Raped Young White Girl
by Fred Nathan


FOREWORD 

It happened so suddenly, that June 21st. 

Marjorie had been warned to stay away from Gill Alley. She had been told 
more than once, that it was simply not safe for a young white girl to walk 
in the ghetto without an escort. 

But the blonde nymphet was headstrong, and she very seldom followed good 
advice. It wasn't that she was fearless, for as soon as she stepped out onto 
the blazing cement of Gill Alley she felt her cunny shiver as the steam 
boiled from the cracked pavement up the hem of her short shorts. 

It was just that she was sixteen years old, blonde, pretty, and too innocent 
to believe all the sfories she heard. 

Down the dark alley, danger lurked. 

Out from the shadows, a tall, lithe, black man pounced on her like a large, 
jungle cat. This black alley cat knocked her to the ground, and pinned her 
pale-skinned body down as he breathed his hot breath into her face. 

"Open your pink mouth, white baby," the man growled. "You're gonna get a wet 
tongue down your throat." 

"I've never kissed a biack man before," Marjorie said, pleadingly. "I really 
can't do it," she cried. 

"You're gonna kiss a black man white baby, and a lot more!" he told her 
before he forced his strong tongue muscle into her mouth. 

Then he looked back at the trembling virgin. His eyes glinted with lust. 
"Open up your shorts and show me your little white pussy." he snarled. "Your 
white cunny is gonna get raped by black dick!" 

Chapter One 

Jesse Hodges was proud of himself. He had come a long way since his birth 
down in 

Georgia. 

There, he had been born not many years earlier, he would have been a slave 
boy, working for the white man on a Southern plantation, or out in the 
fields with whip marks emblazoned on his black, sweating back. 

But Jesse Hodges had come to New York when he was still a small child, and 
he had grown up in the Bronx, near Bathgate Avenue. 

Bathgate Avenue was lined with small stores which were, basically, holdovers 
from the days when this area of the South Bronx was populated by white, 
middle class people. 

Gradually, more and more, black families were moving into the area, along 
with various Spanish groups. 

The elevated line of the subway was still standing, although service on the 
line had been discontinued. The elevated structure on which the old 'El' 
train used to run was slated for demolition. 

A bus took over the route, and if a person left the subway at that point, 
149th Street, he could get a transfer and take the bus without paying an 
additional fare. 

Jesse handed his transfer to the bus driver when he came from the subway and 
climbed on board the bus. It had been a hard day, but he was glad that he 
had the opportunity to work in his school in Manhattan, and bring home 
enough money to live in the 'project' with his wife Elouise. 

The 'project' was a tall building which stood out from among the small 
brownstone tenements which comprised the bulk of housing availability in the 
area. 

The bus was crowded, and Jesse was standing. He found himself holding onto 
the strap above him, just in front of a young black girl her way back from a 
shopping spree at one of the rather tacky little stores which sold 
everything from cigarette rolling papers to phonograph records. 

She looked up from her lap, and saw Jesse hovering over her. His large prick 
was almost entirely concealed in his baggy suit slacks His white cotton 
jockey shorts held his cock close to his body, making the kinky bush warm up 
to the point of producing black man's sweat at the crotch. 

Jesse, who was darker than black coffee, with high cheekbones, a trim Afro 
and a broad nose with slightly flaring nostrils, moved further on toward the 
back of the bus. 

He felt slightly uncomfortable with that teenaged girl staring at him 
between the legs. He was afraid that he might get an erection, and he had no 
desire to incite the arousal of a teenaged black girl. 

Jesse was glad to be moving further and further away from the street life 
which encouraged such things as the rape of young girls. Among other black 
men of the neighborhood, the rape of young girls was a way for men to 
demonstrate, and prove their virility. 

Jesse didn't need to prove himself that way. He was against such behavior, 
because of the damage that could be done to the young mind of an innocent 
young girl whose first sexual experience is one of force by an older 
stranger. 

Besides, Jesse had been proving his self-worth with the job he was holding 
down in Manhattan. He had been hired despite the fact that he was still a 
few credits short to actually qualify for the position of assistant teacher 
in Public School 9. 

He was given the position on the condition that he attend evening classes to 
complete the requirements for his degree. It was a lucky break for him, 
because it allowed Jesse to work at the same time that he earned his final 
college credits. 

He felt good about that, and he felt good about Elouise, who he knew would 
be waiting for him at home. As he stood in the hot, sweaty crowd of people 
packed on the big bus, he thought about Elouise, and the sight of her 
bronzed box with its kinky black wires. 

He hoped that it would be all wet and waiting when he put the key in the 
door. 

The bus bounced along the rocky road, and when it came to 169th Street, 
Jesse pulled the cord to signal his exit, and he shouldered his way through 
the crowded mass, until he was able to get out the door and climb down into 
the sun-baked street. 

There was a lot of activity on the street for a warm day such as this, when 
the thermometer hit 86 degrees at noon. Now, at six o'clock, it was slightly 
cooler, but not much. 

Fire hydrants had been opened up by street kids who were playing in the cold 
water which flowed from them. If there were any fires in the area, the 
firemen would have an additionally difficult time putting out the names, 
because of the lowered water pressure created by the open hydrants. 

Water pressure was, in fact, so low in the area, that the toilets on upper 
floors of the 'project' were not flushing properly. 

Of course, Jesse and Elouise lived on the third floor, and therefore they 
escaped that inconvenience. They were also in the habit of walking up the 
stairs, rather than taking the elevator. 

The elevators were frequently out of order and it had become simpler to take 
the stairs than to wait for an elevator which was more than likely stuck on 
an upper floor. Once, when the outer elevator door opened, a tenant stepped 
into the elevator and fell down the shaft. That time the elevator had really 
fucked up. 

Jesse was thinking about fucking up his hot chocolated wife after his hard 
day at the job. 

There were a lot of good looking girls sucking popsicles out on the stoops 
in front of their buildings, or in the playground on benches, from which 
they watched the basketball players do their thing. 

Some of them had portable radios with them, and they popped their bubble-gum 
and frizzed their soft Afros as they watched the athletes sink those 
baskets, 

The girls were a bunch of hot little cunts, sitting there with their legs 
parted just enough to show a peek at their milk chocolate delights. On a hot 
summer day, few girls in the ghetto bothered to wear bras. Their tawny tits 
pressed forward in their blouses and halter tops, making little lumps in the 
material. 

Some of the girls smiled at Jesse as he passed, because he was their idea of 
a real man. 

He was wearing a suit, a while shirt and a tie, which impressed the girls 
who were not used to seeing the black men of their neighborhood in such 
mainstream attire. 

Jesse Hodges was moving upward. He was meeting all his payments on the 
furniture and other items that Elouise had bought recently, and he was doing 
well in his job. He was learning to speak perfect standard American English, 
and he found that this helped him when he did telephone work at his job. 

Over the telephone, people could not tell whether he was white or black, or 
even purple for that matter. And he believed that this was an asset for him. 

Wanting to bring a special little treat to Elouise on this hot summer day, 
Jesse first stopped in the corner grocery sore to pick up something for her 
sweet tooth. He was thinking about some rich chocolate ice cream, which he 
would eat out of Elouise's dark cunt. 

Or maybe he would get some cherry vanilla ice cream instead. That would cool 
her off and it would look so good melting inside her cunt, all that soft 
white cream dripping down her pussy lips with dark cherries floating in it. 

He would lap that right up. 

But the sore was buzzing with activity, it seems a local girl had been 
raped, and the neighborhood was in an uproar. 

"What's worse," the Spanish shopkeeper was saying, "is that it was a white 
girl who was raped. She told the cops that a black dude did it. If it was a 
black chick, that woulda been one thing. But a white chick, man, that could 
stir up a lot of trouble along these ways.'" 

"Hell, man." a buddy who was hanging out in the sore, drinking beer, 
exclaimed "if it was a black chick, raped by a black dude, that would be the 
last you'd hear of it. The cops are too busy in this neighborhood to take 
care of petty shit like that, man. But a white chick gets raped, and 
everybody's in an uproar. Shit. It don't make no kind of sense." 

Jesse rummaged through the ice cream freezer, but most of the ice cream was 
frozen over with a layer of ice which formed when the electricity blew out 
earlier that week. It didn't look very appetizing. 

But mainly it was all the talk about rape of young girls which stirred up 
Jesse's emotions. Back in the South, his own mother had been brutally raped. 

Jesse had been no more than four years old when the rape took place, but he 
still had a memory of his mother coming home holding her bleeding pussy and 
crying that she had been raped by a drunken white man. 

Jesse thought that he had gotten over all of that a long time ago, but the 
talk in the grocery sore stirred up all those old tapes he had about the 
incident. 

He slammed the top of the ice cream freezer closed, and walked out of the 
sore. Across the street, the liquor sore beckoned him. He stopped in to get 
some refreshment from there, instead of the grocery sore. 

The liquor sore had recently been restyled so that orders had to be made 
through a window. The window was constructed of bullet-proof glass, because 
several shooting incidents had taken place there in recent times, and sore's 
new design was primarily intended to cut down on that sort of thing. 

Jesse had been drinking some of the red French wines recommended by the 
people he worked with in the Manhattan office, but on this late afternoon, 
after hearing about the recent neighborhood rape, he fell back into old 
habits and ordered a bottle of cheap pink wine with a razzamatazz name and 
label. 

Elouise was a sophisticated young black woman, but she liked any kind of 
cheap wine. She poured it in her cunt for Jesse to sip out and it all felt 
good to her. The cheaper wines did tend to sting her cuntal membranes a bit 
more, but she kind of enjoyed the buzz it gave her, especially when she felt 
Jesse's black-sticked dick stirring it all up inside her cunt. 

When he fucked her with wine up her pussy, she got very drunk, very quickly, 
and he stirred the liquid to a foam. 

When he climbed the stairs, and turned the key, Elouise was there, with soft 
music playing, and a trail of clothes left on the floor to let Jesse know 
that she was waiting for him in the bedroom - and she was nude. 

He bent clown and picked up one of her shoes, both of which were on the 
floor beside her stockings. He picked up the little shoe and kissed the toe 
of it. His lips left a damp kiss-smudge on the soft leather. He picked up 
one of her stockings, and ran the nylon material under his nose. It was 
fragrant with the scent of his black beauty's body, especially up near the 
top of the stocking, which had been brushing up against her pussy lips as 
she walked and worked during that day. 

Her skirt and blouse were on the floor, closer to the bedroom, and then her 
bra and panties were found, just near the closed bedroom door. 

These he picked up and felt, rubbing the soft material against his face. He 
had a slight stubble after a day of working, and it very nearly tore the 
diaphanous material of Elouise's panties. 

The white material which had clung to her cuntal mound, soaking up the 
nectar which emanated from her snatch-slit, was appreciated by her loving 
husband. He enjoyed finding her clothes and underclothes on the floor when 
he arrived home. 

It made him ready for her, to feel her undergarments next to him, and to 
breathe the sweet scent of her which lingered in her garments. 

He knew that she had the door closed because the air conditioner was on in 
the bedroom. His body was hot and sweaty, after the long day and the hot bus 
ride. 

His wife's dark curves were fresh and clean, having been showered before she 
set herself up in the bedroom, lying naked on the bed, listening to romantic 
music, smoking a joint, and waiting for her horny husband to come home and 
fuck her. 

Jesse was hard, and ready to go right in the room after her, but he stopped 
off in the kitchen to place some glasses on a tray. Filling them with wine, 
he carried the tray in one hand and opened the door to the bedroom with the 
other. 

The deep chocolate sight was sweet to behold, 

Elouise was lying on her stomach, with her feet on her pillow and her head 
up at the far end of the bed. She was leaning on her hands and sitting up 
just enough so that her full breasts were revealed to the nipples. 

The nipples were dark and firm, and pointing out at Jesse in an invitation 
to tweak them, and suck them. 

She arched her full ass cheeks higher when she saw her black husband enter 
the room 

"Well, well," she cooed, in that Southern drawl of hers. "My man has done 
come home to his hot mama," she smiled, deliberately speaking in that black 
dialect of hers; a form of speech she didn't use in the "outside world'. She 
had learned to switch back and forth, using the accent which was most 
appropriate in each given situation. 

With her hot husband coming home from work and bringing his naked wife some 
wine, Elouise poured on the sweet honeyed tones and speech patterns. 

"Come over here, honey," Elouise told her man. "I want to take a good look 
at your big black dick." 

The light was shining in through the window, casting light across her raised 
assglobes. The tawny-colored buns were smooth and inviting in the light. 

"So, you want to get a look at what you're gonna eat, huh?" Jesse asked. 

"That's right, black Tarzan. I'm gonna swing from your fat vine, and I want 
to see how strong it is, first." 

"It's pretty damn strong, as you well know," Jesse grinned, his white smile 
in sharp contrast with his skin which was at least twice as dark as his 
wife's. 

Her skin matched his darkness only around the pussy, which was noticeably 
several shades darker than the rest of her deep honey-colored body. 

Elouise had what she called 'good' hair. It wasn't particularly kinky. It 
was soft, and wavy, and she wore it in an upsweep for work, but wore it long 
and loose to please Jesse. 

The ebony strands were curled down her smooth shoulders. They were so long; 
they caressed the top of her dimpled ass globes. 

Elouise ran her pink tongue over her lips, glossing them up as she pouted, 
and again asked Jesse to take out his prick so that she could begin to get 
into his ebony manhood. 

Jesse placed the drinks down on the night table, and strode over to his 
ardent-snatched wife. Her ass cheeks rose some more as he approached her, 
and she undulated her hot cunt into the sheets. 

Jesse removed his suit jacket, and placed it neatly on the back of a chair. 
He kicked off his shoes, and stood there in his black nylon socks, wiggling 
his sweaty toes into the thick pile of the bright fire-engine red carpet 
which stretched wall to wall in the bedroom, out into the living room. 

He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and loosened his tie. Then he 
unzipped his fly. The sound of the metal latch sliding down over the little 
metal teeth of the zipper, excited Elouise's tit nipples to firmness. 

Jesse didn't unleash his monstrous mauler; he left it in his underpants. !t 
was for Elouise to show his cock the attention it deserved by removing it 
with her deft fingers, or her tongue! 

Jesse used his fingers to squeeze his wife's hardened nipples. He kneaded 
the breast flesh hard enough to give his black beauty a feel of his power. 
It penetrated her big nipples, and coursed through her smooth dark body. 

"You gonna be my hot chocolate and drink up all my white cream." the black 
man asked in a rasping voice. 

"Oh, yes, baby. You know it!" Elouise moaned with desire. 

"Good. Then whip my dick out and start sucking." 

Elouise reached inside the open zipper and made her way into the cotton 
underpants. They were damp with sweat, and her slender fingers became wet 
from his manly sweat. 

She was pleasantly assaulted with a cloud of scent as she withdrew his 
firming prick from its encasement. 

The large black prong resembled a deep purple eggplant in its thick shape. 
The head of it was very blunt, with dark skin endowed with delicate creases, 
not unlike a black mushroom. 

"Oh, baby," Elouise moaned. "What a lucky cunt I am." 

She stared at the head of the fat black prick. A kinky wire of pubic hair 
was stuck to the head. The piss slit, like a slot for depositing dimes, was 
damp with a bead of clear pre-cum. 

Elouise extended her- warm wet tongue muscle. She pointed the tip of it, and 
it looked very pink next to the deep chocolate-colored cock head. 

The tip of the tongue touched the drop of jism, and turned it into a clear 
string by pulling it out of the piss stir and sucking it all in before the 
string broke in the air between the dick head and her mouth. 

Then she returned her pink tongue to the dark brown cock head, and flicked 
it back and forth around the abundant surface until the entire head was 
slicked with wetness. 

She ran her tongue under and around the flared ridge of prick head, and when 
she had Jesse groaning, she followed the veins running along the thick shaft 
of his black boner, with her wet tongue muscle, of course. 

The veiny path led to Jesse's hefty ball sac, which was dark and wrinkled, 
and surrounded with jet black wires of kinky pubic bush. 

Drops of sweat rested on top of the wire patch, and the swirling tongue of 
Elouise licked them all up. 

All the while that she worked his cock with her tongue, Elouise received 
stimulation to her tawny-tipped nipples. Jesse had his head thrown back, his 
eyes closed, and he was moaning and groaning. But he held onto Elouise by 
those magnificent nipples. 

She let her head rub up and down his inner thighs; she rotated her head in 
circles, making love to his heavy nut sack with she soft strands of her 
hair. 

The friction was exciting him. He rubbed his prick into her black hair, 
feeling the sensation of her hair rubbing against his eager prick. The piss 
slit opened up into a round hole, from which more pre-cum emanated, coating 
the soft hair with slickness. 

She sat up a bit, and took his prick in her hands. She directed it to the 
soft area between her large breasts, and rubbed the thing up and down her 
cleavage. Again it oozed wetness which slicked her bronze flesh. 

He squeezed his muscles, which made the pulsing rod grow even bigger as it 
nuzzled her cleavage, stroking the rounded, breasts with its flared head. 

Elouise was moaning softly. 

"Don't cum, baby," Jesse told her, knowing that she frequently became so hot 
for him; she started multiple orgasm before he even entered her. 

This time he wanted her to hold off, and build up to even more intense 
climax. 

"Turn over, black beauty," he told her. "Turn over and drop your head over 
the side of the bed." 

Elouise felt all warm inside. Her pussy was tingling with sex heat; she 
followed the order of her man, and turned her bronze body over so that her 
tawny twat was fully exposed. Her full breasts were soft and fleshy. Despite 
their largeness, they didn't sag to the sides of her chest when she changed 
her position on the bed. 

She leaned her head over the end of the bed as directed. Her long hair fell 
over the side of the bed as she arched her head back as far as possible. She 
knew what her hot husband wanted. 

He wanted her to suck his cock. 

In this position, with her body face up and her head leaned over the end of 
the bed, she would be able to take all of his prick down her deep throat. 
His prong was curved in such a way, that it would slide all the way down the 
curve of her throat when she sucked him in this position. 

He was brandishing his dark meat, pulling back and forth on it, which 
produced even more semen flow. 

Elouise opened her mouth real wide. She waited for her man to slide his dick 
in and start banging. 

Again he was able to use her tits as love handles. He held onto the breasts 
of his luscious dark wife, and directed his prick into her warm oral cavity. 

The back of her throat was like a deep pussy. In this position, Jesse could 
buck his strong hips forward and back, using her deep throat as a battering 
ramp. 

She swallowed his cock all the way down. When he pressed it deeply into her, 
and held it there, she felt for a moment that she could not breathe, but the 
shaft felt so good filling her like that, and she was able to keep the stick 
in her for a long period of time. 

Then, finally, she did feel that she would choke, and sensing this, Jesse 
removed the dong from her. He helped raise her head so that all the blood 
which had rushed down into her head would start to circulate again. 

Elouise had to giggle. The sensation had been so phenomenal, that her only 
reaction was to break up in laughter. 

"Oh, baby," Elouise said when she was finally able to contain her giggles. 
"I think I need a rest. That big dick of yours is too much!" 

"It's not too much for you to handle, sweetcakes." Jesse told her, grinning 
savagely. This refined black Afro-American could become a real fuck-nigger 
when he chose to. "That's why I'm with you, baby," he told her. "That's one 
of the reasons, anyway. You've got a big oven. I've got a piece of meat to 
stick in there. I want you to cook it up until the gravy runs down your 
legs." 

Elouise was writhing. She changed positions again, this time sitting back in 
bed. She took a hearty swig of her wine, and kissed her man with her sweet 
wine lips. Then she focused her attention on her other lips; her thick, 
dark, cuntal lips. The lips of her quivering black snatch. 

"Give me a good nigger fuck, baby," she rasped. "Fuck me the way a hot 
nigger screws his chocolate nigger honey," 

Jesse was hardly a typical 'nigger.' He was an educated black man with a lot 
going for him. But Elouise wanted to make sure that her man didn't become 
too much like whitey. She liked the basic animal drive that her black man 
could throw into her. That basic black drive, she wanted him to maintain. 

Her fingers stretched the supple pussy flesh which served as the entrance to 
her wet hole. The inside was like pink coral, all damp and shiny. 

"Bring your licorice stick up here to your sweet black beauty," Elouise 
rasped. "I'm ready for you, Black Bart. Plug this pussy and ride me till the 
bedsprings groan under the weight of your pummelling pecker." 

"You asked for it," he told his young wife. "Don't cry after I stick this 
motherfucker in!" 

Jesse dipped the blunt head of his fuck-stick into the cuntal pudding of his 
hot wife, just enough to get it slick with her cuntal fluids. Then he pulled 
the bone out of her with a popping noise, and rubbed the velvet-smooth head 
around her sensitive pussy lips, stimulating her into a frenzy. 

The feel of his hot stick against her wet lips made those snatch lips start 
to snap. She wanted to clamp her cunt around his hot prick. She wanted her 
warm walls to hug his fat pole, as she felt the base of his cock frictioning 
her clit as the head of it plugged her deepest cuntal core. 

She spread her dark legs and arched her pussy, affording him better 
entrance. He grinned, and having soaked her cunt lips with her own pussy 
juices, he rammed his prick through the wet lips and into her soft center. 

As he watched his black stick slice in and out of her dark cunt, he thought 
about the young white girl who had been raped in the neighborhood. 

He imagined that the pussy lips of the young girl were less hairy than the 
dark-haired twat region of his Elouise. 

