different here. I'm used to slow-talking mid-westerners with 
even tempers." 

She, shrugged her lovely shoulders. "I guess you have to blame it on 
environment." 

"Yeah," he agreed, ramming the gear shift as the green MG made a tight right 
onto the main street. "Damned ghetto kids don't appreciate anything! Half of 
'em belong behind bars, I swear!" 

His racist attitude, equal to Phil's sour one, ate at complacency. "That's 
not a fair assumption, Jason. You could have been born black... " 

His blonde head flew around and he glared at her dumbstruck. 

"Or me____" she quickly amended. 

Jason lost no time changing the subject. "I know of a nice little bar with 
cold beer and nachos dripping with cheese. Join me?" 

"I... I should be going home. I am engaged," she said, taken aback by his 
racist attitude and aggressive attitude. "We're supposed to have dinner 
together." 

Lines tightened on his forehead. "Then why the hell did you lead me on?" he 
burst. "You could have told me from the start instead of wasting my time!" 

Carrie turned her head, away from his open examination of her delicious 
curves, stunned that any body could be so rude. Maybe Phil was right: 
Southern men don't take no for an answer _" without a fight! She had caught 
the glint in his eye and shivered. Never in four days had she met more 
disagreeable men. Cederick .. the defiant, man-boy and his licentious girl 
friend. Dear God, didn't anyone have any manners down here? 

"I live a block from here. I don't mind walking," she announced with a firm 
set to her jaw. 

"So your fiance doesn't see you, no doubt," he snickered, drawing up to the 
curb with a rocking halt. 

"Thanks for the lift," she sniped, grabbing her bookbag and slamming the car 
door with a tinny bang of finality. 

Men! I can't believe what animals they are! Really, did he think he was 
going to make love to me? The audacity! 

Her apartment felt claustrophobic with heat. Ripping open the balcony 
curtains, she yanked open the sliding glass doors and stood on the balcony 
for a long moment. 

Delicately, she broke a magnolia blossom from its branch and sniffed its 
sweetness. Five o'clock sounds of mothers calling their children echoed in 
her ears, as she watched them with dirty faced children at their heels, 
greeting husbands with tight hugs as they pulled into the parking lot. The 
contrast to her own morbid existence was as depressing as the suffocating 
heat. 

For the hundredth time, visions of Phil's animalistic attack flitted through 
her mind like an x-rated movie. Somehow, she could not dispel the shameful 
feeling that she had instigated his attack by working herself into a 
frustrated pitch in the shower. And Phil telling her she had enjoyed 
stripping for the black ghetto vigilantes! Clenching shut her blue eyes, she 
nervously stepped into the kitchen and slammed shut the glass doors. Why did 
that young boy unnerve her so? A third provocateur joined the lineup: Jason, 
basketball coach. Actually believing he could sleep with her after one day's 
acquaintance! 

A feeling of loneliness and desertion so black and deep she couldn't fight 
it, weighed like a bag of cement in her heart. Shoving it aside, she pitted 
emotion against rationale. If she had precipitated his attack, then it was 
unfair to punish him. By punishing him, she punished herself. And who, she 
realized in a burst of understanding, was losing then? 

Self-pity? Fear? Maybe Phil had been showing respect for her by arranging 
for an apartment, helping find her a teaching position. Was she as frigid as 
he accused her of being? 

Perhaps she was unwomanly, wasteful in punishing Phil for his dominant, 
manhood and expecting him to plead for her favors. The more he wanted her, 
the further back she pushed him until now, like a crucifix she had him 
nailed with the sin of rape on his soul! 

"Oh, no, what have I done!" she wailed, raising a clenched fist to her 
mouth. In this city of black vigilantes and hatred, she needed someone close 
to her. Needed a man to protect and love her, to smooth the ragged edges of 
reality. Like a fool, she fought him off and insulted his masculinity. What 
man in that situation wouldn't ignore her, leave her to her own self-created 
torment? 

CHAPTER FOUR 

"You gotta be kidding?" Phil was seeing red. 

"Two-hundred-fifty for the bumper... that's labor and parts----" the body 
repairman said, adding figures on his clipboard."----and one hundred for 
tail lights and labor... comes to three-fifty, no matter how you add it." 

"Holy shit...!" grumbled Phil, running fingers through his brown hair and 
shuffling, trying to vent an anger directed at the wrong person. Times like 
these, in temperamental flares, the only means of releasing the adrenalin 
flow was an energetic roll in the sack with a hot woman. 

Glaring over the lit end of his cigarette, feeling a pint of blood rush to 
his groin, his thoughts took that lusty path. At the far end of the body 
shop, behind the cash register, stood a young black girl thumbing through 
cancelled checks and adding up figures on a calculator. 

He barely heard the repairman's inquiry as to the name of his insurance 
company. "I said I'd take care of the paper work, Mr. Carmichael... " The 
repairman followed the intent direction of Phil's gaze. Pushing back the 
bill of his hat, he shoved a hand into the pocket of his jump suit and toyed 
with a key ring. 

"Quite a looker, am' she____" He whistled and got the response he wanted. 

Sharon's gleaming white teeth shone in a smile as she lifted her head. "Don' 
you be gettin' fresh now, honey," she winked back at him. 

Phil, cigarette dangling from his lips, sauntered self-assured over to the 
office, leather soled shoes scuffling along the cement floor. Leaning an 
elbow on the ledge, he grinned salaciously and plucking a cigarette from his 
mouth, dropped it to the floor and mashed it out with his shoe. 

"You're a nice looking girl, you know that?" he said in a deep, sexy voice. 
"Why don't you come out from behind that desk and show me the rest of you?" 

Sharon arched her back, thrusting out the melonous swells of her breasts. 
"Listen, big boy, I ain't a cheap date. I demand dinner, drinks and... well, 
after that____" Flattered by his attention, she jerked her head in the body 
repairman's direction. "I'll be out of here in ten minutes. Meet me down the 
block...?" 

He did. 

"I'm Phil's fiancee," insisted Carrie at the apartment manager's door, "we 
were supposed to have dinner together at his place and, well... " she 
shrugged sheepishly,... I forgot my key... do you suppose you could let me 
in his apartment?" 

The old woman clutched at the flap on her housecoat and perused the 
innocent, Pollyanna-scrubbed woman who'd distracted her from the late 
afternoon game show that chattered noisily in the background from a 
crackling television set. 

"Phil's getting married, is he?" She turned her back to Carrie. "Bout time 
that one settles down," she grumbled, shuffling off in bedroom slippers to 
retrieve her ring of apartment keys hanging from a nail on the kitchen wall. 

"Thank you, I really appreciate it... " Carrie closed Phil's apartment door 
and watched the old woman hobble across the hall as she mumbled complaints 
Carrie didn't care to hear. 

Divorce, damned men, scourging insults. 

Phil's apartment was definitely masculine. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, 
empty beer cans littering the floor next to the leather recliner a 
convenient six feet from the television set. 

Disappointed that he wasn't home, she decided to pass the time proving she 
could be a good wife. Emptying the sink, she filled it with sudsy water and 
up to her dimpled elbows in soap suds, washed and dried the dishes. 

Six o'clock and no Phil. Seven o'clock. When the evening network news wished 
her a good evening, she grew impatient. Where was Phil? Having a drink with 
a friend maybe? 

A twinge of anger and resentment started percolating in her veins, until she 
reminded herself she was a trespasser. After eight o'clock she grew tired. 
The first day of school had been utter hell, once the curtains of honesty 
parted. A quick nap would . help draw her out of this self-pitying 
temperament. 

Black cunt's so hot to fuck, I can smell her wet panties! thought Phil 
wrapping his arm around Sharon's shoulders, with the night's cloying heat 
making their flesh-on-flesh contact clammy and intimate. Why the hell not? 
he asked himself, Carrie's wasn't speaking to him and anyway, he hadn't been 
to bed with a black girl since he was fourteen when three of them paid an 
eighteen year-old five bucks for a roll in the grass. God, it had been on a 
cicada chirping night like this one, smelling of blossoming magnolias. 

"Up these steps and to the right... " he stammered, zigzagging, giggling and 
brushing against the rough stucco wall of the apartment building. At the 
landing he pulled her close, shoving her against the wall and stroking his 
hands hotly over her bumps and curves. Her black flesh was satiny to the 
touch, warm and pliant. He could feel her heart beat as her soft lips 
returned his French kiss. 

At age eighteen Sharon had learned that a black girl from the ghetto could 
make fast money with one tool _" sex. An extra fifty here and there helped 
pay off credit cards that too many clothing sales helped tipped over the 
limit. 

Swaying, he broke the kiss, feeling his penis lurch in the vee of his pants. 
Before he passed out, he wanted a taste of this sweet ebony meat and, 
fumbling in his pocket, he found his key chain and slipped the silver one 
into the lock. Opening the door, he nudged her ahead of him with a quick 
slap on the buttocks. 

"You look like an M & M... that chocolate skin and pink dress," he said. "I 
want you to melt in my mouth... not in my hand!" he laughed. 

Sharon threw back her head and laughed drunkenly, feeling a twitter of 
excitation ripple through her belly. Ah, how she loved white men! They 
appreciated a black woman for her sensuality, unlike black brothers who 
treated her like a cheap nothing. Most of them didn't have class anyway, she 
thought eyeing hungrily the bulge in Phil's pants. 

Collapsing on the sofa, he grabbed her wrist and brought her to her knees on 
the carpet. 

A fast hand slipped under her dress, swiftly shooting toward the mound of 
soft, warm, damp flesh between her thighs. She was drenched! 

"God, you're wet... " he hissed into her ear. "Wet and ready to be fucked... 
" He yanked at her wrist again. "Get you ass up here!" 

Giggling, bending down so that he could see the white strip of her lacy 
brassiere sticking up from the low cut neck of her cotton, tight fitting 
dress, she rose to her knees and sat on his lap. Wiggling her curving hips 
so that her ass cheeks ground against the hard bulge of his erection, she 
felt the hot rubbery tube stiffen and pulse. 

"You're hard... oooohhh, honeeee!" 

His hand snuck up under her dress to reach the elastic waist band of her 
panties. With a firm tug, he ripped them down to her knees. A deep, lusty 
groan tearing from his throat, his fingers shot into the wet crease of her 
pussy lips, already moistened from finger fucking her in the fast food 
drive-inn where he'd taken her for a quick bite. 

A deep hum rattled from his chest as he started a slow teasing rhythm in the 
fleshy, moist slit. He could feel the steaming heat of her cunt pressing 
tightly against his hand and arm. 

Her sensitive, moist flesh throbbed gently beneath his moving fingers, 
sloshing juicily as her black pubic kinks tickled his palm. 

"You be one hot white honky! she purred. "You my Dr. Feelgood!" 

"You hot bitch!" he panted. 

She sighed in answer, and smiled down at him, licking her lips. He felt her 
well-exercised thighs press against his hand, with a strength developed from 
using those muscles to the fullest and best use! His free hand moved north 
to play with the firm mounds of her breasts, pulsing hotly in the palm of 
his hand. Snuggling in his lap, Sharon pressed her fleshy orbs against his 
face, rubbing her puffy nipples into hardness against his nose. 

"You white boys know how to make a woman feel good!" she complimented "Black 
boys get so nasty and rough with their sisters." 

"Christ, are you going to get it!" He yanked his fingers from the steaming 
heat of her pussy and nudging her back, stretched her out on the sofa beside 
him. Squealing like a greased pig, her ebony flesh shivered as he hooked his 
thumbs in the elastic band of her panties and pulled them down over her 
silken thighs. Wadding them up, he tossed them across the room and stared 
hungrily at her naked loins, shimmering darkly in the yellow lamplight. 

"Ah, fuck me, babeeee! Christ, I need you inside me!" she wailed, her thick 
upper lip curled over a set of white teeth. 

Hungrily he stared at the throbbing lips of her naked little cunt spread 
nicely for him and felt his cock jerk in joyful anticipation. A pearl of 
pre-cum oozed from the tip. Reaching down, he fumbled in his cotton pants 
for the hot, rubbery tube, sticky in the palm of his hand. The hard, red tip 
glistened in the light of the living room and the blue veins pulsed wickedly 
along the length of the hardness. 

"Spread them lips, honey... Daddy's comin' home!" 

In the bedroom, a thin wall away, Carrie lifted the arm covering her 
forehead stirring in her sleep. The cool air conditioning blew over the 
flushed, chiseled cheekbones and, rolling over to her side, she yanked at 
the corner of her blanket to cover herself. Flitting dreams streamed in and 
out of consciousness with a will of their own. Alien faces, dark and 
menacing, zoomed in and out of her mind's eye like a bad Excederin dream. 

It was the first night of her arrival in Atlanta... back in her new 
apartment. Phil was with her, trying to make love to her, cajoling her, 
pleading with her. Loneliness, like a pregnant cloud, distorted reason, and 
the need for a warm body... wrapping his protective arms around her, holding 
her close, cuddling her. Abruptly, the spell was broken. Carrie's eyelids 
fluttered in the stages of alertness. She blinked up at the dark ceiling, 
noticing a stream of light streaking the bedroom carpet under the door left 
ajar. 

Carrie sleepily struggled up onto her elbows. Someone was in the living 
room; their voices were unmistakably clear. No, she hadn't left the 
television set on. Lewd, wet slapping sounds of naked flesh against naked 
flesh startled her out of her dreamy state. 

Who could it be? The hallway... the noise must be coming from the hallway, 
she decided, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and lifting from the 
squeaking mattress. 

Hesitantly, Carrie tiptoed to the door. The sounds grew in lascivious 
intensity with each step forward. Then, her hands flew in her mouth and a 
sob died in her throat. 

There, stretched out on the sofa, naked and shimmering in the yellow 
lamplight, her ebony thighs spread wide... with her fiancee kneeling between 
her legs, his brown head bent low over her convulsively trembling body. 
Carrie gasped, thought she might be sick. The girl's legs were trembling 
convulsively, her limbs jerking spasmodically. Her ebony features, shined 
with perspiration shone like a fertility goddess. Her eyes were tightly 
clenched shut and her tongue peeked out between her thick, succulent lips. 
Squeals of lustful delight tore from her chest, punctuated with louder 
cries. Carrie's fiance, slaving between her trembling legs, was running his 
tongue up and down her cuntal slit, sucking up the juices dribbling from the 
pink flesh that pulsed and throbbed between Sharon's thighs. 

A hot dizziness overwhelmed her and Carrie stepped back into the shadow of 
the door to lean against the wall for support. The x-rated scene she was 
watching was sick, perverted... yet, hypnotized, she watched oogle-eyed and 
dry mouthed as her fiancee slobbered over another woman's genitals. A black 
woman's genitals! 

Carrie squinted around the door The girl's dark features were finely 
chiseled, her body a swelling wealth of perfection. She gawked at the lush 
nakedness spread out on the sofa. 

Her kinky black hair haloed her head as the tip of her tongue parted her 
succulent lips and she moaned in the throes of orgasm. 

"Ohhhhh... God... babeeee!" she hissed. Now Phil's tongue was flicking 
tauntingly at the oily little nub of her clitoris swelling in the black 
forest of pubic curls. Spasmodically, like an epileptic, she jerked as the 
electric contact of his hot tongue on her genitals made sizzling contact! 
Her ebony legs were clamped tightly around Phil's bobbing head. Down into 
the sofa her hips and buttocks ground in lewd, gyrating circles, as she 
mashed her cunt into his juice-smeared face. 

"Mmmmm... aaaahhhg!" Groans of bestial pleasure bubbled from between her 
tightly clenched teeth. 

Horrified, mesmerized and glued to the floor, Carrie stared as Sharon 
gyrated and twisted in time to the sucking of her steaming genitals while 
his lips crawled up her nakedly squirming belly, pausing to pay homage to 
the jewel of her navel. Sharon was begging for him to ram it into the tight 
juiciness of her cunt, but instead he taunted her, sliding slowly all the 
way up her sweat sheened nakedness to straddle her bouncing, swollen 
breasts. 

Carrie watched in mesmeric horror the bulges of dark flesh ooze out under 
the cheeks of her fiance's buttocks as he sank down on them, lewdly resting 
the sac of his swollen testicles on the girl's heaving chest. The rubbery 
tube of his veiny cock jutted out from the hairy nest of his groin, the 
naked, seeping tip a tongue lick away from Sharon's gaping mouth. 

With one hand he reached back behind and shoved an outstretched finger up 
between the girl's shivering, widespread thighs, finger fucking her juicy 
genitals. The finger ground inside, teasing the sensitive vaginal walls 
until she could barely catch her breath. A deep groan of surrender bubbled 
from between her parted lips. Glassy chocolate eyes stared at the seeping 
tube. 

A wicked, diabolical grin of lust parted Phil's lips as he reached down with 
a free hand and rubbed the blunt head of his lust-thickened cock in slow, 
taunting circles around her open lips, smearing them with strands of piquant 
pre-cum. Her red tongue flicked out like an ant eater, licking at the tiny 
slitted hole in the mushroomed head. She licked at the string of male 
lubricant and strained forward then, the cords of her neck standing out in 
bold relief, trying to suck the teasing penis into the hot cavern of her 
hungry mouth. 

But Phil was a game player when it came to women. He liked to direct the 
set, produce the show and be to provocateur. He kept the piquantly seeping 
cock tip a tongue lick away from her grasp, letting the hot tip of her pink 
tongue lick up and down the underside of its semen-soaked ridge. Sharon 
grunted and strained forward until her neck looked as if it would screw 
right off. Behind the door, eavesdropping and staring, Carrie felt her 
breath pant from her lungs in time with the girl's gasping and the taut 
muscles of her own body worked for the relief that Sharon sought. 

"Suck me, you black bitch!" he taunted, snarling between white teeth. He 
grabbed the girl by her kinky black hair and yanked her head up off the 
sofa, simultaneously thrusting his knobby cock deep into the hot confines of 
her throat, stuffing her ovalled lips with his pounding male flesh. 

Carrie's eyes crossed. Her breath quickened. Deep in her own constricted 
throat, she gagged on nausea, just as Sharon was gagging on her fiance's 
penis. Her eyes watered and widened as Sharon sucked on Carrie's 
husband-to-be's penis. 

Rearing up on his knees and with one hand holding her head by the hair, the 
other jabbing rapaciously in and out of her seeping cuntal slit, he buffeted 
her naked body lushness up and down on the squeaking, complaining sofa. 
Carrie watched in stupefied horror as the girl's thick lips ovalled 
lusciously to suck on the lust hardened cock boring into her mouth. 

Her cheeks hollowed on the outstroke, her eyes watering with lust. Carrie's 
legs turned to rubber; she leaned against the wall to support herself. Her 
body felt anesthetized, too shocked to feel the emotional pain. 

