Date: Thu, 14 Oct 2004 12:55:43 +0000
From: Moore
Subject: Equal Rights

EQUAL RIGHTS
BY:  MOORE

CHAPTER ONE

Steven Crane hadn't cried in 20 years. Not since his
sophomore year in high school when he had been discovered
on his knees in the locker room with a friend's cock in
his mouth. He was crying now though as his bare knees
made contact with the rough concrete floor and the cell
door clanged shut behind him. It had all happened so
fast, he could still taste the boy's semen in the back of
his mouth, so fast that the harsh reality of his
predicament was only just settling in.

One moment he'd been happily sucking the naked boy's
surprisingly large and meaty cock, enjoying the rich
flowing sperm as the virile teenager forcefully
ejaculated into his receptive mouth.  One moment later
he'd been hauled off his knees, hand cuffed and tossed
into the back seat of a police car wearing nothing but a
ribbon of sticky semen on his face and a string bikini to
cover his nakedness. Now, a frightened and humiliated
Steven Crane was locked away, alone in a jail cell. He
shuddered at the thought that he wouldn't be alone for
long.

"Throw the goddamn cocksucker in with the coloreds,"
Sheriff Reardon had said to his deputy. "The queer'll
keep the niggers happy for the next thirty days and after
they fuck him over with their big fat nigger dicks, he
can warn his faggot friends to stay the hell away from
Tinitus."

Much to Sheriff Reardon's disgust, Tinitus, Mississippi
was the nearest town to an integrated commune of free
thinking, free loving men and women and their offspring
of indeterminate paternity.  "Fuckin' queers," the
sheriff reported to the town council after paying a
surprise visit to the newly opened commune.  "Whites and
niggers, balls naked I tell ya, livin' together.  Ain't
nothing we can do 'bout it, but it ain't right."

The members of the commune lived quietly in a state of
nature and sexual freedom on fifty private acres,
copulating frequently and openly throughout the day and
night without regard to the race, creed, color, gender or
age of their various partners.  The children, naked as
jays and pure as the driven snow, needed no encouragement
to explore their own sexuality.

The men came to town periodically to buy what they
couldn't grow or make. The sheriff despised them,
"goddamn hippie faggots," he'd mutter as the men walked
down Main Street in their tie dyed T-shirts, shorts and
sandals. There was nothing he could do to stop them from
coming to town, nor could he arrest them.  Holding hands
and kissing was not against the sodomy laws the sheriff
was sworn to enforce.

Steven Crane was gay, as were his few close friends from
New York and one male colleague at Essex School, the
private boys prep school in Riverdale where he taught
American history. They were a quiet and sophisticated
group of homosexual men in their 30's, none of whom had
any interest in visiting the deep south or being exposed
as queers.

Crane was an excellent teacher and too, passionately fond
of teenage boys. He was respected by his peers who had no
inkling of his sexual orientation, and adored by his
students who he secretly worshipped in return.  He lusted
after them all in his heart, but limited his careful
overtures to the homosexual boys in the school.

Ten years at Essex School and every year there had been
at least one homosexual boy in every incoming class.
Crane never failed to find him, patiently watching and
waiting at the beginning of each school year until the
gay boy or boys in the freshman class revealed himself to
his experienced eye.

This past years' boy, Allan Young, had been an athlete
like Tony Wentworth, Crane's 12th grade boy who had been
accepted to Princeton.  Two sweaty boys in jock straps,
smelly, salty and totally delicious sperm machines made
his foreign born 11th grader, Pierre LePetit, taste like
fine wine.  Allan loved to suck cock, Tony could fuck for
an hour before cumming in Crane's ass and Pierre's five
inch uncut dick, hairless balls and sweet creamy cum was
a cocksucker's dream.

Crane never forced a boy to have sex with him, never
lured a boy into his bed with false promises. Allan, Tony
and Pierre, like their predecessors, were gay on arrival.
Crane merely furthered their education in the classroom
and bedroom, opening their young minds and lush bodies to
the wonderful world of homosexual love.

CHAPTER TWO

Luke Reardon, the clerk in the country store had been
about to close for lunch and Crane, who had been driving
the dusty back roads in search of civil war memorabilia,
was ready to take a break from the summer's oppressive
heat.  Slavery and the black experience in the deep south
before the civil war was of particular interest to Crane.

"Y'all can join me for a swim," Luke offered. "S'longs
y'all don't mind my swimmin' nekkid."

The idea of a swim in a cool lake was appealing on its
own; with a naked teenage boy...irresistible.

Luke shed his few clothes, he wore no shoes or underwear.
His body was tanned and smooth, hairless except for the
patch of curly brown pubes above an unusually large penis
and brown tufts under his arms.  He was proud of his
body, especially his cock which when it got hard was a
good inch longer than any of his friends.

They no longer compared dick size, Luke and his friends,
no longer measured their boners against the 12" length of
pipe they had used from the beginning. One day when they
were all in the 9th grade, they held a masturbation
contest to see who could shoot the farthest. Shortly
thereafter, to make the contest more interesting, it was
agreed that the loser had to hold the winner's prick. 
Holding quickly lead to stroking and stroking, well,
after swearing each other to secrecy, the friends agreed
that the loser would take the winner's prick into his
mouth.

"Suck it too," Luke suggested, something he had dreamed
about doing for as long as he could remember. "Suck it
and make it cum. C'mon y'all, it'll be fun to suck each
others cocks."

Luke Reardon, older by almost two years because he had
been left back twice in school, was the first boy to win
under the exciting new rules. He got hard again in Petey
Wilson's mouth and climaxed again a few minutes later
when Petey, after Luke promised not to cum in his mouth,
reluctantly began to suck.  