He imagined the color of the little pussy mounds of the young white girl who 
had been forced into sex by some overpowering nigger cock. He imagined the 
tight hole expanding for the dark prober which must have ripped her little 
snatch apart. 

He thought about the banality that black rapist had used, taking the cherry 
of a white girl in the dark alley of a ghetto street. 

He hated violence, and the idea of the rape upset him terribly. It had been 
enough to chase him frum the grocery store. It was enough to enter his mind 
even as he fucked his wife. 

He tried to shake it from his thoughts, but the more he told himself that he 
wanted to forget it, the more the thought of rape entered his head once 
again. 

He slammed his wife's cunny with strong, long strokes. He was going for her 
deepest parts, filling her hole with stiff black cock. 

She was begging him to give it to her, and give it to her hard. He fulfilled 
her wish, and plowed her relentlessly. 

But all the time that he plugged the dark pussy of his gorgeous wife, he 
thought about the tender white cunny which had been ripped apart by nigger 
cock. 

He thought about the violence of attacking an innocent young girl, and 
making her take the big dick whether she wanted it or not. A girl like that 
could fight all she wanted, but the strong man would have his way with her. 

Thinking these things, Jesse climbed toward orgasm. He gritted his teeth, 
held onto the tits of Elouise, and shot a steaming load of white spunk from 
his big black cock. 

The thick jism splattered into his wife's deep channel, triggering her own 
spasms of sexual abandon. 

As Elouise convulsed, and the cunt cream spewed over her man's still-driving 
pecker, she screamed out like a hot bitch in heat. 

Chapter Two

"Bang that black dick home. Fuck your black-cunted wife until all that fresh 
cunt cream spews out!" she yelled. 

Her black Tarzan was grunting like an animal. He pushed his rod all the way 
in, and used his cock to give her what she begged for. 

The bed springs were creaking in time to his fuck strokes. He banged her 
with his stiff dick even after he'd shot his wad. 

Her cunt was still creaming, and her orgasms came in multiples. She 
appreciated the continued stimulation to her ever-eager slit. 

She bit his ear, getting the ear lobe between her sharp and pearly teeth. 
She used a light grinding movement to nip him into new passion. 

Elouise wrapped her legs around her man's waist, and pulled him into her 
even more with the muscle action of her thighs which drew his pelvis into 
her from the pressure on his black buttocks. 

"Screw me! Fuck me! Rape me!" she cried out. 

Jesse stopped his fucking. 

He was breathing hard, his body pressing into hers. 

"What's the matter tiger?" She whispered in his ear. "Why'd you stop 
plunging that ramrod into my hot twattie?" 

At first Jesse didn't answer her. He just let his head sink into the pillow 
behind Elouise's head. Sweat dripped in rivulets off Jesse's forehead. The 
air conditioner was working fine, but it wasn't enough to cool Jesse down 
when the word 'rape' was mentioned. 

Elouise ran her long fingers through the black curls on her husband's head. 
Again she asked him to tell her what was bothering him. 

"You were fucking me like a monster. It was great. Did I do something wrong, 
baby? Did your sweet sugar do something wrong for your dick?" 

He couldn't let her think that she had done anything wrong for his dick when 
in fact she had only massaged it to hot, hard erection, and milked the thick 
scum straight up from his balls. 

"No, it's just that you mentioned rape. You said that you wanted me to rape 
you," he explained. 

Elouise started to laugh. "I only meant that I wanted a hard, ripping fuck. 
I wanted to play rape, but you certainly didn't have to force me into it 
against my will. I wanted your prick as much as you wanted to give it to 
me," she told Jesse. 

"Yea, but it turned me off. I don't think that it's anything to joke about," 
he replied. 

Elouise was taken aback. The harsh tone, which Jesse very rarely used on 
her, insulted her. She was sensitive, and she had only wanted to arouse his 
passion, not his anger. Also, Jesse had never told her that his mother had 
been raped by a white man back in Georgia. If she had known, she might not 
have been so bold. 

As it was, however, she insisted on defending herself. "I don't know why 
you're so fucking sensitive about rape. Are you a fucking rapist?" she asked 
him. 

That way too much for Jesse to take. He pulled his softening cock out of her 
cunt in one yank. It was a forceful yank, and it left her twat gurgling, 
having nearly been pulled inside-out. 

The imagined image of this young white girl being raped by a black dick 
bothered him. It bothered him enough to take leave of his beautiful wife, 
even as she lay there on her back with her gaping pussy dripping nectar. 

He was hot under the collar. He had an air conditioned room, and an 
open-pussied wife, but he had to leave the coolness and her sex heat. He had 
to get away, if even for an hour or so. 

"Where are you going?" she asked him, pulling a sheer robe around her naked 
torso. 

"I'm going out for something to eat," he told her, 

"There's plenty to eat here. It's too hot to run the oven, but I was going 
to make some cold salads. And there's cold beer in the refrigerator," she 
said, coaxing Jesse to stay. 

But he was having none of it. "I said I'm leaving. I'll be back later. Now, 
I just want to eat out." 

Elouise's hot nature was enflamed. She bent over and stuck her naked behind 
out at Jesse. 

"If you like to eat out so much, why don't you eat out this shit chute!'' 
she demanded. 

"Fuck you!" he said, and he slammed the front door on his way out. 

Tempers were always flaring in the ghetto during the hot summer. People were 
more on edge than ever. Tempers exploded, and violence ruled the streets. 

Jesse didn't want to fight with his wife. He didn't want to be like the 
'fighting niggers' he was subjected to in the 'project'. Too many nights he 
had been kept awake by the arguing of people whom he considered to be less 
sophisticated than himself. 

He felt that he was moving upward in the world, leaving behind the 
characteristics which he found so unbecoming; the characteristics of his own 
oppressed people, whose values were influenced by a rough environment. 

Even as he walked atong, he observed street fighting, and open drug use. He 
felt sorry for the kids who knew no other way of life than that which 
nourished around him in the ghetto. 

He wished that these misguided kids could buckle down, the way he had. He 
wished that they too would have the chance to study, and progress. He even 
thought about himself, and fantasized about the day that he and Elouise 
could move out of the Bronx, and into another area of the city where there 
would be less violence and less hardship around him. 

He wanted to live among white people, as well as black. He believed m 
intergration of the races. 

In his part of town, white people made up less than twenty per cent of the 
population. Whites were in the minority in this part of the South Bronx. 

That was perhaps why the long white legs of Virginia Stephens attracted his 
eye. He saw her even from a distance, with her long blonde hair blowing down 
her back, swaying from side to side as she walked, with a wiggle, down the 
street ahead of him. 

Jessie didn't want to be called an Uncle Tom, or a honkey lover, but he 
couldn't help looking this white chick over. He compared her long blonde 
hair with the long black hair of his loving Elouise. 

Elouise prided herself on her soft locks, but her hair was soft, for a black 
person's. Jesse wondered how much silkier and finer Virginia's hair would 
feel if he caressed it with his black fingers, and wrapped it around his 
black cock. 

He wondered about the feel of white flesh under his black body. 

He had always been afraid to make it with a white chick. He was afraid that 
if he asked a white girl to make it with him, he might be refused, and for 
some reason, he didn't want to risk that. 

He did have some hang-ups about color which had been brought about by his 
background. 

Back in Georgia when he was a child, he remembered seeing two water 
fountains in a public place. One of the water fountains was labeled 
'colored' for the black folks who were not permitted to drink from the white 
man's water fountain. 

Jesse expected to see green and purple sparkling water spraying from the 
fountain marked 'colored.' But of course, he never did. 

He tried to get rape, Virginia Stephens, and white-black sex out of his 
mind. 

But he just couldn't! For some years three of those things kept sticking in 
his brain like little pins. The pressure on his head was terrible. 

Why was he plagued by these thoughts? He simply did not know. 

A number of the street girls were outside on the street. On a hot evening 
like this one in June, they tended to stay out longer in the evenings, 
rather than returning to their hot apartments. 

It stayed light longer at this time of year, and that was a perfect excuse 
for the pretty, black teenagers to stay out on the streets showing their 
wares. 

Cherie was a big girl, a buxom girl with a round face and skin as smooth as 
the top skin on chocolate pudding. Her cheekbones were high, and this made 
her kewpie doll lips seem to smile always. 

Her nose was petite, and she curled her eyelashes, uppers and lowers. She 
used some rouge on her tan skin. She wore barrettes in her hair, and this 
evening she was wearing blue barrettes in the shape of little birds. 

Her own shape was top-heavy, with large melons for breasts. She curved down 
to a rather slender waist, and then flared out again with a set of hips 
which knocked guys off the dance ltoor when she wriggled her stuff. 

Cherie was standing with Wilma, who was Negroid of feature, but who had 
olive- colored eyes and fair skin. Her hair was soft and curled like cotton 
candy. It was brown in color, rather than Hie dark black which was Cherie's 
birthright. 

Wilma's figure earned a lot of whistles, too. She was rather mature for a 
girl of fifteen, and she knew it. She was dating a twenty-three-year-old 
guy, and she won the admiration of many of her peers for that. Some of them 
were jealous of her, of course, but Wilma was as mature of mind as she was 
of body. 

She didn't try to antagonize her friends with her good fortunes. 

Cherie and Wilma were standing on the corner in abbreviated attire, due to 
the warm summer weather. Cherie was the first to spot Jesse walking down the 
street. 

"Take a look at that hunk of man, Wilma." she whispered as Jesse walked by. 
"He's a real big stud. I wouldn't mind getting long-dicked by him. 

Wilma made a face which rucked of disgust for her girlfriend's crudeness. 
"Well, I already have a boyfriend, so I'm not looking for another one." she 
answered. 

"Well, I'm still open for business." Cherie breathed. "And that guy isn't 
dressed like your typical punk from this crummy lowdown neighborhood." 

"There are plenty of decent men from good families in this neighborhood," 
Wilma retorted. "Not everybody in this area is a drop-out, a pusher or a 
pinip." 

"Well, my Mamma told me that I couldn't bring home any boys who wore 
sneakers. She said she wouldn't alow them in her house. My field is pretty 
narrow in this area," Cherie groaned. 

Sure enough, most of the boys in this area of the Bronx wore sneakers. Many 
couldn't afford anything more. 

They had their special high-heeled boots and dress shoes, but sneakers would 
have to do for everyday wear. 

That was only one reason that young Cherie found Jesse such a hot catch. 

"I wonder if he's married." she said. "I've seen him before, bui I've never 
seen him with a woman." 

"Just took at the way his eyes are trailing that white chick." Wilma 
commented. "Maybe he's married, but his eyes are single. "I'll tell you 
that, honey." 

"If he likes white chicks, I don't know if I have much of a chance."' Cherie 
sighed. Then she struck an outrageous pose with her hands on her hips and 
her big bust jutted forward. 

"Do ya think I can pass for white, honey-chile?" she said mockingly, and 
both girls broke into laughter. 

His attention was directed toward the pretty, white teenager who was 
swishing her behind some yards away. It is a scientific fact that white 
girls are built differently in the rear than black girls. There is an actual 
structural difference. 

It was only natural that a man like Jesse was attracted to the lovely 
difference, considering the way it looked on sweet Virginia. 

It made him want to take his hands and grab onto her buttocks. Her long 
blonde hair hung all the way down to the crack of her ass. 

He believed that a pale-skinned girl like Virginia would want to feel the 
full power of a huge Negroid mantool. He believed that all white girls 
secretly desired that. 

And yet he felt terrible about the recent rape of a white girl, by a black 
man, in the neighborhood. It disturbed him, and it frighlened him. It 
frightened him because for some unexplainable reason, he thought that he 
would be accused of the crime! 

He had come so far in his progress. He had shunned a history as a Georgian 
slave. He had not reached the better life out of the ghetto, but he had at 
least gotten himself to New York where he was doing well, climbing the 
ladder into the mainstream of American life. 

He didn't want his future to be blotted by some unfortunate incident of the 
ghetto. Girls were sexually abused all the time in the burned-out buildings, 
waiting for their chance to leap out from the darkness and pull their 
victims in with them. 

If the police were contacted at all, they did little more than file papers 
regarding these rapes. 

Young girls had even been raped by their own fathers in this area of town, 
and if they were black, little ever came of it. 

Only when an overly concerned, patient and zealous person took special 
interest in these cases did anything ever happen with these cases, and even 
then, it was the exception, rather than the rule, that a case of rape was 
solved to the satisfaction of the unfortunate victims. 

When the victims were young white girls, things were different. The idea 
that a white girl, got it from a black man made journalists' juices flow. 
Black man rapes white girl - that was news. 

Jesse could feel the tension in the air. Black girls were out on the 
streets, but very few white girls ventured out. Perhaps the front page news 
headlines scared them. The photograph of the shaken girl with blood on her 
pussy did not encourage them either. 

If anything, the photograph served only to frighten people, and to incite 
the lust of potential rapists. 

Jesse thought he was going mad. Could he have fallen prey to sensational 
journalism and whispered voices of others who had been shocked by the 
crimes. 

Could all of this have aroused his own secret passions; his own secret 
desires? Could the very thing that he would never admit to anyone, not even 
himself, be that he craved the experience of raping white girls? 

No, that was too much for him to handle. He blocked all of that out of his 
mind, although it soon plagued him again, like dark clouds on a sunny 
afternoon at the beach. 

He blocked all that out, and yet he continued to follow Virginia, and he 
continued to feel his heart beat like jungle drums. His neck was wet with 
sweat, which dripped down his bronzed back. It dripped in rivulets between 
his muscles, and over them, before soaking into the cotton at the top of his 
underpants. 

Beads of perspiration were breaking out on his forehead, and he assumed that 
it was the warm weather which was responsible for his wetness. But when he 
felt the wetness at the head of his throbbing boner, he knew that the 
temperature didn't have everything to do with it. 

Other factors were involved; other truths that he did not want to look at. 

All he knew was that he felt compelled to pursue this girl; despite the fact 
that he felt he was doing the wrong thing, 

He believed that he was headed for a bad fall; that he was doing something 
that he might regret later. For the moment, he felt he had no other choice. 
He was obsessed with desire for this young white girl. She possessed him 
with no more than a wiggle of her ass and a flick of her long blonde hair. 

At the same time, he felt terribly fearful. He was a decent man who had come 
as far as he had by hard work and clean living. It was actually his personal 
philosophy to live a clean life. He believed that if a man did just that, 
somebody else would come along to lend a helping hand and do the rest. 

The philosophy had served him well, up until now. All of it crumbled. 
Virginia Stephens was all that mattered now. 

His trembling throbber, his fat black cock, was leading him after the girl. 
He found himself noticing that fewer and fewer people were out on the 
streets as he followed Virginia further on her way. 

He felt as if he were planning an action. The street was so quiet, he felt 
that if he wanted to, he could have jumped on the blonde girl and attacked 
her, sexually or otherwise. He knew that he would never do such a thing, but 
the thought did enter his mind. 

He found himself wondering if a girl like Virginia wanted to be raped. True, 
it sounds a bit absurd that a young teenaged virgin would actually want to 
have her cherry snatched from her by a raping black stranger on a city 
street. 

It would be heartless and quick, and it would hurt terribly to be taken like 
that. Jesse knew that teenaged girls, especially white ones, valued their 
virginity. They did not want to give it away casually, especially to a 
stranger. 

But what if they were forced? 

What if they had no choice? If a strong, fully-developed black man decided 
to rape an innocent young white girl, well, she would get fucked by black 
cock whether she wanted to or not. 

Jesse thought that Virginia was taking quite a chance, walking alone in the 
mostly-black neighborhood after it was announced that a mad rapist was on 
the loose, and on the lookout for white pussy meat. 

He thought that at some level, her subconscious mind must have wanted to be 
taken sexually against her will by a powerful black rapist! 

Somewhere in the distance, a heavy beat pounded from a transistor radio into 
the airwaves. With every drum beat, Jesse heard the word "Rape" blaring in 
his head. The veins were pulsing in his head. His cock was throbbing, too. 

What was coming over him? 

The music was somewhere in the distance. Nobody else seemed to be around. He 
could hear Virginia's footsteps clicking down the street. She was wearing 
wood-heeled shoes without backs, and they clicked a pattern of noise down 
the street which echoed through the empty, burned-out houses which lined the 
streets. 

Apparently she had chosen to walk to wherever it was she was going, rather 
than wait for the crowded bus which didn't run exactly where she was headed, 
anyway. She had freshened up with a dab of perfume on each naked nipple, and 
an extra dab around her little virgin cunny. 

She was on her way to visit her white boyfriend, Michael Gamby, who lived 
beyond the rubble, on the 'other side of the tracks.' 

Virginia was not one to read the newspapers, or even look at the headlines. 
She found the news of the world rather depressing, and she chose to be 
ignorant of current events, rather than assume the worries of the rest of 
the people who follwed the world's disasters and weeped. 

She was not aware that a young white had been found brutally raped along the 
very streets she now walked. She was not aware that the girl's virgin pussy 
had been ripped apart. 

Virginia did, however, notice that a pair of footsteps followed behind her, 
and even when she turned down a block leading in a new direction, the 
footsteps followed close behind. 

She told herself that she was being foolish to worry. She was not the 
skittish type, and nothing had ever happened to her when walking alone 
before. 

Her friends had often warned her not to walk the streets without an escort, 
but she figured that she liked all the people of the neighborhood, white and 
black and all those in-between. She figured that they would pick up her good 
vibrations, and leave her alone. 

But this time, perhaps she had pressed her luck a bit too far. 

This time, as she sashayed her cute buns down the streets, stepping around 
cracked and torn up pavement, and hearing footsteps trailing close behind 
her, sexual lightning was about to strike! 

Without warning, Virginia was jumped! 

She was knocked to the ground with a harsh thud. Even her firmly padded ass 
did not cushion her from the knocking blow. 

Her little-girl outfit was savagely ripped from her body, exposing her 
young-girl titties. The backs of her legs were pressed with the material of 
her shorts as they were torn from her body to reveal her naked pussy. 

Virginia was about to be raped! But Jesse was not her attacker! 

Virginia was about to be raped by a gang of ruthless thugs. A whole gang of 
lust-hungry black punks! 

The delicate little white girl was going to be gang-raped by a bunch of 
black hoods! 

She screamed and used her teeth to bite into the hand that quickly went 
around her mouth to shut her up. She dug in deeply, drawing blood. 

She quickly brought her knee up, and rammed one of the hoods right in the 
nuts, causing him to double-up with pain. 

"You fucking little white bitch." the guy snarled when he caught his breath. 
"I'm gonna fuck you up but good!" 

They were all going to fuck the shit out of her, one after the other. Her 
tightly stretched membrane of virginity would be ravaged, and her tight 
little pussy would become their gaping play-hole. 

She could feel the hot breath of one of the black youths upon her as he 
pressed his body into hers. She couldn't claw at his face, because two of 
the black guy's buddies had her pinned by the wrists. Instead, she spit in 
his face. 

"Yeah, bitch," the dude drawled as the saliva dripped down from his 
splattered face."I like a little cunt with spunk. It turns me on when you 
fight back like that, because it gives me a reason to fuck you all the 
harder." 

Struggling was useless. Virginia broke down. 

"Please, please leave me alone," she pleaded. "I'll give you my money, but 
please don't do anything to me. I've still got my cherry." 

She thought that her begging would spare her of their rods, but it only made 
them hoot and laugh uproariously in her frightened face. They were spurred 
on by her acknowledgement that she was a virgin. They looked for that in 
their rape victims. 

They would not leave her a virgin. 

"We'll take your money, anyway, bitch," one of the studs told her. "You'll 
be paying us like a white woman pays a team of black men to fuck her and 
fuck her until she can't take anymore." 

He wasn't joking. They would fuck her until she couldn't possibly take 
another stroke. 

Jesse was horrified. When he saw the gang jump out and knock the girl to the 
ground, he wanted to run to her aid. It was the natural thing to do; Jesse 
being a fair-minded citizen and community member. 

But he told himself that he would only get hurt if he tried to interfere 
with this tough street gang. They were, no doubt, armed with weapons, and he 
was not. 

He quickly hid behind an empty, gutted brownstone building. He was able to 
see through a hole in the brick wall where several bricks had been removed. 

His heart was really racing and his dick was throbbing. The throb-knob was 
juicing profusely. 

He saw the hot-fleshed love slit of the physically restrained white girl. He 
knew that the love slit would not be treated gently. 

It was going to get a half dozen oversized dicks rammed into it! 

He wanted to run, and call the cops, but he couldn't move. He felt frozen to 
the spot. Something fascinated him about the scene. He didn't want to stop 
it! 

He felt guilty, of course, but he thought of himself before thinking about 
the girl's well-being. He wanted to watch these dudes do what he had dreamed 
about doing. 

He wanted to see them rape her. 

He almost thought that he had in some bizarre way created the whole thing, 
since he had been thinking about it, and now it was happening. 

But then he allowed that she brought it on herself. He even went so far as 
to reason that if she teased black guys with her flirting little white 
behind and teenaged tits and cunny, then she deserved to get what she was 
obviously going to get in spades! 

"I'm gonna look right into your little girl face as I fuck the sass out of 
you, you hot-pussied little slut," a big black dude warned Virginia as the 
head of his dangerous dork pushed at the sticky little pussy lips. 

Those vaginal folds were like the soft petals of a rose. But like a rose in 
hot evening, the petals were going to open all the way up. They would not 
open gently. 

