Date: Wed, 27 Mar 2024 19:56:24 +0000
From: Rio Mack <badprose@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Deadheads of No Hope

THE DEADHEADS OF NO HOPE
by Rio Mack

DISCLAIMER: Contains depictions of gay sex.

Please help support NIFTY!

ORIENTATION

When his phone alarm went off at six that Friday morning, Remy Lord barely
stirred. He'd set the alarm the night before because he had to attend a
meeting today -- a half-day orientation session at his new high school,
Noah Hope Preparatory Academy, where he'd be a third-year transfer student
when classes started next week.

Even though he knew it would take him a lot of time to get ready -- morning
workout, shower, breakfast, and at least an hour trying on various clothes,
carefully choosing just the right outfit to begin immediate cruising of the
new boys in his class -- Remy just lay back and smiled, dreaming about the
morning ahead. He stretched the sleep-kinks out of his muscular young body
and started jacking his thick cock, thinking about all the hot-looking boys
he might see later.

Remy felt zero pressure to cut his fantasies short, jump out of bed, and
get a move on. He could take all the time he needed for his workout, linger
over breakfast, and take an hour-and-a-half getting dressed, because it
would take him precisely zero minutes (maybe one, at most) to get to
school. Hope Academy -- his new high school, in his new city -- was located
right smack-dab across a sleepy residential street from the ramshackle,
three-story, Victorian dump of a house into which Ava, his mother, had
moved the two of them three months earlier.

So Remy settled in to enjoy a sweet, slow edging session in bed -- which
was simply a mattress lying on the floor of the spacious, barely-finished
attic he'd chosen for his bedroom in that huge Victorian dump, then
slap-dash decorated (semi-hiply, he'd hoped) on his poverty budget over the
summer.

Remy got his meaty, uncut dick hard and kept it hard, playing with his
balls and foreskin, using some lube to finger himself before he got into
some intense ass-play -- the whole time fantasizing about some of the
hot-looking black dudes he might meet today (maybe even hook up with!) at
his new, 90% black, Minneapolis charter high school.

He decided to save pumping out a load for the shower, where he could have a
long, steamy stroke. He hopped out of bed, staying naked (he and his
naturist mother were almost always naked at home), clicked on one of his
favorite Dead shows (4/6/71 @ the Manhattan Center) to play over his stereo
speakers, then strode over to the empty corner of the attic he'd designated
as his workout area, to do his morning routine -- yoga stretches, intense
calisthenics, then over to the hanging bar he'd installed in his closet
doorframe for pull-ups, reverse pull-ups, and leg crunches, followed by
more yoga stretches and meditation.

Afterwards, he trotted down to their second-floor bathroom shower, his dick
plumped-up from exercise, half-hard and bouncing merrily as he took the
stairs. Once the water got steamy enough, he luxuriated in lathering up
smooth, pumped muscle, which led to jacking out a very satisfying load
(featuring a long, indulgent, soapy-fingered bout of ass-play), fantasizing
about all those hot black boys he couldn't wait to see, how one or two of
them might slip away from the orientation meeting with him, and steal off
to the boy's bathroom, where there'd be kissing and stripping off each
other's shirt, then worshipping muscle and fucking.

Before he left the bathroom, Remy made sure it was spotless, as Ava would
be using it soon, when she got ready for work. He paid special attention to
the lime-green-tiled walk-in shower, because the load he'd shot was huge.

The upstairs bathroom was one of the things Remy liked best about his new
house. A previous owner, with a definite thing for lime-green, had clearly
remodeled the bathroom in the 1950s, putting in that huge, walk-in shower,
as well as a large double-sink, and tiling all the walls but one
lime-green. What Remy loved most was how the entire wall behind the sink
was covered in mirror-glass. Remy could spend hours in front of a mirror.

After drying off and primping, he headed downstairs, still nude, to the
kitchen, where he set the kettle on to make a pot of coffee for him and
Ava, then started some hot buckwheat cereal for his breakfast, toasting
some walnuts in the toaster oven while his cereal cooked.

Between cereal stirs, he washed some of the wild blueberries he bought the
other day, at their small neighborhood grocery store. When his cereal was
done, Remy sprinkled blueberries and toasted walnuts over it, lacing the
bowl with a splash of maple syrup. He left Ava a handful of blueberries in
a small bowl.

Breakfast concluded, and with plenty of time to spare before orientation
started, Remy spent a long time up in his bedroom, in front of the mirror,
trying on various clothes, wanting to look as hot as possible for those
sexy black boys he hoped to flirt with later.

Mostly, though, he just loved looking at his seriously jacked body, either
clothed or unclothed, posing it in front of the large, long, hotel-salvage
mirror he'd mounted on the wall, above an old metal hanging file cabinet he
was using as a dresser. Ava had brought home both those items from one of
her many trips to Goodwill, in the days immediately following their move
here, in hopes her son could use them to furnish his attic space.

Remy realized it was probably a little too random that he'd be living right
across from his high school, but this neighborhood his mother had moved
them to -- called 'Prospect Park' -- was so beautiful that living in any
house, anywhere in it, would be just fine with him. The streets were all
windy and mostly deserted, and the houses were all old and cool-looking --
even their own run-down fixer-upper, which was actually looking not
half-bad now, after all Remy's work on it over the summer, scraping and
sanding and plastering and painting, trying to make livable for Ava and
him.

Plus, their street, like all the streets in the neighborhood, was
beautifully woodsy, with huge, mostly old-growth trees. Remy was a runner,
and his new neighborhood, with all its twists and turns and hills and
trees, was paradise. The urban forest, Ava said the realtor had called
it. What's more, there was a postcard-pretty stretch of the Mississippi
River just blocks away.