Wearing a licentious grin, Phil fucked the black woman's mouth and watched 
in glee as her painfully contorted mouth struggled to lick and absorb all of 
him. She wriggled her hands free and cupped his ass cheeks, pinching his 
taut buttocks and running a raspberry polished finger along the slit of his 
anus. Like a slave to be sold on the block, she sucked to please her master. 
His coarse pubic hair brushed the tip of her nose and his sperm filled balls 
resounded in a lewd dance against her chin. 

Carrie felt dizzy, her forehead clammy. She sucked in her breath as she 
plugged her mouth with her fist to keep from screaming aloud. Dear God, it 
looked as if her own fiance were the Atlanta murderer... the way he was 
forcing his cock down her throat _" trying to strangle her! Any flitting 
feelings of envy were hidden behind a curtain of fear... at this moment. 

Growling from deep within his chest, Phil jerked his cock from the black 
woman's ovalled lips and crushed down onto her ebony, sweat sheened 
nakedness. 

"Now you're gonna find out what it's like to get fucked by a white man!" he 
warned, grunting while she squeezed him tight to her. The flesh of his 
buttocks oozed between her black fingers, spread over his fleshy white skin. 
Phil shoved his hand under her buttocks and hoisted them up so that her wet, 
naked cunt was a shove away from the thundering tube of his cock rubbing 
wetly against her cuntal slit. Frantic, maddened with lust and soaked with 
her own juices, his cock slipped easily between her ticklish kinky, pussy 
curls and slipped between her soft pink folds into the crying hole of her 
cunt. 

Sharon's glistening body screwed in desperation as with open mouth, she 
mewled up into his lust contorted features. "Ahhh... nnnggggghhhh... white 
bastard!" she spat up at him, her eyes glassy with lust. 

"Oh, you're tight... tight and hot and wet!" he returned, feeling his cock 
strike bottom against the spongy tip of her cervix and her buttocks jerked 
up under him under the thudding impact. The grasping greedy mouth of her 
pussy sucked his pounding cock as if trying to rip it from his loins. For a 
minute he feared he might be castrated. 

"Ahhhhhh... cummmmminggggg. White bastard!" she spat up at him. "Fuck me 
haaaarder." 

"You bet your sweet, black ass I will!" Phil echoed, hissing between 
clenched teeth and throwing back his head. "Ah, give it to me... give me all 
your cunt... you black, cock hungry bitch!" He grabbed her ebony legs and 
spread them wide as a roasted duckling, angling one of them over the sofa 
back. Spasming erotic twinges sizzled between them as their orgasms gushed 
in a hot salty brine of lust! 

"Ohhhh... aagggnnnggghhh... " They ground their sweat glistening bodies 
together, the sound of naked slapping flesh echoing in the empty living 
room. 

A smaller, saddened voice bordering on hysteria, added to the chorus. Carrie 
never heard herself cry, but feel the pain of deception, she did. Deep and 
lacerating, knife-like pains jabbed at her heart while elephantine tears 
poured from her eyes as she watched her fiance's manhood sluice wetly into 
the genitals of another woman. Thin strings of semen trickled down between 
Sharon's glistening thighs, across her still trembling buttocks to dribble 
in sticky pools on the sofa. 

Shoes in hand, Carrie tiptoed over the living room carpet, the lusting 
sounds of lovemaking echoing in her ears as she darted for the door and made 
her escape. 

Scampering down the steps, she heard a door open and a female voice chime 
into the night: "What's the matter? Come back... you can't go out by 
yourself... " The landlady, hair in curlers, shook her head, pulled it 
inside and closed the door. "That man... God knows what rottenness he's up 
to now. Nice young gal like that wantin' to marry him and he fouls it up. 
How like a man... " she thought. 

CHAPTER FIVE 

Sometimes loss of love strengthens one, imparts a feeling of self 
sufficiency and expectation. That, fortunately, was Carrie Osgood's state of 
mind for the following seven days of gradually dulling pain. Every time she 
blinked shut her eyes, she saw the black woman hissing out her lust under 
Phil's pounding manhood. Manhood... ? the word made her snicker now. Why was 
it every man seemed to think that the hunk of flesh dangling between his 
thighs was his badge of manhood and dominance. A cruel, wicked kind of 
dominance that could only inflict pain. 

It took hours of philosophizing and boxes of Kleenex, but ten days later 
Carrie was back to her virtuous, confident self. At least she hadn't married 
him, she told herself. He hadn't ruined her life completely. Yet the burn of 
deception, the sting of bitterness lingered, boiled under the cauldron of 
love gone bad. These were sour time, but she would withstand it. 

Nights were the most painful. Cicadas hissing under the magnolia tree whose 
sweet, aphrodisiac scent intoxicated her with the need for friendship _" 
and something more, much more intimate and enduring. Something built on 
love, not lust. That, she had seen enough of. Imprinted in her memory was 
the ugly sight of her fiance's buttocks, hairy and menacing as he straddled 
the black woman's chest. His mouth, too, lips fleshy and spread, sucking 
like a starving child on another woman's genitals. Ugly and defiling, 
burning to her feminine ego. 

Compared to the hurt in Phil's abuse, her ghetto students were as easy to 
endure as a hot fudge sundae! They refused to forgive her for not being 
black, for being more fortunate than they. Their condescending remarks and 
racist jibes were acid in her stomach, but nothing compared to the agony of 
the gut wrenching pain she'd suffered from Phil. 

Cederick and his friends Sammie and Stokley, flicked sexual aggressions at 
her like lint from a suit collar. Women, violence, hatred... was that all 
these boys knew? To survive this year of teaching she must somehow cut 
through the hatred and help them to develop the good within them. 

Atlanta had become a nationally targeted city of racism. Newspapers were 
ridden with stories of suspected cults, national network news reported 
marches in support cities across the country, masses held in honor of the 
dear. None of it helped abate the fear and undercurrent of treachery that 
lurked in the streets and turned darkened shadows into suspected murderers. 
An edginess pervaded the city, making the youth its prime victims. 

The threat of violence matured their innocence in a sadly distorted 
expression reflecting the fear that they might be number twenty-two on the 
hit list of some demented creature. 

They took it out on her, because who else could they blame? Racist notes 
stuffed in her desk, in her bookbag, reflected their hatred of their 
blonde-haired school teacher from the north. "White honky... " the called 
her. "White bitch... whore... " 

That they hated her for being white and a Yankee was acceptable, but when 
they attacked her for being a woman, it hurt. Who this young buck was, she 
couldn't prove. But suspect, she did. And with reason. Two choices remained: 
Go to the superintendent or ignore it, in hopes it would burn itself out. 
She chose the first. 

"Sorry, Ms. Osgood," he apologized, staring at her lush body over the rim of 
his bifocals. 

"We have to be extra careful these days. You're a good-looking woman," he 
grinned lecherously. "Can't blame the boys... " 

"Mr. Turner," snapped Carrie. "I have been accused of being a racist, a 
Yankee and Lord knows what else _" but don't attack me for being a woman!" 

Turning on her heel, skirt cupping the full moons of her buttocks, Carrie 
stomped out the superintendent's office in a huff. Shouldering her way down 
the hallway, she charged like a mad bull for Room 102. At four-thirty in the 
afternoon, she expected to find it empty, the last class had ended at 
three-thirty. 

In the back row sat Stokley, Sammie and Cederick, noses pressed to the book. 
Carrie's flaring nostrils picked up the scent of deception. These ghetto 
vigilantes were no book worms. 

"What are you doing here, may I ask?" she snapped, slamming her notebook 
into her bookbag. 

No one answered. 

"I asked you a question!" Carrie's full upper lip was a taut line of 
disapproval and anger. 

The white of her even white teeth shone between the full succulence of her 
lipstick glossy lips. 

"Mind if I write on the board, Ma'am?" Cederick regarded her with lazy, 
chocolate eyes that bored into her body, crawled, like tiny ghetto lice 
prickling at her luscious, white skin. 

With swaggering, slender hips, he made his way past her desk to the 
blackboard and nimbly plucking a hunk of chalk from the tray, scrawled in 
uneven letters: "Miss Ozgood hates blacks... " 

Blood sang in Carrie's ears. Angered beyond reason, she snatched the eraser 
and dragged it across the board. Spinning around, she spat at him: "You 
could at least spelled my name right!" Then,, as he turned to head back to 
his seat: "Will you grow up?" 

Cederick stopped in mid-step, turned around and shot her a malicious look 
that made her freeze to the bone. "Nobody gotta tell me how to be a man...!" 

A conspiratorial vibration rattled off the walls of the dingy classroom. The 
three black boys, men in body and boys in spirit, carefully lifted their 
eyes from their textbooks to level their dilated, lurking orbs on Carrie 
Osgood's svelte curves and bumps. She could almost read their minds, feel 
the twinge of hatred and rejection shining in their eyes. A sinister snicker 
chimed between the three of them. They were waiting; but waiting for what, 
she wondered frantically. 

Outside in the hallway an occasional laugh and slam of a locker door and 
called out farewell cut the silence. She heard the janitor whistling a tune 
from the top forty disco chart as he pushed his broom down the hallway, 
slicking up gum wrappers and cigarette butts. To stay and monitor, or go 
home _" that was the question. That they were waiting, like guerilla 
soldiers in the ghetto jungle, was obvious. Certainly they wouldn't do 
anything. 

Violence belonged in the streets, not in the classroom. 

Visions of Cederick jumping on the car hood, yanking at the zipper of his 
pants and hauling out the black girth of his young, virile penis, shot to 
mind. Self-assurance melted for a second, freezing into fear. Quickly she 
gathered up her book bag and handbag. 

"I'm going home," she announced sternly. "The janitor will lock the door 
after you." 

Halfway to the door, her head flew around. 

A desk was pushed to the side, knocking into the wall. A stampede of feet, 
hurried footsteps... and Cederick leapt over a desk, reaching the door 
before her hand could shoot for the doorknob. 

He stood between- Carrie and the door, barring her exit. "You ain't goin' 
home yit, teach... 

not with pupils in the classroom studyin'... that be against school policy." 

"Don't try to play vigilante with me, Cederick," she flared, cheeks burning 
with fear and rage. "I... I have an appointment... now if you'll please... " 

"Please... you hear that, boys? She be sayin' please to us!" 

A chorus of laughter stung her ears. She tried to shrug off the feeling, but 
the sneering curl of Cederick's lips aborted it. They were harassing her, 
she told herself, kid's fun. 

"Let me out of this room, Cederick, before I call the janitor!" 

He snickered down at her, his black, panther-like body rippling with pent-up 
emotion that spelled out l-u-s-t in his chocolate, smouldering eyes. A 
quiver crept up Carrie's spine. 

"Yeah, teach... " Sammie and Stokley were behind her, closing in on her, 
surrounding her with hot, black male flesh on all sides. 

Someone stroked black fingers through her baby fine blonde tresses. "Never 
seen such white hair on a bitch before," Sokley commented in a thick voice. 
"Nice and soft like a baby's ass... " 

"Nice and soft as my black prick... " hissed Sammie, the shorter of the 
three vigilantes. 

"Yeah... jus' for comparison sakes... A""- he hissed. 

They had wanted her alone, had plotted to keep her there by their 
treachery... just as they had surrounded Phil's car and embarrassed her to 
the core of her being. A repeat performance she couldn't live through. 

Stokley held her by the wrist, with Cederick blocking her exit. Sammie, 
fumbling with his pants zipper, yanked it down with strong, black fingers. 
The metallic whine of his zipper made Carrie freeze. Her cheeks burned and 
her ears buzzed. 

"Take a look a' this, Miz Osgood," he commanded in a thick voice. 

Carried fear widened eyes lowered inch by scalding inch down over the 
rippling black chest hugged tight, showing off bulging pectorals under a 
cotton T-shirt stained with sweat. She could smell his lust, it flared in 
her nostrils. She recoiled in panic, dumbstruck by the long, thick black 
girth of his young male penis, throbbing in half-erection. He pumped it in 
his black fist, forcing a pearl of pre-cum from the mushroomed tip. 

"Ain' a guy in this classroom wouldn' give his left nut to shove his prick 
in your white cunt, teach... if you be real lucky, maybe you git 'em all at 
once!" 

Hot blasts of breath smelling of stale cigarettes bathed Carrie's flushed 
cheeks. She stared in disbelief at the naked black tube. Long and hard and 
definitely virile _" for a fourteen year-old! The tiny eye at the tip oozed 
cream as he jerked the loose foreskin up and down over the tip. He grinned 
up at her in victory and lust. 

The full impact of her capture slowly registered in her mind. Elbowing 
against Stokley's iron tight grip, she tried to twist out of his grasp. A 
desperate sob tore from her throat, sounding like a small, frightened child 
being shaken aware from a nightmare. Only Carrie's nightmare was real and 
definitely three-dimensional. 

"Ain' no white teacher gonna tell us we ain' no good... tellin' us how to 
live and love white folks!" snarled Cederick, "Time you get a little respect 
for us. Write letters to congressman, that's what you thinks gonna make life 
good for us... well, let me tell you somethin', bitch... we's jus' real 
tired of writin' and killin' and listenin' to white folks tell us what be 
good for us!" 

"Ah, shuddup, Ced... " blasted Stokley. "We don't got all night... b'fore 
the janitor comes back... but he gonna be so loaded from smokin' that joint 
we gib him, he ain' gonna hear no honky bitch cryin' for help!" 

Stokley tried to hold the feisty, wriggling teacher with one hand while he 
fumbled at the neck of her dress with the other black hand. A sickening 
surge of revulsion and fear awakened in the pit of her stomach when Carrie 
came to the grim realization that this was no kids game. They would kill 
her, given the chance... hated her for being white and a woman. She had to 
get out of their clasp! 

"Let me go! Let me go!" she yelped, fighting against their superior strength 
"You can't get away with this, let me promise you that! Just because you're 
men you think you can _" oh, you're hurting me!" 

A scuffle ensued. "Hey, grab 'er, Stokley! Sammie, git your hand off yer 
prick and stop her!" yelped Cederick. 

Sammie, the shortest of the three, with the highest Afro, tore off his 
sweat-stained shirt and grabbed her arm with his free hand. The other 
remained obdurately on his penis. 

"Please... Please .." she sobbed in hysteria as Sammie's hand moved to grasp 
one swollen breast pressing tightly against her cotton dress. His ragged 
fingernails dug into the soft puffiness of her nipple and she threw back her 
head and cried in pain. It felt as if he were trying to pull her nipple off! 
When she stilled her crying, she stared him in the eye: "You'll go to jail 
for this!" Carrie's soft features hardened in a last ditch effort at 
survival. 

She wanted to believe, needed to believe at that moment, that she could 
scare them into letting her go. 

It was not to be. 

Grinning lecherously, Sammie stared her coldly in the eye. He snickered, his 
black, sweat sheened face diabolical as the devil himself. "You think that 
scares me? Shit, I been stabbed in the streets before!" 

Carrie's blonde head fell forward as they held her by the arms, by iron 
wrists, digging into her tender white flesh. A fear, hot and acid, shot 
through her trembling body, sensing the hatred emanating from their 
youthful, once innocent faces. 

Had they ever been innocent? she wondered in a flash of understanding. Or 
were some people born in fear, as some were born in luxury. "Let me go home 
and we'll forget about this," she promised, slowly lifting her head to 
direct a blue eyed stare into Cederick's cold, menacing eyes. 

"Forget? Huh?" Stokley sneered. 

"B'sides, we gonna have us a nice juicy party... like the one we had on yer 
old man's car hood!" warned Cederick. 

"No... no____" She fought and lost. Shaking with anger, her body turned to 
rubber, the terrified school teacher threw back her head and started to 
scream. A salty black hand clamped over her parted lips and her cries died 
in her throat. 

"Ah... nice tits... real nice tits, teach... " Stokley's hand shot out to 
cup one fully rounded breast. Frozen, the intent of his provocative act 
branded in her mind, she stared up into his wild eyes. Slowly her eyes 
descended to watch his warm hand rub in full circles the wealth of her 
womanly flesh. Mesmerizing, hypnotizing, her eyes refused to budge. 

Cederick wiped his mouth on his sleeve and rubbed his hands together, as if 
getting to arm wrestle. The were taunting her with aggressive movements, 
obscene gestures and slurred insults. They wanted a fight; that was clear. 

Frantically, Carrie's eyes swept from one dark face to the next as if madly 
searching for one kind smile, anything to indicate they were not as serious 
as they seemed to be. To stand here, a willing victim, was not her means of 
survival! 

"Git that dress off and let's see them tits up real close, teach... " hissed 
one. 

"Yeah, just like you don' in the car... sweet, white tits... milky and 
hard... " 

Carrie felt faint. No. Her mind raged. "You... you can't mean that... no... 
I can't... I won't!" 

she panted. 

A hand shot across her face and foul breath bathed her burning cheek. "Don't 
you scream, bitch... or your face's gonna be in ribbons!" warned Stokley. 

There sounded a rustle of clothing, breath snorting from nostrils, and 
Carrie knew she was a helpless captive. The school building was empty at 
this time of day. Jason would be in the gym practicing with his basketball 
team, too far away to hear her screams. They had bribed the janitor with 
drugs... and the superintendent had a reputation of leaving the building 
early on Fridays. This was it. She swayed, dizzy with fear and revulsion. 

"Seems the lady can' undress 'erself," sneered Cedrick, moving a desk to 
block the door so that he would join the fun and rape. She felt a warm hand 
at the throat of her dress, felt fingers working at the buttons of her 
bodice and shivered, remembering she had been wearing this same dress the 
day... Dear God, she couldn't think about it! 

"No... no... no... " she whimpered, weakly shaking her head, blonde hair 
curtaining her flushed cheeks, scorched in humiliation. She heard them step 
out of their pants, could smell the sweat, sweet and manly of their nudity. 
Hot hands worked at the hems of their t-shirts and shoe laces while someone 
held her arms behind her back. 

RAPE. The words were printed indelibly in her brain, seeping through the 
walls of her weakened libido. The worst crime afflicted upon women... at the 
hands of three black boys intent on humiliating her, robbing her of every 
morsel of her femininity, savoring their masculine dominance over her. If 
she fought, they might use a knife on her. Fear and misery trembled through 
her body until, weakened, she floated on a numbing cloud of terror. Fate and 
resignation to its consequences, devoid of hope. 

"Git outta them clothes," one of them hissed. 

"And... and then?" she stammered, raising watery blue eyes searching for a 
morsel of pity. 

"You're stronger than me," she sobbed. "Just don't kill me... just don't 
kill me!" This hell had to end sometime. Once they spewed their dark seed 
into her, it would be over. She must live for that moment. 

"Git naked,.!" came the command. 

She choked out a feeble "no" and felt the grip tighten on her chafed wrists. 