Her soft, sweet, delicate petals, without the thorns of a rose for 
protection, were going to be pulled apart with the force of a spit-slicked 
nigger dick. 

The goo from his dripping piss slit coated the almost hairless girl-lips. 
What hair there was, in the pubic area was silky and golden in color. 

The head of the cock pressed about an inch into her opening. Already her 
face showed the anguish she was experiencing from this humiliating 
violation. 

'"Please, I'll do anything," she cried. 

"How do you like that, boys?" the guy who was about to fuck her grinned. 
''She says she'll do anything." 

"Anything." she repeated. "Anything you want." 

There was a new strength in her voice. She thought that this sub-human 
monster might have enough human decency to be moved by something. She hoped, 
prayed, that this would do it. 

But they were only playing with her; taunting and teasing her so that the 
ultimate fucking would be all the more debasing for her; all the more 
intense with the hatred they flailed into her. It would gush in spurts. 

'"So you'll do anything, huh?" he repeated. His teeth were sharp. "The white 
girl will do anything. Shit, bitch, all we're askin' is to fuck you. But we 
ain't really askin', see. We're gonna take what we want!" 

His eyebrows were raised; his nostrils were flaring like a bull's. His 
greased Afro was glistening, especially along the hairline which was dotted 
with sweat. 

His teeth gritted in a flash of white against his black skin, as his large, 
veiny, purplish-brown penis plunged through the pussy lips, and broke 
through Virginia's maidenhead. . 

It was easier than snapping through cellophane for the violent fucker. 

For Virginia, the tears flowed with the blood. 

She tried to buck her cunt away from the fucker, but he had her pinned with 
dick and his buddies had her spread-eagled on the ground. When she moved to 
one side or the other, the fucker's rod hit into the wall of her cunt. 

That was more painful than when he rammed straight downward. 

When she tried to force her body upwards, she allowed her fucker to sink his 
monstrous mauler in to the balls, because she was raising her pelvis toward 
him. 

Struggling was only making her suffer more. She heaved a sigh of submission, 
and opened up to take the abuse. 

She had to moan and whimper, but she didn't dare scream. She knew that if 
she defied these plundering savages, she would only get hurt even more. 
Perhaps if she just took it, they would at least spare her life. 

From behind the building, Jesse watched and breathed heavily. He had his 
curved spear out, and he was sliding his hand back and forth, milking it 
along with the fuck strokes of the first fucker in Virginia's soft pussy. 

His own hand was sweaty, and hot from the warm night, but it wasn't nearly 
as wet or as warm as the tender twat which was being stretched and 
plundered. 

The savage rapists hooted and cheered when the virgin blood flowed from the 
girl's young pussy. They shouted vile things at her as the first fucker 
banged his hammer to orgasm. 

Virginia writhed and screamed softly when the first fucker dumped his heavy 
load of fuck-juice into her. He had been building up the scum-foam in 
anticipation of this rape. 

Rape! It intoxicated him with lust. It excited him a hundred times more than 
having a willing sex partner. 

This dude, and his fuck-buddies, liked to take what they wanted. They were 
out for hot thrills, and they had done plenty of filthy stuff in their young 
lives. 

After so-called normal sex, they went on and on to heavier things. Some of 
the guys in the group began beating up their girlfriends; knocking them 
around or putting them in bondage, and making love to them when they were 
hog-tied. 

If you could call what they did "making love", of course. 

Love was not the emotion; anger and hostility were flaming. They were 
flaming from their dicks and from their nasty mouths and from their fists as 
they batted the tits of their black girlfriends. 

But after a while, that wasn't enough. They'd done that, and they needed a 
new thrill; a new high. 

They started raping chicks. 

The first rape took place near a burning building. They grabbed a passing 
black woman. and started to fuck her while a buddy lit the building up with 
matches and gasoline-soaked rags. 

That was a thrill for these hot fuckers who wanted to really have a blazing 
hot fuck session that night. They not only put themselves and their rape 
victim in danger of fire, they added to the chance that they would get 
caught. With a blazing fire going on, anyone might have rushed to the site. 

The idea was for the rapists to gush the scum from their hoses before the 
firemen came along with theirs. 

The fuck-gang managed to set fire to her cunt with the hot spunk from their 
dicks. Three of the six black studs got to fuck her before the sirens 
started howling. 

When they heard the police care and fire engines approaching, they ran away, 
leaving her in the building. The guy who was in her at the time the sirens 
grew near, wanted to fuck her a few more strokes. That was all he thought he 
needed to send his jism splattering up her tortured, raped twat. 

But the sound of the sirens fucked up his head and his prick. Angry about 
that, he pulled his fat eleven incher out of her in a forceful stroke which 
left her poor pussy in pulsating pain. 

When she was discovered, she pretended that she had fallen from smoke 
inhalation. She was too ashamed to report the details of this crime to the 
police! 

She didn't think she could face examination of her ravaged private area, or 
court proceedings related to the rape. 

The thrill-happy fuckers got away Scott-free, that time. They jerked off in 
a circle, talking about that rape-session, and planning bigger and better 
sex games. 

They were looking for something that was even more kinky and freaky than 
their previous caper. They really wanted to be depraved. To do those wicked 
things that men like Jesse Hodges dreamed about, but stopped short of doing 
because he had been raised in civilization. 

The gang's new thrill was still in the same field. They were still raping 
innocent young cunts, but now the black-dicked fuckers raped only white 
cunt!

 Chapter Three

They fucked Virginia three at a time! 

To make sure that all six black motherfuckers got their dicks wet inside 
their rape victim before any brave souls ventured to break up the rape 
party, after their leader slammed his wad into her aching cunny, three of 
the soul brothers took over Virginia's white curves at once. 

They stood her up, and positioned themselves so that two of them were at the 
front of her, and a third guy stood behind her. 

Her asshole, that tight virgin asshole, was slicked up with a black man's 
spit. He fingered her rear hole roughly, spreading the plump, white cheeks 
apart before sticking his prong through her back door portal. 

Her pussy had been stretched so wide by the eleven-inched pecker of the 
fuck-leader, that two pricks could fit in her pussy at once. 

It was a tight and painful squeeze for fifteen-year-old Virginia. These were 
not small-pricked guys. These were street niggers with enormous cocks! 

Each tried to outdo the next guy with plunging hard strokes. Each tried to 
make his strength fully felt by the ravaged young girl. That was part of 
their fun; to see who could make her feel their strength the most. 

They needed to prove their masculinity, and so they used extreme methods. Or 
maybe they just had gone beyond the usual limits, and were nothing more than 
fun-happy bastards. 

The pathology behind their deeds was of little consequence to Virginia now. 
She was getting double-dicked in the pussy, and butt fucked besides! 

Her teeth were rattling in her head as the force of being fucked in the 
throat, threw her butt down on the prick lodged in her rectum. 

In the pussy, the two fuckers rammed as one solid unit, stretching the walls 
of her cunt to meet their wide proportions. 

Then they started flying in and out of her in double-rhythm. One rammed in 
while the other pulled out, and then the one who was out of her cunt slammed 
back in to the balls while the other pulled out. 

The juice from her pussy was dripping down her legs. The sensation of the 
bone slicing in and out of her asshole, met with the sensation of the dicks 
in her cunt. 

The meeting took place somewhere in her centermost core, and it forced the 
cunt cream to flow down from her battered pussy. 

Jesse watched as the fuck-fluid dripped. He could see every detail, down to 
the agonized expression on Virginia's beautiful face. 

The, fact that this was a white girl, getting it good from a group of black 
jive-ass fuckers, turned the masturbating Jesse on even more. He couldn't 
believe that he was feeling this way. Nothing in his rational mind supported 
these thoughts. 

He was ashamed of himself for standing there and watching when he could have 
been helping the girl by calling the police. 

But he was familiar with the local police methods of responding to alarms in 
this area. They yawned, and took their sweet time about getting to the 
reported scene of a crime. While this thought floated through his head, 
another came to him and it shocked the shit out of him. 

He suddenly realized that he wasn't ashamed and angry with himself because 
he wasn't coming to the aid of the girl. 

He was ashamed and angry because he didn't have the balls to get in there 
and fuck this girl, too! 

He wanted to line up with his soul brothers and throw his fat black 
fuck-stick into Virginia's young white snatch! 

Thinking this cruel thought, he shot a manly load of cum. He didn't even 
think he was ready to shoot it. Suddenly it had soared up from his balls, 
and was at the head of his cock, making it swell. 

Then the piss slit opened up and the semen rushed out like a strong-spraying 
fountain. 

He heard the man-juice splattering on the rubbled ground below his 
outstretched prong. 

Some yards away, the next black rapists unleashed their donkey dongs for 
their turns at stirring Virginia's bleeding vagina. 

When Jesse arrived home, much later that night, he was very drunk. 

He'd been drinking at The Eagle's Nest Bar, trying to douse his sexual 
desires in alcohol. His desires frightened him too much. He had to step out 
a door out of reality. He chose to drown his passions in cheap whiskey. 

Elouise had cried herself to sleep. She had been thinking about the things 
she'd told her husband, and she realized that she hadn't been very 
understanding. 

She believed that she had been a snappy little black bitch. 

Feeling sorry for herself, She plopped down on the bed. and her naked 
breasts sank into the sheets. The soft brown globes pressed against the 
satiny white sheets. The contrast was maddening to Jesse's eyes. 

And maddening to His brain, as well. 

His head was churning with obscene thoughts. 

Face down on the bed, the sleeping Elouise displayed her firm, full ass 
cheeks. Her legs were spread apart just enough to reveal her hairy black 
pussy which peeked out from between the dark globes of her ass. 

It was her deep, dark love chute! 

But Jesse still had rape on his mind. Rape was stirring his big black cock! 

He recalled his wife telling him to eat out her ass. Well, he wasn't going 
to eat it out, but he was going to give that shit chute some attention. 

He stripped off his clothes, revealing a broad, muscular chest which trimmed 
down to a tight waist. His legs were extremely muscular from a lot of 
walking, and his arms were muscled, also. 

Between his large chest muscles, curly black hair formed a V. The thick 
nappy hair was again evident above his fat prick, which stood out like a 
curved sword a good ten inches from his groin. 

He was about as well hung as the studs who took their turns with young 
Virginia; Now he was going to do some raping on his own. The fuck-team had 
aroused his animal instincts. He was out for blood, even if it came from his 
wife Elouise. 

Of his lewd observation, ass-fucking turned him on the most. He had never 
done it. He had never felt his brown cock getting hugged by the tight walls 
of a female bunghole. 

He had watched his wife's pretty asshole on many an occasion. Now he 
observed it very carefully as she slept on the bed with her little rosebud 
of a hole up for him. 

In between the two half moons of ass, he could see the place where the crack 
became a rounded hole. 

Gently, so as not to wake the sleeping black beauty, he pulled the cheeks 
apart to expose the asshole fully. 

The rosebud of a hole was creased and seemed to be slightly damp, perhaps 
from sweat. Elouise had turned off the conditioner because she was nude, and 
she had fallen asleep without turning it back on again. 

By now the temperature in the room made the walls swelter. Jesse didn't try 
to cool off. He was feeling very hot, and he liked to have sweat dripping 
off as he entered into sex. 

He looked at the pussy of his young wife, and he imagined the sensation 
which he knew so well. He knew how it felt to have that juicy vagina close 
around his dick. 

But he had never tried her anus! 

That would be much tighter, having never been entered from the outside in. 
That would really give a friction to his prick. 

He thought about the white girls who had so recently been raped. He imagined 
that the girls had been fucked in the face, besides being fucked in the cunt 
and ass. He imagined that their throats were still hot with cum. 

Now he wanted to bum Elouise up the ass with hot dick fluid. He wanted to 
flood her narrow asshole with his potent scum. 

He mounted the bed, and placed his knees on either side of her rump. Then he 
positioned his long tool so that the head was ready to plow into the virgin 
black asshole. 

With Elouise sleeping soundly, this anal fuck would be like rape to Jesse. 
It would still be playing rape, to some extent, because Elouise was his 
wife. But she would not be a consenting fuck partner in this encounter. She 
would realize what was happening only after it was too late, and she would 
be helpless to fight off her powerful young husband. 

He expected that she would be shocked to discover this savage component in 
her husband's psyche. Even he had surprised himself. 

But now he was into the full force of his twisted desires. He was going to 
rape his sleeping wife as a trial run for the big time. 

The primitive instincts of this man had been aroused, and there was no 
holding him back now. He was a loving husband and a respected community man. 
His assistant teacher position at P.S. 9 was winning Jesse Hodges praise. He 
was proving himself to be a sensitive, understanding young teacher. 

But the thought of rape, and the subsequent observation of the act, was 
bringing the worst aspects of his character to the surface. He was a Dr. 
Jekyll - Mr. Hyde character now, and his wicked side was overtaking him. 

He had to rape, and his first victim was going to be his own lovely wife! 
His prick was hard, and he dipped it into a jar of Vaseline. This left a 
deeply burrowed hole in the extra-large economy jar which had been bought at 
the Bathgate Avenue dime store. 

It also left his prick all slick and slippery, and ready to burrow into the 
tight warm channel of her asshole. 

He pressed his stick up against the puckered hole. In one sharp push of his 
pelvis, he jammed his full cock inside of her. 

He felt the channel open up for him. It was a very unique sensation on his 
dick to go through a tight virgin asshole. He was the first man to sink his 
shaft into Elouise's asshole, and the woman's chute provided a glove-tight 
passage for Jesse's probing pecker. 

Her man started swinging his dick in and out of her and she woke up 
screaming. She had been dreaming pleasant dreams, and suddenly she was 
impaled by a hurting stick. 

It drove her to screams. 

She started to pound her fists into the bed. She kicked her feet like a 
ranting, raving child, throwing a tantrum and bucking on the floor. She was 
trying to bear the pain of this surprise anal assault. 

At first she thought that she was being raped by an intruder. Her husband 
Jesse had never fucked her asshole before, and even when he fucked her 
pussy, although he fucked her silly, he never used such violent strokes as 
were pummeling her now. 

He was slamming his weight into her from the pelvis. All of his strength was 
directed there and it made Elouise cry with pain. 

She'd had her husband's prick in her cunt many times, and it never hurt like 
this. She thought that this rapist must have had an even larger penis than 
Jesse, because this one stretched her with such hard motions. She didn't 
realize that this was indeed her Jesse's dick, and that her asshole was 
simply more narrow and more shallow than her pussy. 

But Jesse was pushing forward, making her asshole as deep, if not deeper, 
than her oft-fucked cunt. He was screwing her ass with a fury. 

He started to use a corkscrew stroke to pile-drive down into her body via 
her asshole. 

He whispered hotly in her ear, and still Elouise didn't realize that she was 
taking this anal abuse from her husband. He would never use, such language 
to her; or try to hurt her feelings as this man was doing. 

"You fuckin' black nigger bitch," he rasped, "Your tight asshole twitches 
like a little cunt. Yeah, I really dig banging your buzzing butt. You're a 
real black pig." 

He accented his words with the volley of strokes which ripped her asshole 
open in the way he'd watched the street gang rip open Virginia's cunt. 

Her ripe bunghole was taking a frigging. It was like a tight love glove on 
his mauling prick. That wedge-shaped cock nearly split her hole apart. 

When he reached around and began twisting the taut nipples of her knockers, 
she turned her head backward far enough to catch a glimpse of him in the 
light which filtered in from the other room. 

She was shocked to see her own husband. He started to talk hotly to her once 
again, and this time she certainly didn't recognize him as her husband. Her 
husband was a college educated black man who spoke perfect English. This man 
was a nasty rapist who fed her nigger talk as he fed her yielding ass his 
dick. 

"Oh, bitch, dat feels so fuckin'good to this nigger," he groaned. "Mah hot 
dick-cream is gonna rocket up dat first class ass. You is sumpin' else, 
ain't ya, bitch?" he growled. 

Elouise was too stunned to answer. For her lack of response, she was 
rewarded with an especially hard thrust from Jesse's thick mauler. 

His nuts were banging up against her ass cheeks. He fucked her and fucked 
her. She cried and cried. 

He had already shot two loads of cum within recent hours. The first load had 
spewed up Elouise's cunt during their earlier fuck session. The second blast 
landed on the ground as he watched the rapists. 

It would take him longer to cum this time. The liquor dulled his senses in 
that area, too. But the liquor made him even more aggressive, and more wild 
for rape. 

He reached over and turned on the radio. He wanted to hear the, latest 
reports on rape while he raped Elouise. 

As fate would have it, after the toothpaste commercials for whiter teeth and 
sweeter breath, and a mouth with sex appeal, the news broadcast restated 
their top local news story. 

"In the South Bronx at 138th Street and Fulton Avenue, down the dark alley 
known to residents of the depressed and largely burned-out area as 'Gill 
Alley', a teenaged girl was raped repeatedly by a gang of youths." 

The words incited Jesse to more frenzied fuck strokes up the captive asshole 
of his dark and beautiful wife. 

Jesse knew that the girl was white, and that she had been ass-fucked, and 
cunt-fucked by no less than six horny spade-men. 

There was a time in life when he didn't want to face the black-white issue. 
He didn't want to hear about it and he didn't want to talk about it. 

Eventually he had to face the reality that as long as there were black 
people and white people on the face of the earth, there would be questions 
and conflicts regarding their co-existence. 

"Black people are a very beautiful people." his white supervisor had told 
him. "The blacks I know are God-loving, sensitive people, who are possibly 
more wise and understanding than their white brothers and sisters because of 
the oppression they have suffered for being different from the majority, and 
for being penalized because of their natural attributes and birthrights." 

"Yes," Jesse had answered, "but it's time that black folk stopped looking in 
the past for answers to why we are the way we are today. All we really have 
is right now. Now we must stand up for our rights as our rights are 
threatened, but we must begin to see that our differences are only what 
makes us different from the white people." 

"Right, one is no better than the next. We all have the same basic needs and 
desires. We all want to be loved and to be at peace with ourselves, don't 
we?" His supervisor said. 

It was a long discussion. It was the kind of discussion that could go on for 
years, in all corners of the world, and still it would not be completed 
until man rose above petty differences and miscommunications. When man 
begins to accept all people the way those people are, or are not, then the 
conflict will fly away in the clouds. 

'That man has not, by and large, reached that level," Jesse had said, "'is 
evident in the turmoil that exists in the world today. Look at all the 
strange feelings black people feel for white people, and vice versa. 
Everybody has some kind of reaction to the issue." 

As he deep-fucked his wife up the ass, imagining that her smooth, chocolate 
buns were white and creamy, and that her dank anal tunnel was a tight white 
pussy on the other end of a raping dick, he thought about the words he had 
expressed. 

How true they were for him. Jesse still had a lot to work on, regarding 
feelings about race. That was obvious from the feelings he was going 
through, and from the depraved little thoughts which were dancing in his 
head, making his big cock grow harder as it became ever-engorged with blood. 

Every vein of his huge black penis was thick with blood as it coursed in and 
out of Elouise's backside. It felt bigger and bigger than it had ever felt 
before. 

He was hot to trot his prick up her ass, and he was doing a good job of it, 
imagining that he was performing the rape which the radio droned on about. 

Just when he thought that he would pop his cork, and shoot enough cum to 
fill a fucking glass, he pulled his now-dank dick out of his wife's raped 
behind. 

He picked her up in his strong hands and tossed her over. She landed on her 
back. sinking into the soft bed, but bouncing at the boobs. The tits stood 
up like hot cherries. 

Elouise had an agonized expression on her good-looking face. Gorgeous enough 
to be a famous black model if she'd directed her attention toward that goal, 
Elouise really felt as if she'd been raped. 

Never had her gentle husband revealed this other side of his nature. It was 
the dark side of his nature, if she were to follow that black as bad, white 
as good analogy. 

He turned her over, pressing her sore ass down into the sheets. Her pussy 
was available for plowing into, as was her throat. 

Jesse looked at her thick Negroid lips. He knew how warm those lips felt 
clamped around his cock. He Thought about the many hours, all tolled, that 
he languished with his huge hard-on buried down within his wife's deep 
throat. 

She was able to keep his penis down her throat for long periods of time. One 
night she even fell asleep while sucking on his prick the way a sleeping 
baby sucks on a bottle, or its mother's breast. 

She'd been very contented to do just that, and to nuzzle her broad nose in 
the thick-skinned, bronzed balls which hung low from her man's private area. 

But that was when he'd approached her as a loving young husband. That was 
when he'd been the upwardly-striving young man who was beginning to make it 
in the white world with his interest in helping young children. 

Now his other character was revealing itself. He was getting acquainted with 
his violent side, and so was his wife. 

The man who taught and cared for young children, black and white, was now 
interested in fucking them, and fucking them hard. 

He was interested in raping them until their young pussies couldn't take any 
more of his heavy screwing. 

No one would have guessed that this gentle man, this extremely gentle man, 
would be as extreme in his hedonistic desire to rape young white girls. 

But as Jesse looked at those thick lips on Elouise, and as he thought about 
the warm membranes of her deep throat, he decided that he was going to take 
the hard prick which had just fucked her ass, and shove it down Elouise's 
throat. 

And he was really going to shove it down there, He was going to ram it 
repeatedly; really throw it down her throat and fuck her face. 

He was going to rape her throat! 

Now, of course, there was no doubt in Elouise's mind that it was indeed her 
own husband in bed with her. When she saw the thickly creased and veined 
cock hovering wetly over her face, she recognized his unique equipment. 