The school building itself was even a feature -- made of old blonde brick,
it looked stately and picturesque on its site, with a small, tree-lined
basketball-court-slash-parking lot on one side of it, and a nice arbor on
the other side, with benches (where students could socialize, Remy
assumed).

Remy's house was opposite the front of Hope Academy; opposite the street on
the side of the school, where that arbor was, there was a small, hilly rise
of green-space, dense with trees. `Tower Hill Park' it was called, with an
old `Witch's Hat' water tower plunked on top, flanked on another side by a
long stretch of lawn, where old people played bocce and college dudes
tossed footballs or Frisbees. There were even two tennis courts in the
small park, which Remy was dying to try out if he could ever find a
partner.

So Remy didn't actually feel weird at all about living across from his new
school. He thought Ava had landed them in a very choice spot. And there was
definitely something to be said for being able to roll out of bed at the
last minute, any morning he'd partied too hard the night before, and still
be able to make his first-hour class.

Remy wasn't even embarrassed by the fact that his mom would be working in
the office at the same school he attended. Ava was Hope Academy's new
Director of Curriculum, and it was her successful application for the job
that brought them to Minneapolis. Ava had been forced to find a new job,
one that would get them out of Milwaukee, because they had to get away from
Larry, her insane, racist, homophobic husband, whose violent rages had
several times sent his wife -- and even, the final straw for Ava, their son
-- to urgent care.

Remy finally decided on black mesh basketball shorts, with a jock
underneath (his preferred underwear), one of the vintage Stussy T's he'd
found on a summer thrift shop junket with Ava, and his favorite pair of
brown leather flip-flops.

He worried that, having dressed mostly to show off his jacked physique, he
might look way too casual, but he was willing to take the chance because --
a.) it was hot as fuck out, b.), that particular T showed off his
hard-carved upper body really well, c.) those mesh shorts draped just right
and let him flaunt his superbly defined, grapefruit-sized calf muscles, and
d.) his big, bony, feet looked seriously sexy in flip-flops.

By the time Remy had finally put together his outfit that morning, he'd
jacked out another load, intoxicated with the reflection of his body in
various sartorial permutations -- several different pairs of shorts, worn
either commando or in one of his jocks, paired with either a wife-beater or
one of those tight Stussy Ts -- all the time fondling his big dick under
the mesh of his shorts or the mesh of a jock.

After splashing on some cologne and slipping ten or so bracelets on either
wrist, Remy was down the stairs and out the door.

He jogged across the street and up the front steps of Hope Academy,
heading, for the first time, into this building he couldn't help but notice
all summer, wondering for weeks what it would look like inside.

He loved what he saw, the feel of the space, as he walked down the marble
halls of the well-maintained, 1930-ish-looking building -- Remy had studied
the WPA in his American History class last year, and based on all the video
and photos he'd seen, Hope Academy seemed like it had been built then.

These old buildings had character, he thought, not like the lifeless,
sterile-looking institutional spaces of today. Noah Hope Academy felt
haunted, but in a good way, teeming with the bustle of generation after
generation of excited young students spending four formative years of their
life in this classic-looking school setting. It could be the stage set for
some old black-and-white movie about high school, Remy thought, or THE
DOBIE GILLIS SHOW.

He quickly found the room where his orientation would be held. It turned
out to be the school library -- a long, book-crammed room with beautifully
stained and varnished old woodwork everywhere, an entire wall of windows,
and packed, built-bookshelves lining all the wall-space that wasn't
otherwise doors or windows or chalkboard. There were even several more
free-standing bookcases scattered around the room. Very cool study space,
Remy thought.

In the front corner of the room, tucked away amid a cluster of file
cabinets, was a large, cluttered desk. On the old slate chalkboard that
covered the wall behind that work-area was the message "Sign In at the
Front Desk!" so Remy did.

Eight long, wooden library tables were spaced throughout the room, where a
few other students had already taken seats, so after Remy signed in, he
slid into a chair at a table in the back, so he could scope out boys.

At one point, after he'd given some thought as to which of the other boys
there he most wanted to fuck, the woman obviously in charge of the meeting,
after looking over the sign-in sheet, announced that everyone was
present. She welcomed them all, smiling warmly, then distributed a thin
packet of paper to each student and began the orientation session.

Remy paid close attention, but at the same time scoped out the other boys
there.

Remy's boy-craziness was understandable -- he was horny as hell from the
severe dry spell he'd been on ever since he and Ava had moved to
Minneapolis in early June. He'd tried a couple of times hooking up with
dudes over the summer. Once, he'd checked out a gay bookstore he'd read
about online, on the edge of the U of M campus -- he got some seriously
good, cheap porn there, but not the college-boy hook-up he'd hoped for.

He even went to a gay nude beach, recommended on a 'Best Gay Minneapolis'
site. Even though it turned out to be super-close -- only eight blocks from
his house, on a sweet stretch of sandy beach hidden amidst the tree-lined
shore of the Mississippi River -- the scene was mostly furtive,
desperate-looking older men, just a bit too intense, even for a sex-starved
young horn-dog (although Remy got a ton of cat-calls, which was obviously
flattering as hell).

For the past few years, back in Milwaukee, Remy had a whole bunch of hot
dudes he'd get with regularly -- gorgeous, lean-muscled black boys (his
very definite type), from the mostly-black inner city school he'd attended
there. But so far, here in his new town, zilch. Hence, he was seriously
eager to start hooking up with some hot boys.

There were eight other boys and seven girls at the orientation session. All
the boys were black except for Remy and another boy -- an extremely
good-looking jock, like Remy, but younger-looking, with longish blonde
hair).

