Date: Sun, 20 Mar 2011 00:38:47 -0400 From: Evan Williams Subject: Working with Black Boys III This is a work of erotic fiction. It is not to be read by minors. It may include acts of violent non-consensual homosexual sex between an adult and a teenager. It may also contain racial slurs. If you are offended by this kind of erotic fantasy, or if you may be unduly influenced by it, please search for something else to read for your personal erotic fictional entertainment. All publishing and reproduction rights are reserved by the author of this story. ************************************* This story is not necessarily about anyone below the age of 18. It is up to the mind of the reader to fill in the details. ************************************* "Bob, can you take one of my boys? I don't know what to do with him – he won't listen to anything I say." Amos Thomas' voice sounded agitated as it came over the receiver. Bob Grayson, on the other end of the receiver, knew the kid must be a tough case; Thomas never called him unless the case was difficult. Thomas ran a program to prepare black teenage boys for manhood. He called the program "Proud Black Youth." He only asked for Grayson's help when he really needed him; after all, what would it look like for a black man to have to turn to a white man because he can't control his own black boys? But Grayson had a helluva track record with it came to turning these wayward youth around. Thomas didn't know how he did it, but he seemed to work wonders in giving young black males the kind of attitude adjustment they so desperately needed after being spoiled by their mamas. When all else failed Thomas knew that he could turn to Grayson to give his black boys a badly needed adjustment in attitude. Grayson said the words Thomas wanted to hear, "Send the boy over and I'll see what I can do." Within an hour the lad arrived and Grayson took him to his office. Grayson sat down behind his desk and the teenager stood with his arms awkwardly at his side in front of the older white man. The lad's lean brown body sported a forest green T-shirt that read, "Proud Youth: The Future of Black America," in bold white letters. Grayson admired the ruggedness of the young man's face; he thought that it was masculine, yet gentle – tough, yet delicate – the perfect mix in a young person emerging into manhood. Grayson felt discomfort as his groin tightened in his pants, demanding attention, as he studied the soft whiffs of peach fuzz emerging above the boy's upper lip, on his cheeks and below his chin, and the lad's hazel brown eyes which were cast downward, steadily avoiding eye contact. Grayson tried to get the boy's attention. He impatiently twirled a pen as he questioned the young man, "My colleague, Mr. Thomas, tells me he's having disciplinary problems with you." The boy said nothing; kept his eyes cast down at the floor, determined not to break his silence or look the older man in the eyes. "Look at me, boy – I'm talking to you." The lad's eyes stayed glued to the floor. Grayson puffed with indignation, "Am I talking to myself? Am I alone here?" The young man remained silent, although Grayson noticed the subtle motion of the boy's ruby red lips as if he were muttering something under his breath. "Look at me, damn it." The boy remained silent. Grayson sighed with frustration. "Okay, have it your way. You can play this silent game if you want – but you're going to have to do some chores around here to earn your keep. I want you to start by cleaning my toilets." The young man pouted and frowned; still, Grayson couldn't help but to feel aroused by the lad's angelic brown face, even when he was being defiant and angry. Those thick red lips on the boy were muttering something. Grayson thought he heard the boy whisper "mother fucker" or something like that, but he couldn't be sure. Still, in a matter of minutes he had the lad cleaning toilets. Occasionally he checked up on the boy to make sure he was doing it right. Grayson got a boner when he saw the brown-skinned boy on his knees scrubbing inside the porcelain bowl with a brush, as he had ordered him to. The lad's jeans were dusted with powdered scrubbing cleanser; the boy was careful to avoid letting the water splatter in his shirt – the words "Proud Youth", were emblazoned across the shoulder blades of boy's back as he was hunched over the toilet. After he had cleaned his fifth toilet Grayson thought the boy might be more receptive to communication. He called the lad back into his office. The boy's brown body glistened with sweat. His green shirt clung tightly to his sweat-drenched body. Grayson admired the boy's "pecs." "Are you ready to talk now?" The lad sullenly nodded, "yes." "I'm gonna teach you to be a man," Grayson said to the boy, "I'm gonna show you things your mama never taught you, but should have. I'm gonna make