She thought that he was drunk, which he was, and she thought that his 
drunkeness might account for his exceptionally rough behavior with her. 

As his black pecker approached her lips, and touched them, she hoped that 
he'd calmed down sufficiently to begin fucking her throat with that sweet 
hot love motion which always ended up in the spilling of his sticky syrup 
down her throat, until it dripped thickly into her black belly. 

But when his pelvis bucked forward with all his manly strength, Elouise 
thought that the pressure from his prong would knock the teeth clear out of 
her head. 

She couldn't get away from him. He used the technique he'd observed the 
rapists use of Virginia. They continued to plow her, and impale her with 
their pricks. They went even harder if she dared to resist. Soon they'd 
raped her into submission. 

He was doing the same thing with his wife. He was treating her body like a 
bunch of fuck holes provided for his pleasure. 

That's all she was to him at this moment; a bunch of very warm, wet, 
yielding, womanly holes, there to be raped into ecstasy. 

Her oral cavity was the next to be cruelly filled and banged, as her asshole 
had been. 

She tried to scream, because the horror of rape was tremendous, even with 
her own husband as the rapist. 

In fact, it was even more terrifying for Elouise, because she was watching 
her husband turn from a decent man into a mad rapist, in addition to bearing 
the torment of violent rape and sexual abuse from him. 

Her scream was muffled by lots of plunging cock. The woman's voice was 
reduced to the gagging gurgling that comes when a woman struggles to swallow 
man-meat the likes of Jesse Hodges's tool. 

He was endowed with inches, and fucking skills, too. 

"Groan, bitch, groan," he rasped at her, as he slammed his dick in her, 
while squatting over her on the bed. 

His balls hung down on her chin, and his ass rubbed over the firm nipples of 
her tits. 

She was beginning to believe that her husband might even have been the 
rapist who was terrorizing girls in the area. He was so violent, and so 
abusive. 

"Suck up every drop of my cuntbustin' dick, and swallow the ball-juice," he 
warned her, "or I'll slap the fuckin' shit out of your black body, bitch." 

When he realized the tremendous sexual anger he was directing at her through 
his cock, he felt the semen begin to come up from the hot wet depths of his 
scrotum. 

The very thought of how he wanted to brutally rape her, and the thought of 
raping young white pussy, brought Jesse to one of the most powerful climaxes 
he'd ever experienced. 

The scum gushed from his deep piss slit, down her throat, and into her 
heaving stomach. She was choking, because the volume of scum was so 
abundant. All that thick white, white motor oil churned up into a froth in 
her lubricated black insides. 

Jesse pulled out of her and went into his own world as he lay beside her. 
She had been his rape victim, but now she was his wife again. 

The impact of the orgasm snapped Jesse back into reality. 

He was sweating and breathing hard. 

"What got into you?" Elouise asked gently, wiping the sweat from his brow 
with a towel, and patting his saliva-coated dick dry. 

"I don't know, baby," he said, still breathing hard. "I lost my head. I 
can't explain it." 

"These things happen sometime, baby," she told him. '"Everybody goes through 
the same kinds of problems. Life in the ghetto isn't easy. Tension builds 
up. We're subjected to a lot every day." 

"This must have been building up for years. It was like a pressure cooker," 
he told her. lying back in the bed beside her, and staring at the ceiling 
with a blank look on his face. 

"It certainly exploded all the pressure down my throat,'' Elouise tried to 
joke. 

"Yeah, it sure did. All the anger must have been building and then the lid 
just couldn't stay on any longer," he said. 

"Were you angry with me?" Elouise asked, momentarily stopping her stroking 
of Jesse's brown chest as she waited for his response. 

Jesse thought about that. He knew that he wasn't angry at Elouise. She was a 
wonderful woman. He had to look only so far as her understanding manner now, 
after she'd been raped by him. 

She wasn't pulling her skirt up and showing him her big ass as a tease any 
longer. He'd raped her, and she was his loving, adoring wife. She was calm 
now. 

As she lay there thinking of the most appropriate answer to give his darling 
Elouise, the thought of the scene he'd witnessed earlier in the day came 
back to him. 

In fact, he thought that he would probably be plagued with that image for a 
long time. 

He saw the small white pussy of Virginia Stephens get ripped apart by 
probing black meat. 

He recalled the expression on her face, as she bit her lip, closed her eyes, 
and squeezed her legs tightly closed to avoid the intrusion. 

But the black brothers were breaking in. They wouldn't take no for an 
answer. Her pleading only made them all the more eager to rip into her with 
a fury. 

As he thought about the real reasons behind his sudden desire to rape cunt, 
his pecker began to grow heavy. It grew heavy, which did not prevent it from 
rising, slowly, inch by inch, until the thing was sticking straight up like 
the fuck-pole it was. 

He grasped his big, black fuck-pole in his hand, and squeezed the thick 
shaft until a salty tear emanated from the ever-juicing piss slit. 

A look of horror came to Elouise's face once again. She couldn't believe her 
eyes. Jesse was getting hard again, and he was salivating like a rutting 
dog. 

He was thinking about the rape of young white pussy. 

He eyed Elouise once again. Although he'd had sex with his wife countless 
times since their marriage two years before, and numerous times before they 
were married, she now looked like a new virgin to him. 

She was like a new virgin because her holes had been fucked, but they had 
never been raped. 

This young man, who had a terrible hatred of violence, and especially a 
terrible hatred of rape, was strongly attracted to violent rape at the very 
same time. 

For all his gentleness, a lot of anger existed at the other end of his 
menial spectrum. It existed there simultaneously with his humane instincts. 
And it was certainly as strong a force. 

His own mother had been raped, and he harbored a great deal of anger about 
that. Now, as he admitted, his pressure cooker had exploded. 

He'd raped his sleeping wife's virgin bunghole, and he forced his way into 
her mouth and down her throat with the hard cock he extracted from her ass. 

He still had her quivering pussy to work on, in a manner which he'd never 
worked on it before. 

He spit a gob of hot saliva in his hand, and started rubbing it on his cock 
shaft. 

"You know what that means," he told Elouise, after she heard the spit fly 
from his mouth. "It means that I'm wetting up." He sneered at her, meanly, 
and then he reverted into nigger street talk. "I is gonna rape yo'fuckin' 
cunt-hole off!" 

Elouise, stared back at him, wondering if her husband had turned into some 
kind of raving maniac.

 Chapter Four

 Anthony and Bernice Stephens were at home in their little Bronx apartment. 

They stayed in the Bronx, while many of their white neighbors moved away, 
because the rent was very low for the room they had. 

The building was kind of run down by this time, with garbage flying around 
in circles in the small courtyard which led to their building, and hallways 
which were so dirty, that they seemed to stay filthy even after mopping. 

The courtyard looked better at night, when a yellow light in the black gate 
out front, gave the six story building the appearance of being located on a 
quiet street in Paris. 

Of course, during the summer, people stayed out on the streets later in the 
evenings, and the quietness of the streets gave way to noise. 

Anthony had written to the landlord, complaining about the noise, and 
complaining about the elevator, which rarely wound up exactly on floor 
level, and which had no mirror. The mirror had been stolen, and Anthony 
believed that it was the landlord's obligation to replace it. 

Inside, the apartment was quite pleasant. Bernice believed in keeping a nice 
household, and there was enough space in this apartment for their daughter 
Virginia to have her own room. 

There was also an eat-in kitchen, which many New York apartments didn't 
have. Anthony and Bernice didn't want to move into Manhattan, where rents 
were higher, and where they would probably only be able to afford an 
apartment which had a small kitchenette. 

Even now, they sat in the kitchen, Anthony reading the newspaper, and 
Bernice sewing Anthony's white socks. 

"Black bastards," Anthony said, as he read the lead article about rape in 
the area. Like the news report on the radio, the first newspaper account of 
this most recent rape did not specify that the rapists were black, or that 
their victim was white. 

Nevertheless, Anthony had a gut feeling about this rape. Before he could be 
certain of his accusation, he put the blame on neighborhood blacks. "Why 
don't those darkies stick to nigger nookie?" he complained. 

His wife hushed him up. "How can you say things like that?" she; asked. "We 
live among black people. You know full well how kind and generous the people 
we know personally are. I think it's a shame that you curse an entire race 
for the wrongdoings of a few prominent examples." 

"Well, I'll admit that Sam Kennedy is a wonderful guy. He's that boy from 
the Islands; Jamaica. And then there's Edith Hicksenson. She says she hates 
the whites, but when the Revolution comes, she'll have you and me spared." 

They both started to laugh. 

"And don't forget all those sports players you admire so much. Plenty of 
them are black. And the singers and actors and actresses and..." 

'"Alright, Bernice," Anthony replied, "You've made your point. You think I'm 
behaving like a white cracker. Well, I don't think it's safe for Virginia to 
be out on the streets. She's a nigger-lover, I think. I've heard her talking 
with friends on the telephone, and she jive-talks like one of them." 

"Anthony, you shouldn't have been listening in on Virginia's conversation in 
the first place. If you'd mind your own business when it comes to your 
daughter, everything would be fine. She'll come to us if she's in trouble 
about anything." Bernice said, gently. "We have to allow her to do her own 
thing. The young kids today, they see differently than we did when we were 
their age." 

"Hell, back when I was Virginia's age on the sidewalks of New York, if my 
father caught me talkin' with a black person, he would have knocked my head 
around for me," Anthony said, closing the newspaper and going to the 
refrigerator for a beer. 

"My father once caught me kissing a black boy," Bernice smiled coyly. 

"Kissing one! You never told me about that!" Anthony exclaimed. 

"You never asked me," Bernice replied. "It was nothing, really. He was very 
black and very beautiful. His face was shining as bright and as dark as 
coal. My father just didn't understand, that's all. I guess that why there's 
so much trouble over race and color. It's hard to love somebody of another 
color when there are so many people against it." 

"I don't believe in the mixing of the races. If God wanted us all to be the 
same, he wouldn't have made some of us white, and some of us black," Anthony 
insisted. 

"I hear what you're saying, but the fact is, there are whites who like 
blacks, sexually, I mean. And there are blacks who prefer whites. I think 
the contrast is very attractive. And I think that children of mixture are 
very beautiful." 

"It used to be that families would never allow intermarriage, ever," Anthony 
stated flatly. 

"That was why in-breeding produced disease and physical characteristics 
which were not to the advantage of the descendants of one-color families. I 
read that in a magazine." Bernice said. 

"You and your magazines," Anthony smiled, releasing his anger about the 
whole thing. For a moment, he couldn't even recall what had brought on the 
discussion. Then he remembered. Rape. Rape and Virginia. 

"'Where is Virginia?" Anthony asked. 

"She's out visiting a friend. She told me that she'd be home after ten. 
She's having dinner over at her friend's house," Bernice explained. 

"Yeah, which friend is she with?" Anthony asked. 

"I don't know, Anthony. I didn't ask her," Bernice replied. 

"Didn't ask her? What's wrong with you?" the concerned father shouted. 

"Anthony!" Bernice said, speaking firmly, also. "I trust our daughter. 
Virginia is old enough to take care of herself. She doesn't need her 
overly-concerned father breathing down her neck." 

Anthony realized that Bernice was probably correct. He was a bit 
over-bearing at times. 

"You're right, of course," he said. He kissed his wife on the forehead. "I 
just thought that if you knew where she was, we could telephone her and make 
sure that she was alright," he justified. 

"I'm sure that if she's not alright, she would call us," Betrnice said. 
"She's a big girl, now." 

Neither of them knew that their daughter had been taken to the hospital, 
where she was being treated for shock and sexual assault. She hadn't been 
able to tell them where she lived, or who to contact in this emergency. She 
didn't carry identification, except for a fake I.D. which she used to get 
into places where it was required that she be over eighteen years of age. 

She had been admitted to the hospital on the basis of this false 
identification, but of course, it was not enough to track down her 
guardians. 

Bernice had the kitchen fan swirling in the window, but the breeze from the 
fan seemed a hot one. 

"I think I'll go out for a while," Anthony told his wife. "There may be more 
of a breeze out there. Do you wanna come for a walk with me?" he asked. 

"No, honey," Bernice replied. "I have sewing to finish, but you can bring me 
back a thick shake from the ice cream store. That would taste good on a 
night like this." 

"What flavor do you want?" Anthony asked her. 

"Chocolate," she replied, 

As Anthony walked the streets, he thought about what Bernice had told him. 
He thought about her admission that as a girl she had kissed a black 
boyfriend. He wondered what else they might have done. 

He knew, of course, that his wife had been a virgin on their wedding day. He 
pushed through her hymen himself. 

So he knew that Bernice had never been fucked by black cock; at least not 
before they were married. He certainly didn't suspect her of fooling around 
with spade dick after their marriage. His honkey hook took care of her cunny 
just fine, didn't it? 

Anthony walked by the neighborhood sex shop. It was a secret little place 
where people sneaked in to buy those special sex goods which they used to 
spice their sex lives. 

Anthony had never gone inside, feeling that the presence of the sex shop was 
a detriment to the quality of the neighborhood. 

But on this night His curiosity, for some reason, was up. 

He sneaked inside the front door. The glass had been painted over with red 
paint, so that outsiders could not see inside. 

Anthony was slightly shocked by what he found inside. There, in his very own 
neighborhood, was an assortment of sexual items that nearly blew the socks 
off of him. 

His eyes went directly to the plastic blow-up dolls. There were 
brown-skinned dolls, and pink-skinned ones. There was even one inflatable 
girl whose plastic epidermis literally turned inside-out, so that she was a 
black doll on one side, and a white doll on the other. 

These plastic dolls came equipped with flesh-like breasts, a hairy pubic 
patch, and a dip-hole that was supposed to feel like real live pussy on a 
man's dick. 

Anthony wondered which life-sized doll he would buy, if he were in the 
market for a rubber doll with holes in all the right places. 

He wondered if he would have been able to satisfy his curiosity about wet 
hot black pussy, by loving one of the blow-up black dolls. 

He didn't really think that it would be worth the effort. If he wanted to 
sample black pussy, he would have been able to find some in the neighborhood 
for the price of this doll. 

But he wasn't really all that interested. His major interest was still in 
Bernice. He was in this shop looking for something to please her in an extra 
special way; a sexual way. 

Sexual surprises were the favorite surprises he liked giving his still 
attractive wife. 

Elouise Hodges enjoyed teasing her hubby Jesse by leaving a trail of 
perfume-scented underthings from the living room into the bedroom, to let 
him know that she was waiting for him there. 

Anthony Stephens liked to tease his wife with special little sexual 
surprises, like leaving a package of condoms on the table for her to see. 
The sight of the package set her cunny creaming, because she knew that she 
could soon expect hot sex with her fuck-happy husband. 

In this sex store, Anthony found a number of interesting items which he 
thought might spice his sex life that night. There were an assortment of 
cock creams, used for lubricating the penis in a special manner. 

Some of the serums were flavored, so that when a cocksucker gobbled up a 
prick, the flavor of penis would mix with strawberries, or peaches and 
cream. But Anthony didn't think that was so hot. He thought about Bernice's 
pussy, and he realized that he much preferred her cunt to be nature-scented 
and naturally flavored. 

He liked the taste of fresh pussy. He didn't have to disguise, it! 

Other creams brought a hot, tingling sensation to the head and shaft of a 
dick. Such potions would no doubt sting the hot cunny of the fuck partner as 
well. That might be nice, Anthony thought to himself, but he passed that one 
by, also. 

There were creams for desensitizing the penis, which Anthony didn't need, 
and there were attachments for the penis that were guaranteed to make a 
pussy feel real special fucking, but Anthony didn't favor those, either. 

No, he found something that suddenly struck his fancy just right. He didn't 
like paying the rather high price for the item, but he knew that if he were 
to leave the sex shop without it, he would only wish that he'd spent the 
extra money on this extra-special item. 

A tall, lean, black man named Pop stood behind the counter wearing a 
broad-brimmed hat with a feather sticking out of it. He saw that Anthony was 
looking rather hungrily at one particular item in the glass counter. 

"May I help you with anything?" Pop asked graciously. 

Anthony felt a bit peculiar in telling the black which item he especially 
wanted for his wife. The item would be a real pussy-thriller for her, but 
Anthony was embarrassed to speak of it. 

However, he knew that if he didn't speak up, he would leave the store and 
wish that he'd been man to ask for the sex object he wanted to purchase. 

He wanted to buy his wife a big black dildo for her white cunny! 

"Uh. I'll take that," Anthony said, pointing to the black rubber tool. "And 
I'll take some of that Joy-Gel," he added, including the lubricant in his 
purchase, only so it would appear that he had other interests besides big 
black cock. 

Pop was accustomed to the nervousness of customers in the sex shop. 
Everybody has some secret desires, and often they are reluctant to expose 
them to anyone else. They take their hidden sexual stirrings very seriously, 
and guard them accordingly. 

"You can wash this with soap and water," Pop said casually, taking the black 
dildo from the shelf and flexing it before Anthony's eyes. 

Anthony was already imagining the rubbery black joy-stick fucking up his 
wife's white cunt-hole. 

"Could you wrap that for me please?" Anthony asked, still nervous about the 
purchase. 

"I'll wrap it very well," Pop smiled, knowing that most customers hid their 
purchases in briefcases, or under their coats upon leaving the sex shop. 

Being a hot summer night, Anthony had no coat in which to hide his purchase. 
He could have stuck the rubber prong in his pants as if it were his own 
black piece of prick, but recognizing the man's vulnerability at this 
moment, Pop pleasantly wrapped the dildo in brown paper, after finding a box 
that was large enough to accommodate it. 

Anthony hoped that Bernice's cunt would be large enough to accommodate the 
thing which appeared to be slightly longer and thicker than his own and 
blood handle. 

He paid for lust items in cash, and looked both ways before leaving the sex 
shop, because he didn't want to be seen shopping there. He thought that he 
was lucky in not having run into any of his buddies in that shop. That would 
have been embarrassing for him. 

If they were in the shop, they would be as guilty as he was. There would be 
no way for his -buddies to call the kettle black; a pot calling a kettle 
black, being another catch-phrase of insult to black people. 

If they caught him buying a dark-colored dildo to please his wife, then it 
would have been a real disaster for Anthony, as far as he was concerned, at 
least. 

His mouth was dry from nervousness, and his underarms were clammy after 
making the purchase. He needed some refreshment 

Then he remembered that Bernice had asked for a chocolate thick shake. He 
crossed the street to the ice cream shop, and thought about how he was going 
to shake up Bernice's pussy with something thick and chocolated. 

"Did you ever try putting some whiskey in your thick shake?" Anthony asked 
his wife upon his return. "It makes a freaky flavor, and it packs a nice 
kick." 

"Anthony Stephens!" Bernice declared. "I think that you want to get me dizzy 
and tipsy!" 

He wanted to fulfill her fantasies and her realities, by working a black 
dildo around in her pussy. He wanted to manipulate the black stick as if he 
were controlling a black man in the fucking of his woman. 

He wanted to stir it around her cunt, and maybe even have her suck on it 
while he used his dick after she'd been opened up by a black dildo. 

Bernice was willing to engage in Anthony's sex play. There was still time to 
play in the privacy which came up on nights when Virginia was away from 
home. That, quite frankly, was the reason Anthony didn't persist in seeing 
that his darling daughter Virginia was home before ten. 

He enjoyed having a special opportunely to fuck the evening away. It 
happened rarely, but when it did, he liked to take advantage of it. 

He almost assumed that Bernice expected some hard dick on this night. He 
told Bernice that he did want to feel her a little high, because he had a 
dickful of scum which he wanted to release up her cunt. 

"And I've got a special surprise for you, too," he added. "But you can't 
have it until you've finished your chocolate shake, with the whiskey in it." 

"Ow, that sounds exciting," Bernice cooed. She was in her thirties, but she 
was like a hot and horny teenaged girl when her husband talked to her about 
sex. Her talented twat was hot and her clit was like-a red hot button of 
desire. 

Anthony poured a sufficient amount of whiskey into the thick shake. The 
plastic carry-out container had been filled to a line three-fourths of the 
way from the bottom. 

He filled the last quarter up with booze. 

The overpoweringly sweet chocolate flavor, masked the harsh taste of the 
liquor. Bernice drank it down in big gulps, not realizing that it was going 
straight to her head. 

"Oh, that's so good," she enthused, half-way through the mixture. "That's so 
good!" 

She would soon be saying those same words about something else that was to 
enter her. The chocolate that was entering her body via her mouth and oral 
structures, would be no sweeter than the chocolate that was to enter her 
cunt. 

He waited until his wife got nice and high. The result came on rather 
quickly, and they were evident to Anthony. 

He knew that when his wife started licking her lips, it meant that she was 
getting hungry for cock in her cunt. He knew all of her signs very well. She 
was a refined, sensitive woman, and yet, when Virginia was away from the 
house, and her ardor was aroused, her pussy would begin to drip. 

It was wet now. It was wet for her husband, and fur his surprise. 

"Take me to bed, honey," Bernice told her man. She was panting. 

He took her in his arms and held her close. He could feel her tits pressing 
into his hard chest. The soft mounds against his hard muscle, was a 
delightful contrast. 

The hard muscle between his legs, the lump of man-meat which he pressed 
between the softness of her cuntal lips, was throbbing. 

He was thinking about putting that black dildo in her cunt. 

He was thinking about the expression that would come to her face, and he 
would soon be seeing the writhing passion take hold of her body. 