Three of the black boys there he found it hard not to stare at. One in
particular especially attracted him -- a gorgeous boy, whose drawling,
heavily-accented "Hell yeah!" when roll was called revealed was named Trey.

Trey was devastatingly handsome. He had long, beautifully thick dreads,
heavy-lidded dark eyes, and a sort of knowing smile that seemed permanently
etched into his face. His rich, smooth, dark-chocolate skin set off a pair
of plump, rose-pink lips that Remy could just imagine sliding sensuously up
and down over his cock. Occasionally, those lips would break into a wide
smile that made Remy weak. Trey also had a scraggly little patch of hair on
his chin, which Remy thought looked bad-boy sexy.

For the first hour or so of the session, the principal and a couple of
teachers took turns explaining what was expected of students in terms of
study habits and student conduct. During that time, Remy was excited to
catch Trey looking at him often (almost as often as Remy stole glimpses of
Trey).

There was a ten-minute break around 9:45 for bagels and cream cheese. As
the students headed for the food, Trey and Remy tried to look like they
weren't making a bee-line for each other.

When they got close, both their faces relaxed into a smile. They nodded at
each other, grinned, and even fist-bumped. They walked together to the
breakfast table, and each boy grabbed a bagel. They took their snack over
to a space on a padded window seat, set atop the long, wooden bookshelf
lining the wall of windows. Both boys were clearly excited at the chance to
chat together.

It was amazing how much information about each other -- where they were
from, why they'd moved here, who else lived at home with them, what their
old schools were like -- they were able to cover during the ten-minute
break.

Trey was another junior transfer, coming from a large, inner-city high
school in Gary, Indiana. Over the summer, he'd moved, with his mother and
younger brother, to Minneapolis, where Trey's grandmother lived, because
his mother had a chronic lung problem and had heard from relatives that the
Minnesota state health insurance, as well as its University hospital
system, was excellent.

They all lived now in Trey's grandmother's place, in `Danron Townhomes,' a
housing development located right next to Remy's Prospect Park
neighborhood. Trey mentioned he thought it was funny his Grandma Easter's
place (Remy loved Trey's grandmother's name) was called a 'townhome,' when
it was really just a three-bedroom unit in a public housing project.

Throughout their chat, Remy was ninety percent sure Trey was flirting with
him as much as he was with Trey. That last little lingering trace of doubt,
though, was removed when, about thirty seconds before they had to rejoin
the orientation group, Trey gave him a sly leer.

"You handsome as fuck, dude. Must be gettin' hella pussy back there in
Milwaukee."

OK, Remy thought, let's just put it out there.

"Not really. I'm more into boys, actually."

Trey's face broke out into that wide, infectious smile, showing off a
perfect set of bright white teeth. He put his hand up for another
fist-bump, which Remy, smiling, was only too happy to return. After which,
Trey made things even clearer.

"We birds of a feather, dawg! Gotta be flocking together."

"Dude, I been hard all morning, thinkin' about the two of us flockin'."

Trey let out a quick, high-pitched squeal of a laugh in response, which
trilled through Remy's cock.

"You're hot as fuck, Trey. You busy later, after this orientation shit is
over?"

"Just be busy with you, dawg. You gotta place we can hang?"

"Hell yeah! My house is, like, right across the street."

"Sweet!"

After the food break, the students returned to seats at the tables. Trey
and Remy sat excitedly next to each other for this next part of the
program.

Their meeting was joined by a stunning, older-looking black boy Remy
couldn't help but drool over -- cinnamon-cocoa skin, with a tinge of rose;
ruggedly handsome, square-jawed face, made even sexier by beard scruff; and
short, dense, dark blowout, shaved close on the sides and back, to give him
a gorgeous cap of artfully messy twisty-locs.

The new boy put the sheet of paper he was carrying with him on the front
desk. A frank glance at the crotch of the peacock-blue mesh basketball
shorts he was wearing -- commando, thankfully -- told Remy the dude was
packing serious dick.

The older woman, who'd led the earlier part of the orientation, asked the
girls to accompany her down the hall, leaving this new older boy, a
fourth-year student introduced as Mayo Chase, behind, to talk with the
boys.

As soon as Mayo was alone with them, he broke into a huge, knowing smile.

"Aaaiight, they ask me tell you new dudes 'bout what you be findin here at
No Hope."

Remy cracked up at the nickname the dude gave their school, as did all the
other boys.

"Talkin' `bout, shall we say, social side of things? As `posed to what
Principal Jay be tellin' you 'bout -- academic side."

The dude was handsome as fuck, and Remy started drifting off on a sexy
fantasy involving this dude and Trey and him, but was brought right back to
instant and complete attention when Mayo grinned and asked them all a
question.

"How many you dudes be havin' sex?"

Every hand shot up except the other white boy's -- a long-haired blonde boy
Remy thought so good-looking he was stunned not to see his hand raised. Oh
well, dude's gonna get laid before the end of the first week of school,
Remy predicted.

Mayo nodded, as if he'd expected those results.

"Cool if you already be doin' it, cool if you ain't."

Then he looked straight at the other white boy and smiled seductively.

"And those who ain't, you be doin' it once school start, no doubt."

Remy laughed aloud -- his thoughts exactly about the hot boy.

The cute white boy blushed. Remy and Trey and all the other boys grinned at
his jovial embarrassment, but Remy also leered secretly inside, hoping he'd
be one of the virgin jock-boy's first hook-ups.

"Anyway, jus' be here to talk 'bout what you got `head of you at No Hope,
when it come to you boys and sex. I mean, you gotta be hearin this,
formal-like, from someone like me, `cause ain't no way you be guessin what
I'mma tell you."