"Peel down and let them juicy tits hang out... " She felt Stokley's hands 
leave her arms and weakly, she unbuttoned the last two buttons on her dress, 
noticing the last two had been ripped off by urgent black hands. In a 
moment, the dress fluttered to the floor. "Your panties too... if they ain' 
stickin' to your cunt... " snickered someone. Did it matter who? 

Swallowing a sob of abject humiliation, she fumbled with the hooks of her 
lacy brassiere and felt the cool air conditioning play over her creamy 
shoulders, goosebumped with fear. 

Her naked breasts bobbed into view. She heard them suck in their breath, 
felt their eyes staring at the swollen orbs of her breasts. 

"Now the panties... " 

Slowly, she hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her bikini panties 
and slid the nylon wisp down over the right swell of her hips, feeling again 
the cool air play over the fleece of her pubic curls. 

"Jesus... without a fight, too," groaned Sammie. "Jesus, she's all wet! Look 
at her panties!" he hissed. . "Now git down on the floor," barked Cederick 
through thick lips anxious to feast on her creamy white flesh. 

Like a marionette, she sunk to knees too rubbery to support her. She heard 
someone demand that she spread her legs so they could see her cunt. 

Stretching her legs, she lay flat on the floor, staring up into the 
fluorescent lights glaring down on her pale face. Her warm, white flesh, 
lushly full breasts was theirs for the asking now. She clenched shut her 
blue eyes and watched lights sparkle behind her fluttering eyelids as she 
awaited the first raping touch. Her abdomen rippled with shock and fear and 
inside, bubbled with revulsion. Terrifying, wretched and diabolical they 
were, staring down at her nakedly exposed body. Visions of sitting in the 
car stripping for them, showing off her full breasts came into stark 
clarity... and with it, Phil's damning words: "YOU LOVED SHOWING OFF YOUR 
TITS TO THOSE BLACK BOYS! ADMIT IT, YOU BITCH!" And in crept the feel of her 
father stripping down the covers on cold winter nights to press his drunken 
body next to hers... warm, sweaty and masculinely dominant! 

"Stretch them legs... I wanna see your asshole!" barked Sammie. 

Sizzling in mortification, Carrie blinked open her eyes to stare down at the 
blonde fleecy nest of her womanhood. She sucked in her breath, sharply. Her 
vaginal lips were swollen, dewed with secretions of expectation. The air 
conditioning made them tingle and she closed her eyes again and drew a deep, 
calming breath. Struggling to focus on a single thought, anything to keep 
herself from going hysterically insane, she vowed she would not be 
permanently scarred by this display of youthful vengeance. 

Sammie was the first to claim his dominance. He pumped his cock, eyes 
riveted on the forest between her thighs. Between her thighs. Between his 
strong ones, his veiny penis throbbed. "Watch this, white bitch!" he spat. 

Carrie's glassy eyes opened to focus on the black girth of his meaty cock, 
swollen with pints of bloody lust. For a fourteen year-old boy, he was 
mature. Very mature. As big as Phil, even. Judging from his actions, she 
knew she wasn't his first woman. For the sake of cruelty, he was going to 
rape her in front of his buddies. 

"PHIL! Dear God... " Where are you? 

CHAPTER SIX 

"Listen... " hissed Phil, trembling with rage standing outside his 
landlady's door. The humidity was crucifying. He hooked a finger in the 
collar of his shirt and tore off his tie. 

"You've got no right letting anybody into my apartment without my approval!" 
Working at the buttons of his starched shirt, he yanked open the flap. 

The glib-faced landlady stared at the virile, hairy chest, her eyes 
squinting upwards into his tanned face. Don't you undress in front of me!" 
she snarled with all the sourness of her divorced fifty-two years. "Engaged 
to a nice girl like that... and bringing home filth!" she spat, clasping at 
the dipping neckline of her house dress missing a top button. "Poor thing 
ran out of there like somebody was chasin' her with a knife! And you're in 
there, doing God knows what with black street trash!" 

Phil was seeing red. "You dried up whore... you got no right calling anybody 
street trash!" 

"Get out! Get out of this apartment before I call the cops on you," she 
retaliated, slamming the door in his face. A thunder of footsteps and a 
screech of tires, and he was gone. The landlady settled down on the sofa 
trying to calm herself with absorption in an afternoon soap opera. 

Men... cruel bastards! Animal that he was, she had to admit there was 
something sexy about Phil Carmichael. Dominant, demanding. A shiver of 
longing quivered up her too long neglected thighs, flitting x-rated movies 
of what her renter had done to the black girl while his fiancee watched in 
horror surged through her brain. 

Phil hammered the steering wheel with his balled up fist. Damn bitch! 
Fucking dried up whore! Letting Carrie into my apartment! Dragging thick 
fingers through his hair, he plotted his next course of action. Christ, and 
I was sucking her cunt too... licking her thighs and making her cum... and 
then shoving my cock in her... with Carrie watching! A trickle sadism raced 
through him at the thought of his puritanical girl friend watching in 
horror. 

A sickening feeling balled up in the pit of his stomach. Jesus and he loved 
the bitch, too... 

God how he loved her! He'd blown it, but good! 

The afternoon sun spread a suffocating blanket of humid air over the city. 
Phil drove absentmindedly, the car window open, blasts of hot air playing 
over the hairiness of his chest, tickling him like the soft whispers of a 
woman's kiss. He slumped in the seat and turned on the radio. Atlanta news 
crackled over the speaker. He turned it off, disgruntled. 

How to approach her was the question. What to say? Hell, he'd never been 
clever with words. Actions were his forte, God, were they! He snickered 
bitterly to himself. But a woman always wanted to hear an "I'm sorry... I 
was a fucking bastard and I promise I'll be a good boy!" That and, "No, she 
was lousy in bed... you're the sexiest woman, you're the only one who can 
please me... " Games... all it is is games... he thought to himself, 
discovering that subconsciously he had driven in the direction of Washington 
High School. 

Maybe if he parked across the street and waited until she came through the 
school door, he could get a look at her expression and decipher her mood. 

Cold, he decided. Frigid as an iceberg. As he pulled his car up to the curb 
and pulled down the visor to retrieve the crinkly cigarette pack, his eyes 
feasting lazily on the front door where a couple of black boys sat smoking 
cigarettes and snapping fingers to a disco tune from a portable radio, it 
struck him that inside that uptight, unscrewed brain, there lurked a woman 
capable of masochism. Funny, he'd never considered that about her before. 
Frigid women were always the kinky ones, the hot ones underneath. All it 
took was pressing the right button and boom! Instant transformation. From 
Florence Nightingale to Marilyn Monroe. Stretching out his legs, he pulled 
hard and long on his cigarette. As the afternoon sun played over the yellow 
car hood, his mind traveled back to the incident in the ghetto. The look on 
her face... God, he'd ever forget! Nimble fingers working at the hook of her 
brassiere, stripping it off to let those black bastards' eyes take in the 
milky firmness of her body. Hell, he'd watched her nipples get hard, saw 
goosebumps polka-dot her flesh from all those hot stud eyes eating her up! 

A gut wrenching knot tied in his stomach. Maybe she's into black men... 
maybe she's one of them dingy chicks who gets off on hot black dicks... 
makes her feel feminine, sexy. 

Sweat dampened his armpits, beaded his forehead. Gnashing out his cigarette, 
Phil flicked his wrist to check his watch. Four-thirty. The yellow Toyota 
pulled away from the curb, nosing back to the residential section of town. 

The soft whirl of the air conditioning and hot, panting breaths filled Room 
102 at George Washington High School. Carrie's nostrils flared from the 
musky scent of naked genitals surrounding her. Dizzily, she gazed up at the 
black boy masturbating himself shamelessly, squeezing pearls of pre-cum from 
the tip of his veiny cock. She clenched shut her blue eyes while visions of 
Cederick on the car hood pumping at his penis until he spewed his sperm on 
to the windshield refused to budge. Subconsciously, she licked her lips. 

Warm, creamy, hot and virile... the cum shot onto the glass, a tongue's lick 
away. Manly and dominant, she watched it stream down the glass in white 
globules. 

Hearing someone drop to the floor, Carrie's eyes flew open. Sammie's black 
body, shimmering with lusty sweat knelt beside her. His hand was on his cock 
"Take my black dick in your mouth, teach... suck me... suck me off!" 

A cry of disgust tore from Carrie's throat. Never! She could never let a man 
put his... his dirty thing in her mouth! She blinked dumbfounded, up at him, 
as if she hadn't heard his command. Weakly, she shook her blonde head and 
stared up into his cruel dark eyes with her soft blue ones. She could never 
let a man put his penis in her mouth or wrap her tongue around his sperm 
loaded thing____ Leaning over, Sammie's black penis, pounding with lust, was 
a tongue lick away. The slimy tip dragged over the tip of her perky nose. 
She stiffened, corpselike before letting out a tragic cry and reached up to 
push away his smooth testicles, taut and virile between his ebony thighs 
glistening with sweat streaked sinew. "Not that... no----" Tears gushed from 
her blue eyes, streaming down her flushed cheeks to soak her honey blonde 
hair at the temples. "Rape me... and I know you will... but never ask me to 
do that!" 

"Hey... a little black cum on your tonsils ain' gonna kill ya, Miz Osgood," 
he taunted. "Now be a good girl and open your mouth... before I tear your 
hair out by the roots!" he snarled, "Yeah... we thought the teach liked us 
blacks so much... " taunted someone from above. 

Resist, she did. But not for long. He wrapped his black hands in her blonde 
hair, forcing her head up off the floor until his wagging penis dragged over 
the hotness of her cheeks. 

She turned her head to the side, but a hand at her throat was threat enough 
to obey his command. 

Her nostrils flared from the salty smell of him, musky, animalish! Her 
dilated pupils stared at the pulsating cock head glistening with its thin 
streaks of lubrication. Greased and shiny black it was, like a sick symbol 
of everything in her life. Phil... this school... the hatred of the city. 
Their fear was her fear now. Like a monster, it spread contagiously, and now 
she, Carrie Osgood, was its target, its victim. 

Willfully, she struggled to blank out some of the cold terror of this rape. 
She was a meek slave to these sadistic black high school boys. Three of 
them, naked and panting to have her! She had to obey their commands, or 
suffer the consequences. 

"Ohhhh... God," she groaned in horror, revulsion knotting her stomach. 

She winced. Sammie's strong fingers yanked at her hair as if he were trying 
to scalp her. 

Slavishly, she bent her head forward, revulsion gagging in her throat. 
Tentatively, she opened her fear parched lips to make the first searing 
contact with the salty slime of his ebony cock. The pungent, heady taste of 
male secretions lingered on her tongue. She paused, waiting to be sick to 
her stomach. Strange... the taste wasn't disgusting at all! 

Manly, pungent! 

Hard, rubbery, hot and oh so resilient was his black cock. Her lips tingled 
with a strange warmth mixed with desire. Again, still fearful and hesitant, 
she stuck out her velvety tongue to lick wetly along the length of it. 

"That ain' sucking____" he grumbled. "I wanna be licked... up and down... on 
the bottom... yeah, babeeee... " hissed Sammie, throwing back his bushy head 
of hair as his teacher's soft, wet tongue stroked on the veiny underside 
from the kinky black bush of his pubic curls to the throbbing, mushroomed 
head, washing him, bathing him, caressing him with a desire she didn't know 
she had! 

Slowly parting her lips, she opened her mouth and slid her lips over the 
pulsating cock head. Drops of fluid oozed from the tip, bathing her tonsils 
with its manly brine. She would have thought the taste of a man's penis 
would be nauseating and vile... but it was almost exciting! Trickles of 
latent excitation rippled up her spine. She tried to hate herself for giving 
into their demands, for playing whore for them. I'm being forced, she 
reminded herself. If I don't play their game, they'll kill me! 

Just as Phil would have beaten her to a pulp for not having sex with him. 
Slivers of justification lessened the humiliation and tempered doubt. With a 
hint of enthusiasm, she began to bob her head up and down along his cock, 
until the mushroomed tip banged against the back of her throat. 

The virile taste of him sparked a burning craving to suck him until she felt 
his cum gush into her gullet. She trailed her tongue over the veiny shaft, 
while he slowly undulated his slender hips, sliding his black cock in and 
out of her ovalled mouth, his hands still wrapped in her blonde, silken 
hair. 

The sight of Carrie's naked body slavering over Sammie's black, glistening 
body was enough to make Stokley and Cederick cum in their fists! Stokley 
leaned against the wall, pumping at his own blood heavy penis, watching Miss 
Osgood's tight lips slip up and down the girth of Sammie's ramming cock. 
Kneeling down now, Stokley could see threads of saliva and Sammie's pre-cum 
dribbling from the stretched corner of her stuffed mouth. 

Tears streamed from her eyes and she sniffled as she slaved over his cock, 
deep throated groans bubbling from her chest like the death rattle of 
virginity! 

Sammie grinned in victory as he fucked his teacher with all the pent up lust 
and distrust of fourteen years of living in the ghetto. Her face was 
contorted in lust. Now she lifted her hand from his throbbing testicles to 
slipped it behind his flexing buttocks to pull him into her! Ah... Christ! 
He threw back his head. The blood seethed in his veins, his hot cum boiling 
in his thundering balls! He sunk his cock so deep down her throat he swore 
he'd given her a tonsillectomy! His pubic curls scraped against her perky 
nose and his balls slapped punishingly against her dimpled chin. "Damn... 
shit-ttt____" he hissed. 

"Mmmmmff... mmmmmffff... " Urgent moans tore from her chest now and that did 
it for Sammie! His hot black penis spewed a flood of salty cum deep down her 
throat. The hot globules of lust streamed from the dilated eye of his cock 
head like milk from a cow's udder. Carrie swallowed to keep from choking. 
The last dribble of juice spurted in a thin string of slippery white cum 
that overflowed her sticky lips to drip across her chin. 

"Gawd... " she moaned, as her head thudded to the hardwood classroom floor. 
Trickles of ecstasy tickled through her lusty body, goosebumped and sizzling 
with frustration. Visions of Phil's lover slaving over his penis while he 
bored down her throat fled to mind. Now she could well understand the girl's 
eagerness! 

Sammie rolled to the side. "Not bad for a white bitch," he grunted, wiping 
the sweat from his black brow. 

Carried panted in hard gasps, her swollen, shivering breasts rising and 
falling, her nipples hardened into diamond chips. Shame rippled through her. 
No matter how she tried to rationalize it away, she had to admit she had 
enjoyed sucking this black boy's penis, enjoyed the thrill of dominating his 
lust and satisfying him! A bit of pride shoved aside the shame. 

Stokley stared down at the blonde haired teacher staring up at him with wild 
blue eyes. 

"My turn... " he choked, staring back at her shivering naked bumps and 
curves with jungle-like hunger. 

They were going to take her one by one, abuse her body and stain her soul, 
and there was nothing she could do to stop them! Carrie's balled up fist 
flew to her mouth. Her blue eyes turned pleadingly up to Stokley. They ate 
up her body with their eyes, their stares like lice crawling over her naked, 
vulnerable flesh. Yet she knew she must submit to their nasty, hate inspired 
demands. To this point it had been nonviolent. No knives, no guns or ropes. 
She justified her responses, but knew her sexuality was raging in her belly. 
God, help her, but she was theirs! 

Carrie moaned in fatalistic surrender as Stokley, fell to his knees beside 
her. Squirming backwards on her elbows, Carrie blinked up at his dark, 
menacing face with cloudy blue eyes shining under spidery eyelashes. Lust 
shone like Christmas tree lights in his moody dark eyes. His long, black 
penis jerked from the nest of his lean loins. For a long, terrifying moment, 
Carrie cowered, biting at her fist, tears squeezing from the corners of her 
glassy blue eyes. He looked so mean, so virile, so bent on destroying her. 
She closed her eyes, wishing she were dead. He hovered over her, his manly, 
sweet sweat flaring in her nostrils. A rough, ghetto toughened hand ran over 
her goosebumped, cringing flesh. She stared down at the black hand squeezing 
her milky white breast. The contrast was so hellishly stark, so foreign. A 
trickle of the forbidden percolated in her loins. 

An electric shock snapped through her goosebumped flesh, like a million 
acupuncture needles, sending thrills of wicked titillation to play along the 
softness of her inner thighs. 

Unconsciously, her buttocks ground into the hard classroom floor. Now his 
fingers played over the soft bowl of her belly, snaking upwards to tweak at 
her nipples. 

Stokley let out a manly groan and shoved her thighs wide apart with the 
sweaty palms of his black hands, then on his knees, crawled between them. 
The black girth of his cock, glistening with pre-cum oozing from the tip 
rubbed against her inner thigh. Carrie closed her eyes tightly and an 
uncontrollable shiver of expectation goosebumped her thighs. 

Shame so hot it scorched her soul made her sniffle when she realized he 
could see her excitation. In the wet nest of her thighs, she felt her pussy 
seeping with lust! Her eyes locked greedily on his young black penis jutting 
out from a taut belly rippling with muscles as he hovered domineeringly over 
her between her wide stretched thighs. 

"Wrap them legs around my back," he commanded. Sniffling in horror of her 
own weakness, Carrie kicked out her legs, heels curling around his strong 
buttocks pulling him in toward her body. Grabbing his cock in one meaty paw, 
he pumped it a few times and rammed it for the hairy target of her cunt. He 
smashed into her with the pent up lust of a fourteen year-old. No love 
intended this time! Between his hirsute thighs, his young balls smacked 
punishingly against her upturned buttocks. The black rubber tube slipped 
between the ragged, pink lips of her cunt with a lewd, wet sound that echoed 
off the classroom walls. It burrowed into her like a rutting animal, banging 
into the tip of her spongy cervix with jackhammering speed! 

"Ahhhhnnnnggghhhh... " she whimpered, turning her head to the side, unable 
to stare him in the eye. Shame and lust were one, feeding the other. She 
needed him deeper inside, needed him to hurt her, to shame her for her lust! 

With a deep grunt, Stokley rammed his tongue between her laxly parted lips 
to suck on her warm saliva. The taste of saliva mixed with Sammie's cum fed 
his tastebuds. As he struggled for breath, she slipped her tongue between 
his pearly white teeth and sucked on his tongue that tasted of stale 
cigarettes. Deep within the heart of her womanhood... 

Carrie felt her first orgasm build... slowly, intensely. A heavy congestion 
weighted her belly as the tide waters of her cum amassed in the wake of a 
sexual storm! 

Bucking like a horse against him, she felt his boring cock harden. He reared 
back, throwing back his head, jaw slack, eyes glassy... and he spurt his 
white hot cum deep into her ravished womb. In wild frustration, the school 
teacher moaned out her disappointment. 