Bernice was a little woman, with short red hair. Her figure was excellent 
for a woman her age. Her breasts were full and upturned. Her legs were 
shapely. Everything went together just right. 

Anthony was able to lift her in his arms like a baby, and toss her gently on 
their marital bed. 

She was on her back, and she had slipped into her nightgown when her husband 
was out for his walk. The sheer material of the pink gown allowed her firm 
nipples and silver-dollar sized aureoles to show through on top. 

On the bottom, the orange curls of her pubic patch showed through the pink 
material in a lovely clash of colors and textures 

Anthony's rammer was raring to go. It was hot to get into his wife's vagina. 
He didn't need the stay-hard pills he saw in the sex shop. He didn't need 
the French ticklers, or the pills which were supposed to add life to the 
orgy by stimulating takers like Spanish fly. 

All he needed was his own body and hot soul, and the slick black cock which 
would drive his Bernice into spasms of lust. 

She was on her back, and she pulled the sheer nightie up higher on her 
thighs, giving her husband more of a look at her red-haired snatch area, 
which was only partially covered by the thin nightie. 

Half of the red-haired pubic patch was exposed to the hot night air, and the 
rest was still peeking out seductively through the sheer material. 

"Oh. Anthony, fuck me really good tonight, baby," Bernice begged. ''Make me 
feel something really special." 

"I have just the thing your cunt needs," Anthony grinned. He was thinking 
about his black cock, which was wrapped up in the surprise package. 

Hoisting it on her, and in her, would be better than a present at 
Christmastime for Bernice. 

Hot black cock was what she needed for diversion, her husband was certain. 
Otherwise, she probably would never have brought the subject up in the 
manner that she did. 

"Screw me, honey," she said, writhing about on the bed like a bitch in heat. 
She was looking for a black panther to spring on her and give her that 
rutting fuck of a jungle animal. 

She was looking for something special and she was going to get what she 
never imagined her white husband could give her. She was going to get black 
cock up her cunt! 

"Oh, honey, you really turn me on when you get slightly drunk and you move 
around like that," Anthony told her. "You really, really turn me on." 

"Stop talking and use your mouth on mine," Beniice rasped. 

Anthony unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off to reveal his broad chest. He 
was a hairy guy, and Bernice liked that. She liked to run her fingertips 
through the hair on his chest, and then go down to the hairy pubic patch, 
and then to go down even further, caressing his hairy leg muscles. 

He pulled the belt off his belt loops, and unbuttoned and unzipped his 
pants. He stepped out of them. 

On this hot summer night, he hadn't bothered to wear underpants, and the 
head of his naked cock was out. He brought the dick up to Bernice's cuntal 
triangle, and felt the flared head against the material of the sheer 
nightie. 

The material was very feminine-feeling. It was the kind of material 
expressly used in nylon stockings and negligees such as the one which 
accentuated Bernice's voluptuous charms. 

Some white sticky stuff oozed from his cock onto the material of the 
nightie. It soaked straight through the material, and wetted the curly red 
hair underneath the nightie. 

It was eight o'clock in the evening. It was practically dark by this hour on 
this night in June. Bernice knew that Virginia would be home in an hour. 
That left sixty minutes of heaven before their daughter's return. 

Maybe they would be so hot that they would continue to play even after their 
daughter returned home, but for now, first things were to be taken care of 
first. 

Anthony nuzzled his head in the cleavage between Bernice's twin tit globes. 

''Oh, he wants his mommy," she cooed, when she felt her husband's rough 
beard stubble scratching the diaphanous gown and the soft skin underneath. 

"You think I want my mommy, huh?" he growled, teasingly. "I'll show you what 
I want!" 

He moved downward along her body, with his nose pressed into the flesh of 
her chest, then her stomach, and on down to her nether regions. 

There he lingered. 

His face had unintentionally pulled the nightgown back down over Bernice's 
cunt, but it probably was actually his intention that, that happen. After 
all, he always got what he wanted, and he had pulled the nightie back over 
the red-haired cuntal realm. 

He went down on her snatch and sucked at the slit through the material of 
her nightie. 

He sucked and sucked, swirling his tongue around and enveloping the 
nightgown along with the moist and luscious pussy of his lovely red-haired 
wife. 

Bernice was a natural redhead, and her skin was milky white in paleness. 

The pink of Anthony's tongue muscle slicked out and slithered into the slit 
of her hot snatch. 

"That really makes my hole get wet,'' she moaned as he licked her pussy. 

"That hole feels real good on my tongue," he told her, pulling his head up 
momentarily; just long enough to speak the words before diving back down in 
her muff. 

"Oh. Anthony, baby," she cooed. "You really know how to eat my little 
cunny." 

"You give good nookie, baby," he said, and then he again sailed into her 
cunt with his mouth. 

The dipping of his tongue into her snatch continued until she was really 
slicked with saliva and pussy juice. The combined mixture was dripping down 
her legs. 

Anthony decided that his wife needed a little friction. He climbed on top of 
her, let his body fall down on hers, and he began to rotate his prick on top 
of her cunt, through the nightie, as he pushed his body back and forth on 
hers. 

She felt his cock through the thin material of the nightie, and it really 
slid back and forth in a sensuous manner as he rocked his body on top of 
hers. 

She felt all fluttery inside. Her cunt lips were flapping. Her inner pussy 
and her fat clit were buzzing like locusts. That's how hot she was for her 
man, 

Her big breasts moved back and forth, up and down on her chest, as her man's 
chests pushed on top of her. His tongue was buried deeply in her mouth now, 
and she battled him with her own tongue in a hot sexual battle. A wet, hot 
sexual battle, to be sure! 

Their marital bed was a real hotbed of sexual activity, with Anthony 
grunting and groaning, now, as much from the sensations which were bringing 
him enflamed sexual passion all over his body, as from the thoughts of what 
was coming up next. 

He was thinking of his plan; the plan he had to give his wife a surprise 
taste of her secret desire. Her secret desire, that would please both 
Bernice, and her husband as well. 

Anthony would be pleased because he would be able to give his wife's twat a 
taste of something he might otherwise have felt threatened about giving. He 
didn't want any black man fucking his woman, especially considering some of 
the negative feelings which he himself harbored for his darker brothers. 

With this black dildo, he would be able to give his wife untold pleasure, 
and not feel threatened in the process. 

He was using his tongue like an animal, now, deeply thrusting it down her 
throat, and allowing it to stay down there. It was warm down there in the 
pit of her oral structure, and he liked feeling his fat sloppy mouth fill 
her deeply, no matter where the filling took place; in her mouth, her ass 
(they tried it there twice) or in her ripe and juicing pussy. 

''Oh, baby, my pussy is really moistening," she said as she wrapped her 
strong legs around the torso of her husband who continued to ride back and 
forth on top of her, giving her a friction that was setting her nerve 
endings on edge. 

"You asked for it honey." Anthony rasped, when he'd finally been taken to 
his limit at that point. He knew that he was hot to give her what she 
wanted. He was going to give her the black cock of her secret sex dreams. 

Bernice's deep dark secret, would be a secret no longer. 

But it would be dark, and it would go deep! Deep into her burning snatch! 

If she had a burning need for the thick, long male-meat of a nigger cock, 
then that was what she was going to get. And she was going to get it from 
her husband! 

He got up off her body, and went to the other room, where he had left the 
package. 

Bernice was writhing about on the bed, thrashing around and begging to get 
fucked. 

Anthony remained cool as a cucumber, while he was actually burning up with 
his own, hot desires. The size of his stiff prick was proof of where his 
head was at. 

He decided to take advantage of the situation. His daughter Virginia was not 
at home, and they had the whole apartment to play in. They didn't need to 
keep their fun confined to the bedroom as they usually did. 

There was the bathroom! There was that eat-in kitchen. He could give it to 
Bernice on the kitchen table, and she could really learn what an eat-in 
kitchen was all about. She had a lot of fresh cunt meat to be sampled and 
nipped. 

And devoured! 

Anthony started in the living room. He unwrapped the package and took out 
the dildo. It was a monster; a black monster. It was soft enough to be 
flexible, but it was hard enough to penetrate a cunt the way a boner-prick 
would. 

It was very realistic-looking, with a deep piss slit, and thickly engorged 
veins along the shaft of it. It came with a big, heavy set of nuts at the 
base, and Anthony certainly planned to stick that thing up into Bernice's 
snatch until the balls rested against the cuntal mounds. 

He planned to turn the dildo around in her cunt by holding onto the heavy 
rubber scrotum which was packed with two oversized balls. 

He was curious about something. He wanted to stick this black cock down his 
own throat to see how hard it would be to swallow it. But then he decided 
that doing that would be a bit peculiar. He'd heard of straight men who 
liked such stimulation, but he hadn't reached that stage yet. He was just 
getting to the point of being able to satisfy his wife with the black cock 
she desired, despite his own qualms. 

By now, his qualms were quieted and his sex drive was leading him 
ever-closer to the moment when that thick dong was to enter the tender white 
cunt portal. 

He shook the black bone back and forth, and watched how it moved. It almost 
looked alive. It looked so real. It would send pulsations up Bernice's cunt 
that would have her pussy gagging from the special brand of dark meat which 
she needed. 

Anthony looked around the living room. He was looking for a place to put the 
black dildo. 

"Anthony, come back to me," his wife called out from the bedroom. She was 
very hot. He left her in a terrible slate of sexual desire. She needed some 
dork plugged into her, and she needed it soon. She would, of course, be 
getting it soon enough. 

Anthony placed the dildo under a cushion in one of the two chairs which 
stood opposite the purple couch in the living room. Then he returned to the 
bedroom where Bernice was still thrashing and throwing the sheets to the 
floor in the process. 

"I have something out there in the living room," he told her. 

"I don't want to see it," she answered. "All I want is for you to fuck me. 
Fuck my hot little pussy and fuck it now!" she begged him. 

"Oh no," he countered. "When you find what it is that I've left out there 
for you, then I'll give you a real hot fucking that you won't soon forget. 
Now get your pretty little tail out there, and start seeking!" 

Still wobbly from the whiskey Bernice wended her way into the living room. 
She stood there in the center of her nicely furnished room, and she was 
surely the most attractive and comfortable piece in the room. 

Her nightie moved agahist her body, rustling slightly as it brushed over her 
soft, creamy flesh. The nipples on her breasts were very firm by this time, 
and they stood way out like little missiles about to be launched, which in a 
way, they were. They were like missiles, and they would be launched when the 
black cock entered her. 

She had been told to look for the hidden surprise, and she scanned the room, 
but came up with nothing. Then she started looking behind things. She looked 
behind the sofa she looked behind the stereo. She came up with nothing. 

Then she started looking under things. She looked under the sofa, she looked 
under the chairs, and then she looked under the cushions of the chairs. 

Low and behold, she came up with something! And what a something! 

Anthony had thought that he might lie down on the bed in the bedroom and 
wait for Bernice to return with the fat joystick in her hot little hands. He 
would just have to give her a look, and she would be able to read his 
expression clearly. 

She would know that he wanted her to report to him, bringing the fuck-pole 
for his use in her cunt, or in any other of her luscious fuck-holes of his 
choice. 

But the idea of being able to watch her face as she discovered the surprise 
was too inviting for Anthony to resist. Indeed, her pretty face lit up with 
the discovery of the giant mauler which was bought especially for her 
pink-lipped, deep-valleyed channel of lust. Her hot little love-tunnel. Her 
white cunt!

 Chapter Five

Bernice's cunt tingled with desire. 

Anthony brought her into the kitchen, making her hold the big black bone of 
a dildo which was going to fuck her. 

"Get down on the kitchen table," Anthony told her. "I'm going to wet up your 
cunt with my mouth. I want you to suck on that licorice stick while I eat 
you." 

"But Anthony," Bernice replied. ''If I suck on this dick while you eat me, 
I'm afraid that I'll cum. I'll spray my stuff in your mouth." 

"Never mind my cunt-eating mouth or when you're going to cum. You'll shoot 
when I tell you to shoot. And that will be with a big black cock up your 
twattie." 

"A black cock in my mouth, and my husband on my cunny at the same time! Oh, 
baby! I don't know if I can do it," she sighed, although she was certain 
that it would be a great pleasure to try it. She'd take as much as she 
possibly could. 

She spread her luxuriant thighs, and begged him to shove his tongue into 
her. Then she opened her mouth as wide as she possibly could, and inserted 
the thick prong of black prick meat into her tight oral cavity. She inched 
it into her throat at her own pace. There was no pelvis attached to it to 
make her take it all down quickly. 

Still, she didn't dawdle. She wanted to suck black cock while her husband 
ate out her snatch. She hoped that this would be a prelude to more of the 
same at another time when the black would be replaced with real black 
man-cock! 

For the time being, flat on her back on the kitchen table, this was more 
than she could possibly have asked for. 

Her body was hungry for his. She scratched at her husband's naked back as he 
ate out her opulent pussy and she sucked the dark dildo. 

The black cock wouldn't shoot a spray of hot jism into her body, but she had 
her Anthony there to give her plenty of jizz. He dripped like a faucet. All 
she had to do was turn him on, and it was like turning on the tap. 

She discharged profusely, too. She had a feeling that she would be mopping 
the juice off the kitchen table. 

The entire affair was most unlike anything Bernice and Anthony had ever 
tried before. They had never had sex on the kitchen table, and Bernice's 
deep dark desire had never surfaced before. 

With the thick rubber cock impaled part of the way down her throat, Bernice 
was able to use her hands, not only for Anthony's back but for frigging her 
cunt. 

She reached down and parted her cunt lips, spreading the sex-slit open 
enough so that several fingers could massage the tender area and make it 
cream even as her husband's fat tongue muscle sliced in and out of the 
cuntal pudding. 

She was able to stretch her cunt open enough to afford Anthony full entry 
into the tempting cuntal jam. He pumped his tongue inside of her, and she 
went insane with the sensations which sent shivers up and down her spine. 
Wow! 

She was beside herself with desire. That thick black cock stayed down her 
throat, impaling her, while her husband's tongue muscle lapped at her vagina 
the way a thirsty cat might lap at a bowl of warm milk. 

After working her cunny into a lather, Anthony looked up at her from the 
triangle of her snatch and told her that he was going to frig her twat with 
black dick. 

"You must be creaming in your panties all the time. Every time you see one 
of those dark dudes in this neighborhood you must be hot to snap your twat 
down on their dicks, aren't you, baby," Anthony rasped. "Aren't you?" 

He pulled the spit-soaked dick from her mouth so that she could respond to 
his demanding question. 

"Oh, Anthony, I may have thought about black cocks, but all I ever wanted 
was you," she told him. 

"Bullshit!" he said. "This dick is as brown as bullshit. I'll let this dildo 
dick do the talking. This black dildo dick doesn't tell lies." 

No, it didn't tell lies. It just ripped her cunt apart. Anthony rammed it 
into his wife's hole and it touched bottom. The pink fuck meat between her 
vulva was wet and puckered from the insertion and subsequent twisting of the 
artifical penis rod inside of her. 

"Oh,God!" Bernice screamed. "I feel like I'm being raped by big black cock, 
but it's my white husband who is turning the screw. Oh, it's too much. It's 
just too much," she cried. 

"You're finally getting fucked by a big black buck. That's what you've 
wanted, isn't it?" he groaned. 

Well, it had been one of Bernice's secret desires to get stuffed with hot 
black meat. That desire was certainly being fulfilled. But basically, she 
loved her husband, and there was no substitute for a real prick in her very 
real, very warm, very wet fuck hole. 

"I want you. baby." she cried. "I want you to pin me to this kitchen table 
with your white cock!" 

He was amazed. He would have thought that Bernice wanted to be fucked and 
stirred with this black dildo all night and into the next morning. He 
thought that she would never want to stop. 

But time was running out. Virginia was expected very soon, and Bernice had 
to tell her husband the truth. 

She loved watching the black prick go in and out of her white flesh, but it 
was her husband's fucking that she wanted. 

"I'm panting for you," She told him. "Please, Anthony, fuck me!" 

That was all he needed to hear. He pulled the black prick out of her hole, 
and tossed it to the ftoor. It landed with a wet thump, forming a puddle of 
cunt juice on the yellow linoleum. 

By facing his fear of having to compete with big, bad, black cock, he won 
the battle. His wife wanted him. She wanted his dick to fuck her. 

That was just what she got, and she got plenty of it. He deep-dicked her 
with all his power, flailing the inside of her honeybox with his penis. 

Bernice responded by undulating her cuntal muscles, making ripples of 
excitement envelope his bony peter. 

They were both breathing hard. They were both getting closer to orgasm. 

Anthony could feel his body stiffen. Every muscle in his body was taut. His 
balls were tingling as if a hundred little needles were sticking him gently. 

Bernice felt dizzy. Her head was spinning. She felt light-headed, from the 
drinking, and from the entire fuck scene. She thought that she was on the 
top of the Cyclone ride in an amusement park. From the uppermost hump of 
that ride, there was a long and bumpy trip down. 

Every time the ride soared downward at a lightning speed, it would curl back 
up again, crawling, teasing, and then it would go over the edge, plunging 
downward all over again. 

As a child, that ride had always played tricks with her head. It really put 
her through some changes. It fucked her body up pretty good, too. 

Now she felt that she had been at the top of the Cyclone, and that she had 
made the steep descent several times. 

Riding the Cyclone was like reaching climax for her. It was harrowing, and 
it left her body in a frazzled state afterwards. That was probably because 
she came with such force. She spasmed and convulsed repeatedly. 

But she loved it! She loved the Cyclone, and was always drawn back to it. 
She loved flying into orgasm, and she always came back for more of that. 

"Oh, baby, baby, baby," she cried. 

She sounded as much like a frenzied little bitch as a white woman. 

Anthony was grunting and groaning. He was gritting his teeth, trying to hold 
back the fountain of boiling scum which was about to bubble up from his cock 
into her ardent snatch depths. 

"Oh, shit, I can't hold it back anymore," he told her hotly. 

"I can't either," she breathed. "We're going to shoot together!" 

It was like a rocket to the moon. 

"Ohhhhhhhh!!!!'' he groaned. 

"Ahhhh!!!" she cried. 

They came together, and he stayed on top of her; inside of her; with his 
panting mouth on her smooth, soft neck. 

His tongue flicked out and he swirled it in her ear a few times. This kept 
her nipples hard against his chest. The firm tips of them were pressed 
between the curly hairs which formed the thick down on his chest. 

They stayed like that for quite, a while, with only the ticking of the 
kitchen clock and the distant sounds of street laughter to interfere with 
their private place. Why, they could have been resting in each other's naked 
arms on some tropic isle. The kitchen table could have been a sandy shore, 
and the cool night air might just have easily been caressing their naked 
flesh as the hot air of this summer night was doing. 

The large blades of the kitchen fan continued to whirl, and Anthony, coming 
to slightly, began to flick his pointed wet tongue tip in and out of his 
wife's ear in double-time to the whirls of the fan blade. 

That is, he flicked in her ear, two times for every swirl of the fan blade. 
This kept her nipples firm, and kept his cock firm, too. 

Then the telephone rang, piercing the night. 

Let's not answer that," Anthony said, feeling related and horny at the same 
time, but not at all in the mood to answer the telephone and start getting 
into conversation with dippy Aunt Hazel, or Bernice's Uncle Harold. Then, it 
might have been Mr. Mooney, Anthony's boss at work, and he certainly didn't 
want to talk with Mooney at this hour of the night. His work day was over. 
He'd see Mooney tomorrow. 

"But Anthony," Bernice said. "It might be Virginia." 

He hadn't thought of that. He jumped off her body, pulling his prick out 
with a pop to equal the popping of a champagne cork when it's first pulled 
from the bottle. He ran to the phone in the living room. 

"Shit!" Bernice heard Anthony curse after picking up the receiver. 

"Is something wrong?" She called out. 

"I was too late. Whoever it was already hung up, just as I picked up the 
phone on this end. I heard the click on their end, and then a dial tone." he 
answered. 

"If it's important, they'll call back. You know Virginia. If it was Virginia 
calling us, she'll call back again. She's a determined one. 

"I suppose you're right," Anthony told Bernice. He didn't know that Virginia 
had become the victim of black rape. 

He got into the mood once again. His prick was hard again. He picked his 
wife up in his arms and carried her into the bathroom. 

"If Virginia will be home soon, we only have a little time to have our fun. 
I'm going to get in the shower with you. We'll save water by showering 
together. That's important in the summer, in this neighborhood when the kids 
turn on the hydrants and the water is wasted so. Those damn little niggers." 

"Now, Anthony," his wife intoned. "You're not still cursing black people 
after all we've just been through. Or at least, after what this hot little 
box has been through, are you?" 

She looked up at him with her green eyes twinkling. She patted her little 
cuntal mounds. 

He had her in the white-tiled bathroom now, and he turned the water on. 
Steam came up and filtered out of the tub, filling the bathroom. 

"You're right again," Anthony told Bernice. He was smiling. ''Keep reminding 
me, will ya?'' 

She was feeling horny again herself, and she slid down on the floor, with 
the flesh of her knees digging into the raised tiles which covered the 
surface of the bathroom. 

She didn't put her warm mouth around her husband's dong. She hoped to do 
that once they were both in the shower. She hoped that he would soap up her 
pussy until it was good and slippery. Then she wanted him to slide in and 
bang a homer into her ballpark. 

For now, she took the still hardened nipple of her right tit, and inserted 
it into the oozing piss slit of Anthony's prick. 