Another smug grin, raking his eyes across every boy in the room, before he
continued.

"Y'all be hearin that term, 'sex positive'?"

Everyone but that cute white boy nodded.

"Cool, cause No Hope be pretty damn sex-positive -- `specially for boys."

He gave a little low growl of a laugh and reached down to adjust the thick,
nine or so inches of black cock Remy estimated dangled tantalizingly
traceable down the front of his shorts.

"Now, boy gotta nut. You know that. Folks who run No Hope know that,
too. Be no pretendin' here sex ain't a thing for boys. Cock get respect
here, ya feel me?"

Mayo flaunted another longer, more brazen fondling of that mouth-watering
length of dick, rubbing it teasingly through the satiny, peacock-blue mesh.

"No Hope be `commodatin boys. Be makin things hella nice for us. They
smart, too -- cause it be hella good for discipline, boy get his nut. Dudes
ain't gettin' they nut, they be gettin' ornery as fuck, ammiright? All that
wildin' 'n shit, fightin' `n' all. That shit get old. No Hope folks know --
boy get his nut, they can chill the hell out, get they learnin' on."

More than a few snickers. Remy and Trey fist-bumped, as did a couple of
other pairs of boys. Mayo went on.  "Now, want y'all think back `bout all
them long-ass forms you be fillin' out on-line, over the summer. Ever' No
Hope student, ever' year, be fillin' out them same forms, givin' folks here
your dem-o-graphic information. What the hell does 'dem-o-graphic
information' mean?"

Remy's hand shot up, like a reflex. Mayo looked at him.

"Who you, dawg?"

"Remy Lord."

"Remy Lord, what do 'dem-o-graphics' mean?

"It's, like, information about people, data on them, their age, where
they're from, race, gender, sexuality, income level, stuff like that."

"There you go. Jackpot. Remy say data 'bout y'all, say data `bout
sexuality."

Mayo's handsome face broke into a big, shit-eating grin.

"Sexuality be hella-damn interestin' t' me!"

Mayo fondled his dick again. Remy was hard as fuck -- if he stood up in
front of everyone and started playfully jacking his own dick right now,
like Mayo was doing, he'd shoot in a second. The room felt like it was
seething with boy-sex suddenly, and Remy was there for it. He couldn't
believe Mayo wasn't tenting those loose-draped shorts.

The aroused, attentive boys all grinned, their eyes gleaming now. Each boy
in the room felt his dick tingle and thicken at the turn Mayo's talk had
taken.

Mayo nodded knowingly, then picked up a sheet of paper from the desk.

"Now, to me, the most intrestin' bit of demographic information they be
learnin' 'bout y'all be this -- 39% of No Hope boys be identifyin' as
'gay'."

A surprised murmur from the students. Trey and Remy looked at each other
and grinned, proud to be in that 39%. Remy wondered what percent Mayo was
in.

"'N check this out -- it be another 35% of y'all identify as 'bi or pan'!"

Even more excited murmurs.

"Ain't that sumpin'? 74% of No Hope boys be into boys. Damn! I'm like, hell
yeah!"

A fellow 39-percenter! `Hell yeah!' indeed, thought Remy.

A huge, leering grin, from Mayo, along with a sexy little tongue swipe of
his lips, then a deep, lusty growl as he really started jacking that
monster cock under his basketball shorts.

Naughty, knowing laughter, along with fist-bumps and high-fives from all
the boys in the room, even the cute white boy.

Remy couldn't believe how hard he was throwing himself. Damn, he seriously
wanted to get with Mayo. Or fuck, just about any of the 74% of his new
fellow-students who liked dick as much as he did. He looked over at Trey --
he was as goggle-eyed as Remy himself.

Mayo clearly relished how his audience was hanging now on his every word.

"So -- seem like it be three-quarter y'all know just how fine it be with
boys. Small charter school like No Hope get a select damn clientele, no
doubt! 'You remember how I say, they know what boys be into at No Hope? And
they cool with it?"

He looked even more smug and sexy now, Remy thought, if that was possible.

"One way they be cool, seriously cool -- Damn, you dudes gonna love this
shit! -- they got this-here 3rd floor boys' bathroom policy. So damn sweet!
What the hell it be, right? It be policy that say it just fine if boys
wanna be boys in they bathroom on third-floor, takin' care of they
boy-needs durin' the day. Talkin' serious needs now!"

Remy was mesmerized by Mayo's raspy voice and the way his huge hand
steadily worked up and down his long, thick shaft while he talked.

"Third-floor boys bathroom policy say that bathroom be safe space for boy
to get they nut, not just by hisself, but boys be helpin each other out. So
damn sweet -- just wait you go in there first time, see hot boys jackin'
each other, dudes suckin' dudes off 'n shit. You gonna think y'all died 'n
gone ta heaven -- and heaven be a damn gay porn clip!"

The boys in the audience were all seriously buzzing and grinning. Mayo
smiled and waited a beat or two before he continued, knowing he'd just
blown everyone's mind.

"Aiight! Here the deal -- y'all got ten minutes in the third-floor boys
room, to get your nut, either by y'self or with other dudes. Then get yo
ass back to class. Any longer, that be detention."

The boys' excitement was palpable. Mayo dropped another gem.

"Same damn thing in the locker room and the showers after gym class -- they
be 'sex positive' spaces, too."

A loud chorus of `Hell yeah!'s from the boys in the room, along with
fist-bumps and high fives. Mayo smiled indulgently, then glossed his news a
bit.

"Make so much damn sense, don't it? `Specially in gym class -- what dude
don't need to seriously drain the pipe after workin out? Jes be in our DNA,
all that testost'rone, amiright? It like I be sayin, they know the deal
here at No Hope -- high school be when a boy at his sexual peak."