"No... no... Don't cum! Not yet!" He did. One grind and hump away from 
relief, he'd left her stranded. She strained against his deflating young 
cock, whimpering, trying to screw herself on his spent hardness. No use, he 
was flat as a punctured tire. She wriggled and squirmed, tightened her 
cuntal muscles and mewled up at him in desperation. 

Cederick grabbed his buddy by the shoulder and hauled him backwards off Miss 
Osgood's shivering body. The expression on her face was wanton and urgent. 
"Don't worry, teach... 

Cederick at your command!" 

Naked flesh slapped against naked flesh as Cederick climbed atop her 
squirming body, straddling her heaving belly. Her forehead was clammy with 
the need for relief. Honey tendrils clung to her temples and her eyes were 
glassy. The soft whiteness of her skin brushed against his dark testicles 
hanging between his legs sent a pint of blood to bloat his cock. Leering 
down at her submissively spread body, he spit on his hands like a cowboy 
before, he rides the bull, and he moved forward and lay his hot, rubbery 
penis in the wide valley of her breasts, cupping their melonous weight in 
his hands before pushing them together to trap his black cock between. 

"Ever since I seen them white tits through the car window, I been waitin' to 
fuck 'em," he muttered thickly, his lips, succulently thick, pulled in a 
tight line of lechery across even white teeth. 

"No... I don't want it there... I____" she sobbed in shame. Glaring wild 
eyed down at her milky breasts, pushed together around his thick, pounding 
black penis, Carrie swallowed tightly. 

Faster and faster, Cederick slid his dark cock between her soft, milky 
breasts, while saliva drooled from his thick lips to moisten the warm 
cleavage and smooth the passage for his cock. Pumping and humping, he bucked 
until he was red in the face. 

Below, in the seeping hole of her crying cunt, Carrie's ragged lips pleaded 
for the touch of his cock. Friction... she needed friction! The mouth of her 
vagina tickled and burned for the need of his manliness. " Cederick 
snickered lewdly, eyes glinting with sadism as he watched his naked white 
teacher writhing wormishly on the hardwood floor. They had her, the white 
cunt... and she would do anything they asked. Hell, she was begging for his 
black cock! It was a dream come true, fucking a white woman, and his teacher 
on top of it! 

"Hey, give the little lady a break!" chortled Sammie. "Shove it up her 
cunt!" 

Carrie's eyes were two pools of blazing desire. Satisfaction was all she 
wanted, not love. 

Deep inside she needed to be punished... punished for enjoying the feel of 
her father's drunken body being pressed against her shivering, youthful 
flesh... punished for cheating on her mother! And no one could punish her 
better than a fourteen year-old black boy intent on lowering her to gutter 
morality! 

Cederick slipped his black, panther-like body down over her belly until his 
seeping cock head was drubbing at the wet starving mouth of her cunt. With a 
grunt of relief, Carrie locked her legs around his neck, jerking her hips 
upward, grinding her vagina against his body, reveling in the feel of sweaty 
naked flesh rubbing against naked flesh. A sudden groan tore from her throat 
as he grabbed her wriggling ankles and thrust them up until her knees 
smashed against her breasts. Rearing back, Cederick rammed his fourteen 
year-old black penis deep into her cum filled pussy, with a hip smashing 
thrust. 

"Annnnggghhhh... " gurgled Carrie, feeling him drive his penis along the 
full length of her tightly clenched cunt, banging into her cervix. 
"Ngggghhhh!" 

The congestion in her belly felt like a bag of cement ready to be poured. He 
rammed into her with wicked fury, and her body heaved forward with each 
thrust. Deep inside in a dark corner of her psyche, Carrie Osgood realized 
she had wanted Phil to make love to her like this _" violently, with 
vengeance and lust. 

Cederick's bushy Afro hair bounced as he grunted and slaved over her creamy 
white body. Like chocolate and vanilla... he thought, glancing down to watch 
the black girth slip into the ragged pink lips. Wet, sluicing bounced off 
the walls of the empty classroom. A stream of yellow sunlight splattered the 
floor in rectangles and the dull roar of afternoon traffic filtered in, 
creating a lazy backdrop to the hissing, animalish grunts and groans of 
rape. 

"You like black cock, don' ya, baby?" he taunted. 

Carried twisted her head to the side, strands of honey hair clinging to her 
sweat sheened forehead. 

"Don' ya?" He reared back and thundered into her with a pelvic smashing 
thrust that lurched her half a foot upward on the hardwood floor. "Talk to 
me, bitch... tell me you love it!" 

"Nnnnggghhh... " Carried gasped for breath. The force of his hammering 
thrusts, drilling into her tight pussy, were electrifyingly painful and 
pleasant at the same time. Carrie threw her head back and let out a scream, 
then kicked her legs, trying to force him back out. 

Lord, he was too big for her! He would certainly tear something if he kept 
hammering into her like this! 

Grinning victoriously, Cederick levered his hands into a push up position as 
he slid his penis another excruciating inch into her tightly clasping wetly 
seeping hole. 

Then the brutal penetration eased with a shattering jolt as Cederick thumped 
heavily against her white, upturned buttocks, his sperm-heavy young 
testicles smacking against her anus. For a moment he lay still while her 
cuntal walls adjusted, before starting a slow, grinding motion with his 
hips, sawing in and out of her pussy. His penis struck the tip of her cervix 
with bruising force... so hard his penis bent over at the end! 

Back and forth their bodies ground and lurched. The others gawked in awe, 
black eyes shining. "The bitch loves it! She likes gettin' fucked!" 

Falling to their knees, Sammie and Stokley toyed with her pliant, white 
flesh, rubbing her buttocks and fingering teasingly the fleshy, hair-covered 
pussy lips locked tightly around their friend's pumping penis. Their black 
hands clawed possessively over every goosebumped inch of her naked white 
flesh until she though she would jump out of her skin! Someone (did it 
matter who?) was rubbing the oily nub of her clitoris with the soft pad of 
his middle finger. The room seemed to have grown a monster with a thousand 
fingers humiliating her, toying with her body. 

Strangely perverse electric sensations tingled and sparked through her body 
as pleasure-pain seeped along every nerve ending of her body, electrocuting 
her brain. Her hips moved of their own volition in time to Cederick's 
stone-hard cock hammering into her, at the black, gouging fingers fighting 
for domination of her white body. Leering black faces sneered down at her 
like a nightmare. 

"Ohhhhhh... fuck meeee...!" she chanted. The warm slime of oozing cock tips 
stroked over her goosebumped flesh in answer to her plea. In time to 
Cederick's fucking into her wildly churning cunt, they left sticky trails of 
pre-cum to slicken her white skin polka dotted with sweat. Her tiny fists 
reached out to grab at the two black snaking penis to stroke them in rhythm 
to the cock fucking up against her cervix. 

He came like a geyser... without warning and with a blinding force. His 
thick, inflamed cock filled up like a water-packed balloon. He grunted a 
warning, threw back his head and the semen shot deep up inside her 
contracting cuntal walls, gushing in frothy waves of cock juice. The salty 
seed shot against the tip of her battered cervix and dribbled down to her 
cum matted pussy hair to drip between the satiny cleft of her buttocks. 

Sated, satisfied, exhausted and spent. That was Miss Osgood, Yankee teacher 
of George Washington High! Her orgasm hit like a desert sand storm and she 
screwed her buttocks up against his squirting penis, rubbing her honeyed 
pubic tendrils against the kinky blackness of his pubic hair. Her polished 
fingertips dug into his shoulders, leaving red trails as he pulled back and 
slammed in for one last ceremonial thrust! As he did, sparks splattered 
before her eyes and their combined orgasmic juices swirled and frothed in 
the hole of her satiated and forever stretched cunt. She felt her own 
hotness from the fiery friction of orgasm and she screamed, her legs 
flailing out to either side of him. Then she went totally numb, as if her 
whole body had suffered an electric shock. 

Cederick's bushy haircut stood out from his head like a proud pagan king. 
His knees were bruised from rubbing against the hardwood floor, but he 
didn't care. His heart thundered in his chest like the proud long distance 
runner. Had he not cum when he did, his body would have burst like a 
balloon! 

Panting, he reared back. "Christ..." he muttered thickly, wiping the sweat 
from his proud brow. "She be somethin' else!" 

Weakly, Carrie turned her head to the side, as she lay shivering with 
humiliation and dread. Cool wisps of air conditioned breezes wafted over her 
naked, sweating body, making her shudder with a coldness that penetrated 
deep within her heart. She closed her eyes tightly, squeezing salty tears 
down rouged, satin cheeks, listening to them pull on their clothes and make 
obscene jokes before leaving. 

Sammie and Stokley had shuffled out. One remained. Wiping her nose with the 
back of her hand, Carrie weakly turned her tear stained face to the door. A 
black face leered down at her, chocolate eyes penetrating her blue ones. He 
balked, as if preparing to speak. 

Words were unimportant: his eyes spoke for him. The message was 
undecipherable; but no hatred shone in those dark orbs for the first time. 
The corner of his mouth curled up in a half smile, before pulling the door 
shut after him. 

Carrie lay panting and crying on the floor, listening to the soft shuffle of 
tennis shoes on the slick hallway floor. Laughter, thick and lusty 
disappeared into the distance. 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

Phil never thought she would do it. Bewildered, he rolled down the window 
and let the warm summer air, so humid you could taste it, streak through his 
hair. His right arm slipped around her shoulders, drawing her close to him. 
His soft lips kissed the honey of her hair, the warm tip of his tongue 
lathing the shell-like rim of her ear. 

Out of the corner of one brown eye, he studied her profile, noticing a 
softness to the finely chiseled curves of her face. Her eyes seemed wider, 
more full of life, somehow, as if she were trying to take in everything 
around her instead of blocking it out as was her habit. 

Maybe the week alone moping over her treatment of him helped smooth the 
edges of her temperament, he thought, turning into the parking lot outside 
of Carrie's apartment house. 

At dinner she had stared at him over her fork with hungry eyes _" like a 
man watching a woman strut by in a tight, split skirt. She was assaying him, 
judging his masculinity it seemed. That didn't sit well with a man of Phil 
Carmichael's ilk. Wearily, he scratched his brain for an answer to this 
sudden sexual curiosity. 

"How's school teaching going?" he asked, trying to keep the subject on her 
in fear of a sudden Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde transformation, should the 
subject of the x-rated movie in his apartment rear its ugly head. Struggling 
to keep the lid on his itchy temperament, he maintained a placid coolness 
uncharacteristic of his normally bawdy, direct self. 

"Fine... " came an answer, breathy and gushing of femininity. Softly her 
lips parted with an obvious conscious effort and the tip of her tongue 
trailed down a dribble of red wine on the crystal glass. Her blue eyes were 
leveled on him as she licked up the droplet. 

Phil shivered in his seat. What the hell was she up to? She appeared far too 
calm, too in control of herself for having taught at the ghetto school where 
reports of confiscated knives and handguns were common newspaper items 
relegated to the back page of the Atlanta Sentinel. Worse: She hadn't 
mentioned Sharon. Phil gulped and choked down his rare steak with a heady 
drink of wine. Once he got her back to her apartment and got down to the 
nitty gritty, he would discover the truth of this abrupt change. 

Candlelight shimmered over the crystal wine goblets. Carrie stared at her 
husband-to-be, studied the firm set to his chin, the deep set eyes 
penetrating and uncharacteristically skittish tonight. With calm, even 
movements, she lifted the chunks of crabmeat to her mouth and savouring the 
succulence, parted her lips with the deliberation of a woman about to please 
her man. The warmth of her tongue tip on the cool wine glass sparked 
memories, strangely pleasant, of feeling Cederick's tongue slip between her 
soft lips. 

Images and sensations of her father peeling down the coverlet and pressing 
his drunken, warm body to her youthful one, dissolved. The guilt that had 
festered, the fear of having cheated her mother out of her husband's 
affections, lifted like morning fog. The fixation that had haunted her was 
gone. A nervousness twittered in the pit of her stomach now, like a thousand 
galloping butterflies flying north. 

Carrie shoved aside her seafood salad, barely touched. "I'm full... that was 
delicious, but I'm really full... " 

A pair of bewildered eyes watched her strut about her apartment, the 
clinging jersey of her knit dress hugging the firm full moons of her 
buttocks. Phil scratched his head and squinted, slowly shaking his head. She 
never walked like that before, taking leggy strides to make her ass cheeks 
wiggle. Christ, she was acting like that black slut, Sharon! Every inch of 
her flesh seemed to ooze sensuality. Normally she was an iceberg of fear! 

Only one way to test a woman, and that was in the bedroom. Carrie had always 
been a hellish prick tease, but so help him, if this was another preview, 
only to have the curtain pulled before the first act, she would be damned 
sorry! 

Since the rape two days before, Carrie Osgood had come to understand a few 
basic truths about the male gender. One, they were the dominant sex; two, 
she wanted them to be the dominant sex. Subconsciously, she had learned that 
to propel a man into action showed a womanly strength that evened out the 
power play between the sexes. 

"Let's... ah, go in the bedroom." Phil jerked his head toward the room off 
the living room, where a streak of yellow lamp light bathed the walls in a 
sensuous glow. On the night stand was a silver vase with a yellow rose. He 
took that as an omen. Slipping an arm around her nipped in waist, he guided 
her to the bed. No fight... so far so good. 

When he worked at the zipper of her dress, kissing her neck as he yanked the 
garment free, she offered no resistance. Working fast, before she changed 
her fickle mind, he pushed the bodice of her dress down to her elbows and 
stripped her arms free of it. Down came the straps of her black brassiere, 
down over the naked creaminess of her shoulders. 

His fingers were cool against her warm flesh, and he could hear her heart 
pound as he stroked, fondled and caressed her naked breasts until her 
nipples were hardened nubs of desire. 

She purred from deep within her chest. 

His mouth mashed against hers, his tongue slipping easily between her teeth. 
Nudging her back on the bed, he lay her down, his hand shooting under her 
dress to stroke her smooth stockinged thighs. His fingers, like little 
soldiers, crept along the smooth flesh until they reached the warmth of her 
pussy mound. Christ, she was steaming down there! So the iceberg was finally 
melting! Just what caused this sudden thaw, he hadn't time to ponder now. 

"Let's strip down these panty hose," he muttered thickly, working his hands 
up to her waist and hooking his thumbs in the elastic band, yanked them down 
to her knees. Carrie kicked off her high heels and compliantly lifted her 
buttocks to allow him the freedom to pull them off her legs. Searching for 
the oily nub of her clitoris, he touched the magic button with the pad of 
his cold finger, bringing a mewl of pleasure from her chest. In tiny 
polishing circles, he rubbed it, bringing it to a hard, throbbing erection 
_" like a small, baby cock! 

"Mmmmmm... " she groaned" throatily. Relentlessly, he stroked the nub of 
flesh until her buttocks ground softly in circles into the mattress and up 
against the palm of his hand. The touch was electrifying, maddening and oh, 
so wonderful! Carrie's fluttering eyelids opened and her pale blue eyes 
stared up into his face. 

Abruptly, her forehead furrowed. Something was wrong. She glanced about the 
room with anxious, rabbit-darting eyes. A fluttering of expectation and fear 
of disappointment too subtle to register in her mishmashed mind, charged 
through her. Then he called out her name. 

"Carrie? Is something wrong?" 

Dumbly, she shook her head. Closing her eyes, she lay back, breathing 
deeply, feeling a moistness in the nest between her thighs He was on top of 
her then, rubbing the tenting bulge of his penis into the soft bowl of her 
belly, bruising her pubic bone from the roughness of his gabardine pants. 
Blanking her mind to all but sensation, she found herself responding, 
sliding her moist pussy up and down, reveling in the sweet friction. 

Reaching under her, he yanked at the jersey dress until it fell to the 
bedroom carpet. 

Shivering beneath him, naked and vulnerable, she sucked in her breath as his 
soft, warm lips claimed a budding nipple. He sucked, gently, using his front 
teeth to taunt it into full erection. His hand reached up caress her softly 
swelling breasts, possessing them, mashing them to her slender ribcage. 

His finger felt for the oily nub of her clitoris and worked deliriously. 
Then it was gone. 

Blinking open her glassy eyes, she watched him tear at the buttons of his 
shirt. The mattress squeaked as he lifted his weight and stripped naked. His 
nostrils flared from the musky scent of his inflamed genitals, an 
intoxicating, aphrodisiac! The warm flesh, hard and pounding, rubbed against 
the soft bowl of her belly, and she felt the warm ooze of pre-cum streak 
across her belly. 

Phil reared back and changed positions until they lay in reverse, with his 
hot cock dangling before her flushed cheeks. Grunting, he spread his thighs 
on either side of her head. "Lick me, honey... nice and sweet with that baby 
tongue." 

Every nerve in his muscular body keened for rejection, he shivered as the 
first babyish lick of her soft, wet tongue teased at the slitted eye of his 
cock heard. Phil gulped in disbelief and awe. 

Carrie's soft fist closed around the blue-veined hunk of flesh throbbing in 
her warm hand, and slid the foreskin back the way they had done. With a deep 
groan of acceptance, she shoved it into her mouth like a starving man. The 
man taste of him piqued her tastebuds. 

Kittenishly, she began to suck, using her tongue, swirling it around her 
hot, rubbery head, jabbing delicately at the tip. 

Groaning in ecstasy, Phil buried his lips into Carrie's seeping hole, his 
warm tongue lashing out and probing at the slit. Up to her throbbing 
clitoris traveled his moving lips, licking and sucking until Carrie ground 
her hips up into his face, scraping her pubic curls against his nose. 

"Mmmmm... now... " she gushed, confused by a strange lack of satisfaction in 
his delicate lickings. Again the irksome feeling robbed her of total 
pleasure, the feeling that something was wrong. 

Phil grunted as he felt her hand grab his head with a bruising force, until 
he nearly suffocated and drowned in her cuntal juices. She gyrated her hips 
like a maddened nymphomaniac, squirming while mewls of frustration bubbled 
from her throat. With a raspy groan, she arched her back, thrusting her 
genitals up into his face, the hot vaginal walls opening and closing in a 
sucking motion, until he swore she was trying to pull his tongue out by the 
roots! In answer, he pulled free his tongue, giving himself a chance to 
catch a vital breath, before licking up through her cuntal slit again. He 
claimed her clitoris with his warm lips that brushed against the sensitive 
nub. 

"Oh... suck... suck... " Carrie yelped in desperation. 

Rattled by her sudden aggressiveness, he raised his head and craned his neck 
to make certain this was his Carrie. She yanked at his hair as if trying to 
scalp him, shoving his face back into her steaming cuntal hole. His strong 
hands shot over the softness of her belly to the firmness of her breasts, 
cupping them, kneading them like bread dough, torturing the nipples. 