you worthy of that T-shirt." The boy broke eye contact and looked down at the floor again. "I'm gonna ask you some questions and I want you to answer me truthfully," Grayson continued. "Come closer to me, stand right in front of me." Grayson swiveled his chair from behind his desk so that the boy could stand directly in front of him. With the boy standing directly in front of his face Grayson smelled the boy's teenage funk – his body odor – it smelled masculine and sweet. Grayson admired the solid brown arms on the youth. The lad was teeming with adolescent testosterone; he had so much of it, Grayson imagined he could even smell it on the boy. He looked up at the boy. For the first time their eyes met. Grayson's heart raced at the gentle beauty of the black boy's face. The lad towered over him like a smooth-skinned bronze warrior; like a young god. The funky smell of ghetto heat emanated from the boy's body. At that moment Grayson wanted to be wrapped in the boy's arms. The boy turned his head away from the man, looked sideways and pouted. Grayson kept looking up at him, "Do you like sports?" The young man sullenly nodded "yes". "Do you like white girls?" The boy's eyes widened with shock. He fought down a laugh. Finally he nodded "yes" again, trying to conceal his amusement. "You got a girlfriend?" The boy nodded "yes" again. "She ever suck your cock?" This stopped the lad dead in his tracks. He was stunned for a moment and then he whirled his head around and stared directly at the man. Grayson did not back down. He was unapologetic. He acted as though the question was perfectly natural. He didn't even blink. He asked the question again. "I said, did she ever suck your cock?" Grayson seemed so sure of himself that the lad figured that maybe he was the one who was in the wrong for doubting that the question was appropriate. Maybe this was the kind of question an authority figure could ask a young man – like his gym teacher talked about these kinds of things in health class. The boy slowly nodded his head "no." Grayson leaned back in his chair as if he had been stricken by a lightning bolt. His voice was full of mock disbelief, "You've got a girlfriend and she's never sucked your cock? What the hell's she waiting for?" The boy nodded shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "I dunno." "Not even once? She's never sucked your cock even a tiny bit?" The boy nodded "no" again. "You ever wonder what it would feel like to get your cock sucked?" The young man finally seemed to catch on to where all of this was heading. He stared down at the man, stared directly into his eyes, as if he were trying to intimidate the man or read his mind to confirm his suspicions. But Grayson didn't yield; he didn't show the slightest sign of discomfort. "You ever wonder what it feels like having a white girl slobbering all over your cock; slurping on it?" The boy bit his lower lip and unconsciously grabbed his crotch. Grayson knew he was getting through to the boy. He studied the boyish masculinity of the lad's smooth brown hand as he clutched his crotch right in front of Grayson's face. The teenager was trying to play off his growing sexual arousal – and his urgent need to take care of it. "You like the feel of wet pussy?" the man asked, "Well, it's much better than that. You ever wonder what it feels like to have a girl's warm moist lips on your hard black cock?" Grayson reached for the boy's trousers, but the boy pulled away slightly. "I'll show you what it feels like, and you won't have to clean toilets anymore; is that a deal?" Now the brown skinned boy seemed to relax a little bit. He allowed Grayson to lift his shirt and unfasten his belt buckle. The boy's pants were already sagging well below his waistline. The tops of the boy's pale blue boxer shorts were bunched just above his pubes. Soft whiffs of dark hair lined the lad's "happy trail" from his navel into his boxer shorts, contrasting against his warm brown skin. Grayson savored the sight and the smell of the boy. He loosened the boy's pants and roughly pulled them down, as if he were now in possession of the boy. The lad stood there, sporting an obvious boner under his boxer shorts. He shifted uncomfortably with embarrassment, rubbing his smooth brown thighs together, as the white man grabbed the top of his boxer shorts and yanked them down below the boy's ashy knees. The boy's erect exposed penis bounced up and down in front of Grayson's face. It was dripping with precum. Grayson savored the soft bush of pubic hair that rested above the boy's cock, and the sagging testicles that gently swung underneath. Grayson stuck out his tongue and licked the length of the boy's shaft, coating it with warm moisture, teasing the boy, making him even more aroused, making the boy's body want more. Now the lad was breathing heavily. Grayson looked up at