Mayo dropped his grin and got serious.

"'Course, they be ground rules, so check it out. Any sex gots to be
consensual. You force a boy do sumpin' he don't want, you out. Expelled. No
do-over. Even if you just be intimidating a dude. So don't go wavin' your
big dick in some boy face who ain't into it. That gonna get you bounced,
too. You break those rules, they gonna know about it -- it be security
cameras all over this joint. And don' be afraid a bein' no snitch, 'cause
they find out you knew, and didn't tell? You out, too. Word. I seen that
shit happen.

"Last thing I s'posed to tell y'all: you gonna play, get y'self tested --
four times a year be what the CDC say. We got a pregnancy clinic just two
blocks away, corner Arthur and University, right 'cross from the train
station, and they test a No Hope boy for free. Questions?"

None. Remy began to wonder if any of the boys sitting around him were
really straight. If Mayo's demographic data held true for their small
sample, at least two or three should be. Remy doubted it, though, because
all these dudes sure seemed excited about the idea of getting with boys.

Even if there were a few straight boys in the room, though, Remy figured
that after what Mayo just told them, they were profoundly reconsidering
their sexuality, fantasizing now about a 3rd floor tea room where sexy
dudes hooked up between classes, and a steamy shower room full of hot,
horny, naked boys jacking together before and after PE.

He looked around at the other boys in the room, trying to see if his gaydar
pinged. A couple of smooth-looking black dudes seemed queer-sexy as
fuck. And that cute white boy, when Remy checked him out, was ogling Remy
big-time. Damn!

Remy realized he was about to start classes next week as a student at the
greatest high school in America. He planned on making an incredible dinner
for Ava some night soon to thank her for bringing him here to the Promised
Land.

Mayo smiled, winked, and told them Principal Jay would be back in a few
minutes to wrap the morning up, and they were free to grab another juice or
bagel.

As Mayo headed for the door, Remy wasted no time heading for Mayo, making
sure he could fist-bump the dude before he left.

"Damn, bro, sure as hell wasn't expecting that! I thought this place was
cool before, but now? Day-um!"

Mayo grinned.

"I know, right? You gon' love this place, dude."

"No doubt, no doubt. Hey, hope to see you around when school starts?"

"Oh, you will! And ain't no way I'mma miss you. Not too many white boys up
in this joint, and sure as hell none as fine as you, son."

"Thanks, man. You're hot as fuck, too, bro. Maybe we'll run into each
other, 'n get better acquainted, up in that boys' bathroom?"

"I'mma make a point o' that, bro. Peace, dawg."

Mayo hugged him before leaving, making sure Remy felt every long, thick
inch of Mayo's freeballed cock pressed against his thigh.

As he watched Mayo leave, Remy couldn't help thinking about the black dudes
he knew back in Milwaukee, where someone as macho-looking as Mayo would
never drop his hard-core, thuggish pose in public, would never allow even
the slightest glimpse of a gay side peek out, let alone do what such a
tough-looking stud like Mayo did -- flaunt how utterly into boys he was.

As Remy strolled back to rejoin Trey, his new black bud shook his head.

"Tryin'a git wit' that hot dude already? You a damn slut, son. Love it."

Principal Jay returned, bringing the girl students back with her, all of
whom were talking excitedly. Remy wondered if they'd gotten a sexual talk,
too, and if so, what they discussed -- like were 75% of the girl students
lesbian? Was there a third-floor bathroom for girl-on-girl action? Remy was
getting hard again.

The Principal gave them all closing remarks, hoping they were all as eager
for the first day of school next week as she was.

Orientation over, Trey and Remy excitedly hurried down the main hall to the
front entrance. Once outside, Remy pointed out his house to Trey, just
right across the street. But before they headed over, Remy suggested he and
Trey go over to that clinic Mayo mentioned, to get tested. Trey was fine
with it.

The storefront clinic, barely two blocks away, seemed very chill. A
friendly young woman at the front desk told them that the procedure was
indeed free to Hope Academy students. Another young girl -- prettier and
even friendlier than the receptionist, took them to a room in back. Remy
got the vibe that both young girls assumed (rightly so) he and Trey were
horny young gay boys, hot to have unprotected sex. Remy felt sexy as hell,
like he was showing off this fine-ass boy he was going to get with.

The procedure took no time at all (it was the finger-prick test). They got
their negative results in twenty minutes and headed back to Remy's house --
which the boys would have all to themselves, as Ava would be working until
five.

As soon as he let the two of them in, Remy fought the urge to push Trey
against the wall and mash lips -- after all, it had been more than two
months since he'd been with another boy! He wanted to seem a little
smoother than just one more horned-up white boy, drooling over black dick,
so he played it as cool as Trey was acting and led them upstairs.

Even though he'd opened all the windows before he left for orientation that
morning, Remy's third floor space was still over-heated and stifling from
the hot September day, so he threw open the French doors to his small front
porch, which overlooked their new school, and took off his shirt, proudly
baring his beautifully worked upper body. Trey seamlessly followed suit,
pulling his oversized shirt off in a single, graceful sweep, his long,
thick braids tossing sexily as he did so.

Trey had a meticulously carved upper body -- lean, smooth, matte-black
muscle; each pec dotted with a hard, succulently small nipple, a couple
shades darker than his chest. Remy felt his mouth tingle and moisten.

While Trey wandered around, checking out his new friend's bedroom, wishing
aloud he had this much space to himself at home, Remy loaded and sparked a
bowl. He took a couple hits, then handed it to Trey, who smiled and nodded.