"Yessss... " she hissed, feeling him move back down over her, shoving back 
her legs until they mashed into her nipples, his steely hands pressed behind 
them. His wild tongue dipped to her naked loins and his mouth sucked as if 
on a delicate shellfish. Down to her buttoned anus dipped his jabbing 
tongue, creating maddening sensations to play through her body. "Ohhhh... 
your cock... " she mewled desperately. 

Abruptly, Phil stopped his tongue actions. He craned his head and glowered 
down into her lust contorted features. For a second he was sure she'd said 
something about black cock. 

No, he dismissed it, snickering to himself at his stupidities. 

His hot mouth clamped down on the wetly seeping slit up between her smooth 
thighs. 

Slowly he lowered his strong body until she could wrap her fingers around 
his blood heavy cock. Peeling back the loose foreskin, she sucked it into 
her mouth with a vacuuming pressure. 

The warm tube slipped easily down her throat, but she kept from gagging. 
With kittenish strokes, she ran her warm tongue up and down its soft, veiny 
underside, delighting in her own power. The veins felt wormish against her 
tongue and the masculine tang of his genitals flared in her nostrils. 
Gently, adoringly, she cupped his testicles in the soft palm of her hand. In 
and out of her mouth, slipped his cock in time to his tongue lashing into 
the open hole of her cunt. 

"Mmmmm____" He trapped the nub of her clitoris between his front teeth and 
nibbled babyishly. Her body started vibrating, shuddering from his wild 
tonguings. Why, she wondered vaguely, had Cederick, Sammie and Stokley not 
raped her with their mouths? 

Eyelids flickered and behind them flashed visions of their thick, soft lips 
nibbling at her clitoris and chewing on her pussy lips... like a horse 
nibbling at a daisy, she thought dimly. 

She washed his penis in saliva, lathing it like a mother cat washing its 
kitten. A thunderbolt of lightning seemed to strike her and she closed her 
eyes while her tongue washed and bathed. Sucking a man's penis while he 
nibbled at her pussy lips was satisfaction to the nth degree. A shiver of 
wantonness shivered through her as she imagined how she must look... face 
scrunched up, mouth drooling from taking all of his manly flesh down her 
throat while he slobbered over her cunt, sucking up her juices! Her face 
hollowing and filled around his penis, her hair flowing over the pillow, 
while thighs quivered and opened to his probing tongue. 

Only one thing bothered her, something she couldn't quite determine in this 
hellishly maddening state of near orgasm. Something was wrong! Very wrong! 

Ahhh... her whole body went stiff as a corpse. Every nerve in her body fired 
the message to her brain that this was it! She was cumming! Her nakedness 
trembled, her back arched, the cords in her neck standing out like telephone 
cords as she silently screamed her orgasm. She felt her cunt burn, itch... 
and then it blazed into a fiery orgasm. 

"Ohhhh... mmfff... " She pumped madly at his cock, needing for him to cum in 
her mouth. 

With an animalistic grunt, he rammed his penis so far and hard down her 
throat, he swore he'd given her a tonsillectomy! Once, twice, it twitched. 
The third twitch turned the faucet of his testicles and white hot cum gushed 
squirted from the dilated eye, squirting far back into her throat, gagging 
her. The salty brine teased her tastebuds and she gulped to keep from 
drowning, her throat muscles contracting in rhythm to the spurts. 

Carrie Osgood shivered and shook. She ground her pussy into his mouth and 
wrapped her legs around his neck, trapping his face to her genitals, 
steaming and flowing with lust. 

His mouth dripped from her tangy juices and still she came. His tongue was 
sore and chafed from her curly pubic hair mashing into his cheeks, but still 
he sucked. Finally, her body quieted as she swallowed the dregs of his 
sperm. 

Long minutes later, when they lay side by side on the warmed bed, Carrie 
withdrew into a world of her own. Cuddling her cheek into the pillow, she 
realized what had stopped her from screaming out her love for him. The same 
reason she had sensed a lack of fulfillment. 

His skin was pasty white. She needed a black panther, a young virile 
fourteen year-old to hurt her and make her his white slave. 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

It was four o'clock in the afternoon with a burning fireball hanging low in 
the autumn sky. 

The George Washington High School parking lot was peppered with students 
nuzzling in back seats of cars, smoking cigarettes and marijuana. Some drank 
beer from cans camouflaged in brown bags. Knives appeared from pockets and 
the talk was thick with violence and fear. 

Leaning against the rough wall sprinkled on this third week of school with 
graffiti, Rose rested a sleek dark hand on her outthrust hip clad in skin 
tight Levis. The lemons of her breasts budded bralessly from a knit t-shirt. 
Smoking a cigarette and wearing a distant expression, Cederick stared 
absentmindedly across the street. 

"Listen to me, man____" she spat, pulling a cigarette from her lush lips and 
flicking it haughtily. "----you be actin' real strange, you know. Like you 
ain' been sayin' nothin' in class. All you be doin' is starin' at that white 
bitch!" Glaring at him through slitted chocolate eyes sparkling with anger, 
she clamped her lithe arms over her chest defiantly. "I think you be wantin' 
to fuck her, that's what I think!" 

"Shut your fuckin' nigger mouth!" he snapped. "You don' know what you be 
talkin' 'bout!" 

He pulled away from the wall and started to walk away. 

Irate, Rose grabbed him by the arm, swinging him around. "It's true, ain' 
it?" 

"Nothin's true!" Pausing, he stared at his girl friend for a long silent 
moment. Since the gang rape of Miss Osgood two days before, something 
unsettling rankled him night and day. Ghetto boys learn early in life to 
erase regret and emotion. He felt himself softening, and he didn't care for 
that to happen. He felt anger weakening. That couldn't happen to Cederick! 
Drawing in a deep breath, his chest muscles rippled beneath his tight 
t-shirt. 

Dark eyes scoured the fourteen year-old girl who's flesh he had tasted, 
savoured on warm, sticky nights in the park. Her arrogance, defiance and raw 
beauty reminded him of what he was _" a low-born black boy with nothing to 
look forward to in life but filling station jobs and marrying a sexy woman 
who would loose her body with the first of five children they couldn't 
afford to raise. Locked into the ghetto for good. 

"I thought you guys was gonna get her good... you don' got no balls, 
Cederick!" she snarled contemptuously, eating at his manhood with pearly 
white teeth beneath succulent lips he had kissed many times. Every time he 
saw her, love-lust sparked in his young groin. He loved her and hated her at 
once _" loved her for her sex and hated her because she was pure, tangible 
evidence of his own entrapment. Somehow they belonged together _" ironic, 
but true. 

"All you think 'bout is gettin' white folks, Rose!" 

She strutted toward him, thrusting her sex at him. "Now you startin' to 
sound like her! You be nothin' but a nigger, Cederick, you hear me?" She 
snorted her disgust. "You got any guts, you and Sammie and Stokley'd show 
her who runs this school!" 

Cederick's hands balled up into fists. The vision of Miss Osgood's face 
contorted in fear and lust refused to erase from his mind. The had expected 
her to break, crack to pieces and leave her post at George Washington High. 
Hating himself for it, he had to admit that took guts _" the kind of guts 
it took to survive the ghettos of Atlanta. Now Rose was testing him. 

"I got news for you, baby," Leaning forward, jutting out a determined chin, 
she glared at him. "I been talkin' to Sammie and Stokley and they gonna get 
her good... your precious white bitch is gonna have her face in ribbons!" 

Cederick stared at his lover's hate-filled eyes, sparkling with contempt. 
"You bitch!" he spat, his long muscular thighs sinewy under tight levis. 

The trash-littered park surrounding the project emptied at five o'clock in 
the afternoon when mothers hustled their children indoors. Tipped over 
tricycles and toys were left in the dirt, and cramped apartments steamed 
with the smell of fried foods and kitchen grease. 

Family squabbles echoed from one apartment to the next, wafting out into the 
empty park. 

A lone child, escaped from the imprisonment of concern, sat with legs spread 
about a mound of dirt, shoveling spoonfuls into a rusted dump-truck. On the 
bench two black boys smoked cigarettes and spoke in thick, conspiratorial 
voices. 

Sammie sat with legs spread, leaning elbows on his knees. He flicked his 
cigarette into the sandbox strewn with dog excrement. "Rose thinks 
Cederick's got the hots for Miss Osgood... not fuckin' her kinda hot, but 
likin' her kinda hot----" He shook his head, the breeze wafting through the 
plumes of his Afro hair. 

"That dude do git some dumbshit ideas sometimes... talkin' about Martin 
Luther King and shit... " agreed Stokley. "Ever since Miz Big Tits came to 
Washin'ton, he be talkin' white folk crap." He straightened and threw back 
his shoulders. "He don' even come to the vigilante meetings no more____" 

"Yeah----" whistled Sammie. "He ain' been after Rose's tail neither. Damn 
fool! Shit, I'd give anythin' to shove my dick in that cunt's hole! 

Christ, what an ass!" 

Yeah, but man, she be so hot on Cederick she don' want nobody else----" He 
jabbed his friend in the ribs. 

"What she be don' out alone?" 

"Don' worry, she cin take care of herself____" He squinted into the late 
afternoon shadows, watching Rose sashay down the sidewalk with her usual 
provocative strut. The mound of her pussy was cupped in skin tight Levis, 
and the bumblebees of her nipples poked out provocatively from her t-shirt. 
It was obvious she had come to find them. Rose was the type of girl who 
didn't speak unless she wanted something, and just what that something was, 
made both boys shudder with expectation. 

"Hi, ya boys----" She settled on the park bench, the aroma of sweet perfume 
oozing from her pores. Her chocolate eyes twinkled with evil intent. The 
boys swallowed in unison and stole a questioning glance at each other. 

"I got a favor to ask... and if you do it, you two gonna be two lucky 
boys... " She winked at them. "How'd you two like all of Rose's black skin 
just for doin' me a favor?" 

Carrie hummed .along with the orchestration of the Tempest being performed 
on television. At her elbow, on the sofa's arm, were perched a stock of 
paperback books. Life of Martin Luther King, amongst them. The past few days 
witnessed a great change, a certain softening in the hardcore attitudes of 
the progressively-minded pupils. Cederick for one, which was why she had 
dallied in the used book store picking through the dusty stack for fresh 
reading material. To steer them into a non-violent path was her 
self-proclaimed vow, and to date she had one follower. 

Interestingly how the class had divided into two camps, after hour long 
discussion on social change and its effects on the individual in society. 
From her front-of-the-classroom impression, it was obvious Cederick and his 
friends Sammie and Stokley had taken divergent paths. And Rose... Lord knew 
what thoughts ran through that girl's wicked mind! 

Cederick had separated himself from the tight clique, and Carrie had to 
admit to a bit of self-pride on that score! 

j Polishing her nails, wet hair wrapped in a towel, a loose terry cloth robe 
tied around her skimpily clad body, she felt a rare contentment. Making love 
to Phil the night before had freed her of an emotional bondage to him. 
Before the classroom attack, Phil had been her male god, her commander, the 
determiner of her happiness. His every action spelled out misery, 
distrust... all culminating in the torrid sex scene in his apartment! "Til 
the day they threw dirt on her grave, she would never forget the gut 
wrenching pain of watching him slave over a black woman's genitals. 

Abruptly, the emery board fell from Carrie's fingers. She gulped dryly, her 
throat constricting, as the vision of Cederick, Sammie and Stokley's naked 
bodies overwhelmed her senses. Their strong fingers stroking over her 
vulnerable white flesh, the contrast of white and black, strength and 
frailty... youth and maturity. Maturity? Dear God, they knew more about sex 
than she! 

Thoughts whizzed through her brain like spin-wheels. Why, she wondered, had 
her fear of sex dissipated? Why, for the first time, did the face of her 
mother not appear from the slightest sensual provocation? Back in Minnesota, 
a kiss on the cheek and snap _" there stood Helen Osgood, sour-faced and 
disapproving. Magically, the ugliness of that guilt had melted, leaving her 
a free, sensual woman. 

Alongside that thought crept a less sparkly one. Last night, making love to 
Phil something was missing, something was wrong. The mental images of 
herself slaving over his genitals while she spread her legs to offer up the 
playground of her cunt to his hungering mouth, were bland in contrast. Could 
it be, she wondered, blinking absentmindedly at the ballerina on the screen, 
that she, Carrie Osgood had a fixation for black males? 

The doorbell rang. A chill of apprehension trickled through her body. Phil 
had been corralled into having dinner with his family and she, burdened with 
lesson plans, had reneged on the invitation. He had accepted her rejection 
sourly _" of course. Then who would be knocking at her door at eight 
o'clock at night? Suddenly her world seemed sadly unpeopled with friends in 
a secluded world of her own. Curiosity piqued, she stripped the towel from 
her damp hair, letting it trail in Medusa-like strands, she unlatched the 
safety lock and peered through the door. 

A tall black bodied boy with a sly smirk beamed back at her. "Sammie____?" 
The word choked in her throat. "What are you doing here?" His naked eyed 
stare burned through her flesh. "I come by to talk to you about this book 
you showed in class today," he said, pressing his face to the crack of the 
door. Noting her reluctance, he assured her: "Don't worry, I ain' gonna git 
tough... " He shuffled while she considered the implications of letting a 
student who had already used physical force on her, enter her apartment. 
"B'sides, I got a D- on that last test and with this essay you got us 
writin'... hell," he complained boyishly, "I don' understan' all this crap 
'bout Gandhi and shit____" Once inside the door, Sammie shuffled nervously, 
feeling as trapped in his teacher's apartment as she had in the classroom 
with three naked boys taunting her. Carrie shuddered under her bathrobe. 
Long, elegant fingers combed nervously through her wet hair. 

"I'm not really fit for company, Sammie," she shrugged, feeling his dark 
eyes burn into her. 

Her heart pounded, in triple beat and as her blue eyes traveled over his 
dark, sinewy body, a strange rumbling congested the pit of her empty belly. 
In the dim light of the kitchen and the flickering light of the television 
screen, his ebony body appeared more rippling than ever, and his boyish 
nervousness titillated her hypnotically. "Let... let me go into the bedroom 
and change," she stammered, finding a modicum of relief in seeing a 
paperback novel stuffed into his back pocket. 

"Min' if I have a seat?" He jerked his head toward the sofa littered with 
paperback novels and the instruments of a manicure set. The springs squeaked 
as his sinewy weight descended upon it, and indecision weighted his heart 
too. Five fingers stole to the back pocket to feel behind the paperback 
novel for the cold steel of his pen knife. In the bedroom he heard the 
bathroom door close and lock. 

Trembling, Carrie raked a hairbrush through her shoulder length honey hair, 
studying her intent expression in the mirror. For a wild moment she 
considered telephoning Phil at his parents house; but one question would 
lead to another, and God help her he should find out about an unreported 
rape in the classroom at the tyranny of three black students! The case would 
demand her resignation, and then all ideals, the pain and humiliation would 
have been for nothing. No, better she handle this situation on her own. 
Silently, she unlocked the door and peering around the corner, saw his young 
face placid as a content puppy. Drawing a deep breath of relief, she 
ventured out into the bedroom and quickly snatched a pair of Levis and 
blouse from the bed. In a cat-like retreat, she hedged back into the 
bathroom and stripping off her bathrobe, slipped into her clothes. 

A pair of jungle-dark eyes caught the quick, secret movement and with a 
pounding heart, Sammie leapt from the sofa and tip-toed toward the bedroom. 
Its sweet, feminine, clean scent was foreign to his nostrils accustomed to 
the sour smell of over crowded bedrooms. 

His left hand stole behind his back and steady, sure fingers dipped into his 
back pocket for his pen knife. A streak of light shone under the bathroom 
door, slowly widening as Carrie emerged. 

"Aiiiieeeekkkk!" 

The cold feel of knife steel jabbed at her throat, and a sweaty arm clamped 
around her neck, stifling her cries. 

His breath was hot on her neck. "Don't scream, teach... or that pretty white 
face's gonna be beef jerky!" he snarled. 

"Sammie... " she choked. "Nggghhh..." 

"There be jus' one I'm after... you know what that be, you black cock 
lover!" 

"Nnnnggghh... " 

Her hands shot up to tear at his arms, but the knife pressing at her jugular 
vein made her grow limp from the effort. "Shuddup...!" he hissed through 
clenched teeth. "Git down on the. bed... " He shoved her forward throwing 
her face down on the bed. In a flash, he pounced upon her, pressing her face 
down into the mattress. 

Carrie's heart pounded as if it were trying to crawl out of her chest. His 
hot weight and sinewy strength straddled her back, pressing her to the 
mattress like a butterfly to a collector's board. 

"No... not again, Sammie... please! I... I... m. 

"You what? Want Cederick to fuck you? I got news for you, teach... Rose'll 
have your tits cut off if you don' loosen up on her man! You hear me?" 
Lifting one steely thigh, he rolled her over onto her back effortlessly. 
Knees pressed under her armpits, he snarled down at her. 

Carrie's mouth fell open, her eyes rolled in terror. "Sammie... please stop 
this... please!" 

His grin twisted at the corner of his thick lips, stretching into an obscene 
snarl. Resting his hands on his knees, knife clamped in his fist, he used 
his free hand to wrap in the soft tendrils of her damp hair, lifting her 
head up off the bed. Leaning forward with all his nubile strength, he 
clamped his warm, moist lips to hers. 

"Mmmmm... " she tried to twist her head away, but his fingers pulling at the 
roots of her hair were encouragement to desist resistance. His tongue 
spurted between her lips and a caressing hand mauled upward toward her 
swelling breasts, rising and falling sharply. 

What kind of monster was this fourteen year-old boy? she wondered, shaking 
in terror. 

The rape in the classroom was mildly explainable; she had insulted their 
manliness and had to pay the price. But to come to her home and deliberately 
assault her, implied a deeper kind of violence _" more personal, more 
terrifying and from the glint of the knife's steel, more threatening! 

"You cock hungry bitch," he muttered throatily, grabbing her delicate wrist 
and pulling it forcibly down to the bulging crotch of his pants to press the 
flat of it against the swelling shaft of his erect penis. 

Carrie clenched shut her eyes in terrifying humiliation and dread. Her 
fingers felt the hotness of his youthful virility, felt the dime-sized wet 
spot attesting to his lust. Pearly teeth clamped over a trembling lower lip 
as a wild jolt of excitation charged through her. With his black fingers, he 
spread her delicate ones, running her thumb and forefinger along the length 
and thickness. Behind fluttering eyelids, Carrie imagined the black tube of 
male flesh throbbing, swelling, pulsating, oozing. Her heart quickened, her 
pulse raced. 

"No... oh, Gawd," she moaned, twisting beneath him, feeling his hot hand 
move into the waistband of her Levis and yank her blouse free. One warm palm 
shot toward her naked breast to taunt and torture the sensitive nipples, 
puckering the puffy pinkness into diamond chips. 