He threw his head back and rolled it around. He liked the intrusion of the 
tan nipple, spreading out his piss slit in the way he spread her sex-slit. 

The ooze from the slit made the tit nipple rotate inside the head of his 
prick. Shit, he was getting fucked in the cock! Fucked in the cock by his 
wife's hard nipple! 

"Oh, baby," he groaned. "You sure know how to make your man hot." 

His dick was slithering around in his woman's hands. She was teasing his 
ball sac with her fingertips, gently running the tips over the wrinkled 
flesh. 

The man thought that he would explode again. He thought that he would shoot 
a bunch of scum out of his cock, all over her breast. He told her, that if 
she kept up that twisting of her nipple up his slit, that he would have to 
cum. 

He warned her. 

"That twisting your doing, that fucking corkscrewing of your fat nipple up 
my cock, well, I'm gonna shoot my jizz if you keep it up. 

Shoot his jizz. Somehow it sounded like the kind of thing a black buck would 
tell her. It rang in her ears, along with the sensation that buzzed through 
her cunt from the black dicking she had received earher. 

But she didn't stop twisting. She'd been warned, but she kept it up. 

In fact, the hot little woman twisted more furiously. She continued to 
corkscrew his piss slit with her hard tit nipple until he was frantic with 
emotion. 

His nuts were bobbing up and down in the sac. Shit, he had just shot a 
gigantic load and his hot-snatched wife had taken it all greedily and with 
utmost desire. 

It was unbelievable. 

He didn't think that he would have that much spunk inside of him.But he did. 
He was trembling. It was like the build-up of an earthquake. The first 
tremors started tingling through his body. His legs grew wobbly. He thought 
that he would collapse from strain. 

Then it happened. It gushed like the hot lava from a volcano. 

It came up from his nuts and splattered out all over the breast of his wife. 
In fact, there was such a blast, that the startled Bernice backed away, only 
to get splattered all over the front of her body. 

Some of the wet slime landed on her mouth. That's how high and far it shot. 
It dnbbled wetly down her lips, down her chin, where it mixed with more of 
the same, except heavier gobs, which had decorated her cleavage, and both 
full bosoms. 

"Oh, shit, I couldn't stop it. I didn't want to stop it," he breathed. "But 
I warned you." 

"I asked for it." his pretty wife said, with a saucy little smile on her 
pink lips and a pinkness of cheek which flushed the pale skin. 

The thick cream dripped down into her red pubic patch, sticking the wires of 
hair together. She didn't bother to wipe the stuff off. 

"I should make you leave the cum on you," Anthony told her, flexing his 
muscles lewdly for her benefit. I should make you sleep with it on you." 

"But Virginia would know about it. It would fill up the room with scent," 
Bernice answered. "Besides, I thought we were going to take a shower 
together." 

"'We have the bathroom free, without a teenaged daughter in there combing 
her hair, staring at her face in the mirror, and all of that crap. We can 
take a shower and a bath! Bath first, and then a shower to clean us off." 

"That sounds wonderful," she answered. "We haven't done anything like that 
since before we were married.'' 

"Oh, we did it two or three times after Virginia was born. She was a baby at 
the time. I scrubbed your back until you came in gushes. Don't you 
remember?" 

"Oh, I think I do," she replied, although she really didn't recall. There 
had been so many sexual experiences with her husband. Most of them had taken 
place between the sheets, especially in the years since their daughter was 
born. 

"What does she do in that bathroom, anyway?" Anthony asked. 

"What does who do?" 

"Virginia, our daughter! What does that girl do in those hours that she 
locks herself in the bathroom? She can't be sitting on the john all that 
time." 

"Oh, Anthony," his wife said laughing."You don't know don't know all that 
much about teenaged girls, do you?" 

"Well, unlike you, I've never been one. I've never been a teenaged girl, 
and, for that matter, I never had a sister, or anything like that. I don't 
know about teenaged girls, no, I guess you're right. I really don't," he 
mused. 

The water was turned on, it started gushing in the tub, very hard. 

"Let's put some bubbles in the water," Bernice suggested. 

"You won't be able to see my cock coming at you if there's too much soap in 
the water." Anthony told her. "If I had a deep black cock, you might be able 
to see it sliding toward you in the water." 

"Swimming toward me, you mean," she laughed. "Swimming toward me like a big 
black whale." 

"Or a big black whale cock. The cock of a big black whale. That would be fat 
and slippery in your cunny hole, wouldn't it?" 

They both started to laugh. It was a very hot idea, though. It was probably 
something that she would think about during her next session of 
finger-frigging in her pussy when she was alone without Virginia or Anthony. 

But she wouldn't have to fantasize about black cock being man-cock or 
whale-cock, when she had her Anthony around. He knew how to handle her. 

The redheaded beauty went to the linen closet outside the bathroom. She used 
to have a box of bubble bath in that closet, she was sure of it. 

'I don't see it," she said, turning over towels which were stacked neatly, 
"it's not under here," she added, looking behind a stack of freshly pressed 
sheets which were also piled up on a shelf in the closet. 

Finally she turned toward Anthony. She could not believe that she had really 
lost a box of bubble bath. It was a fairly large sized box, and it couldn't 
have walked away of its own accord. 

"Did you use my soap bubbles?"' she asked Anthony. 

"What for? Of course I didn't use your bubble bath. I never take bubble 
baths alone, and Virginia and I haven't gotten together in the tub as yet." 

"As yet, huh?" she teased. 

"We can use some laundry powder instead. That ought to work just as well,'' 
Anthony suggested. "It sure bubbles up in the washing machine.'' 

"I don't think that it would feel very good on our skin," Bernice countered. 

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Does Virginia have any in her room?" Anthony 
asked. He was ready to try anything. He just wanted to hop into that tub 
before his daughter returned home from her evening out. 

"I'll look and see," Bernice replied. 

Bernice entered her daughter's room. It was a typical girl's room, It had 
been painted pink some years earlier, but Virginia herself had redecorated 
it by painting three walls in a creamy white, and one wall in black. 

Her father had objected to the one black wall. He thought that it was very 
odd. It was unusual, but then, Virginia was an unusual girl. 

If she wanted to have one wall in her room black as the skin of the guys in 
the neighborhood, the dark ones, then she had that right. 

Virginia didn't leave the wall totally black. She hung up some the favorite 
pictures she had found in magazines. She had a number of favorite teen stars 
and she hung them up in special places on the wall 

Some of her favorite young performers were girls, from television shows 
starring girls who were not that different from Virginia. They too, were 
teenaged and pretty, and smarter than average, and sexy, too! Young girls 
enjoy seeing the success of other girls, as long as they keep the hope that 
they too might someday be in a television show or a movie. That was 
Virginia's hope, at least. She also had a number of male favorites. Some of 
them were young singers, heart-throbs with teenaged fan following. These 
boys were cute, and non-threatening. They were sweet boys. They were good 
boys. They were clean-cut, with wide smiles and a million screamy boppers 
getting wild over them. 

Then there was one picture on Virginia's wall which really bothered the hell 
out of her father Anthony. It bothered him more than the black wall under 
it. 

It was a picture of a black athlete. He was in the locker room after a big 
game. He was sitting on a stool, with his muscular legs spread wide apart, 
and the impression of his huge tool, his cock, could be seen hanging along 
one leg. 

He was sweating, and the sweat dripped in rivulets down his 
emotion-contorted face. It had been a really big game, and his team had been 
defeated. 

His face conveyed an expression of mixed emotion. He was sad. There was an 
underlying sadness. But he looked real mean, too. He was a big black daddy. 

The caption, under the photograph, (which Virginia had clipped from the 
Daily News) read, boldly, "Super Bad. Super Black." 

"Why in the hell do you have that nigger's picture hanging on your wall?" 
Anthony had asked his daughter when he discovered it there. 

"Don't blow up, Dad." Virginia said, making a slightly sour face. She wanted 
to let her father know that she found something very attractive about the 
man. She lived in a neighborhood of black people, and she was going to be 
part of the group. 

"My black friends at school talk about anything in front of me. I've never 
been hurt by any of the black gangs, the way some of the other white girls 
have been. I'm one of them. They call me their white girl friend, or their 
black friend." 

"Their black friend!" Anthony bellowed. "Are they crazy?" 

"No, Dad. They just mean that I'm like they are. We're the same. No 
different. Really! It doesn't matter what color you are." 

"Well. I don't like my daughter hanging around with niggers," he insisted. 

"Daddy, you hang around with black people." she said. 

"Ihat's different. You are my daughter. My blonde teenaged daughter. There's 
a big difference between me; a grown man, hanging out with niggers, and you, 
a blonde teenaged girl with a pretty little butt that wiggles too much, 
doing the same thing." 

"Well, I'm going to keep that picture on my wall, and I'm going to pick my 
own friends. I'm fifteen years old, and you don't have that much of a say 
over me anymore. I'm not your little girl any longer. I'm a woman!" 

Anthony looked at his daughter. He was stunned by her remark. 

Had he still been treating as his little girl? 

He took a look at that. He wanted to see the situation clearly. He didn't 
want to be one of those fathers who inhibited the growth of their daughters. 
He wanted to let his Virginia be her own person, and he wanted to let her do 
her own thing. 

He didn't need to make her wrong for doing the things she did. He didn't 
need to punish her for choosing friends on her own, or being a growing young 
lady. 

"I'm sorry, baby," he said. His voice was soft and loving. 

"That's alright, Daddy," his daughter Virginia answered. She twirled a 
strand of long blonde hair around a finger. 

"I was only looking out for your own good. I was only looking out for you, 
when I guess I should have trusted your good sense." 

Virginia smiled. Little tears filled her eyes. She knew that her father was 
only trying to take care of her. At the same time, she was glad that he 
allowed her to go off on her own. 

"Thanks, Daddy," she said. 

"Just promise me one thing," Anthony had told her during this discussion. 

"What's that?" 

"Promise me that you'll stay away from Gill Alley. It's dangerous down 
there. The street lights have all been knocked out by hoodlums throwing 
rocks at the lighlbulbs. It's dark down that alley, and it's dangerous." 

Virginia still understood that her father was simply trying to see that she 
remain safe, but she felt that he was trying to control her again. 

If she gave into this request, then he might make her bow to more and more 
requests of that nature. 

She didn't want that to happen. 

"I don't know if I can promise you that Daddy," Virginia finally replied. 
The silence had been deadening. Naturally, Anthony had expected her to 
respond affirmatively to the simple request which was, after all, for her 
own protection, 

It was dangerous down that dark alley. Black gangs drifted around that area. 
Anthony had said that no decent person would be seen on that street, and 
therefore the area had been taken over by dope-using punks. Black ones he 
was quick to add. 

Black punks meant black pricks to Anthony Stephens. Black pricks and white 
girls like Virginia Stephens meant rape, as far as the father was concerned. 

Down the dark alley, he feared that her lily-white love slit, her little 
white nookie, would be raped by black cock! 

Bernice thought about the discussion that her daughter Virginia had had with 
Anthony. She thought about it now as she looked through the girl's things. 

The room was fragrant with girlish perfume. Bernce opened the top drawer of 
the girl's white bureau, and she found, among the slips and silky 
underthings, a leatherbound diary. 

She was too much of a lady to look in her daughter's diary. She had been a 
teenaged girl herself, once, and she was not too old to have forgotten about 
the importance of a girl's privacy. 

She left everything as it was, and did not come up with any bubble bath. 

It didn't really matter. She didn't feel that anxious, for the bath and 
shower with her husband now. Something had happened to change her mind and 
dampen her interest, even though that interest had been great. 

Something had happened in the time that she spent in her daughter's room. 

She couldn't explain it, but Bernice felt worried. She was nervous about her 
daughter for some unexplained reason. 

Perhaps it was the vibrattons that a mother and daughter have; especially in 
a relationship as close as the 'sisterly' mother and daughter team of 
Virginia and Bernice. 

Of course, the very truth, the shocking, horrible truth, was that Anthony's 
worst fears for his daughter had been realized. 

Even as Anthony and Bernice had played hot sex games with an ebony cock, and 
even as Jesse Hodges tried to cope with the strange feelings that were 
coming over him, Virginia Stephens had been raped! Virginia Stephens had 
been brutally raped!

 Chapter Six

 That hot summer morning had begun in much the same way as any other. The 
sun rose and when young Virginia Stephens awoke, she found the sun rays 
beaming in through the window. 

It was no wonder that even the rays of the sun were lured to use Virginia's 
pretty charms as a playground. The sunlight streamed in over her naked 
breasts as she tossed and turned in bed. 

She really didn't want to wake up and go to school. There were so few days 
left of the semester. Ten more days, and school would be out for summer - 
unless, of course, Virginia's report card was a bad one. In that case, it 
would be summer school for Virginia. 

The teenaged girl was not a stupid girl by any means. No, not at all. 

It was just that she got into habits. She became lazy from time to time, 
when other things interested her more than boring schoolwork. She would much 
rather spend her attention learning about life on the streets, than spend 
those lush afternoons in a stifling hot classroom. How stuffy that was for a 
girl like Virginia! 

Her black friends taught her what she needed to know. 

"Street smarts is something altogether different from book-learning,'' a 
dude named Willy Clyde told Virginia. 

"How is that?" 

"Book-learnin' has no place in the ghetto. We live our life on the streets. 
Why would we want to know about boring honkey family life, or the white 
folks who cut us down all those centuries?" 

"That's history. And it can help get you out of the ghetto," Virginia 
explained. "If you get some education, go to college, and so on, or to a 
training school, you can move on up. You cain get a good job and high pay." 

"You sound like one of those whitey ads in the bus. Get off that shit, 
Virginia," Willy Clyde said. He was being honest with her he was coming from 
his head, and his principles. She was coming from her own values, which were 
white values, perhaps, and certainly different from his. 

"If you live in the ghetto, you gotta learn street sense, he continued, "You 
gotta be able to talk to everybody. You gotta be able to relate to the 
highest people, like the fuckin' cops, and you gotta know how to deal with 
the lowest scum, like some of the gang leaders in this sewer system." 

"The cops never bother me," Virgnia replied. 

"Yeah, cause your a lily-white little virgin. But they get hot on a nigger's 
tail if the nigger don't know how to talk to them. Shit. I'd like to bang 
those motherfuckin' coppers up the side ot the head. Pigs. But I know 
better. I got street sense. I'll go about and do what I damn well please, 
breaking laws and breaking in virgins, but hell, I gotta be fair with the 
Man." 

"Do you think that I could learn street sense?" Virginia asked. 

Willy Clyde laughed. 

"All you gotta do to learn street sense is to do it. No trying," he told 
her. "Just do it. Can ya?" 

"I'll try," she said meekly. 

"That's not street sense. I just told you, white girl, that you can't try. 
Look, see this watch," he said, taking his wristwatch off his wrist and 
placing it on a chair. 

''Yes, I see it," she replied. 

"Alright. Let's see you try and pick it up." 

"You mean, lift it up off the chair?" she asked. 

"That's right. Lift it up off the chair. Try to." 

Virginia smiled. She thought that there must be some trick involved. She 
felt silly. But She reached over and picked the wristwatch off the seat of 
the chair. 

"Good," Willy Clyde said. ''You picked the watch up off the chair. Now let's 
see you try and lift it off the chair." 

It was getting confusing. Virginia had to ask him what he was talking about. 

"Street sense," he told her. "You didn't try to pick that watch up. You just 
went ahead and did it. You knew that you could do it, and you just went 
about your business.'' 

"I did it in the easiest way. Of course, it was an easy job." 

"No more difficult or easy than a lot of other things. Whitey fools himself 
more than us black folk. We know the score. We have to." 

"Street sense, huh?" Virginia smiled. 

"You're catching on fast, for a white girl." Willy Clyde said. ' 

They cracked up in laughter. In fact, after the laughter died down, they 
spoke more about the subject. The boy agreed that he would do some studying 
if Virginia learned some street sense, 

It was fair enough, and they both would learn from the experience. 

Virginia thought about that conversation with her friend Willy Clyde as she, 
lay in bed. She wondered if she'd make any failures on her report card. Then 
she remembered that she had done her best, most of the time and she felt 
better. 

That morning she stretched, finally, like a cat, and turned her radio on to 
her favorite station. Some romantic pop music came through the speakers. It 
had an infecttous beat, and the lyrics were cute. 

Virginia started dancing to the music. Her naked boobs were shaking. 

There was a full length wall mirror attached in the door frame of the door 
to her room. The door was closed, and Virginia watched herself bounce around 
to the music in the mirror. 

She was wearing pajama bottoms of a very thin, lightweight material. The 
drawstring in front was pulled tightly, making the material cling at her 
waist. It billowed down into loose-fitting legs below. 

When she danced, she arched her body all around. Her ass globes were full 
for a fifteen year old girl. Her nipples were pointy. Her breasts were 
upturned, and very nicely shaped for a fifteen year-old blonde. 

Those boobies bounced as she danced to the beat. She was practicing her 
disco dancing for a future night of disco fever, if the chance would arise 
for her. 

With a pretty girl like Virginia, that chance would have to come along 
before too long. Pretty soon a boy would simply have to ask to take her to a 
dance. He'd just have to. 

Her naked feet were moving about, and she was really getting into the song, 
but she decided to switch the station; to see if anything better was coming 
out over the airwaves. She was always looking for something more. 

The dial skipped over a -number of talky stations, and a muzak statton, and 
a classical station. This fifteen-y ear-old girl had no use for them. 

When she came to the station at the end of the dial, she knew that she had 
found what she was looking for. 

The beat! It was so funky! 

This was soul radio. She had heard the catchy tunes many times, on the 
radios of black and Spanish kids passing her in the street. The record shops 
in the area sold nothing but this Afro-sounding music, with its very hot 
beat. 

It seemed more advanced than the white music she had been dancing to. At 
least, to her ears it did. 

She started dancing more wildly. She let go of her inhibitions, and began 
tossing her long blonde hair around in all directions. She bounced her 
little boobs all up and down. The jugs really bounced to the heady beat. 

She turned the sound up even louder. She was really dancing. The sound got 
to her soul. No wonder it was called soul music. It really got to her. It 
filled her core with animal movement and the rhythms overtook her. 

Virginia danced herself around the room in those pajama bottoms, seeing the 
thin material cling to the little mound of her cunny. She pulled the 
material back on her lower torso, which, made the front crotch soak up with 
moistness and stick in the slit of her cunny. 

"Jesus Christ! Are we back in the jungle with jungle bunnies?" her father's 
angry voice intoned. He slammed his way into her room. "Turn off that 
noise," he told her. 

Virginia was very angry. She didn't at all like the idea of her father 
busting his way into her room like that. After all, she was naked-breasted, 
and the front of her pajamas were wet! 

"Daddy! You're bothering me again. I thought you said that you were going to 
let me live my own life from now on," Virginia complained. 

"I will not allow this noise to blare through our house. You may think that 
you are black, young lady, but your parents certainly are not!" 

It was not the best way for Virginia to start her day. After her father 
turned the radio off with a click, Virginia slammed the door of her room 
behind him. The attached mirror rattled, and nearly came off its hinges. 

Virginia was pouting. She felt angry. What disturbed her most, perhaps, was 
that she didn't use street sense. She shouldn't have slammed that door. 

She decided to apoligize to her father, but by the time she got herself 
dressed and downstairs, her father had left for work. "Oh, well," she sighed 
to herself, "there will be plenty of time to apologize later." She didn't 
think that her father was the kind of man to carry around anger all day. He 
would let go of his anger pretty quickly, she was sure of it. And, she was 
quite was quite correct about that. 

She sat back down at her dressing table and pouted her lips. She ran a clear 
gloss over her lips, which made them shine. She loved using Stay-Put 
lipstick. It gave her those oh-so-kissible-lips. 

She brushed her long blonde hair until it, too, was glossing in the light. 
She flipped the long locks all around, to make sure that her hair had soft 
bounce. 

A bit of a product of the television commercials she saw, she was, however 
becoming more and more interested in another way of life; a way of life 
practiced by the street people. Those television commercials weren't 
directed toward them. Willy Clyde had told Virginia that. 

"All those whiteys seeing which one has the whiter wash! Now they got a few 
colored peoples to feel the baby's diaper and check the laundry for 
cum-stains. Those washing machine bitches should plug themselves with the 
extention cords from their fucking washers and dryers. Hell, my Momma washes 
ctothes in the sink." 

Virginia thought about Willy Clyde's words as she slipped into the clogs he 
had bought her. Hed saved his nickles to get the clunky-heeled, back-less 
shoes for Virginia, because he wanted her shapely legs to look good in the 
summer. 

She told him when he presented her with the gift that he shouldn't have done 
it, but he had wanted to. It wasn't often that he spent the money he earned 
after school, especially not on any white, chick. 

But Virginia was special. 

Virginia was dressed for school. She had a little skirt which hung down 
almost to her knees. Underneath the skirt, she had on a pair of very short 
shorts. 

Her plan was to wear the skirt out of the house so that her mother wouldn't 
see her in the short shorts. Those faded shorts were very tight on her. 
Every curve and crevice of her lower body was fully revealed through those 
shorts. 

When she arrived at school, she would slip out of the skirt, and tease the 
boys with her figure. She was glad that her school didn't have a dress code. 
If she had been attending one of the classier schools which charged tuition, 
she might have been forced to dress in a certain manner. She might have even 
been made to wear a schoolgirl uniform, which she would have found very 
unsexy. 