As Trey took a few more puffs, Remy opened his laptop to put on some sexy
Jamaican dub music to play through his stereo. The beats took hold almost
instantly.

As he and Trey alternated hits off the well-packed pipe, Remy started
grooving his body to the beat, doing some of the male stripper moves he'd
perfected from many hours spent practicing in his bedroom to YouTube clips
-- head rolls and chest rolls and hip rolls, gyrating his sexy, ripped body
in a way that would get any hot boy watching him hard.

Trey, not to be out-danced by a white boy, joined in. His body looked
amazing as he showed off incredibly hot club moves -- taut, ebony-skinned
muscle rippling and flexing, looking even more defined as he danced. His
thick mane of sexy dreads swayed alluringly as he body-rocked.

Trey told Remy his music choice was tight, adding that his father had been
Jamaican, so he had these rhythms in his DNA. Remy nodded and then, with
Trey hooting approval, took his stripper routine a step further -- he
teasingly wriggled out of his mesh shorts, letting them fall down his legs,
all the while fondling his chest and abs, fingers circling his already-hard
nips. Clad now in just a jock, his impressive package bulged the mesh pouch
out invitingly.

Trey, more than equal to the challenge, stripped down to a sexy pair of
white, Diesel-brand, trunk-style boxer briefs. The bright-white material
made a dramatic contrast against the boy's cocoa-black skin. Remy's gaze
was riveted on the long, thick, semi-hard length boldly outlined under
tight, thin cotton.

Soon the two muscular, near-naked beauties were doing a de facto pas de
deux, hands caressing each other's hard upper bodies and firm, muscular
butts. Trey especially loved fondling Remy's ass-cheeks and crack,
invitingly bared by his skimpy jock. Boy-lust morphed their dance into
foreplay, and they began grinding against each other's dick.

Ice broken, desire obvious, they peeled off each other's underwear,
grinning as they freed their bro's jutting cock.

A shivering prickle excitedly played through Remy's hole at the sight of
his new friend's dick. Fuck, Remy thought, dude's easily over eight inches
hard.

Trey's fiercely jutting cock was all thick, gleaming, solid-dark
chocolate. A few sexy veins criss-crossed an otherwise smooth, fulsome
shaft; the dark, meaty foreskin leaked a gleaming ooze. Its bold,
commanding power and sleek elegance made it look to Remy like a precious
piece of beautifully carved onyx.

The sight of each other's buff bodies and erect cocks consumed them, and
they began grooving their hips to the loud, rhythmic, bass-heavy beats,
grinding their crotches while clutching each other's ass, knowing their sex
was going to be superb when it happened.

They kissed, tentatively at first, then all at once hungrily. Trey's lips
were full and ripe and magnificently sensual; Remy couldn't get enough.

Their lips mashed together while, further down, their stiff, aroused pricks
echoed their mouths. The gooey-wet undersides of their thick, fully aroused
cocks strained against each other with youthful abandon.

Remy was especially thrilled Trey was into kissing, experience having
taught him many black boys weren't.

Trey moved things along by confessing his need to nut.

"Always get horny as fuck, shakin it on the dance floor with a sexy boy."

"You wanna jack together, bro?"

"Hell yeah! Haven't jacked since I woke up. Seem like days ago."

These boys were both too nervous, trying too hard to look major players, to
just say, `You're so fucking hot, let's fuck!'

What's more, they just loved being naked and sexy with each other,
worshipping each other's naked perfection. Dancing together had gotten them
even hornier than a seventeen-year-old gay boy usually was, and they were
both anxious to stretch out their delicious foreplay a while longer.

Remy led them over to one of the couches in front of his flat-screen. As he
flipped open his laptop, Trey asked him if he had any good porn.

"I got some great porn."

"Gay shit, right?"

"Hell yeah. All I watch."

"Cool. Me too. That shit have me nuttin' in no time."

Remy high-fived his new bro, then pulled him close for a quick kiss. He
loaded another bowl from the jar of pot he kept on his coffee table and
handed it to Trey to spark. They settled their naked, firm-muscled bodies
close together on the couch, trading hits off the pipe, to stroke to some
porn.

Remy clicked the remote so his flat-screen would play his laptop, then
scrolled to the porn-clip he wanted -- a COCKY BOYS clip, featuring a hot,
big-dicked black boy, all lean and muscular and gorgeous, and a white,
nicely defined, All-American jock; both boys in sexy underwear at first,
kissing and muscle-worshipping, before they stripped off their briefs and
started sucking and fucking. Corny and obvious, perhaps, but hot as fuck.

The boys' eyes got immediately drawn into the steamy scene. The two young
porn models onscreen were hard-bodied gorgeous, and their lust for each
other was contagious -- exactly like the two young boys watching.

Out of the corner of his eye, Remy saw Trey start to slowly stroke his
hard, thick, eggplant-dark dick, spitting on his pink palm, then letting
his grip trail lazily up and down his gleaming shaft. A jolt went through
Remy's cock as he watched his bro pull back the dark-skinned foreskin and
circle round the pink tip with a thin, elegant finger.

Trey's dick, except for the head, was darker than his body's skin, almost
as if calling special attention to itself, an attention Remy was only too
eager to give it.

Remy couldn't stop sneaking glances at Trey -- the way his long, thick
dreads snaked down around his face, neck, and chest; his smooth,
firm-muscled brown body; mostly, though, that mouth-watering cock, about an
inch or so longer than Remy's own big dick, with a tantalizing, pink tip
that popped out from under its dark hood when Trey jacked the foreskin
down.

Black boys, Remy felt, were the most beautiful, and Trey was absolutely
stunning.