"Unzip my pants and feel m' black cock...!" sneered Sammie. Grabbing her 
free wrist, he forced her fingers to search for the metal tab of his Levis 
and helped her yank it down. 

Setting aside the knife, he grappled with the fastener and in one quick 
motion, forced her to search within the cotton trap of his Levis for the 
hot, pounding rod of his penis. 

The warm, rubbery feel of his young virility sent shivers of unwanted desire 
shuddering through Carrie Osgood's captive body. Struggling to squeeze aside 
the salacious memories of feeling his penis slipping between her pink lips, 
she lost the war. The hunk of flesh jerked from the cool touch of her 
fingers. 

"Let's git comf'table, Miz Osgood," he said, panting. 

His superior weight and strength pinning her to the mattress coerced the 
teacher into soothing her fight. Every pore of her shivering body spasmed. 
In an easy effort, Sammie slid his weight down beside her trembling white 
body. The coercive force in this rape had been Rose's sinewy young body, 
animal in strength and sexuality, but now, staring down into Miss Osgood's 
sophisticated face, he knew he had wanted her for his own male ego. 

To fuck a black chick was nothing; it happened every minute, on every street 
corner. But to shove his prick into a older white woman's cunt, was the 
frosting on the cake! She didn't know it, was loathe to admit, but he 
realized she was hot to fuck. He felt the curve of her thigh muscle tighten 
as if reaching out to meet him, to rub against his swollen cock. With a 
grunt of lust, he pressed his fingers into the crease of her ass cheeks. 
Carrie squirmed, moaning, eyes tightly clenched shut. 

Carrie's brain steamed with boiling confusion. Violently, she struggled to 
shut out rational thought, reminding herself that this young boy was a 
hand-grab away from a knife. A very sharp knife that could lacerate her face 
with one carving motion! 

Yet an animalish instinct was starved for the male power of his penis 
stabbing into her womanhood. She wanted, needed, to be subjugated, forced 
into bestial copulation! Hot and cold, she squirmed and writhed on the bed 
under his weight, one hand rubbing at the rubbery length of his blood heavy 
cock! Sammie grinned to himself. The bitch was worming around on the bed as 
if his cock were already inside of her. With that in mind, he moved a strong 
hand up between their bodies and yanked up her blouse, while the other 
steely paw snatched at the zipper of her Levis ripping down the metal tab. 
The shirt tail of her blouse bore the abuse of his urgency, and he yanked it 
off as buttons flew and fabric ripped. 

Beneath him, Carrie groaned as he stripped her naked. The air conditioning 
played over the goosebumped orbs of her breasts. She sucked in her breath, 
all fight sapped from her. 

With a grunt, white teeth showing under a thick upper lip, he ripped the 
blouse off her shoulders and pulling her by the air, lifted her to strip the 
shredded remains from her chest. For a hungry moment he stared at her, 
licking his lips. With slow movements, even and precise, he pulled her Levis 
down to her knees. Groaning he dipped forward and clamped his hands over her 
succulent breasts until they oozed like bread dough between his fingers. He 
had her naked now, except for her skimpy panties. Those could wait. 

Wearily, he lifted his head, listening for the tap on the balcony door that 
would mean Stokley was prowling ready for his piece of the action. Then 
later it would be Rose's sweet ass for both of them! 

Carrie's large nippled breasts poked crazily up into his face and he mashed 
his face into her creamy cleavage, licking his hot tongue between the 
goosebumped mounds. Funny, he hadn't noticed the other day how big her 
nipples were. Man, he could barely cram all of her breast into his mouth! 
She moaned desperately as he began to nibble and suck, pressing both breasts 
together to suck both nipples at once. Her breath snorted from her nostrils 
like a race horse at the finish line. Oh... what was she doing now? Hot 
damn, she was rubbing her hot, pussy covered mound against his throbbing 
dick and spreading her sleek legs out limply on either side of his hips. 

"Unggggghhhh... " she groaned, flailing her blonde head from side to side. 
"Suck it... 

ohhhhh, gawwwwd!" 

And suck he did! Slobbering and opening his jaws so wide he swore they would 
lock, he struggled to suck both breasts into his mouth. The milky flesh 
oozed from between his fingers that mauled her succulent flesh painfully. 
Her soft flesh was suffocating him. 

With a deep throated groan, he levered away and reached down to hook his 
black fingers in the tight elastic waistband of her skimpy bikini panties, 
and worked them slowly down over the half moons of her buttocks, squirming 
and grinding into the mattress below. 

Sammie raked his ragged fingernails over the naked mounds of Carie's ass 
cheeks, yanking her lush body back on top of him as he rolled her over on 
the bed. Her breathing tore from her chest, strained and heavy, as his dark 
fingers explored the crevice of her smooth ass cheeks. Brutally he yanked 
them apart like a Parker House roll and fingered the buttony sponginess of 
her puckered anus. His black hands grazed the tightly rounded orbs of, 
oozing flesh, trailing lower to forge through the ragged, wet lips of her 
vagina and probe with his middle finger up into the tight slit. 

"Ohhhhh... " she whimpered, envisioning his black hands mauling her white 
flesh with cruel, sadistic mastery. She spread her sleek thighs open wider 
to give him full access to her fleece lined pussy. Lurching, groaning, she 
felt him touch the tingling bud of her clitoris, felt the nub harden and 
well as it gushed with blood from the raping touch of his fingertips. 

"Oh... do that!" she mewled. "Hurt me... " 

With a lewd grunt, Sammie stripped out of his Levis, his black eyes feasting 
on the fleshy pink cuntal lips, dewed with her juices, revealed up between 
her shivering inner thighs. Up to her firm, milky breasts with their 
bee-stung nipples ventured his eyes, his virile young black penis lurching 
and jerking like a snake trying to twist its way out of a tight hole. He 
would have her in minutes! Would feel his thick black cock slamming into her 
tight, pink cunt! 

Carrie's eyelids flickered in lust as she felt him grind against her, trying 
to push her back on the mattress so that he could mount her from on top. The 
satiny feel of his soft dark flesh on her shivering naked whiteness made her 
eyes jerk with the shocking electrifying contact. Her blue orbs stared at 
him kneeling there before her, now almost on top of her, a lewd and cruel 
grin creasing his thick soft lips. Her wide eyes trailed southward to his 
lean .chest rippling with sinew, down over his taut belly to his lust 
hardened cock looming up in pulsing erection from his pelvis, and she 
shuddered in response to the salacious look in his flaming eyes as he 
grabbed his black girth and began to stroke the outer layer of skin up and 
down over the mushroom tipped head, making his balls sway between his 
strong, dark thighs. 

"Ohhhh... " she moaned, her breath hissing from her throat, making her naked 
breasts quiver sensually before him as she gaped in mesmeric awe at the 
hard, throbbing flesh glistening darkly in the dim light flickering from the 
television set a room away. The lights played off the shimmering flesh like 
stars reflecting off deep waters. Mentally, she made a comparison between 
Phil's thick, veiny penis streaked with blue veins and the solid meat of 
this dark boy's virility. She licked her soft lips, feeling that same oral 
mania claim possession of her again. When, dear Lord, when would she outgrow 
this mania for black boy flesh? Her mouth watered, her body shook and she 
could already taste the piquant male juices of his boy-cum. 

"Like my cock, teach?" he taunted lewdly, pushing his naked teacher down 
onto her back and lowering his body over her before she could protest, 
sliding down until his face was hovering over the smooth plain of her belly. 
He gazed up between her swollen breasts at her shocked face, his dark 
chocolate eyes feverish with lust. "First I'm gonna taste that sweet, pink 
cunt... " he grinned. 

Carrie swallowed dryly. The cool air played over the raw, inflamed, 
nerve-filled flesh of her vaginal slit and he gaped goggle eyed down at the 
sight of moistly glistening cuntal fringed lips wisped with honey curls. His 
mouth watered from the sight of her petal-like lips dewed with glistening 
juices, with the oily nub of her clitoris hidden in the bushes of pubic 
curls, like a single fallen blossom in long grass. The slit pumped with 
blood before his eyes. 

Carrie shivered at the feel of his hot breath snorting between her inner 
thighs, and the caress of his hot, rough tongue licking a slick trail up 
through her nakedly exposed cunt lips made her shudder. She shoved her 
pelvis up into his face, moaning. Carrie was lost... 

lost in a world of her own. 

Sammie licked and sucked and ground his smooth black face into his teacher's 
wet, ragged cunt. He fastened his lips ravenously onto the bud of her 
clitoris as she wriggled and squirmed her rounded hips. She smelled fresh 
and sweet as if she had just stepped out of the shower. The satiny white 
skin of her straining thighs clasping and scissoring against his face was 
smothering him until he could hardly breathe! What a sweet death! 

Never had he tasted such a sweet pussy. He never thought he would enjoy 
eating a white woman's cunt _" but, man, he was learning the joys of 
inter-racial lust fast! Maybe, he thought, snickering to himself, all her 
talk of love and scrambling up the races was true. 

Maybe whites and blacks should learn to love each other! 

Unexpectedly, Carrie's hands clamped his cheeks and she yanked his cum 
glistening face from the steaming morass of her cunt. "I... I can't take 
anymore... I'm... " Her blue eyes pleaded up at him and it was obviously she 
was about to explode into orgasm. For some unexplainable reason, she wanted 
to prolong it. 

Bewildered, Sammie stared at his teacher. "If you don' like the way I suck 
your cunt, then you suck my dick!" He wiped her cuntal juices from his mouth 
with the back of his hand, glaring up between her heaving breasts with a 
fierce expression on his face. 

"I didn't say I didn't... " 

Taking control once more, fearful he'd let himself soften, he grabbed the 
pen knife from the wrinkled bedspread and stuck it to her jugular vein. 
"Suck my cock, bitch!" he snarled. 

From the look in her eye, hungry and glassy, he knew his threat was 
assininely superfluous! 

Carrie struggled up to her elbows to glare down at him, her blue orbs 
sprinkled with wild sensuality and excitement as they shot downward to stare 
at the glistening black rod oozing with pearls of pre-cum. Subconsciously, 
she licked her lips. "You don't have to use a knife on me, Sammie," she 
whispered throatily. 

Squinting at her distrustfully, he pulled it back from her throat and 
cocking his head warned her: "You try anythin' foolish, lady... you try to 
run for that door, and that pretty face is gonna be in red ribbons!" 

He meant it and she knew it. She also knew that that throbbing black penis 
jutting up toward the ceiling from a black kinky nest, was about the most 
delicious sight she'd seen since she first noticed a difference between 
girls and boys. 

"Put down the knife," she purred, "and let's do this right!" 

Carrie pressed his black nudity so that his thighs were spread wide. She 
dropped down over him to curl her fingers tightly around his cock, giving it 
a loving squeeze. 

The knife fell from the awestruck fourteen-year old's black paw as his 
teacher's delicate fist grasped his hot tube and pumped it hard. A charge of 
crazy sensations sparked from his taut belly to his muscular vee shaped 
loins. Convulsively spasming, he felt her gentle caress as she began to 
stroke the loose foreskin up and down his throbbing penile shaft in a slow 
mesmerizing rhythm. Stranger still... she couldn't tear her eyes off of it. 
Bewildered, he studied his teacher's lust-contorted expression as she 
hovered over him, inching downward over his strong body until she got to her 
knees and lowered her head inches from his throbbing black prick. Her blue 
eyes glistened with hunger as she flicked out the tip of her velvety pink 
tongue to moisten her lips. Adoringly, she held the pulsing shaft in both 
soft hands, massaging it between the flats of her palms, teasing up and down 
until his lust fired loins undulated in a shuddering rhythm to maddeningly 
sensual strokes. 

"Ah, God, you cock-lovin' bitch!" he moaned, lying back. The knife 
forgotten, fell to the floor. Just who was raping who was a matter of 
speculation! 

Miss Osgood, slaving on her black student's throbbing penis, entered a world 
of her own. 

Somewhere between heaven and hell she hovered, teetering, while sizzling 
devils' pitchforks pricked at the moistened lips of her cunt. As she teased 
and stroked his hot erection, feeling him twist and groan, her ears buzzing 
with his feverish moans of lust as she slaved up and down on the tightly 
stretched foreskin, she worked the purple veined ebony shaft into volcanic 
hardness. 

With precious adoration, she worked the outer layer of flesh down over the 
naked, seeping head, her mind floating with nothing but the warm, throbbing 
promise of it in her hand. The tangy smell of him flared in her nostrils and 
her soft lips brushed over the seeping tip, wetting her lips. Sammie choked, 
lost in her charm as she drew in her breath and flicked out her tongue tip 
to swirl around and over his slick male flesh as he twisted and groaned and 
jerked as if his finger were stuck in an empty light socket! 

The spicy tang of his pre-cum oozing from the tiny eye was nectar to her 
tastebuds and, closing her eyes, she imagined seeing herself with her pink 
lips stretched around the meaty girth of his pounding black cock. Black and 
white, male and female, dominant and submissive... the old theme repeated 
itself, imprinting in her brain forever that this was the only gratifying 
act the world offered her. The rest of the world could go to hell, blow to 
smithereens, but it was she and black cock that mattered forever. Lightly 
she licked down the length of his black tube, dragging her tongue almost to 
the base before bringing it back up to trail the same searing path, her hand 
smoothing along its wake, up and down, then lower to cuddle his testicles. 
Delicately, her fingers weighed the cum-heavy bags in her palm, her other 
hand pulling the loose foreskin down so far that the nakedly seeping eye 
squirted smears of sticky thread over her chin. 

Slavishly, she maneuvered her feasting, stretched lips back to the tip and 
shoved it into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and ovaling her lips as if 
they were so much elastic! 

Anything to accommodate him! She revered it, adored it, let it become her 
master. Eyelids fluttering in ecstasy, she stared at the throbbing black 
flesh oozing virility. 

CHAPTER NINE 

Disco music blared from a portable radio sitting atop the cement-chipped 
stoop of Cederick's family's apartment. The night was sticky, the air heavy 
with the pollen smells of autumn and dying flowers. Something deep inside 
him was withering, too. Ruefully, he yanked a Kool cigarette from the 
crinkly pack rolled in his sleeve and stuck it between pouting lips. A long, 
thoughtful drag and he braced his chin in an upturned palm, elbow resting on 
his knee. 

Growing up was more than getting tired of old friends, he ruminated on this 
calm, humid night. Indoors he heard the heated discontent of husband and 
wife soon to come to blows. 

Arguing, hatred, frustration... he realized in a burst of understanding, 
wasn't limited to racial hatred. It happened in the home, it happened 
between lovers, and it happened between friends. His thoughts fled to Rose, 
the sex pot of Washington High. Making threats against Miss Osgood, too, out 
of blind jealousy. How immature could one be? 

"Ah shit... " he grumbled. The cigarette was flicked into the littered 
gutter, searing a black cat hunched with twitching nose to the street grate. 
She screeched and leapt into the night. He felt gut wrenching guilt about 
the sexual attack of Miss Osgood. The woman hadn't deserved it; in fact, if 
he dared examine his motive, he was forced to admit the attack was the last 
ditch effort to test his masculinity, to test its power and influence. In 
the end, he learned force didn't change anything for the better. Miss Osgood 
refused to be scared off. Hell, she didn't even report it to the Sup! 

A bulge in his Levis tore his attention from the mental to the physical. 
Twitters of titillation added to self-contempt. That afternoon when he'd 
jumped atop the yellow Toyota's hood and demanded the shivering white woman 
strip he was fully prepared to smash the windshield with the baseball bat. 
Hell, he thought sickened, he could have killed her, an innocent bystander. 
None of these killings were her fault. Just because she had white skin and 
came from the north, didn't make her a racist. The thrusting innocence in 
her features, a quality rare in this part of Atlanta, had held him back and 
pressured to take action in front of his vigilante friends, he'd succumbed 
to humiliating her my masturbating on the windshield... to prove his 
manhood. Still, he couldn't fight down a tingling in his groin at the 
thought of staring at her milky white breasts, so firm and wide set, and 
splashing his cum over her face, protected only by a sheet of glass. 

A voice cut his meditative thoughts, making him suddenly aware of the 
raucous family fight screaming from his parents' apartment. He shrugged it 
off. What was new about that? 

"Cederick, hello... " 

'Hmmmm?" His head shot up. Rose's ebony frame was silhouetted against the 
dark night. 

Smug and secretive as ever, she stood with fingers draped in Levi pockets, 
swaying smugly as if tempting him to shake the truth out of her. Her 
arrogance irritated him sometimes _" like now. For the first time all week 
he had a chance to sit down and get things straight with himself and the 
world. All the discussion on Gandhi and Martin Luther King and passivity set 
his mind on a new trail... and now Rose had to jump in his path. 

Uninvited, she made herself comfortable on the cement stoop beside him and 
rubbed her shoulder into his arm, a gesture like that of a female cat in 
heat stroking against a black torn cat. She shivered her shoulder haughtily. 
"You ain' been showin' up for the vigilante meetin's, Cederick. What's the 
matter," she chimed tauntingly, "Miss Big Tits preachin' gettin' to ya?" 

Cederick's bushy head shot around and he leveled a withering gaze into her 
sparkling eyes. "Lay off the teacher, will ya? She ain' done nothin' wrong!" 

Taken aback, her eyes slitted. "Don' you talk to me like that, Cederick!" 
She squared her shoulders vengefully. "You dropped me, and don' you be 
forgettin' that!" 

He read the sly squint in her eyes as threatening, noted the sneering grin 
on her tight mouth, taut with vengeance for anything that dared challenge 
her desires. "Listen," he turned to her. "You try any shit with Miss Osgood 
and you'll... " 

"I'll what?" she sneered. 

Upper lip curdling, his white teeth showing between thick, black lips, he 
straightened up. 

"You just better not... " His sinewy arm shot up. 

Rose cowered, protecting her face with her arms. "Nothin you ain' already 
done. Your buddies Sammie and Stokley be braggin' 'bout fuckin' Miss 
Osgood... and I ain' gonna let no white bitch take my man!" 

"Your man?" he spat, jumping to his feet. "I ain' no possession _" nobody 
owns me!" 

"Cederick, you come back here!" His long muscular legs scissored off into 
the night, leaving the fourteen year-old to cry into her hands, the portable 
radio blaring a disco tune to keep her company. At the end of the block, 
Cederick turned and shot a curious glance over his shoulder. She's just a 
black ghetto whore... he realized for the first time. Ain' never gonna do 
nothin' but sit on stoops and bitch at her old man. That ain' for me... 