At her school, in the heart of the black ghetto, a girl could wear whatever 
she wanted, even if her father advised her not to flaunt her girlish charms 
for the eyes of black boys. 

With her school books under her arm, and her little skirt wrapped around the 
more revealing shorts underneath, Virginia skipped out of the house after 
giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. 

"I won't be home for dinner," she told her mother. "I'll be having dinner 
with a friend. I'll be back by ten o'clock." 

"Ten o'clock? Isn't that a bit late?" her mother Bernice asked. "I mean, 
will somebody be walking you back home at that hour?" 

"Mother, you're beginning to sound like Daddy. This is June 21st. The day is 
very long. The sun will be setting late, and it will still be light when I 
return. I'll be alright, she told Bernice. 

"Alright, then," Mrs. Stephens said, releasing her fears. "Have a good time. 
And don't do anything that I wouldn't do," she added, winking. 

Virginia always thought that, that was a silly remark to make. It sounded 
especially silly coming from her mother, because Virginia was certain that 
many of the things she'd do were different than the things that her mother 
would do. 

Her mother wouldn't smoke pot all night, listening to records. Virginia, of 
course, would. She was getting into that way of life. She was attracted to 
it. 

Her mother wouldn't drink Ripple, and start petting with black studs. 
Virginia sure would! Would she ever! 

They were not of the same worlds. But, Virginia had to admit, that she, at 
least, had her virginity. She was still a virgin, and she valued the 
commodity of her virginity. It was precious to her. That tightly stretched 
membrane m her little girl pussy was precious to her, despite the manner in 
which she showed her pussy around in her short shorts. 

When Virginia got to the bus stop, in the direction of her school, she found 
that many people were waiting at the stop. Very unusual. Transportation in 
the area was horrendous. 

The people didn't wait on an orderly line. 

Instead, they bunched together in groups. Some kids were going to climb on 
board the bus using the back door. They'd avoid paying the fare. They didn't 
feel that they should have to pay for such lousy service and such a crowded, 
unpleasant ride. 

The trip was usually pretty lousy and unpleasant. 

When the bus finally creeped along, pulling into the bus stop, a surge of 
people pushed forward. 

"One at time, let em off first," the driver said wanting the departing 
passengers to get off before new people climbed on but it was no use. The 
tough kids sliced their way through the crowd and made their way on board 
the bus. People were cursing each other and it was a most unpleasant 
beginning 

Virginia used some street sense and just shouldered her way on the bus 
without getting all upset over the situation. She had some pennies in her 
hand, and she tossed a few of them into the coin box. She was supposed to 
pay a fare of fifty cents. 

She felt glad that she had tricked the bus driver, who was too busy 
defending himself against the rush of people to notice that Virginia was 
about forty-three cents short on her fare. 

On board the bus, Virginia saw that there were kids on the rear bumper of 
the vehicle. They had climed on there for a free ride, although, it would be 
a dangerous one. They would be hanging on the back of a moving bus in heavy 
traffic. 

That was the thrill in it for them. They wanted some excitement in their 
lives. They were tired of watching television and seeing other people with 
all the riches and luxuries of life. They wanted their chance, too. And they 
were bored with the wishy-washy things they observed on television. They 
were hot to go out and find their own excitement. 

And if they couldn't find it out there, they would create it! 

Virginia had to grin when she saw these kids hanging on the back of the bus 
as it pulled from the stop on the hot summer morning. They were howling like 
bandits, and hanging on for dear life. 

Many of the people on the bus shook their heads in disbelief. They thought 
that it was a worthless, stupid thing that they were doing. 

"If one of those kids falls off and cracks his black head open, we'll all be 
delayed. We'll be late for work." one woman complained loudly to her friend. 

"Fuck you, lady," a young kid piped up. "If you don't shut your mouth, I'll 
personally see to it that you ride up on the roof. I'll punch you up there." 

The woman didn't utter anothe word. 

Virginia had been at the center of such arguments and conflicts many imes 
before. Usually she took the side of the righteous people. She stood by the 
more conservative opinions of her parents and people like them. 

And there was nothing wrong in that. They were entitled to those opinions. 

But Virginia was now beginning to see things differently. She was beginning 
to see where some ot these, black kids were coming from in terms of their 
demands on society. She was beginning to see things from their viewpoint. 

There was nothing wrong in that, either. 

She was entitled to make up her own mind. 

As she stood there on the bus, stretching her arm up to reach the strap 
which hung down for those who had to stand during the bumpy ride, she felt 
the eyes of several people. She felt their eyes on her. 

When she stretched up that way to reach the strap, her naked nipples pushed 
insistently through the thin material of her summer blouse. It was just the 
way that she was positioned. It was just the way that she leaned forward. 

A big black dude was sitting down on the seat in front of where she was 
standing. Her cunny was at eye level when he lifted his head and lowered his 
gaze ever so slightly. 

He was sitting there, very relaxed, with his feet crossed over one another 
at the ankles, and a fat cigar sticking out of his mouth. 

Smoking was not permitted on the bus. There were signs to that effect. But 
this man didn't care, and nobody on the bus mentioned anything about the 
cigar to him. Perhaps they were afraid to. He looked rather mean. 

In fact, he looked like a fucking King Kong man; one who might btow up at 
any moment. Nobody wanted to see that. 

He was, however, taken with the sight that was there before him. He made no 
bones about the fact that he was staring Virginia's pussy down. 

His gaze was intent. It burned her through the covered cuntal mound. 

He watched her cunny, licking it with his eyes! From time to time he raised 
his head slightly, to look at Virginia's pretty face. 

He had a newspaper in his lap, and as the bus continued on its way, he 
lowered his hand beneath his newspaper. 

Virginia observed this. Then she watched as the newspaper's surface began 
bouncing. The man was playing with himself under the paper! 

She was sure that he was doing just that. The stroking rhythm with which the 
paper bounced as the bus moved along convinced her. This was going to be a 
hot ride. Her little cunny started undulating deep inside because she knew 
that a full grown black man was looking at her little white pussy and 
getting hot. 

She wondered if he had unzipped himself under that newspaper. She wondered 
if he was massaging his lump through his trousers, or if the black thing had 
been unleashed from his pants. 

She wondered how big it was, and she wondered if the color of it was darker 
than the rich shade of brown which covered his face and hands. 

The bus came to a stop, and more people piled on. They pushed down the 
aisle, forcing Virginia's body to lurch forward. She made her movement from 
the groin, 

It really wasn't a conscious effort on her part to stick her pussy in the 
face of this big black daddy. She was really trying to get out of the way of 
those who wanted to move to the rear (another expression some blacks found 
distasteful, considering the fact that they were forced to stay on the back 
of the bus in the South not long ago). 

Consciously-made or not, she did stuff her cunt right up close to the face 
of this mean-looking black dude. 

A young black kid on the bus shouldered his way through the crowd to stand 
directly behind Virginia. He reached up to share the same strap with her. 

She felt his hot breath on her neck. She felt him press his body into hers, 
involuntarily, due to the thrust of the crowd on the sardine-packed bus. 

Then she felt something very strange! She could have sworn that she felt a 
hard lump pressing into her anus through her clothes. 

She didn't believe it, at first, but when she thought about what was 
happening, directing her attention to her back door, she did, in fact,, 
distinctly feel a lump about eight inches long, pressing into the crack of 
her ass. 

It was a dick! A black dick; and she could feel the pulsing of it as he 
worked some muscles down there. He was panting and pressing his black dork 
into her from behind, all the while that her cunt was stared at by another 
big black buck. 

The pale-skinned blonde teenager was the attention-point for two black 
males. Both black guys were turned on by her youthfulness. And her 
whiteness. 

And she was turned on by them, and their manly blackness. 

She was getting it from the front, with a pair of dark, staring eyes, and 
from behind, by a person who looked to the rest of the people on the bus, to 
be just another boy along for the crowded ride. The fact that he was up 
against Virginia did not seem out of place on this crowded vehicle that 
morning. 

The boy behind was wearing shorts. His dark legs were as bare as her legs 
were. He started to rub his dark flesh agahist her white flesh, and he used 
the fingers of one hand to cup her ass cheeks while he wiggled his dick 
around between her cheeks. 

She didn't back off. She stayed right there and she even arched her cheeks 
to give him a better feel of the rounded buns against his dick. 

For the time being, at least, his black stick was safely tucked beneath the 
materil of his shorts, as was the ass meat of Virginia Stephens. 

His sex play was the secret sex play of strangers on a crowded bus in New 
York. Such things had happened to Virginia before. Being such an attractive 
girl, it was natural that these hings would happen to her. 

There had been that man who had unzipped his cock m the back seat of a bus 
once. Nobody but Virginia, who was seated beside him, could see what he was 
doing. But she could see it very well. He was milking his cock. 

She thought about that as the bus rocked back and forth, causing the cock of 
the black dude behind her to get shoved harder against the crack of her ass. 

At one point, her skirt came undone and it fell to the floor. She was 
standing there in her short, shorts. Her beautiful, hairless white legs were 
naked to the upper thighs. The material of the shorts hugged her so tightly, 
that a little ripple of flesh stuck out from under the hems of the shorts. 

The man who was watching her cunt, and jerking his cock under a newspaper on 
this public bus, was really in for a treat when the skirt fell away. His 
eyes almost bulged from his head, and there was no telling how his cock 
bulged. 

For sure, it was bulging. 

She knew, of course, that the skirt had fallen away from her body. She saw 
that it had fallen, but she didn't dare bend down to pick it up. 

If she bent down, she would get really shoved in the ass with black cock. 

Besides, the skirt was under the feet of some new people who piled on the 
bus. It was very crowded in the area where Virginia was standing, but she 
didn't want to leave that spot. It was too much fun! She was having a ball. 

It was the perfect way to start the day, after a few less than pleasant 
things had taken place. They were all forgotten now, with the pressure of a 
penis sticking into her behind, and the sight of a black man, looking her 
over as she stretched her tits to hang onto the strap, and undulated her now 
dripping cunt. 

The cuntal mound was really moist, and slight traces of girl-nectar showed 
through the material. The big black buck was sucking on that cigar. He was 
salivating. 

He took the fat cigar and removed it from his lips. He placed his elbow on 
his knee as he held the unlit cigar in one hand. When the bus tilted, his 
hand just naturally was directed toward her little virgin vagina. 

That fat cigar was like a big brown dick rubbing up against her covered 
virgin pussy with every chance he had. The brown cigar was wet on the end 
which had come from his hot-salivaed mouth. He rotated it gently around the 
little cuntal mound during the opportunities which arose when the bus tilted 
that way. 

Virginia looked down at the man opposite her. He was really a big, older 
man. And a black man. He was, in fact, the first black man who had ever made 
any type of a really overt play for this hot-boxed little virgin. 

She felt all wet inside her cunt. She was hot. It wasn't only that this man 
represented such strength, such virility, such wisdom of age. What really 
excited her was his darkness. All those things that she had heard about 
black people and the darker side of nature. 

She wanted someone who was strong and ammalislic, as she had heard black 
people were. And if she had a choice between a large cock and a small one, 
she thought that she'd like to make it big. She'd heard that about blacks, 
too. She'd heard that they were hung. 

The dude poking her in the behind seemed to verify that. 

Virginia was cooking in her hot little girl-oven. All she needed was the 
sausage that her cuntal walls would barbecue. And she'd be sure to cook that 
dark meat until it was well-done!

 Chapter Seven

 Virginia's eventful bus ride was to continue beyond her expectations. 

The bus was so crowded, that she missed her stop. First of all, the driver 
didn't bother to bring the bus to the stop, because he didn't want new 
passengers filling the vehicle up any more than it was already filled. 

Passengers were pulling the signal cord to tell the driver that they wanted 
to get off the bus. Others yelled out curses. It was that kind of ride. 

In any event, Virginia missed the school stop, as did a lot of other kids 
who were on their way to class. They didn't complain, though. They laughed. 
They would be late for school once again, but that didn't make a hell of a 
lot of difference to them. 

Virginia was disturbed that she might be late, but then she decided that it 
was all right after all. She would have a few more minutes to enjoy the 
attention of two black males. 

The young man behind her, who was hard and sticking his tool around her ass, 
had to turn to make his way out at the next stop, so poor Virginia had to do 
without that. 

But she still had the man in front of her, and he was still twirling that 
wet cigar, and staring her pussy down with a hard glare. 

His glare was no harder than his dick, which was black and shiny. It was 
indeed out of his pants, sticking up like a thick lump, under his newspaper. 

To Virginia's surprise, the man began to speak to her. 

"On your way to school, little girl" he asked. 

"Y-y-yes, Sir," she stammered. 

The man didn't say anything after that. He just kind of looked at her for a 
while longer. 

The bus pulled into the stop, and Virginia knew that it did. But she 
couldn't move. She didn't want to move. Something too exciting was happening 
to her on the bus. This black man was talking to her. 

She'd spoken with black men many times before. However, never had she spoken 
with a big black man who was wet at the dick from having played with it on 
the bus while staring at her pussy and her twin boobies. 

The man was no fool. He, too, realized that Virginia had missed her stop. 
And he knew that she was still on the bus; still riding along so that the 
connectton between this sex-hungry black dude and herself would not be 
broken 

"You wanna have some fun?" the black man finally said, after staring at her 
cunt, looking at her tits, and then raising his gaze up to her. 

Virginia didn't answer. She was quivering in the pussy. Her quim was 
trembling. 

She knew that the man must have many things in his head about what would be 
fun. 

She didn't know exactly what he meant by his statement, but she was almost 
afraid to find out. 

Almost afraid, but 'almost' doesn't count. 

She was also mystertously drawn to him. 

Maybe it was the excitement, the thrill. 

Those kids who had been hanging on the back of the bus were putting 
themselves in danger, but they did it for the thrill. It was worth it for 
them, 

Virginia understood. It would be worth it for her to experience this thing 
out. She knew that it would be dangerous for a fifteen-year-old white girl 
to go home with a stranger, a black man, she'd met on the bus. 

She should have also thought, about the circumstances under which their 
introduction took place, if it could be called an introduction, at all. 

He was a black man who got his kicks jerking his cock off under a newspaper 
on a crowded bus while observing the white pussy of a teenaged blonde. 

But rational considerations had no place in Virginia's head at the moment. 
Her cunny was telling her yes-yes-yes! Yes, her cunny was telling her. Go 
and have some fun. That's what you want. That's what you need. 

She thought about Willy Clyde, her black friend with street sense. What'd he 
say? What advice would he give Virginia? She wondered. 

She thought that he would probably ask her which she would rather do; spend 
a day like every other day in a stuffy classroom, or spend the day as the 
lover of a man who would give her memories she could never forget. 

Virginia didn't bother to think about what her mother would say. And she 
certainly didn't care to think about what her father might tell her to do. 

God, no! Her father had told her never... well, her father had told her 
never to do a lot of things, and most of them she tried, anyway. 

No, it was no accident that she gave the most faith to what her pal Willy 
Clyde would say. He would tell her to get out and live and do those things 
she dreamed about doing. They weren't that hard. They weren't impossible. 

Deep inside, she already knew that she really wanted to be with a black man. 
She knew that she wanted to experience a black man's prick inside her white 
cunny, 

"I don't know," she said softly, finally answering the man's question. He 
wanted her to go with him, for 'some fun' but she wasn't sure. 

"Come on," he said, glancing sideways at the pulsing bone beneath the paper. 
He moved his muscles to make the paper move up and down. That turned her on. 

"I'll pay for your bus ride back to my place. It's not far. Come on." 

So saying, the black buck got up from his seat and flashed Virginia a 
momentary glance at his naked prick before he quickly stuffed it back in his 
pants. Nobody else had a chance to see him do it. 

Virginia sure did. She couldn't possibly have missed anything that he did. 
His flared nostrils breathing, his kinky-haired head perspiring, the 
bluntness of his fingers; she took note of all of these things. 

The strength of his hands, the thickness of his neck, the darkness of his 
skin; all of these things made a strong impression on Virginia. 

She had spent years dreaming about the things she wanted. She had the 
pictures of her favorite sex objects up on her wall, but she'd never even 
petted with a boy, except for Bobby Johnson, back in the third grade. 

Now she had a chance. It was there for the taking; all ripe and juicy. 

She just had to reach out and take the challenge. She didn't even have to 
say 'yes'. All she had to do was follow him like an adoring little puppy. 

All she had to do was follow him like his little pet; his little white 
pussy! 

The black man had shown her his cock, and he had shown her his interest. One 
she saw very briefly, the other she had seen throughout the entire hot ride. 

She wanted to see more of his cock. She wanted to see the slick, dark dork - 
in a mirror - as it slicked up her lips with semen. 

She turned and follwed the man who iust might be able to lead her to a new 
life. She had to have him. She just had to. 

He didn't look back to see if she was following him. He was in complete 
control of this pretty blonde doll. And he knew that he was. If she hadn't 
followed him, he woud have been very surprised. 

He pulled the door forward, and held it for a moment, as one would upon 
leaving the bus. Virginia's white hand grabbed the shiny silver handle. The 
soft warmth of her pale flesh felt the dark wrinkled skin of his strong 
hand. 

It was the first time their flesh had actually touched. 

When they were both off the bus, the man lit his cigar. Puffs of smoke 
billowed about her head, causing her to cough. She was just a 
fifteen-year-old white girl. His strong black man smoke was overpowering for 
her. 

Virginia didn't say anything, because she didn t know what to say. She was 
afraid that the man might have changed his mind. If he had, she would have 
just walked back to school, arriving a little bit late. 

He solved the problem for her. When the smoke cleared, he dropped his hand 
to his crotch again, briefly, and told her to cross to the other side of the 
street. 

He didn't ask her. He ordered her to do it! And when he said the word, she 
swallowed it! 

They waited until the traffic stopped zooming across the broken-down 
streets. He knew, even though he had nearly stared her pussy to flames on 
the bus. 

He didn't want any snoopy person seeing him with a pretty liltle blonde teen 
who was supposed to be in school. She was jail bait, and he was a big black 
stud. 

It was obvious that he would have to play it cool until he had the white 
angel inside his private chambers. Once inside his apartment, he had special 
plans for Virginia. 

Once across the street, they waited for the bus that would take them in the 
other direction. They would be going back beyond the point they had come 
from. 

"My name is Master," the big black dude told Virginia when nobody was near 
enough to hear him except the pretty little girl. 

"Master?" She thought that it was a very unusual name. 

She didn't realize that he was her new black master. He was the man who was 
going to take her down the path that would lead to sexual pleasures she had 
never known. 

The bus came by. It was a dirty-looking thing. Somebody had written 'Wash 
Me' in the filth on the back window. The sign in front which was supposed to 
announce the destination of the bus had been pulled off, but 'Master' knew 
that this was the bus back to his apartment. 

It was a lot less crowded than the bus which went along the same route in 
the other direction at that hour of the morning. 

Master handed Virginia two quarters, and she stepped on and paid her fare. 
She didn't know if Master wanted her to sit next to him, or to sit by 
herself. She followed his lead. He nodded his head in the direction of a 
seat that he wanted her to take. 

She began to have second thoughts about her wild idea. In fact, when the bus 
went by the school, she thought about jumping off. 

She spotted a few of the kids she knew from school going into the school 
building. That was where she should have been. She hoped that the principal 
wouldn't telephone her mother for any reason. She didn't want to get caught 
playing hookey from school. 

And then she realized that she was doing more than playing hookey from 
school. She looked over at the powerful black Master. He was a real man. 

The little white girl felt a tremble in her wet little cunny. The tight 
girl-lips were puckering slightly. She had never been entered. She wondered 
if Master had that in mind when he suggested that he join her for some fun. 

She didn't know if her tight little hole would be able to handle that big 
stick of his. She had only glimpsed it for a moment, but she was very well 
able to see that it wasn't what one would call small, even for a man who 
wasn't black. 

And it was black, which made Virginia stay right on that bus. She was glued 
to her seat by the sap from her sassy pussy! 

Which of the other white girls in her class had made it with a black man? 

None, she was positive of that. She felt that very strongly. She felt that 
she was one of the more mature girls in the class. While the others verses 
in an un-air conditioned classroom, she would breathe in the scent of a 
black man's crotch, and maybe take his chocolate love pole in her wet little 
mouth. 

The bus continued on its way, and as it got closer and closer to where it 
was going, new fears came up for Virginia. The bus was headed back in the 
direction of her parents' apartment. 

In fact, since the black man with the cigar had been on the bus when 
Virginia stepped on, there was every reason to believe that his apartment 
was beyond that point, and that Virginia would have to pass by her parents' 
apartment in order to get to Master's place. 

That really worried her, because she kept thinking. "What if my mother 
should step out the door and see me with this black man. He must be ten 
years older than I am, at least. Maybe even more. And he's black'" 

Indeed, she would hardly be able to come up with an excuse for being with 
Master. The only thng that she would be able to say would be the truth. She 
wanted her white body to be introduced to hot chocolate loving. 

She wanted to make it between the sheets with a black man. 

As fate would have it, the bus continued beyond 153rd Street without her 
mother stepping out of the building to catch Virginia with a black monster. 

She had been holding her breath the entire time, but then she let it out 
with a sigh of relief. Master got up from his seat without even looking at 
her. 

He hulked his hefty, muscular black frame to the rear door. He walked off 
the bus and Virginia followed in his footsteps, some two feet behind him. 

He came to a brownstone building which was in much need of repair. A couple 
of women sat on the outside stoop with their young babies. One mother nursed 
the baby there on the street. The other polished her toenails a bright, 
fiire engine red, while her baby cried in a little blue carriage. 