The boys couldn't be squeezed closer together, fisting themselves to the
boy-sex onscreen. Trey had never seen that particular clip before and kept
groaning about how hot it was, how hot both dudes were, how hot the sex
looked. Remy about had the clip memorized, so he kept his eyes riveted on
the live sex show happening right next to him.

Trey's cock was just too alluring, so Remy kept jacking himself with his
left hand, but now his right hand traced up and down the sleek, dark,
muscular thigh of his new bro, before gently easing Trey's hand off his
gleaming black beauty of a dick, so he could pleasure it himself. Trey
whooped at the boy's boldness.

"Hell, yeah! Work a boy's dick! That feel fine as fuck, Rem."

"Your cock is fucking gorgeous, Trey. Just like the rest of you. Couldn't
take my fuckin' eyes off you this morning, bro -- you're so damn hot."

Trey turned his head, leaned in, and kissed his new friend ravenously while
he took over stroking Remy's dick, making the white boy groan.

They kept kissing and jacking each other excitedly, until Remy softly
pushed Trey down on the couch, then slipped his body in beside his friend's
so that his head was by the boy's thick hardness, and his cock nestled next
to the black boy's thick, puffy, rose-pink lips. Explosive sixty-nining
erupted, as if the two boys were gulping water after days in a scorching
hot desert.

Remy luxuriated in the feeling of another boy's mouth on his dick for the
first time in months, especially a boy as good at sucking cock as Trey
was. Trey's scraggly chinstache added an extra erotic charge to his
cocksucking as it tickled Remy's balls and thighs and ass-cheeks.

Once they'd swallowed each other's first loads, then let cum-coated lips
and tongues dance together contentedly, they nuzzled close, to worship and
praise and kiss each other's cut muscle for a while, until their hands and
mouth were drawn irresistibly back to those big dicks.

Another sixty-nine led to Trey tonguing and fingering Remy's hole, which
Remy eagerly green-lit with a whoop.

"Hell yeah! Need that big black dick, dude."

"Need this tight white hole, bro."

Remy licked and sucked and deep-throated Trey's long, jutting cock, lubing
it with a thick mix of his saliva and the black boy's precum, while Trey
worked the white boy's hole expertly with his long, snaky tongue and deft,
graceful fingers. Soon Remy was writhing in exquisite ecstasy, working his
hungry hole hard and insistent against Trey's tongue and thumbs and
fingers.

Remy kept a tube of lube on the coffee table, for when he stroked to porn
on the flat-screen and wanted to finger his ass. He grabbed it and drizzled
some over Trey's hefty cock, coating the huge length all over. Next he
handed it to Trey, who slicked up Remy's loosened hole.

Trey was an amazing lover. When he worked himself balls-deep in Remy's ass,
he slowly began long-dicking him, all soft and sensual. We both feel a
tight connection, Remy thought to himself.

They kissed and moaned as Trey eased his slim, athletic hips back and
forth, hands gliding reverently over Remy's beautifully carved chest and
abs while he fucked the gorgeous white boy.

Remy was overwhelmed with a needy lust and began grinding his own hips
back, in a serious counter-rhythm, riding his hole deliciously over the
boy's long, slick hardness. Trey braced himself on his arms so he could
start wrecking ass in earnest.

Remy floated on a cloud of boy-lust, relishing an insanely good fuck. He
gazed up dreamily -- Trey's long, thick dreads dangled and swayed over his
handsome black face, making him look at once raw and primitive as well as
male model gorgeous.

"Damn, Trey. You're so fuckin' beautiful!"

Trey's smile never seemed to go away.

"Bo' fus hot, Rem. `Specially you. Fuckin' love this ass."

"Fuckin' love that dick! Fuck me, bro. Harder the better. Ain't had no dick
in months. I seriously need this shit, so make it fuckin count!"

As Trey pounded him, Remy loved watching that beautifully muscled black
body flex and pump, gleaming with sweat now in the afternoon light that
streamed in from the front porch. Remy's eyes rolled back, and he lay back
on the couch, savoring the sensations of a seriously satisfying dicking,
his cock fully hard from the pleasure coursing through him.

After a few more minutes, Remy flipped round on all fours, so he could take
every inch of his new lover up his ass. Sure enough, when Trey slipped back
in, the big-dicked boy started hitting Remy's spot almost
immediately. Full-throated cries of ecstasy, from both boys, filled the
room.

Remy jacked himself as his strong, athletic young hips rode that wondrous
cock. When he came, the clenching of his powerful ass muscles with each
squirt of his load caused Trey to shoot seconds after, flooding Remy's ass
with thick, warm boy-cream.

They collapsed together, laughing with giddy glee. They're dudes, Mayo had
told them earlier. At their sexual peak. It's in their DNA.

Remy asked Trey how long he'd been into boys.

"Since I been `leven. Older cousin got me into it. Took to 't like a
fiend."

"You gay or bi or what?"

"I get with a girl now `n' then, if she know how to handle dick. 'Sides,
good-lookin' black dude s'posed to be Mr. Big-Dick Pussy-Banger. Gots to
play my part, Rem. But you know how it be -- this kind sex way hotter."

They laughed and high-fived.

"How `bout you, Rem? You get with girls?"

"Nah. Gay as fuck. Never really got girls. Never connected with them in
school or at parties 'n shit. Never even been intimate with a
girl. Never. Not even close. I mean, I had lots of chances -- girls have
come on to me plenty -- black girls and white girls."

"No doubt, dude. You hot as fuck. All us wanna be fuckin you, son."