Stokley hoisted his lanky body up the fragile magnolia tree, his nose 
twitching, eyes burning from the rich pollen flicking from the dried 
flowers. Hand over hand crawled, limb by limb, twigs crackling under his 
weight. Straining toward the balcony, his ebony fingers wrapped around the 
wrought iron grill and grunting with the effort, managed to swing himself 
around so that his right foot hooked between the grates. He cursed 
cigarettes and alcohol indulgences as he sweated out the last maneuver. One 
lanky leg swung over the balcony and panting for breath, he pressed his 
thievish body against the wall, the whites of his eyes shining in the night 
surveying the apartment grounds for suspicious movements. 

A window opened onto the balcony. He prayed he'd found the teacher's 
apartment this time. Half an hour prior, he'd scrambled up a scraggly vine 
only to discover he was peering into a child's bedroom. Pressing his ear to 
the window, a cool grin broke out over his black face. When his eyes had 
adjusted to the dark, he pressed his nose to the window and squinted to 
accommodate for the lack of light within. Through the diaphanous curtains, 
his thievish eyes focused on the naked white half moons of Miss Osgood's 
swaying ass cheeks. "Shit... " he groaned, where the hell's Sammie? A dark 
shadow, sharp in contrast to Miss Osgood's white flesh, moved. Hell... she's 
sucking him off! 

Concentrating then, he searched for signs of blood on the coverlet, ears 
honed for grunts of pain. Groans and moans of animal pleasure filtered 
through the wall. 

Stokley stared again. Her thighs were spread so wide apart he could see the 
ragged lips of her cunt, all pink and moist and pouting like a lost kid! His 
breath caught in his chest. 

Miss Osgood was giving his buddy one hell of a blow job he noted enviously, 
staring past one of her melonous breasts dangling from her slender ribcage. 

Rape? What kind of rape was this? Stokley scratched his head in wonderment. 
His breath left his body in a hissing gush as his hand shot down to his 
groin to stroke the hard swell of his cock. He closed his eyes for a 
delicious moment, savoring the feel of Miss Osgood's mouth slipping up and 
down his fevered prick, licking her tongue into the tiny slit, lapping at 
his juices. 

Behind his zipper his cock lurched with salacious joy at the sight of her 
little brown anus winking back at him. Deep within the crevice of her ass 
cheeks, it puckered and unpuckered with the movements of her tongue. Stokley 
couldn't take much more. Like Sammie his motive had been a piece of little 
Rose's hot ass... but Rose was cold hamburger compared to the juicy barbecue 
of Miss Osgood's mature creaminess! 

No evidence of a fight was to be seen anywhere. The room was in fresh order. 
Hell, he wouldn't be surprised to find Miss Osgood's stripped off clothes 
folded neatly on a chair. 

Stealthily he pulled from his back pocket a stolen credit card and, slipping 
it under the latch, gave the metal a quick jab and the door unlocked. Slowly 
he slid it back, the sound of metal against metal making him wince. The room 
was cool and orderly, illuminated by a crackling television set and dim 
kitchen light. His head spun around to the room off the living room where 
slurping sounds and lewd grunts and groans pricked the air. Kicking off his 
Adidas shoes, he tip-toed to the door and with jabbing jerks, took a quick 
survey of the lust happening within. 

Miss Osgood's ass was as pretty as her face, he decided, squinting at her 
full moons moving with the movements of her bobbing head slaving over 
Sammie's fourteen year-old penis. Groveling on the bed, mouthing guttural 
words Stokley could not understand, Sammie squinted past his teacher, glassy 
eyes and up over the mountains of her moving ass cheeks to fasten on the 
slack jawed face of his comrade vigilante. 

Hovering in the living room shadows, Stokley ran his thick tongue over the 
succulence of his lips. She started to twist her head around, but Sammie 
stuck his fingers in her ears and dragged her bobbing head back down on his 
cock, while keeping one wary eye on Stokley. Dipping down to one knee, he 
stared at his buddie's lust drawn face between the spread thighs of Miss 
Osgood's genitals! Man, what a view! He wished he had a camera to put that 
photograph on the front page of the Washington High Sentinel! Her body 
bobbed and swayed and he could see her sucking lips slip up and down the 
dark shadow of Sammie's cock. 

Inside his pants, Stokley's penis jumped in envy. It throbbed and jerked in 
impatience. 

Slowly, licking his lips, Stokley pushed it down with the heel of his hand, 
like a pet owner training its dog. His forehead was sheened with sweat and 
his armpits were soaked. To stand here and watch those naked ass cheeks 
waving like a carrot before the horse was too much. If he strained his eyes, 
he could see the pussy juices dripping from the soft curls of her lips. Man, 
he could almost see the blood swell her vagina, taste the juices, savor the 
hole of her anus opening and closing like a tiny mouth. 

Nervousness set in. His dark eyes raked over the apartment. Shriveling he 
felt like an intruder. What the hell did he know about Miss Osgood, anyway? 
She might be a real kook! Her boyfriend might be hiding in the closet ready 
to castrate both of them. And there lay Sammie cooing like a baby at the 
breast. Stokley wrang his hands, fought down the trip hammer of his heart. A 
bite of Rose's black ass sure wasn't worth it _" but the jab of his stiff 
cock into Miss Osgood's juicy pussy might be! With lust incensed eyes, he 
gaped at her slaving lips working, sucking, nibbling at Sammie's prick. 

Stokley jerked his head to get Sammie's attention. Creeping like a jungle 
beast, hand over hand on the carpet, he neared the bed. One hand yanked at 
his pants zipper, the other pulled them down over his hips to his knees. 
Silently standing up he peeled them over his ankles and kicked them free. 

Between his teacher's dangling breasts, Sammie eyed the throbbing hulk of 
Stokley's black penis cleaving the air. Now he stood naked from the waist 
down a hand grab away from her swaying half moon. Relieved that his buddy 
was here as reinforcement, Sammie groaned through parted lips from the 
satiny feel of her silken lips wrapping around his penis. The thin tensile 
rim of her lips clung to his purple veined cock shaft as if she had claimed 
it for life! 

With hip grinding movements, he fucked up into her warmly sucking mouth and 
gaped at her lust contorted angelic face, suddenly scrunched up like the 
devil himself. She caressed and squeezed his balls in the warm palms of her 
hands, and from the corner of her rosebud lips, he could see silky threads 
of his pre-cum as she groveled in masochistic joy. 

To keep her concentration on his prick, Sammie thrust his buttocks up in 
wild contortions, fucking deep into her working throat until his pubic hair 
brushed against her sniffling nose. 

Desperate gagging sounds tore from her throat, muffled around the black 
girth stuffed between her lips. The heat of amassed cum scalding his 
testicles made him suck in his breath. Still she sucked, refusing to slow, 
refusing to give up a single black inch of him! The tangy penis spicy to the 
tastebuds was Carrie's lone concern. It jerked and throbbed until she feared 
she might gobble it up. Between her silken thighs, she felt her clitoris 
throb in need and knew it would take a few rubs to send her soaring toward 
orgasm. The pounding meat in her mouth was hot and hard, making the breath 
snorting from her nostrils steam. Oh, to cum just when he shot his hot seed 
into her mouth. Lord, how she needed it! Black cock was her dope, her fix! 

Abruptly Carrie's wide blue eyes sprang open as if on springs! The warm, 
rubbery feel of something drubbing at the ragged lips of her cunt sent her 
head flying around. "Ouchhhh!" 

she yelped. Sammie caught her by the hair, yanking her head down on his 
throbbing length. Violently, he fucked into her mouth, deeper, harder, 
filling her mouth until the corner of her lips felt they would tear like so 
much tissue paper. 

"Jus' me, Stokley, Miz Osgood... " he snickered. "Be a good girl an' keep 
that ass swayin' in the breeze, and ol' Stokley'll make ya feel real good!" 
he promised thickly. 

Gripped by fear of a second assailant, Carrie struggled once more to pull 
her face free from his loins. But he held her tight, and from behind 
stronger, urgent hands gripped at her hips, muttering threats. 

Dear God, this couldn't happen twice! Fantasy burst like a bubble and as 
reality swept through her shivering body she grasped their intent. The 
knife, the intrusion into her private apartment. Now that they knew where 
she lived, what would stop them from their heinous crime! These clever black 
boys had discovered her mania _" and held her captive to her own fixation! 

"Don' try to fight, Miss Osgood." Eyeing a silver emery board sitting on the 
nightstand next to her alarm clock, he snatched it up and held the cold 
metal tip to her buttocks. "Feel that? One grunt outta you and you're ass is 
gonna be bleeding _" with my initials!" He carved an S with the tip and 
grinned as she sucked in her breath and fought against Sammie's tight hand 
hold. "I jus' gonna fuck ya from behind, like the bitch dog you is... " 

"Nooooo... mmmffff..." she wailed around the hard penis ramming back down 
her throat as tears filled her eyes and wetted her cheeks to drip into 
Sammie's kinky pubic hair. To be forced again was beyond decency, beyond 
humiliation. Yet what choice had she? 

He spread her ass cheeks like a hot buttered roll with the strength of his 
knees. The heavy length of his swollen cock made her shudder as it rubbed up 
between her inner thighs, leaving a warm film of pre-cum to wet her pussy 
lips. She strained her neck, fighting against Sammie's hold to gaze back 
between her own legs and catch a glimpse of his purple veined cock. 

Huge... pounding, menacing! Its black, shiny nakedness was shoved half way 
between her pussy lips and an icy chill of fear rippled through her body. 
The girth of him would ruin her forever! Some deep corner of her heart 
revealed a dark secret: It was Cederick she craved. 

Stokley licked his lips. Jesus, but she had a nice cunt. Sweet smelling too, 
if his flaring nostrils didn't lie. The lips were pretty, like a blossoming 
rose with honey blonde fleece lining the crevice. Christ, she was slaving 
over Sammie's cock like she was trying to gobble it down to the roots. 

He reared back _" and shoved! Drawing his hips upward, he dragged his thick 
black cock up the length of her steaming crevice and pointed it at the 
puckered anus so lusciously open there between her rounded ass cheeks. The 
idea of fucking his teacher in the ass was even too liberated for his 
vigilante ideals! She would turn him over to the cops and let the KKK have 
their fun! No chicken feathers around this ones neck! he decided, lowering 
his goals in favor of a dog fashion fuck. Yeah... her tight, pretty little 
pussy deserved his hard cock! 

Inching his knees backward, he dropped down to press his lanky weight on his 
arms until he hovered behind her like a dog. His nose tickled from the soapy 
clean scent of her. Like a dog he sniffed at her genitals and knew she was 
in heat! Leaning forward, his wet tongue licked up through the cum-dampened 
pussy hair to her cuntal hole, across the ragged flesh to the tiny wrinkled 
button of her anus. Lapping like a dog, trying to slick into that spongy 
hole, he gave up the fight. She was too tight. He played there contentedly, 
licking up and down and around the wrinkled flesh as he felt her wiggle and 
wave her naked buttocks more wildly in response to the maddening sensation 
ricocheting through her body. 

Black cock stuffing her mouth, black cock stuffing her pussy! Dimly, she 
wondered how he had broken into her apartment. Concentration fell on her 
mouth then. Her jaws felt as if she'd developed a case of lock jaw. Her 
tongue was sore, the corners of her mouth stretched like a rubber band to 
its bursting point. Shame, red hot and blistering, flamed within her body, 
but not hotter than the deep need to be subjugated and hurt. The idea of 
being fucked by black boys, sucking one while the other fucked her from 
behind, was hellishly unforgivable. As unforgivable as wanting her father to 
press her to his body and stroke her, giving her the affection her mother 
never had. 

Just as Carrie was relaxing with the feel of his tongue drubbing at the lips 
of her anus, the soft, sucking pressure abated. In mid-suck, she paused, 
shuddering as she heard him shift on the bed behind her. 

"Nnnnggghhhh!" His tongue lifted and his thick cock pressed against the 
sensitive split of her vagina. The bloated length of his pounding male flesh 
followed the struggling motions as she whined and whimpered, trying to 
escape impalement. Twisting to the side, she struggled to pull away from 
Sammie's grasp. In answer, he grunted, wrapping his fingers more tightly in 
her damp blonde hair. 

Her wide blue eyes flew open for a dim moment to watch the shadows on the 
wall in front of her. Like a child's shadow play, the dark silhouette of 
Stokley rising on his knees in dog fashion, sliding close in to tease her 
cringing cunt with the oozing head of his black cock, made her shudder with 
voyeuristic anticipation. Grunting, he shoved the black girth between her 
wetly splayed lips to give a few strokes to the burning bud of her clitoris. 

Carrie moaned in baffled sobs of masochistic confusion. 

Stokley was all smiles. Shit! This white bitch was on fire for him! Waggling 
her naked ass cheeks in his face, he stroked at her clitoris with the slimy 
tip of his cock, never budging an inch while Sammie rammed his cock down her 
throat. 

Abruptly, Carrie's spine arched from a jolt of pain up her tightly stretched 
vagina and her thighs split wider apart from the pressure of his bony knees 
wedging her apart. 

WHAM! 

Stokley's cock rammed into her cuntal hole with a slurping thud and the 
weight of his muscular stomach slapped hard against her soft, naked 
buttocks. Carrie's mouth was shoved down, encircling Sammie's burgeoning 
cock like a rubber condom. 

"Aaaaahhhhggghhh!" she gurgled, half choking on his penis. It hurt as it 
stabbed at her tonsils. She was held captive by two virile black fourteen 
year-old boys... one stabbing his dark cockhead into her tortured mouth and 
the other stroking at her vagina, battering her between them cruelly. 

Withdrawing, Stokley thrust again, the hammering stroke taking her breath 
away as it shot electric energy from the depths of her contracting belly to 
her fevered libido. Grunting, he slammed into her, fucking her for real and 
creating a hunching rhythm that matched the smooth strokings of Sammie's 
mouth fucking in the front. 

Carrie's cuntal hole felt as if someone were ramming a log into it! Searing, 
stretching, chafed, the raw nerve ends milked lubricants as he fucked harder 
into the snug hole, forcing her down onto Sammie's groin. 

She gagged then as Sammie clutched brutally at her head to jerk her face up 
and down as if her head were on springs; he rammed his cock deeper into her 
throat, scraping her tonsils and ramming it down the tight passage of her 
esophagus. 

"Suck me... ah... Miss Osgood!" he choked, as sweat beaded his forehead. 

They buffeted and fucked her, savagely pulling and yanking at her tender, 
bruised flesh. 

They called her whore, white cunt, bitch. The scene was steamy and carnal 
and sadistically perverse. The harder they fucked, the more she mewled. She 
screwed her naked ass cheeks back at Stokley and nibbled at Sammie's ebony 
cock with her pearly front teeth... tenderly, gently with the hot perversity 
of her soul. 

Carrie's mind was frozen in time and space. Being fucked from both 
directions was heaven on earth. Then she froze as an unexpected flash of 
reality pierced her soul. Some time, some how, she would have to pay for 
this. Nobody got anything for nothing in this world _" let alone pleasure. 

"Hey, what's matter, teach?" Stokley snarled and slapped her on the 
buttocks. "Your batteries be runnin' low!" 

"Mmmmmfff... " Carrie, eyelids fluttering dreamily, closed her mind to 
retribution and pumping at Sammie's blood heavy cock shut out reality. Time 
for that later. 

CHAPTER TEN 

Phil Carmichael rubbed his belly stuffed with his mother's famous beef 
stroganoff, dripping with sour cream and dotted with buttery mushrooms. Mrs. 
Carmichael plucked her son's plate from the table to refill it. 

"No... gotta go. Got a date with Carrie tonight," he said unceremoniously 
shoving back his chair and heading for the door. 

"Manners! Crass you are for a Southern boy!" she yelped after him. "Two 
months in town and you haven't introduced me to the girl once!" 

The door slammed shut after him. "Sorry, Ma... thanks for the meal." 

Contentedly, Phil slouched behind the car wheel and turned on the radio. 
Atlanta news announced the turn of the hour. "Police report prowlers in the 
area of the Elm Street housing project. We encourage all parents to keep 
their children indoors. Whether these suspected prowlers have any connection 
to the murders, has not been ascertained. Again, it is speculation, but we 
encourage... " 

Complacency burst like a soap bubble. "Elm Street housing... " 

The night was suspiciously sticky and cloying, as if the humidity itself 
were trying to choke him. The give compartment clicked open and rummaging 
under city maps and empty cigarette packs, Phil felt for the cool metal of 
his handgun. In the belt of his pants, the cool steel budged at his hip with 
every step up the flight leading to Carrie's apartment. 

In the hallway, the soft conversation of television emanated from under 
Carrie's door, as well as a sliver of light. He breathed easier then. 
Stealthily, he pulled the gun from his belt and squinted down the hallway, 
his finger itching to come face to face with any bastard who dared snake 
around his wife's-to-be territory! Cautiously he put his ear to the door to 
hear two sets of voices. The strident orchestration of the Tempest sounded 
strangely out of tune with the low moans and groans seeping through the 
hardwood door. 

Phil felt dizzy, hot and cold at once. Something was amiss. Now the soft 
mewls of a woman stung his ears. His hand twisted the door knob and to his 
shock, it turned. Slowly he pulled the door open and tip-toed inside. His 
eyes fled to the television set, the stack of books and discarded manicure 
set. She was home _" but with whom? The idea of any man touching his woman 
made the blood sing in his ears. Two steps from the living room brought him 
into full view of the bedroom. 

Abruptly his forehead smoothed in white hot anger and breath snorted from 
his lungs, hissing through pursed lips. His eyes crossed and bulged as he 
glowered at the black and white entanglement of entwined arms and legs. 

Dumbfounded, he gawked at the glistening nakedness, of twisted arms and legs 
and heavy breasts and swaying buttocks... he squinted in disbelief, utter 
incredulity. Carrie, his Carrie, was... 

Christ, it couldn't be! 

Saliva choked in his throat as his eyes followed the black outline of a 
young black boy hammering into his beloved's vagina from the back while 
another slammed his _" oh, God help me! _" black penis into her mouth from 
the front! 

Rape? Was this Rape? Her muffled screams of joy mingled with the panting 
snorts heaving from his chest. 

"Mmmmfff..." she cooed around the sausage stuffing her pink mouth. 

Kill her or kill himself _" that was the question? His eyes popped open as 
he stared silently at the naked, gyrating female. Fucking and sucking two 
black boys _" and loving it! 

He couldn't think, he couldn't feel. He could only react. Rage roared so hot 
he could taste it in his mouth, feel it dampen his armpits and bloat his 
groin. She had deceived him, and now she was ignoring him! Christ almighty! 
She could at least defend herself and stop sucking that damned black prick.' 
Blood pounded like a sledgehammer in his temples and shot through his 
anger-shuddering body, gushing to his penis to make it throb unbearably. 
Frozen, hand gripping the gun, mindless to anything but the rhythm of the 
two boys (no doubt her students, the cunt!) fucking into her. So busy were 
they, enslaving her, making his wife-to-be their white slave, they didn't 
hear him. 