The man who called himself Master, at least for Virginia's benefit, walked 
up the steps of the building without saying a word to the women out front. 
He just grunted past them, like a hulking mass of black animal. 

The big black bear was chewing on his cigar, which emerged from his mouth in 
the way that Virginia imagined his dick might emerge from his crotch - thick 
and brown, and effusing hot smoke. 

Virginia wondered if this man was indeed very mean and unfriendly. He hadn't 
said a word to the women who sat the stoop outside, and it was such a small 
building. She was sure that he must have come in contact with his neighbors 
before. Why hadn't he responded to them, or they to him? 

His large feet clicked heavily on each step as they climbed the stairs, up 
to the top floor. It seemed to Virginia that whenever she visited someone 
who lived in a walk-up, the apartment she was visiting was always located on 
the very highest floor. It never seemed to happen that somebody she knew 
lived on a low floor. 

But three flights was nothing to climb when she thought about where that 
stairway was leading. It was leading her into forbidden games; things that 
would best remain secret from the white girlfriends she had at school. They 
would never understand where Virginia's head was at. They would think that 
she was twisted. 

And maybe she was. Maybe she was a twisted little girl, to follow an older 
black man into his tenement. Maybe she was being depraved at a very early 
age, to be so excessive as to skip school and take off with a nigger on a 
sex fling. 

The door to his apartment opened after the turn of one key. The door opened 
up onto a small apartment which seemed to have only one room which served as 
bedroom and living room. It was stark in its furnishings. All that it had 
was a large water bed, floating somewhere like a king-sized playpen in the 
center of the room. 

There were a few other items, perhaps, but Virginia's eyes were directed 
toward that water bed. It was filled with healed water which would warm the 
body as it clung to the flesh. 

Virginia could see the rippling of the plastic with the water underneath. 
She wondered how it would feel, clinging to the curves of her body; going 
inward and outward along with her little girl charms. 

On this summer day, the room was stifling hot. Master apparently didn't have 
air conditioning. He didn't even have a fan. 

The sweat was making Virginia's short shorts cling to her cuntal realm. She 
felt very damp. The climb up the stairs had left her breathless. Or was it 
that this black man made her breathless, and the climb just made her calves 
swell more, and her breath come in little girl catches. 

Master turned toward her, after closing the door behind them, and fastening 
the latch so that nobody could come in. Virginia was trembling, and she 
didn't move. She didn't put her arms around him, the way that he put his 
around her. 

She just stood there and let him take hold of her, pulling her body close to 
his. 

Virginia was close enough to feel the heat emanating from his crotch, which 
was, of course, nearly touching the trembling little virgin pussy. 

Virginia could taste the stale cigar flavor which remained on the man's 
tongue, when he forced his wet tongue into her mouth. His tongue was 
exceptionally hot in temperature. It held a sort of wet heat. 

Virginia didn't quite know how to behave with this black man, but she 
figured that if it was alright for him to stab her throat with his fat 
swollen tongue muscle, then it would be alright to swirl her little pointed 
pinkdart of wetness around in his mouth, too. 

She ran her tongue across the bottoms of this black cave man's teeth. Her 
tongue ran flatly across the slightly jagged teeth, and then the tip flicked 
over every point and crevice of his pearly white teeth. 

When she placed her wet tongue on top of the black master's tongue, she 
could feel the little creases in it. She could feel the saliva from his fat, 
pink muscle, coming off and sticking with the girlish mouth juice of her own 
oral cavity. 

This was deep kissing; kissing like she had never experienced. It was truly 
soul kissing with this big black soul brother. 

She pressed her little body into his. Her little dick-thriller was 
throbbing. It had a pulse beat of its own, from the delicate outer lips into 
the wet pink insides of her deepest hole. 

She didn't resist. She stood there, willing to be taken by the masterful 
black man. He was like a great black god, or a statue of ebony marble. 

She was so soft, so young, so innocent. And her pussy was pure as freshly 
fallen snow. She was a virgin. 

This big black man holding her in his arms breathing on her with his hot 
breath of passion, was going to lick her, and caress her, and love her and 
fuck her. He was going to sniff her and bite her and pick her up in his 
powerful black arms and put her to bed. He was going to feed her chocolate 
ice cream and fuck her inside-out. She was a beautiful little child, a 
beautiful little white girl, and this big black buck was going to have his 
way with her. 

She was blonde and she was willing. 

He pulled back from her and began unbuttoning the buttons of her blouse with 
his blunt, dark fingers. 

Virginia could not remember ever having been undressed by a man. She 
certainly knew that no man had ever undressed her in this manner. 

No man had ever looked at her the way this black man looked at her. No man 
ever made her little pussy quiver and moisten like this. No boyfriend, no 
television actor, and not even her father had ever made her feel like this. 

He was grunting under his breath as he unbuttoned her blouse until her 
little teenaged tits peeked out. She didn't wear a bra because it was a hot 
day and she didn't require the uplift. Her soft white breasts required no 
special uplift. They stood up on their own and they were really beauties. 
She was a knockout. 

When he had her top off, he went for her bottoms, but he wasn't able to 
maneuver the clasp. Virginia placed her soft, white fingers over his dark 
fingers, and she helped him undress her. 

Together they pulled the soft material of the shorts down her naked curves. 
The shorts remained in a little ball at her feet. Her little pussy, 
practically hairless, peeked out at the crotch of the big black man. 

Master pulled back to get a full view of the little teenaged Virginia. 

He blew a low Whistle out his thick lips. Then he went to the telephone as 
he undressed himself. He rested the receiver between his ear and his 
shoulder as he unzipped his pants. 

He stood there in his undershorts, and then that went down to the floor, 
also. His big black cock was bronze-colored and shiny. It stood out a good 
ten inches in front of him. It was stiff, rearing its head, and bobbing up 
and down. 

"Hello," he said in a very deep voice. "It's me. I won't be into work for a 
while I'll be late." 

He didn't give a reason. Obviously, his boss recognized his voice and 
accepted his flat-out statement that he wouldn't be in. 

Virginia felt terribly important. She was so taken with the fact that this 
man was missing work so that he could spend time with her. It was an honor. 

She didn't realize that she was taking off from school so that she could be 
with him. It was most certainly a two-way agreement. They were both very 
hot. He had a black cock and she had a white pussy. Together, they would be 
like the keys of a ragtime piano, making very hot music together. 

He was naked, and sweating. 

She was all soft, white, and trembling like the petals of a white rose in a 
breeze. 

Master picked his little white Virginia up in his arms, and tossed her 
downward on the waterbed. Instantly she felt the bed mold to her form. She 
rocked lazily in the relaxing bed. 

But she wasn't going to be relaxing. The water was lower than body 
temperature so that it would cool the flesh on this hot day. But the bed 
would also get quite heated up with the sex action that Big Daddy Master had 
in mind. 

He pressed his body into Virginia's, and the young girl thought that she 
would stop breathing. He was very heavy on her. She was just a little girl 
and he was a big black stud. 

She felt the warmth of his prick as he placed it sideways over her cuntal 
mound and started to rock his body back and forth against her on the water 
bed. 

All of her juices were coursing through her body at lightning speed. She was 
moaning very softly, begging him to be easy with her. 

That, of course, was for the Master to decide. He was in control. He would, 
of course, take very good care of her. He wouldn't do anything that could 
put a black man behind bars. 

And he wouldn't rip open a virgin's pussy unless he was really provoked. 

He raised his body from hers. "I'm goin' to the bathroom to get some cream," 
he told her. 

He disappeared into another room. The room had been dark, as was the rest of 
the apartment. All the windows were covered with closed curtains. It made 
the room private, and hot. 

In the light that now shone in the bathroom, Virginia could see the strong, 
dark legs of this man. She wanted to throw herself around those strong legs 
and hold on. She wanted to lick every part of his big brown body. 

She was sure that black men tasted like honey. 

The light flicked out, and Master hulked his way back into the room. He 
squeezed a glob of something into his hand, and then he reached down and 
smeared it on the outer lips of Virginia's little cunny. 

The cream was like a liniment. It had a very mild sting to it, which bit 
into the virgin fold's of young cunt flesh. 

Virginia had never been touched in the pussy by a black man. The sensation 
was so intense for her, and the warm stinging on her pussy was a feeling she 
would always associate with this day and this very special passion. 

She raised her hands to the head of Master. His hair was thick and very 
kinky. It offered resistance to her fondling fingers as they swept through 
the curly black forest of Afro. 

She was writhing from the touch of his strong fingers massaging her most 
private part. She grabbed his head tightly, pulling him by the hair. She was 
doing that because she couldn't hold back. She was going to cream her pussy. 

She hadn't even felt the blunt head of Master's black cock enter her girlish 
pussy lips. She hadn't felt him fuck her virgin cunt-hole. 

She just started to spasm. It was nothing that she could control. She 
screamed a little scream and twitched her cunt all around the water bed. 

The Master felt the hot snatch juices spew from her discharging pussy. The 
cream juiced up his hands. The stuff from her slit ran down his greased 
fingers. 

She had flown to heaven on that little trip. She looked into the eyes of the 
black master. She expected to see his handsome face, shining happily there. 

Instead she saw a nasty scowl. 

The man was mad. He was angry as a bee. He was going to sting her, and sting 
her hard. 

Whack! He slapped her hard across the face. His heavy handprint remained on 
the smooth white cheek of her face. He hit her on the side of the head, and 
she was dazed. She felt a buzzing sensation in her skin. She could feel the 
outline made by his open fingers on her face. 

"Don't you ever cum before your Master tells you to cum," he growled. "I'm 
gonna have to rape you!"

 Chapter Eight

Virginia was terrified. 

She had a big angry black man pinning her to his waterbed in a little 
tenement room. She should have been at school, where other fifteen-year-old 
girls all were. 

She could not be like other fifteen-year-old girls. This little blonde 
innocent had been a little wench. Her little tail had aroused the desire of 
a man who was used to getting his way. 

The black brother was not about to be cockteased by a little white teen, and 
let her get away without tasting his cock. 

"Please let me go," Virginia pleaded. "I've made a mistake. I shouldn't be 
here. I'm sure that my teachers are looking for me. My mother, too." 

"Don't try to scare me," Master told her. "You were hot to be here until 
your overactive little twat shot its juice. But you're not gonna get away 
that easily. This motherfucker is gonna have you one way or the other. You 
came up to the apartment of a black man, and you is gonna eat black meat!" 

She tried to squirm away, but it was useless. The door was latched, her 
clothes were off, and there was really nowhere to run. She wouldn't have 
been able to get by that big black man without his permission and approval. 

He kept her pinned, and moved his way up her body. His big black stick was 
out, and it was hard. He moved along the white flesh until his boner was 
near her mouth. 

"This black Master has some steaming hot dick for you to swallow. Suck it 
up, white puppy, until the steaming hot reward comes flying through." 

He was talking about the thick white scum that would shoot out of his cock 
head, 

Without even pausing for a moment, he slammed his hips into Virginia's 
mouth! 

"Arrrggggg," she gasped. The thick shaft was buried in her. It was lodged in 
deep, and Master was corkscrewing it down her throat after having rammed it 
in so hard that she feared her jaw might break. 

Once he had positioned himself so that the entire length of his now-slicked 
piss-shaft was down her yielding throat, he banged himself into her 
repeatedly. 

He was forcing this poor girl to take his enormous prick. 

He was actually forcing her to take the cock against her will. He was raping 
her throat. He was fucking her throat into raped ecstasy. 

He rammed her about ten times, very hard. She thought that she would choke. 
The master seemed to enjoy that. He liked to hear the sounds gurgling down 
in the back of her throat. They were the sounds of wetness being plowed by 
black dick. 

The stick of his prick was all wet and dripping with the saliva from 
Virginia's mouth. He pulled out for a moment, and held the dripping boner 
over her lips so that the wetness dripped down on her face. 

He shook the big thing back and forth a few times, to shake off all the 
excess liquid from his prick. It landed across her face. He wanted to give 
her throat a real fuck-thrilling. For that, he would start out dry. His 
shaft would soon be soaking wet all over again from Virginia's damp channel. 

"If you snap at this dick with your teeth little white bitch, you will be 
very sorry. I'll slap you so fucking much, they won't know whether you're a 
white chick or a black one when they find you all black and blue from my 
workout," he rasped. 

She wanted to tell him that he was a real mean guy. She wanted to tell him 
that he was the meanest motherfucker she had ever seen. But she didn't dare. 

He took a deep breath, to indicate that he was about to give her a real 
slamming. He arched his body, and wham! The fat hard-on roared into her oral 
cavity once again. 

He rammed her throat as if it were a deep cunt. 

"I'm gonna fuck that throat of yours until I shoot a load. This black cock 
is gonna give you lots of hot milk. Drink it into your white belly. Maybe 
it'll make you pregnant with little nigger babies," he told her, and he spit 
in her face. 

He was banging her with his, dick so badly that she thought about biting 
into it. But she didn't dare. She simply didn't dare. 

She took his abuse, and she walked out. He had street sense, and she had 
obviously goofed on the street, in the bus, and in the water bed. 

But the fucking, which was, in fact, a mouth raping, was building to a 
climax for the masterful Negro buck. 

She could hear his breathing grow heavy. The light in the room was quite dim 
but she could actually see the flush of blood engorge his upper torso, even 
though his skin was dark brown in color. He blushed with a crimson redness 
which made his dark flesh warmer in hue. 

The veins in his head began to pulse and the sweat was really flowing, 
dripping on the girl's naked body in large splats. 

He began to grunt and groan. His grip was so hard, she thought he would 
squeeze her to death. 

His hardened penis was really tearing her up. It was ramming into her with 
tremendous force. It was slapping into the back of the throat faster and 
harder than it had done up until this point. 

"Get ready white bitch, 'cause here it comes!" he warned. "Ahhhhhhhhhh!" 

The heavy fuck fluid filled her throat with sex jizz. 

She had never sucked a cock; never swallowed cum; never been with a black 
man. 

Suddenly, all of those things were part of her history. She would never 
forget a one of these things. Not a single one. It remained to be seen 
whether she would shrink back into her former self, and return to school, or 
forge further on the path of sexual encounters with black men. 

Only time would tell if she was to stick to the straight and narrow road 
after this dangerous mouth rape, or if she would seek bigger and better 
adventures in violent sex with hot-blooded black masters and rapists. The 
choice was hers. 

Master pulled out of her after he was certain that his impaling dick had 
served as a plunger to force the hot scum down her white toilet. Her throat 
was like a long, finely shaped, white porcelain toilet, just sitting there, 
waiting to accept his gifts of black nature. 

Virginia curled up into the fetal position. She needed to be in a nice warm 
place like her mother's womb after a savage mouth and throat raping. She 
needed the loving protection of a black boy like Willy Clyde. She needed 
something. 

When Master got up to wash off in the bathroom, Virginia used street sense. 

He closed the door behind him, and this gave Virginia time to quickly step 
into her shoes, take all of her clothing, and slip away from this inferno. 

She tiptoed quickly and quietly to the door. She unlatched the chain lock, 
and. holding her clothes in her hands, she slipped out the door. 

Her clothes were up in front of her, but she didn't have time to put them 
on. She didn't want Master to get mad at her again, because he might try to 
pull her back, and rape her all over again 

If he got a hold of her this time, he, might not let her go at all. 

Also, he had raped her throat. She still had a virgin cunny, and she was now 
determined that her little snatch was not going to be raped by his black 
meat No, that tightly stretched hymen would not be broken by that black 
Master. 

She ran down the street with her clothes in her hands. She ducked into an 
alley to put the clothes on. She flicked her hair back off her face. The 
long locks were wet with sweat. It had been most uncomfortable for her. 

Out on the street, the blinding sunlight beat upon her. It was too hot to 
stay out on the streets. There were no beaches or swimming pools nearby. The 
parks in the area were littered with glass. 

She had nowhere to go. She couldn't go to school, because she had already 
been marked absent, and most of the day of classwork was already over. 

She couldn't go home, because her mother would ask why she was home from 
school so early, and she would ask why Virginia hadn't gone, on to her date. 

Her date! She had planned to meet Willy Clyde after school, and spend the 
evening at his house. She knew that Willy Clyde wouldn't be in school at 
this hour, because he had dropped out. He had a job, and he roamed the 
streets. 

Often, he could be found in his neighborhood, a long twelve blocks away, 
through the short-cut of Gill Alley. 

Virginia had a few dollars in her purse. She decided to treat herself to a 
movie, since she had taken the day off from school and she rarely was able 
to catch a flick during the daytime hours when the price was so low. 

She pulled her hair over her face so that the cashier wouldn't be able to 
see her age that clearly. At fifteen, she needed the accompaniment of an 
adult. 

How ridicutous it was, she thought, that she would not legally be permitted 
in the movie theater without an adult, when she had just been throat-raped 
by a big black nigger stud. The world was strange about such things. 

There was nothing on the screen in the theater that was any more severe than 
the real-life incident which had befallen her with Master. 

Actually, the movie was a drag. A four star drag. The best thing that she 
could say about the day was that the popcorn in the theater was good. It was 
nice that the theater was very cool. That helped on the hot day. 

She slipped out of the theater and started walking the blocks toward the 
house of her friend Willy Clyde. She knew that she had been warned against 
walking through Gill Alley. 

It was always dark along Gill Alley, and terrible things were said to have 
happened there. 

Her father had gone so far as to tell her that the walls of the alley were 
red with blood. He told her that blonde-haired girls were the most likely 
victims of terror in the deep, dark alley. 

She was not so empty-headed as not to realize that her brief attire would 
not stand in the way of being attacked. She knew damn well that it would 
attract attackers to her. 

But she didn't follow good advice. She had to find out things about life for 
herself. Otherwise, she wouldn't really be living. She would be living her 
life through the words of other people. She didn't want to live her life by 
her father's ideals. She wanted to live it on her own terms. 

She cut through Bathgate Avenue, and then she met the crossroad. She could 
have taken the long route, or the short one. The short one cut through the 
dark alley. 

Virginia took the short, and dangerous way. She walked down those dark, 
empty streets leading toward Gill Alley. 

It was dark. It did look dangerous 

And then she heard the footsteps, coming close behind her. She heard the 
raspy breathing and she pulled her compact out of her purse In the top of 
her powder compact was a mirror which she held up to her face. With the 
mirror out in front of her, slightly to one side, she was able to see the 
black face of a grown man who had been tralling her. 

It was Jesse Hodges, and he didn't look like a rapist to Virginia. 

She flipped the top of her compact back again, and tossed it into her purse. 
She continued her wiggle-walk down the street. 

The sound of her heels echoed through the empty streets of dark Gill Alley. 
She didn't see the eyes squinting at her in the darkness. She didn't see the 
switchblades, glinting in the light of the single ray of sun which 
penetrated the clouds on this hot summer day. 

June 2lst, the day that six black studs jumped out from Gill Alley and raped 
Virginia Stephens until her numbed body lay on the street, with blood 
dripping from her tattered pussy. 

It was a very fateful day for Virginia. She did not die. She suffered, but 
not for very long. Her friend Willy Clyde was quick to pick up street news. 
When he learned that a blonde teenager had been attacked in Gill Alley, he 
ran right over there to help out. 

Discovering that the battered girl was none other than sweet Virginia, Willy 
Clyde kissed her gently, and made a lot of her pain go away. 

She didn't think that all black guys were evil, even though she had been 
throat-raped by one, and gang-banged by six of them on that fateful day. 

She had Willy Clyde, and he cared for her. He was gentle, and loving. He 
took care of getting to her to a hospital. 

Willy Clyde had been kicked out of school for being a troublemaker. He had 
been called every vile name in the book by white teachers who were afraid of 
him, yet more powerful than him when they used their education and white 
community standards as their backup. 

Willy Clyde might have been a leader of a gang of street toughs like the six 
who raped Virginia Stephens. But he didn't go down that path. He made his 
choice. He used street sense. 

And street sense didn't mean that he had to join a club of punks. He didn't 
have to be part of any conformist group. 

That was just what he was getting away from. 

He didn't wan to wear the silly little bow ties of his square, crew-cutted 
teachers. He didn't want to try and fit the white middle class mold 
projected in a million television commercials and in the very movie that 
Virginia had found so boring that afternoon. 

But he didn't want to join a gang of street youths either. He wanted no part 
of raping white girls. 

It was interesting that while Willy Clyde a black hoy who seemed to be a 
wicked boy on the outside because of his rough appearance and his scorning 
of rules, was actually all tender humaneness on the inside. 

It was interesting because Jesse Hodges, the well-dressed, articulate, young 
'Negro' assistant teacher at P.S. 9 appeared so straight and acceptable on 
the outside. 

He was admired by white people and black people alike. They looked up to him 
as an outstanding member of his community. 

But he stood there and watched as the girl was raped, and it affected his 
brain in a very strange way. It incited his desire to rape. It made him want 
to be dominant with his wife Elouise, and it brought his pecker to erection 
when he stood in front of the class of young girls at P.S. 9, and thought 
about their white pussies. 

He wanted to plug them, and rape them. He wanted to fuck them until they 
cried. 

He had all the chance in the world to be the person that he wanted to be, 
but Jesse was trapped by his secret, dark desires. 

He would never be satisfied. 

Once a man gets a taste for rape, he can never quench that thirst. 

Enough is never enough. He feels plagued because he always wants more, and 
he can never get enough. 


End