"Super-awkward for me, having to pretend I didn't get that girls wanted to
fuck. I'm sure they figured out the deal with me pretty quick. It's just, I
never felt any urge that way. Like you say, boys are it, hands down. I
mean, cock, muscle, ass -- say no more, right? Plus, boys are super-horny
all the time, 'specially hot boys. No games -- just hard-core sucking and
fucking, pumping out loads, gettin hot as fuck for each other."

Then he started softly tracing patterns on Trey's dark, lean-muscled chest.

"The black boys at school were definitely my jam, non-stop, back in
Milwaukee. I mean, dude, seriously, just why the fuck are smoking hot black
boys like you so damn irresistible?"

Trey snorted a soft laugh.

"Cause we so damn irresistible."

"No, seriously. I mean, sure, you got the biggest dicks, on average. Seems
like mosta y'all got that lean, sexy muscle like you got. You dudes got the
most amazing fucking hair. Jesus Fuck, even clothes look, like, fifty times
hotter on black dudes. It's that rich, dark, gorgeous skin-tone, compared
to this bland, pasty-ass, pale shit I got. You dudes on the average are
always way wittier, way hipper, way more together. Black style is superb.
Plus, gay black boys? You dudes are the toughest dudes, in my book, cause
you gotta deal with shit from knuckleheads for bein' black AND for bein'
gay."

"What can I say? We studs. But for real, dawg -- and don't tell no brothers
at school -- I got me a serious thing for white boys. You dudes too damn
hot. Too damn sexy. Get my dick hard as fuck."

Remy was only too familiar with the sexual politics of race from back in
Milwaukee, where he knew a lot of black boys, all thuggish-looking and
hard, who were gay as fuck on the down-low, and who only got with really
hot white boys. And all the hot gay white boys Remy knew at his old high
school chased after the hottest black dudes, athletes or gang members, with
their sexy hair, lean-muscled bodies, stylin clothes and big-ass dicks.

"Your secret's safe with me, bro. And please DO tell every damn brother at
school that this white boy's a total slut when it comes to fine-ass black
boys. No one gets me harder."

Trey cocked an eyebrow, then gave a huge smile, lying there, waggling his
fat thickness at this self-proclaimed cock-hound for BBC.

Remy didn't waste a second. He started jacking Trey's hardening cock with
both hands, sliding his fingers sensually up and down that huge, stiff
shaft, cupping and fondling the boy's ebony, plum-sized, plum-dark
ball-sac, letting a finger drift down to tease his bro's purple-dark pucker
and the pink ass-wall winking at him as he worked his finger in.

As Remy jacked and finger-fucked his bro, he'd bring his finger to his
mouth and suck it like a cock, showing Trey how he savored the boy's
ass-juices. Trey purred in soft delight at Remy's worship.

Then, cock-time, and Remy's mouth was on it, his tongue circling the head,
licking up and down the shaft, laving Trey's balls, pulling back his
foreskin and teasing the piss-slit, then settling into some serious
dick-sucking.

As soon as there was a thick enough coating of saliva, mixed with Trey's
copious pre-cum -- making the boy's huge, hard, cocoa-black thickness all
glazed and glistening -- Remy began taking more and more dick until finally
mashing his nose down into Trey's nicely trimmed, curly-black pubes, much
to his new bro's surprised delight.

"Hell yeah! Eat a damn dick!"

Up and down, up and down, Remy's head bobbed, luxuriating on Trey's long,
luscious length of dark meat. He placed his fingers alongside the shaft as
he sucked on it, to get them nicely lubed, so he could get back to more
ass-play.

Another 'Hell yeah!' along with 'Work that ass!' as Remy fucked his new
lover with two fingers while cock-sucking him.

Trey nutted a couple minutes later and immediately returned the favor,
lavishing exquisite oral on Remy.

Lust sated, they chilled. Young, athletic, gorgeous, beautifully muscled --
both these boys were very much at home in their bodies and their desire, so
they stayed comfortably nude and physically intimate with other as they
hung out.

They loved touching each other, holding each other, fondling, kissing,
hugging, nuzzling, stroking, letting fingers and lips play idly over each
other's handsome faces, sexy hair, hard bodies, and thick cocks, no matter
what they were doing -- fixing sandwiches, gaming, dancing more, more pot,
more porn, more sucking and fucking.

Remy loved being naked for hours on end like this with another boy. He felt
it brought dudes as close together as possible -- naturally close;
casually, frankly close. Closer even than sex, he thought.

At one point that afternoon, Remy did a few sketches of Trey, then took a
lot of photos of him, so he could work on a drawing of the beautiful boy
when Trey was gone. Remy was an aspiring artist, and this was his standard
practice with boys he was really into.

Theirs was a kind of love-lust at first sight, each boy realizing he had
never been as intensely aroused by another boy so quickly, so excitedly as
this before. For their second fuck, they flipped. Trey, after he pulled out
of his cream-drenched hole, told Remy he needed to feel that big white dick
all up in his guts. His turn topping, Remy appreciated the intense
communion and athletic ballet that was sex between Trey and him, this time
savoring his bro's tight hole instead of his big dick.

Afterwards, Remy shyly (hopefully) brought up the idea of a sleep-over, but
Trey nixed it.

"Wish I could, Rem. Be tight as hell. But I got work, four o'clock, every
afternoon."

"Where do you work, dude?"

"I tell ya some time. Jus' not now."

Then he flashed his brilliant smile.

"Don' want you tryna steal my job, son."

Remy was pissed the afternoon was over, but the boys texted back and forth
over the long weekend, before the start of school. A serious, much-needed
friendship had been formed -- with Remy, at least, hoping it might become
more, because he couldn't imagine anything that would make his new life in
Minneapolis as perfect as having Trey as a boyfriend.

Comments welcome!
badprose@hotmail.com