him and gasped breathlessly, "You've got a big nigger cock. You want me to take care of that nigger cock for you?" The boy looked confused. Grayson knew what was going through his mind; on the one hand, the boy thought he should be insulted, on the other, his body was telling him not to do anything that would keep him from getting his cock sucked. The boy's body won out over his pride. Grayson knew he had the boy where he wanted him. He gently wrapped his hot moist lips around the boy's throbbing member – making the boy gasp with a sudden burst of unexpected passion. He removed his lips from the boy's rod and asked him again. "You want me to take care of that big nigger cock for you?" Slowly the boy nodded yes. He would be whatever the man needed him to be if it meant that he could feel the man's moist lips back on his cock again. Grayson wrapped his mouth around the boy's cock and gently sucked it, but only for a moment. Then he released his cock again. "You really are a hot nigger, aren't you? You're a horny, nasty nigger, isn't that right?" Grayson sat with his mouth hovering over the boy's cock, waiting for a response from the boy. The boy got the message. He knew what he had to do if he wanted to feel the warm sensations of Grayson's mouth on his cock again. He slowly nodded his head, agreeing that what the man said was true. Grayson sucked the boy's cock some more and played with the lad's dangling balls. He grabbed the boy's buttocks and sucked him hard, making the lad gasp, pausing every once in awhile to tell him, "You're a horny, fucking nigger boy. That hot nigger cock is mine." The boy nodded in agreement. He seemed too lost in the thralls of passion to object. He threw his head back, covered his face with his hands, and breathed heavily as the white man took possession over his young black body. Grayson savored the smoothness of the boy's thighs and the deep masculine scent of his crotch. He sucked on the straight boy's cock like he was raping him with his mouth. All the boy could do was whimper, sigh and moan with passion. "Gimme that nigger cock," Grayson gasped, "gimme that nigger cock." The black boy gave it to him. He surrendered his body to the white man's mouth, tossing and moaning and thrusting his hips involuntarily toward the man's face. Soon, the black boy couldn't take it anymore. He shuddered and released thick waves of teenage spunk down Grayson's throat. Grayson savored the taste and smell of the boy's jism, like fresh oysters extracted from the sea. The boy breathed heavy with exhaustion. Grayson licked the last of the jism off of the boy's cock. He sat back in his chair and watched as the embarrassed teenager bent down to pull his trousers back up over his boxer shorts. As the boy was fastening his belt Grayson leaned back in his chair and said "Now do me." The boy looked at Grayson; his face was filled with alarm. This man was not asking a question, he was not making a request; he was barking a command. He leaned further back in his chair, unfastened his belt, and said it again, "Now do me." To drive the point home the white man carefully unfolded three hundred dollar bills and laid them on his desktop. "Do me, or go back to scrubbing toilets," the man added. The boy looked at the three hundred dollar bills on the desktop, and looked toward the door of the office, in the general direction of the toilets. Then he looked back at the money. "Do me, and get paid, nigger, or spend your time on your knees cleaning up shit stains." By this time Grayson had his pants fully open and his boxer shorts pulled down below his testicles. He was playing with his stubby white cock, waving it at the black boy, waiting for the lad to get him hard again. It didn't take long for the boy to weigh his options. He sank to his knees, in front of the white man's chair, lowered his head toward the man's dick and opened his mouth. His lips trembled as he hovered above the man's exposed crotch. Grayson saw that the boy was hesitating. He grabbed him by the back of his head and stuffed his flabby cock into the boy's mouth. He heard the boy gag. This only aroused Grayson. He thrust this cock deeper inside the boy's mouth and started grinding in a slow, fucking motion. "Start sucking, you black bastard – you're gonna have to earn that money. It's high time you learned that nothing comes for free." The black boy started sucking. Grayson's cock might have looked stubby when it was soft, but when it hardened in the black boy's mouth swelled so large that it almost cut off his air. The teenager started choking and gasping for air, but Grayson wouldn't let him up – he pressed down on the boy's head. If the boy once harbored any illusions about "small dicked white men" he didn't hold those illusions any longer. The boy was in tears – he would have begged the man to let him up, but with such a big