Transfixed, he watched the long black cock cleave into the pink pussy lips 
clinging wetly to the boy's penis, trying to gobble it up inside her 
cheating cunt! Squinting against the dim light from behind him, he saw a 
second ebony cock slipping into her mouth while her hand tenderly cuddled 
his walnut-sized testicles. 

No... it couldn't be his Carrie! His immediate response was to kill. Two 
pulls of the trigger and they would be lying in their own black blood. 
Murder? Was it worth it? His mind was loosening now, beginning to work to 
his credit. Hell, he refused to spend the rest of his life in prison because 
of one cheating cunt! His knuckles turned white from the tight grip... yet 
he didn't pull the trigger. Better to make them suffer. 

Feeling his own lust mount, he watched his fiancee moaning and muttering 
around the black kid's meaty prick, slobbering and cooing and making a fool 
of herself... and what for? 

Remembrances of her Victorian attitudes, her nagging about his drinking, her 
claims of rape when oh, God, how she'd wanted to be screwed! Alongside that 
image flickered the more damning one of watching her nipples turn hard and 
goosebump flesh as she stripped for the ghetto vigilantes and watched, mouth 
watering, as one of the dirty cocksuckers spewed his filthy cum down the 
windshield. She had denied, and how sharply, her humiliation and disgust, 
but in truth? He had only to watch her grovel in the sack to know the truth. 
This time he was right. That hurt. 

His bulged eyes focused on the grinding ass cheeks of his fiancee's as they 
ground back to screw onto the boy's hard cock behind her. Tormented, 
infuriated beyond reason, he watched as she matched their rhythm from front 
and behind _" fucking and sucking, back and forth, in and out. Thrust for 
thrust she met them head-on, her creamy whiteness shadowed by their 
darkness. Bile rose in his throat, but he fought it down. 

Cheating bitch! Black cock loving bitch! He remembered now the muffled 
comment about black cock when he'd been screwing his penis into her damned 
mouth. Well, this woman could have all the black cock she wanted, but on his 
terms! Snickering with bitterness, he felt his cock lurch in the crotch of 
his pants, leaping and bloating in revenge. Punishment would be hers 
alright. Anger and resentment fired in his mind. The wet slapping sounds and 
lewd slurpings of lovemaking percolated rage within his muscular frame. His 
eyes refused to focus them. After he had taken her by force and coupled his 
emotional punishment with having her watch him make love to another woman, 
he had learned that force was the not way to a woman's heart. Oh, she must 
have laughed at him, thought him a fool! She was proving that now! No woman 
was going to laugh at Phil Carmichael! NOT OVER HER DEAD BODY! 

"JUST KEEP FUCKING, YOU BITCH!" He snarled, extending his arm and pointing 
his gun at the threesome groveling on the bed. 

A horror-struck black boy's face swung around, jaw hanging slack. Stokley 
swallowed dryly, his dark eyes staring at the hole of the barrel. "Phil... " 
muttered Carrie, dumbstruck and dropping her tortured lips from Sammie's 
cock. 

She blinked, reality returning in blazing mists of fear. 

"Oh, shit____" groaned Sammie. "It's the Atlanta murderer... " 

, "That's not him!" 

whispered Carrie, her hand pumping at his cock as if hanging onto a life 
raft. "That's... 

that's my boyfriend!" She squeezed shut her eyes in horror, feeling 
Stokley's cock still rammed tightly into her vagina, grinding his groin into 
the smooth crevice of her buttocks, his kinky curls scraping her rectal 
button. Wailing, she tried to wiggle free of her captors who held her tight 
between them. 

"You shoot us," reasoned Sammie trembling with fear, "... and you gonna 
shoot her, too!" 

He grabbed Carrie in his tight muscled arms. "I ain' gonna die for no white 
bitch!" 

"Neither am I," retorted Phil, his upper lip curled over his white teeth. 

Holding the gun point blank at the fear struck threesome, still locked in 
the posture of lovemaking, Phil stripped off his shirt and kicked off his 
pants. Carrie shivered and shook like an autumn leaf parting from its twig 
at the sight of his white, throbbing penis poling out punishingly from his 
hairy groin. Carrie gulped dryly and bowed her head as if this were to be 
her last communion. Tears stung her eyes and shame shuddered through her 
humiliated flesh. Caught in her own vice, her own wickedness, she knew this 
was the end. 

But of what? Of life? Would her own fiance kill her for making a mistake? 

Phil glowered down at the shivering, self-pitying woman he had once loved. 
Hiding behind the black boy she cowered in his dark arms for safety. The one 
with his cock rammed in her cunt was frozen to the spot! 

"Keep fuckin' black boys... just keep fuckin!" He pointed the barrel at 
Stokley's naked ass cheeks, pushing the cold steel between his fleshy 
buttocks and taunting his testicles heavy with sperm. "You... you!" He 
jerked his head at the slack jawed Sammie. "Keep your cock in her mouth! We 
might as well make it complete... fill up the cock hungry bitch!" Giving 
Stokley's balls one final flick, he snarled: "Move over... I'm taking her 
asshole!" 

Carrie groaned, her hand pumping Sammie's cock as he repositioned , himself 
beneath her so that she could lower her head down to his steaming groin. 
From behind, Stokley was quick to comply. The cold feel of steel jabbing at 
his ass was reason enough to fuck this white, screwed up woman. 

The bed sank as Phil lowered himself to his knees and knee walked up tight 
to Carrie; he yanked her legs cruelly apart until the puckered hole, moist 
from Stokley's virile cock, was a thrust away. 

Carrie clenched shut her eyes and clenched shut her buttocks, too, but her 
inferior female strength and the fear of having her head blown to bits, made 
her efforts feeble. Gasping, flailing her blonde head from side to side, her 
honey hair brushing over Sammie's sensitive groin, she stiffened as Phil 
thrust his middle finger into the tight hole with merciless force. 

His searing probe made Carrie squirm, while fear mounted in her body as he 
bored through the buttery, resisting flesh up to the second knobby knuckle. 

"Annnngggghhhh... ooowwwwggghhh..." she shrieked around Sammie's penis. 

The tight flesh drew in with his cruel stab, and his fingers shook with 
rage. She squirmed, panting with lust and fear as he brutally forced his 
finger in deeper, twisting it in tormenting circles. Chuckling vengefully, 
his free hand pumped at his blood engorged penis. A lewd sound stung the air 
as he withdrew his finger from the pathetically stretched anal ring and 
replaced it with a seeping, bulbous head of his lust inflamed cock. His 
thick shaft lay in the crevice of her naked buttocks, lubricated with tiny 
beads of her own secretions. With a cruel yank, he spread her buttocks wider 
still, opening the raw split of her genitals completely. 

Drawing a deep, strengthening breath, he felt an evil thrill shudder through 
him from the thought of watching her suck on a black boy's cock while he 
punished her by shoving his cock into her tender ass. His aim was straight 
and sure, making a beeline for the rubbery hole in the blonde fleeced 
crevice. 

"NNNNNNGGGGHHH!" It was a scream heard round the city as the pounding cock 
burst like a bomb through the tightly clenched anal sphincter. A blast of 
atomic pain tore through her! Tears, self pity, nothing could console her 
agony. Struggling to shut it out of her mind, she concentrated on the silken 
feel of Sammie's cock slipping down her throat; but that was no consolation. 
The force of his cruelty was overwhelming the once heavenly feel of 
Stokley's penis grinding into her pussy. 

Carrie ground into the mattress, humped back to twist her way free of his 
pillaging penis, but her grinding motions only incited her vengeful lover 
into hammering into her anus with brutal force. Grunting, he surged forward, 
sinking his blood heavy cock another five inches into her searing rectum. 

"Pleeeeez... Nooooo!" she shrieked around Sammie's hot cock stabbing into 
her mouth. 

But the force of Phil's cruel lunges only mashed her face tighter into 
Sammie's groin, at the same time sending her sprawling down on top of 
Stokley. Her breasts mashed down against Sammie's chest. 

Watching the white teacher getting her fill was driving Stokley crazy! He 
rammed his throbbing black penis up into the steamy hole of her vagina while 
the white man on top of him squashed him nearly to death. No way was he 
going to let this white jerk out-do him! 

Breath snorted from his nostrils as he felt himself closer to cumming! 

Beneath him Carrie muffled a cry as Phil slammed into her anus until his cum 
bloated testicles slapped against her buttocks, slamming his balls 
punishingly into the taut black ones of Carrie's fourteen year-old lover. 
She cried and rocked from side to side from the excruciating agony of pain 
of body and soul. Captive of three men torturing her body to its limits. 
Every inch of her flesh was mauled and stroked by hot male flesh! Raping 
male flesh... virile male flesh! 

But something was happening. The searing pain was lessening to a dull throb, 
a pleasant dull throb. The pain was turning to warm pleasure. Every inch of 
their virile cudgles scraping into her defenseless body fought for dominance 
Deep within her belly, Phil's white penis drubbing in battle against the 
thin membrane separating anus from vagina. 

Black and white cocks fighting, struggling for dominance of her womanhood! 

Deep within her female psyche, a sense of utter fulfillment rushed through 
her, bringing with it pleasure. Black and white filling her body in perfect 
rhythm and harmony. From the living room the strident orchestration of the 
Tempest playing on television rose above the naked grunts and groans. She 
closed her eyes as consciousness soared above the physical, entering a 
soulful platitude she had never known existed. Blissful and serene, she felt 
her body turn to rubber as they buffeted her, dominated her and tortured 
her. 

Phil glared down at his lover's buttocks as they pillowed the meaty shaft of 
his ramming cock. He loved her and hated her at once. Black cock... let her 
have her black cock! 

Carrie bucked up and around to give them all equal share of her flesh. From 
her slender ribcage, her breasts dangled, bobbing with the rhythm of their 
undulations. The pain in her tortured anus had numbed into a warm ache as he 
pounded into her from behind. 

Scraping against each other, the three penises boxed against the thin 
membrane, punching inside her belly while the one from the front drilled 
deep into her throat as if trying to join the fight. The utter debasement, 
abuse of her flesh filled her with insane pleasure. 

"Mmmmm... yes, yes... aaaahhhgg... " came her muffled cry around the seeping 
black cock gouging her tonsils. Her body and her mouth spoke the same 
language as she bucked and thrust her naked creaminess to accommodate their 
dueling penises. Suddenly the pleasure, the satisfaction of debasement came 
together in one lurching thrust that made her stiffen as if murdered from 
the jabbing penises stabbing her. A wild, star sprinkled orgasm overcame 
her. 

"Aaannnggghhh!" came the cry from the depth of her soul. 

The three men hammered into her, yanking at her body, bruising her with 
cruel fingers. All four screamed out a throaty groan in a primitive battle 
of the sexes and race! The female soprano, white and fulfilled, rose above 
the alto groans. 

Carrie Osgood, the once virginal, shy woman, became a sex maddened 
nymphomaniac. 

Insane from the fiery need within her body and soul, she arched her sweat 
sheened back and ground her buttocks against the two penises ramming into 
her genitals while she sucked with vacuuming pressure on Sammie's virility. 
Convulsing like an epileptic, she opened every pore of her body to the three 
raping men. Behind her, Phil hammered into her anus until he was sure he'd 
split her bowel open wide. 

Christ, lean feel that black prick inside her cunt, he thought, mesmerized 
by his own power and ramming into her with an ass flattening lunge to fight 
back the younger man's banging into her cervix. 

Stokley kept up his pace, sensing that the angered boyfriend would cum soon. 
Hell, white men ain 'got no stamina. He clawed at her swollen breasts while 
banging into her cervix with the slimy tip of his black penis. Sensing his 
balls ache and throb from pints of hot, creamy sperm, the pressure built... 
and built until he clenched his teeth around Carrie's left nipple, nearly 
biting it off. She responded with a deep throated groan of masochistic 
pleasure. That set him off. The sperm gushed from his young penis, splashing 
into her womb. 

Between Phil and Sammie, Carrie tossed and twisted, knowing that Sammie had 
lost the dominance. She sucked ravenously on Sammie's penis until her lips 
were nub and bleeding at the corners. Her efforts were worth the price. With 
one wild yelp, Sammie plunged down her throat and splashed a load of salty 
semen into her gullet, and yet she sucked, gulping down the slimy strings 
while Phil threw back his head and with one final shove, spurt his vengeful 
load into the hot cringing hole of her anus. Orgasm after shattering orgasm 
shuddered through her body. Breath tore from her panting lungs, her breasts 
throbbed visibly, reddened from their mauling possession of her. Mouth, 
belly, vagina and anus filled with oozing male cum. 

Blood singing in her ears, eyes blurring of vision, she felt nothing except 
the rushing torrents of white male nectar filling her, swelling her 
passages. Her body seemed to absorb it, swallow it up, draw it into her very 
being. The warm flood spilled from her puckered anus, oozed from her ravaged 
cunt and bathed her gullet. She felt a coolness then, as the three men 
pulled their deflated penises from her with wet low sucking sounds. 

The mattress creaked as they lifted their weight off her leaving her alone, 
sobbing, goosebumped and empty. 

"Wh-what you gonna do?" stammered Stokley, standing next to the ashen faced 
white man whose gun lay on the bed an easy hand grab away. 

Phil took a moment to answer. "Don't worry... I an' stupid enough to shoot a 
nigger kid. 

Get dressed and get the hell out of here." 

He didn't have to say it twice. The boys left in a rush, leaving Phil 
Carmichael and his once lovely virginal wife-to-be embattled in the after 
stages of unreconcilable bitterness. A long, examining stare and Phil pulled 
on his clothes, his back hunched in disillusionment. 

Steady fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. 

"I loved you once, and was willing to change my life for you. You were pure 
then. Men are fools sometimes. It takes a couple of hard knocks to set our 
heads straight... you knocked me for a loop, Carrie... oh, boy, did you. Go 
back to your black boys... the black cock you love so well. I want no part 
of you." 

CHAPTER ELEVEN 

Sweat cooled on Cederick's back, the night air cloying at his sheened flesh 
with an intensity equal to the vague apprehension and dread swimming in his 
confused brain. 

Blood pounded in his chest and his nostrils flared. His ears sang but not 
from the chirp of cicadas. A strange feeling, depthless and haunting, 
shuddered through him. For the first time he realized he did not trust his 
black brothers any more than the violent murderer of Atlanta. An emptiness 
and longing for truth made him dizzy. He balled up his fists, cursing under 
his breath Sammie and Stokley for accepting so cheap a bribe from Rose. 

Two blocks away from Miss Osgood's apartment complex, he skirted the hedges 
cautiously, creeping like a jungle cat, eyes dilated and predatory leveled 
on the yellow Toyota parked haphazardly outside the stucco apartment 
building. Hunkering down, he watched a tall blond haired man throw himself 
behind the wheel and streak tire burns as he tore off to disappear around 
the corner. Only then did Cederick creep up the steps of Carrie's apartment 
building, scurrying the last five as a patrol car pulled up to the curb. 

Five trembling knuckles rose to hammer on the door when he noticed a stream 
of light under the door. Cautiously, eyes peeled on the door to the outside, 
he shouldered open Carrie's door and stepped inside. From the bedroom wafted 
low wailings of misery. 

Closing the door behind him, he neared the bedroom and peeked into see his 
high school teacher laying naked in a rumpled bed, the smell of sex heavy in 
the air, fairly steaming from the soiled white sheets haphazardly pulled 
about her white limbs as if in haste to cover her nudity. 

Carrie's tear stained face lifted from the pillow. Her eyes were swollen and 
puffy. 

"Miz Osgood?" 

Carrie emitted a long cry that accompanies the shock of revelation. A tiny 
fist flew to her mouth, frightened eyes darting deer-like over her students' 
face, sheened with sweat and concern. 

"It be all right, Miz Osgood. I know what my brothers done to ya... Rose 
tol' me..." Clumsily, he shifted his weight from left foot to right and back 
again. He scratched his curly black head, searching for the right words, the 
explanation to set right an ill situation that was not his responsibility. 
He squinted at her, studying the red welts and when his eyes fell on the 
silver barrel of the abandoned gun, his heart pounded and his thoughts 
straightened. 

"Should I call the cops... are ya hurt bad?" He swallowed down the bile of 
hatred, yet a tingle of nerve wracking tightening in his lower belly 
betrayed better, more holy intentions as his dark eyes riveted on the rich, 
swollen swells of her melonous breasts dangling temptingly from her slender 
ribcage. His mind fled back to the episode in the yellow Toyota when first 
he'd seen the spherical perfection of her body. He regretted that now, 
wishing he could erase the lusty ugliness with a more tender concern for her 
womanhood. 

"No... no, I'm okay... " Carrie swept back the damp strands of honey hair 
from her forehead with a trembling hand. "I'll be all right... " She didn't 
shiver or scream with dread when his tennis shoes made soundless imprints on 
the thick bedroom carpeting. His weight descended upon the bed and yet she 
did not cower. A warm arm slipped about her naked shoulders, pulling her 
down supine on the rumpled bed, damp with sweat and sperm. Lips, warm and 
soft, tender pressed against her clammy forehead. Dark fingers pressed into 
her flesh, drawing her close to his chest. She could hear his heart pound 
behind the tight cotton T-shirt. 

"I'm sorry they did that to ya... God, I'm sorry," he choked boyishly with 
manly concern. He was speaking for himself and half of Atlanta when he 
confessed: "I can't undo what they done... I can only say we don' all feel 
like that... we don't all hate ya." He stroked her forehead tenderly. "I 
don' want ya to leave, Miz Osgood... down deep inside ain' nobody in tha' 
class wants ya to leave Washington 'cept for Rose and that's because she be 
a ghetto bitch... " 

The unexpected tenderness made Carrie's eyes sting with tears. "I don't want 
to leave either, Cederick... " she choked. 

"Then don'... don't go... You taught us somethin' in the soc'ology class we 
ain' never heard before." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a 
tattered paperback novel and flopped "The Destruction of Violence" on the 
rumpled bed. "Too bad we ain' taught you nothin' cause you taught us hope 
and trust." 

Carrie blinked back hot, salty tears. She sniffled and wiped her nose on the 
back of her hand. Between her silken thighs the nest of her swollen vaginal 
lips throbbed needfully. 

Her hand clamped over his thickly muscled knee and she pressed her cheek to 
his chest, stretching upward to press her swollen naked breasts against the 
strength of his muscles. "You've taught me about me, Cederick, what I need 
as a woman... what I need to give and what I need to receive," she whispered 
thickly, easing him down on her bed and opening the palms of her hands to 
run up the sinewy length of his arms to squeeze the bulging mounds of his 
youthful biceps. Her lips pressed against his. She knew what she needed and 
she would take it, if only from a fourteen year-old boy. 


THE END
