Date: Fri, 13 Aug 2010 17:06:19 -0400
From: T.O.N.Y. <topofnewyork1989@aol.com>
Subject: De'Quarious Part 1

This is a fictional story, any similarities between the characters and
anyone living or dead is totally coincidental. Furthermore, this story is
not intended for minors. The following story contains hardcore unprotected
interracial sexual acts between men, one aged 18 and the other in his
twenties, the use of racial slurs, and the sexual coercion of an 18 year
old male. If such content is offensive to you, please do not read. I
welcome comments, critiques, suggestions, and feedback of all types, please
email me at TopOfNewYork1989@aol.com.


De'Quarious frantically paced back and forth in his bedroom, his stomach
churning from nausea. He couldn't believe that he'd been so stupid as to
allow some bitch to make off with three hundred dollars worth of Nimrod's
weed. In less than four hours, he'd be expected to present Nimrod with his
product, and De'Quarious knew that if he showed up empty handed, he'd be
lucky if he was allowed to live. Nimrod was one of the most ruthless drug
dealers in the city; he'd been known to amputate fingers for as little as
one missing penny, so De'Quarious could only imagine what he'd do for three
c-notes.  He'd watched another guy get the shit kicked out of him, get tied
to a car by his feet, and then dragged three blocks for stealing from
Nimrod. Although De'Quarious hadn't stolen anything, he knew that Nimrod
wouldn't believe him when he told him the truth, and even if he did he'd
still have De'Quarious fucked up for being so stupid.

De'Quarious was eighteen years old, six feet tall, and weighed about 165
pounds. He had a body toned from playing sports like basketball and
baseball as well as lifting weights. He had a perfect eight pack cultivated
by doing an obsessive amount of crunches each night. His skin was the color
of a dark chocolate Hershey's bar, with wide doe-like brown eyes, thick
full lips, and a broad nose with flaring nostrils. His kinky hair was
braided in tight cornrows that brushed his shoulders, and his face was
clean shaven, making him look younger than he really was. There was a
diamond shining in each ear, and like many of his peers, De'Quarious always
wore his pants sagging, giving anyone that cared to look a perfect view of
his round bubble ass, always covered by boxers and basketball shorts.

Girls loved him, and he loved them back. De'Quarious had been fucking girls
since he was twelve, he was the project stud, no one's daughter, sister,
niece, or female cousin was safe from the horny adolescent. And it was a
girl that got him into this situation, Patrice, a light skinned cutie that
he met while out with his boys buying the newest Jordans. She took his
number and promised to call him, which she did, right after he picked up
Nimrod's weed. Although he knew that he should have dropped Nimrod's
product off first, or at least brought it home and stashed it under his bed
or in his closet, De'Quarious remembered Patrice's fat ass, sexy lips, and
green eyes and he said, "Fuck it." He met her at a motel, they smoked weed
and fucked for hours, and then the stupid teenager fell asleep.  When he
woke up, all he had was his clothes; the thieving bitch stole everything
else, even the earrings out of his ear.

De'Quarious couldn't think in the house, he had to get out, so he grabbed
his cell phone and keys and left the apartment that he shared with his
mother and two younger sisters. He was walking down the street, wondering
how he was going to get Nimrod's money when a gray Land Rover slowed down
beside him. De'Quarious looked towards the car, nodding approvingly at it
because it was a nice and expensive whip, when the passenger's window
rolled down. There was a white guy behind the wheel, a little older than
De'Quarious, perhaps in his early to mid twenties. There was a baseball cap
on his head, and with one hand on the wheel, he turned and focused his
sky-blue eyes on De'Quarious. De'Quarious thought that he was lost, white
people didn't normally show up in his neighborhood, especially at
night. Then he thought that maybe he was an addict, showing up to score
some weed, crack, or heroin. "Yo!" The white guy shouted. De'Quarious
looked around and then pointed at his chest. The white guy nodded. "You
wanna make some money?"

"Huh?" De'Quarious asked dumbly.

"Do you wanna make some money?"

Of course De'Quarious wanted to make some money! Even if he didn't owe
Nimrod he'd have still jumped at the chance to make some money. De'Quarious
considered himself the consummate hustler, money made his world go around,
and he prided himself on having never turned down an opportunity to earn
some guap. However, he wondered what this white dude had in mind.
De'Quarious was naturally suspicious of white people and was, on a certain
level, a bit prejudiced. He considered himself superior to white males, he
considered himself better endowed, more virile, and a better athlete than
whites. He lusted after white women, believing that he could satisfy them
better than their little dick white boyfriends. He strutted to the Land
Rover's window and asked, "Doing what?"