He was also the last to lose a jerk-off contest. The last
of the four friends to suck a cock...the first to go all
the way and swallow. "Cum's good," he declared, smacking
his lips after Dan Lassiter had unloaded in his mouth.
"Kinda like salty buttermilk."

The loss was intentional because after a month Luke felt
left out. He wanted to experience what Petey, Dan and his
third friend Hank Watters had experienced. He desperately
wanted to suck a cock, all of their cocks, but was
embarrassed to come right out and ask.  The intentional
losses mounted and Luke became an ardent and skillful
cocksucker, a veritable slave to cock.

The "Four Fags", as Luke alone secretly called their
little sex club, disbanded when three of the four started
having sex with the local colored girls who spread their
legs for any white boy that wanted to fuck them. 
Coloreds submitting to whites...little had changed in
Tinitus since the Civil War.

Luke tried but girls, white or black, left him cold and
the black girls laughed at him when they fondled his limp
dick and he couldn't get it up.  Boys on the other hand,
white and black, sent a charge through his body that
frequent masturbation did little to relieve. Luke, a
slave to cock, was unable to contain his desire to suck
and he finally approached Petey, Dan and Hank out of
sheer frustration.

"Lemme do y'alls dicks," he said to his surprised friends
as they walked home from school. "I promise not to tell
a soul."

"You're kiddin', right," Hank said. "Suckin' dick is fer
nigger cunts and faggots. You ain't no nigger, Luke, and
we all seen your dick. Hey, Luke, you turnin' into one a
them ho--mo--sexuals?"

"Yeah, well maybe. I dunno."  Luke shuffled his bare feet
in the dusty rural road as he struggled with Hank's
question.  "Shucks, yeah," he finally admitted what the
voices inside his head had been telling him for a long
time. "Shucks, yeah, I'm a fag. So, can I suck y'alls
cocks?"

Concealed from view by the dense bushes, two young men,
black men heading home from a nearby community college
watched with interest as Luke Reardon, the sheriff's
nephew, went down on his three friends.  Sheriff Reardon
was a racist, despised and feared by every black in the
county.  His views about the homosexuals that lived in
the commune were also well known.

"We can embarrass the shit out of Reardon," one black
said to the other.  "Think about it, George, his nephew
a fag. The sheriff will be a laughingstock, he won't be
able to show his face in town."

"He might even pack up and leave if..."

"If what?"

"You still have your box camera, Thomas? And film?"

"Yeah, at home. Why?"

"I'm thinking that the sheriff might like a picture of
his nephew with a dick in his mouth. Maybe one of the kid
on his knees, naked, with a big black cock in his pretty
white mouth."

George and Thomas were well prepared the following day.
Luke simply laughed when they told him what they had
witnessed and what they wanted in return for their
silence. Luke's enthusiastic response both surprised and
angered the college boys.

"Yeah, sure, I always wanted to suck nigger dick," he
said with a big stupid grin on his face. "You colored
boys got big ones, I hear tell. Big nigger nuts too."

Luke was unaware that nigger, a word that he had heard
all of his life, was a derogatory derivation of negro.
Coloreds were niggers, he'd been taught at home and at
his segregated school and church. An inferior race of
people, animals really, saved from the flood by Noah to
serve as slaves for the superior white people. He was
unaware that the word was particularly offensive to a
generation of educated young black men who demanded equal
rights.

"Which one a you nigger boys wants to go first?"

"Not so fast," George said, smirking, as Luke went down
to his knees. "You want my black dick in your fag mouth,
white boy? You wanna suck my cock, you better ask me nice
and show me some respect."

Respect was another word that Luke had heard all his
life. Yes sir, no sir, please and thank you. His daddy
demanded it, respect, and Luke, who knew little else,
knew how to give it.

"Please, sir."

"Call me Master George, white boy."

"Please, Master George," Luke said easily. The irony of
his quick submission into a master/slave relationship was
lost in his simple, one track mind.

"Please what, slave boy?"

"Suck, Master George. Suck my master's cock."


CHAPTER THREE

Steven Crane heard them before he saw them. Smelled them
too before the six black men were unshackled from their
chains and crowded into his jail cell.

"Have fun with the faggot, boys," Sheriff Reardon said as
he locked the cell door.  "Mr. Crane's been waitin' real
anxious like for y'alls to come and play."

"It's not a jock strap," Crane explained as the sweaty
black men gathered around to inspect his all but naked
body. "It's a string bikini....hey, what are you doing?"
He said when one of the men grabbed his ass.

"Fixin' to have some fun like the sheriff said, white
boy.  Been workin' all day, slavin' in the hot sun. Now
y'alls gonna suck nigger dick...make us niggers feel
mighty good."

Steven Crane, boy lover, had never seen cocks as large as
the six black cocks that were arrayed before his eyes.
The smell alone was enough to make his head spin. These
were men, not teenage boys. Sweaty, unwashed men whose
musky aroma made the locker room at Essex School smell
like a garden. Big black men with huge dicks and low
hanging balls that Crane was finding hard to resist.

Steven Crane ripped off his string bikini, exposing his
erect and drippy cock.  He sank to his knees, suddenly
trembling with excitement at the thought of servicing
these powerful black men, descendants of slaves, with his
mouth and ass.  So this is how it feels to be a slave, he
thought, leaning forward to capture a dick with his lips.

Crane's new masters used his mouth and ass equally,
taking turns and switching between the two until the cell
reeked of semen and sweat. Equal rights for six African
Americans had made a great leap forward in Tinitus,
Mississippi.