cock in his mouth all he could do was make gagging noises. Just when the black teenager thought he would pass out the phone rang. It was Amos Thomas, wanting to know how the attitude adjustment sessions were coming along. Mr. Grayson looked down at the boy gagging on his cock said, "Oh yes, Amos – don't you worry about it. Your boy is doing just fine." The black boy continued to choke and gag on the white man's cock. "Yeah, I've always been a big fan your teenagers. They should make you people proud." Grayson's cock was cutting off so much of the boy's air that he was waving his stiff arms at his side like a bird trying to take flight. "Your young people are so emotional, so sensitive, so expressive – I always enjoy having them around." By now the boy was choking on his own saliva. Grayson pushed down on the back of the boy's head to add to his discomfort, and to Grayson's own amusement. It was a big turn-on for him to see a black boy down on his knees in front of him, gagging on his big white cock. Something about it felt so right. "Yeah, you tell the boy's mom that I'm taking good care of her son. He's holding up like a real champ. He would do his mama proud if she could see him right now." The black boy continued to choke, gag, and flail his arms as he sucked on the white man's cock. Before long the conversation was over and Grayson hung up. This freed his hands so that he could grab both sides of the boy's head and give him a real good old fashioned face-fucking. The boy's thick red lips slid up and down Grayson's hard white pole. His face was covered with sweat and saliva while Grayson pounded his mouth like a woman's pussy. Grayson fucked the boy's mouth so long and hard that the boy's body went limp like a rag doll. When Grayson was just on the verge of cumming he pushed the boy backwards, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Grayson got out of the chair and said, "Now I'm gonna fuck your nigger ass." The black boy tried to crawl away but Grayson grabbed the boy by the back of his trousers. Because the boy was wearing pants that were way too loose for him, as is the style in the inner-city, it was easy for Grayson to pull the trousers off of the boy's black ass. Grayson pulled down the boy's boxer shorts, exposing the smooth round globes of his buttocks. This was all the enticement the older white man needed for his cock to become as stiff as it had ever been in his life. He rammed his hard white cock between the boy's brown buns and humped mercilessly inside of the boy. At first the boy let out a loud cry, but after awhile he was reduced to merely grunting with each thrust of the man's cock. Grayson lifted his chest off of the boy's back for a moment. He looked down at the back of the boy's shirt, "Proud Youth: The Future of Black America." The sight of the squirming black boy under his body, his hard white cock buried deep in the boy's conquered black ass, the jerking motion of the boy's body with each thrust of the man's hard white cock inside of him, and the boy's muffled cries pushed Grayson over the edge. He grabbed the youth from behind, wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders and fucked him like he was soldier of an occupying army, raping the enemy's women. The boy grunted as the man ravished his black body. Grayson enjoyed the thought that any moment he was going to fill the boy's lean, muscular brown body up with his hot white cum. He humped and humped inside of the boy until he was on the verge of that moment. With a sudden cry he unleashed his spunk inside of the boy. He heard the boy groan and watched the boy bury his head in his folded arms in humiliation. Deep inside of the lad's brown body, Grayson shot his cum juices. Soon his jizz was oozing out of the boy's ass and streaming down the back of his legs and under his nut sack. The boy was a mess of sweat and cum juices; his forest green shirt was wrinkled and pushed halfway up his back so that only the lettering "Proud Youth" could now be seen. Grayson laughed at the irony of the sight, especially since the boy's trousers were "proudly" below his thighs and his ass was covered with sticky cum. Grayson stood up and pulled his pants back on. He left the boy lying on the floor of his office. **************** A few hours later Grayson returned the boy to Mr. Thomas. The older black man was pleased with how well-mannered the boy had become. He complemented Grayson, "Bob, you've done it again. You certainly have a way with black teenagers." Grayson said, "Oh, it's nothing really. They're all mama's boys, you know? Women spoil them too much. They just need a hard male figure in their life to ride their asses for awhile." Mr. Thomas laughed; he had no idea how much truth was in this statement and how much Mr. Grayson had just given him the secret of his success with hard-headed black boys.