"Well," the white guy began, "I'm rearranging my apartment, my roommate
moved out and I'm taking his room. The problem is, I've got this thick and
heavy bedroom set, I can't move it by myself. I was hoping I could get
someone to move it for me. I'll give you five hundred bucks."  De'Quarious'
pretty brown eyes almost bugged out of his head with surprise. Five hundred
dollars?! This weak ass white boy was gonna offer him five hundred dollars
to move some furniture around? That would be enough money for De'Quarious
to pay Nimrod and still have enough money left over to cop the new Jordans
coming out that Saturday. However, De'Quarious had to be sure.

"Hold up, you finna give me five hundred dollars to move some shit around
your apartment?" The white guy nodded. "You dead ass?"

The white guy smiled. "I'm dead ass. Five hundred dollars to move my
bedroom set into my old roommate's room."

De'Quarious opened the passenger's door and hopped in. "Aight yo, let's do
this then."

*****************************************************************************

The white guy--he told De'Quarious his name was Scott--lived in a part
of the city that De'Quarious had been to several times, a part of the city
filled with multimillion dollar brownstones, newly built condos, and other
thriving businesses. However, at that hour of the night, it was virtually
quiet and the streets were nearly empty. Scott's building had a parking
garage underground, and this was where he pulled into when he and
De'Quarious arrived. He parked the car and De'Quarious hopped out, and so
did Scott. When De'Quarious walked around the back of the Land Rover, he
got his first real good look at Scott.

Scott was taller than him, perhaps six foot four or five, he weighed about
200 pounds and he looked athletic. He had a healthy ruddy complexion, a
slender slightly pointy nose, and red lips that were neither too full nor
too thin. The hair visible under his cap was golden-brown and his face was
clean shaven. He was wearing a blue Hollister t-shirt, tan cargo shorts,
and flip-flops. De'Quarious thought that he looked like one of those
All-American types, the kinds of guys that he saw on billboards for Ralph
Lauren or Abercrombie and Fitch. He felt awkward staring at Scott and
instead looked down at his own crisp white Nikes.

Scott took in the handsome black teenager before him, admiring his toned
arms, full lips, pretty brown eyes and the uncomfortable look on his face
at having looked at Scott for so long so unabashedly. Scott really loved
the snow-white wifebeater t-shirt the adolescent wore, and the contrast
that the white cloth posed against his sleek dark skin. Scott smiled warmly
and ushered De'Quarious forward, and the black boy complied, and Scott
stayed behind a little so that he could see that De'Quarious--like other
black boys Scott had observed--wore his jeans very low, and Scott's dick
got hard at the sight of De'Quarious' fat bubble butt, which jiggled
slightly as the black boy affected a thug swagger to the elevator.

De'Quarious liked Scott's apartment. He had a huge flat-screen TV, an
X-Box, and a radio that blared music so loud that De'Quarious flinched when
he turned a knob and it turned on. Scott chuckled and turned it off, took
off his cap, and then showed De'Quarious to his bedroom. The room was about
half the size of the project apartment that De'Quarious shared with his
family, and he looked at it with a dropped jaw. Scott's bedroom set didn't
appear to be that heavy, and when De'Quarious went to lift the bed, he
found it to be quite easy. He smiled cockily at Scott and lifted the bed,
effortlessly carrying it from Scott's room and into the room next
door. Scott offered to help but De'Quarious waved him off. "Nah, I got
this." For some reason, he felt compelled to show his strength to Scott, to
make the weak white boy feel his superiority. Scott sat down at watched the
young black adolescent at work, working hard to move each piece of
furniture from one bedroom to the next. At some point he peeled off his
wifebeater, which was wet with sweat, and stuffed it into his back
pocket. Scott thought his body was as beautiful as a black panther's, his
young muscles rippled, and Scott started to rub his crotch, where his dick
was getting hard.

When done De'Quarious stood before Scott, sweat trickling down his smooth
chiseled chest, to his protruding navel, and down underneath the boxers and
basketball shorts that the boy wore. "Aight, I'm done." De'Quarious
said. "Where the money at?"

"Chill out." Scott said. "Relax. Don't you want something to drink? You've
been working real hard."

De'Quarious reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He had
three hours to get back to Nimrod's, and now he'd have to go back home and
take a quick shower to wash the sweat and funk off from working so
hard. "Nah, I'm good. I'll just take the money."

Scott smiled while still rubbing his crotch. He hadn't brought De'Quarious
over to move furniture; Scott was larger than the boy and could have easily
moved the furniture himself.  No, Scott invited De'Quarious over so that he
could fuck the young black kid. Ever since he was fourteen, and first
fucked his family's housekeeper's son, Scott had a thing for black boys. He
loved to humiliate them, force them to submit to his sexual desires, turn
them into little bitches, hear them moan and cry while he raped their
asses, and then send them back to their hoods with his white cum leaking
out their ravished black holes. He loved taking away all their pretensions,
stripping them of their dignity, letting them know that they were nothing
more than nigger holes for white cocks to enjoy.

And De'Quarious was just the type of black boy that Scott loved to
fuck. Handsome, cocky and masculine. The boy probably had girls running
after him all day, girls feening for a taste of that nigger cock in between
his legs. He probably loved pussy, probably had a girlfriend, perhaps even
kids, although De'Quarious didn't look any older than sixteen, Scott knew
that blacks started early. Scott sat there looking up at De'Quarious, at
how the teenager stood with his legs parted, arms crossed, affecting a
dominant pose, his funky nigger scent clogging Scott's nose and making his
dick so hard that it hurt in his boxer briefs, and Scott realized that the
boy mistakenly thought himself superior to him. That turned Scott on,
knowing that he was about to force this nigger to submit.

Scott smiled. "That's fine, I'll give you the money." He continued to rub
his crotch. "But I'm gonna need you to do something else for me."

De'Quarious licked his sexy thick lips. "What?"

"I'm gonna need you to get down on your ashy knees and suck my cock."

De'Quarious laughed, a loud bark of laughter that made Scott flinch. "Yo,
you crazy! I ain't sucking your dick, fuck outta here!" The boy continued
laughing. "Shit, you a real funny dude. Just let me get my dough and I'll
bounce."

Scott fixed his beautiful sky-blue eyes on the laughing teenager before
him. "I'm serious, or, as you'd say, dead ass. Either you suck my cock or
you're not getting anything."

De'Quarious realized that he got caught out there. Here he'd busted his ass
moving this cracker's furniture, and now he was talking some faggot shit
that De'Quarious could not get with. If he'd brought his gun, he'd have
just robbed Scott and kept it moving, but without his gun he felt
defenseless. He could fight him with his hands, and, believing that he was
superior, he figured that he could beat the weak white guy. He got close to
Scott trying to intimidate him, but the white man jumped to his feet and
towered over the black boy, looking down at him. "What?" Scott asked
fearlessly. De'Quarious backed down, realizing that the white guy wasn't
scared of him.

"C'mon man, can't we make some other arrangement?" De'Quarious pleaded. "I
really need that money, but I ain't no faggot."

Scott scoffed. "Oh, you're a faggot. You just don't know it yet. But see,
that's why I'm here." Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat
stack of money. "Five hundred dollars right here, all yours, if you be a
good little boy and suck my cock. If not, you can get the fuck outta my
apartment and don't get nothing." He waved the stack before De'Quarious,
who jumped at it, only to have Scott shove him flat on his ass.  "What's it
gonna be, boy?" And suddenly Scott was the cocky one, and De'Quarious was
the uncertain one, sitting on the floor, looking up at the big white guy
that was demanding oral sex from him.

De'Quarious knew that if he didn't have Nimrod's money he'd get his ass
kicked or worse. The mere thought of facing his ruthless employer sent the
boy's stomach into convulsions. However, the thought of taking this white
man's dick into his mouth made him feel the same way. Sweating and shaking,
De'Quarious hung his head. "Aight, I'll do it." He said, his voice soft
with defeat.

"You'll do what?" Scott demanded.

"I'll give you head." The black boy mumbled.

Scott smiled. "On your knees." After a moment's hesitation De'Quarious
complied. "Open my shorts." De'Quarious loosened the belt, unbuttoned the
shorts, and they fell to Scott's ankles. The boy made to pull Scott's tight
gray boxer briefs down, but the white man stopped him by placing his larger
hand over the boy's. "No, suck it through the fabric first." De'Quarious
sighed in resignation and pecked the bulge in Scott's drawers. "No boy, you
gotta show more enthusiasm than that." Scott picked up the cash. "If you
want this." As if the money were an aphrodisiac, the boy began to
enthusiastically suck the bulge in Scott's underwear. Scott moaned as his
dick let out precum which wet the front of his boxer briefs.

De'Quarious felt humiliated, on his knees with his face in a white man's
crotch. Scott's crotch smelled of sweat and had a slightly pissy scent,
which made De'Quarious want to gag. He was glad that he was across town and
nowhere near where any of his peoples could see him. They would be totally
disappointed if they saw that he, the project stud, had his face buried in
a white man's crotch. "Alright, pull them down now." Scott demanded, and
De'Quarious pulled them down and then gasped. Scott's dick was huge, larger
than his own, and De'Quarious looked up in disbelief. He'd always been told
that white guys had little dicks, so how the hell did Scott get a nine and
a half inch monster like that? Scott looked down on De'Quarious with
amusement and contempt. He grabbed his 9.5 x 6 inch dick and waved it in
De'Quarious' face. "Wrap those big nigger lips around my thick white cock."

De'Quarious felt a flash of anger at Scott saying the n-word, but before he
could say anything, Scott grabbed the back of his braided head and shoved
his huge dick down the young nigger's throat, causing him to gag and
retch. Scott's golden pubes brushed De'Quarious' nose, and the smell of the
sweaty white man's crotch invaded his nostrils and caused De'Quarious to
gag. Scott pulled his dick out of the boy's mouth and then wiped his precum
on the boy's thick lips. "Here, suck it." De'Quarious stretched his mouth
as wide as he could and wrapped his thick nigger lips around the white
man's cock. He had never sucked a dick before, never imagined himself
sucking anyone's dick before, but he had his dick sucked many times, and he
just did what various girls had done to him over the years. He grabbed the
base of Scott's dick and, casting the white man an angry and resentful
glare, he wrapped his lips around the dick and started to bob his head up
and down on it.

Scott sighed in pleasure as the nigger's pillow lips moved up and down his
shaft. "Yeah, that's it. Suck my cock you dumb nigger, suck my fucking
cock." De'Quarious continued to suck on Scott's huge meat, while Scott held
the boy's head in his hand. He guided De'Quarious' head, all the while he
continued to berate him. "Fucking nappy headed nigger, you like that white
cock down your throat, don't you? Mmmm, those nigger lips feel so good
wrapped around my meat, that's what you were born to do. Why do you think
God gave niggers such thick and juicy lips? So that you all can get on your
ashy black knees and worship big white cocks like mine. Deep throat me
nigger." He shoved his dick so far down De'Quarious' throat that the boy
retched and thick saliva flooded his mouth, lubing Scott's huge dick and
dripping from the nigger's thick lips and down his chiseled chocolate
chest.

De'Quarious body quivered in rage at his humiliation, but at the same time
he began to get aroused. Something about the agressive, confident, and
commanding tone of Scott's voice was turning him on, how Scott didn't seem
afraid of him, how Scott was actually dominating him. Something about
hearing Scott utter the n-word with impunity caused De'Quarious' dick to
spring to life in his boxers. He sighed and began to suck Scott's dick with
a little more than feigned enthusiasm. He began to lick the fat pink head
like a lollipop, flinching at the tangy taste of Scott's precum, but still
sucking. The more he polished that huge white knob, the harder his own
nigger cock got. Without thinking, De'Quarious reached into his jeans,
under his basketball shorts, under his boxers, and started to fondle his
eight and a half inch uncut jungle meat.

Scott sensed De'Quarious getting more comfortable blowing him, and he
pulled his dick out the boy's mouth, a long thick string of saliva
connected his dick to De'Quarious' hot, luscious jungle bunny mouth. Scott
stepped out of his shorts and drawers, kicked off his flip-flops, pulled
off his t-shirt, and stood naked before the prostrate nigger. De'Quarious
ogled Scott's body, amazed at its perfection. He looked as if he'd been
chiseled from marble, like those ancient Gods that De'Quarious remembered
seeing in his high school history books before he dropped out.  Something
deep down inside him felt compelled to touch Scott's body, to run his black
nigger hands over the perfection, to service the white man like the ancient
God his body resembled. Scott looked down on De'Quarious with contempt.
"Get undressed nigger." De'Quarious scrambled to his feet and proceeded to
do as he was told.