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From: "classic rider" <classicrider14@excite.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Always Just Below the Surface (mm)
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Date: Sun, 13 Nov 2005 11:10:02 -0500
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This is a fictional story. It includes acts of homosexuality and racial
slurs. If you are offended by this kind of fantasy, please search for
something else to read. This story is not about or intended for minors.

You never really know your buddies until you keep them up late at night
and ply them with bottle after bottle of cold beer. After awhile, as
you both relax in the privacy of your home, sitting in big comfortable
chairs and talking about memories, the truth comes out with unexpected
force. It always comes as a surprise to find out that people are not
what they seem. We always like to think we know what is inside of
people from their outward appearance, but how far from the mark we
often are!

Some things are embedded deep.

It was just that kind of night. Me and my buddy, Jamal had more than
our share of brew. We were still drinking, laying back in easy chairs
in my living room. He carries himself as a smart, confident black man,
and he's good at sports. I like to be around him. We were talking
about the awkwardness of race relations today. Then he shared a story
with me that nearly knocked my socks off.

I have tried to reconstruct his confidential confession to me below.
This is the gist of Jamal's story:

I've always thought of myself as a proud and progressive black man.
Those days of slavery and their remnants are long past - they are
over. Black people are now proud and free. We stand on our own two
feet. We are not going to revisit those days of servitude ever again.
And yet I've had experiences that have shaken my confidence in all of
that.

When I was an undergraduate in college I shared a dorm room with a
white boy. We were both fresh out of high school, trying to find our
way in the bigger world of college life and the excitement of the
campus.

On the first night, as we were unpacking our belongings, I found myself
staring at the outline of that white boy's body. He was fully
clothed, yet I found myself fantasizing about what it would be like to
see him naked and to run my lips over his smooth white body.

I shook my head to clear it. I don't know what came over me. I have a
fine black sista' for a girlfriend; never been interested much in
white women; I was the president of the Black Pride Student Association
in high school. What was I thinking, looking at this white boy's body
- sexually?

I started unpacking my belongings more vigorously. I was trying to burn
up energy that might otherwise turn into sexual tension. It wasn't
working. The white boy, who was about to become my roommate still drew
my attention. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I watched him
silently. Longingly.

He must have sensed that I was watching. After about a half hour of
trying to sneak a peek while pretending that I wasn't interested, he
suddenly stopped bending over unopened boxes, and walked toward me.

My heart jumped and I swallowed hard. Had he seen me staring at him? If
he had, did he know what I was thinking? Maybe he just thought I wanted
to steal something from him. That would be better than having him find
out what was really going through my mind. I tried to ignore him.

But then, he was standing a few feet in front of me, arms casually to
his side. His thick brown mop of hair was tossed over part of his face.
I couldn't ignore him any longer. It just wasn't natural.

I slowly stood up, trying to think of something to say. The big brown
eyes in his boyish face seemed to penetrate me to the core. I looked at
his smooth white neck, exposed by his t-shirt. My eyes traced the shape
of his smooth, solid and masculine arms. That white boy really had a
care-free magnetism to him. It was a kind of tough, easy-going but
thoughtful freedom that I wish I had.

The white boy just stood there, slightly nodding his head as if he knew
something that I was afraid to admit. He knew something I was trying to
hide, trying to deny. He spoke to me softly, almost in a whisper,
"It's in your breeding. It's in your genes. Don't try to deny
your destiny. Accept it; it will free you."

I shook my head and tried to act like I didn't know what the fuck he
was talking about. I tried to act annoyed. Truth of the matter, I
really was a little confused about what he meant. But he just kept
softly staring; his eyes seemed to penetrate my core. I felt naked and
exposed in front of him.

I don't know what came over me. 300 hundred years of slave breeding
seemed to well up inside of me. I gazed on the purity of his white
flesh and found myself muttering softly, in spite of myself,
"M-m-master."

He softly whispered in a deep voice, "That's right. I am your
master." I sank to my knees in front of him and he lifted up his
t-shirt, exposing his lean white stomach with a few soft brown hairs
making a trail down to his crotch. He unbuckled his pants. His voice
was a low whisper, "Go on, suck my white cock. It will set you
free."

My whole body was flooded with a wave of heat. With trembling fingers I
took his white cock into my hands and slid it into my mouth.

His cock was still soft at this point and felt spongy on my lips and
tongue. I almost swooned with pleasure as I tasted that white boy's
body inside of me. He had a fresh scent. He smelled and tasted clean
and pure.

I felt his hand press the back of my head while my face brushed up
against his brown pubes. I had never tasted white cock before. It
tasted wonderful. The smell of his pubes filled my nostrils.

I massaged the soft shaft of his dick with my full lips and used my
tongue to lick the underside. He started getting hard in my mouth. I
was serving my master.

Before I knew it, I was sucking on his hard white pole. I felt him
apply more pressure on my head while he worked his pelvis in my mouth.
He started grinding his dick in my mouth, moving it around in corkscrew
circles, as well as pumping it in and out. His white thighs
rhythmically advanced and retreated with every thrust of his hips.

I felt his testicles swing and brush against my chin. They were hairy
and firm. They gently slapped my face. His dick was growing harder and
harder in my mouth. He held my head steady and used my mouth as he
softly grunted and groaned.

It made me feel good to know I was serving this white boy so well. I
wished I could watch his face while I was sucking his cock. By now his
dick had reached its full length, about 8 inches. It was swollen and
hard, throbbing in my wet mouth.

I heard him moan, softly repeating over and over again, "Yeah, suck
that cock. Yeah, suck it." The tender hair on his white thighs
brushed up against the sides of my face. His dick went deep in my
throat. Yeah, this white boy was becoming a part of me. He was
uplifting my race by working his dick in my mouth. The musky warm smell
of his pubes made me feel at home.

This is what I was born to do, suck on a white boy's dick. On my
knees in front him I was only acknowledging what we all know is true,
that he is my natural master. By sucking his dick I was giving him
props as ruler of the world.

I heard him moan deeply. I felt his body quiver. He pushed my face hard
against his hairy pubes and pumped more rapidly, almost as if in
desperation. He pushed my face against the hair above his cock and
humped me deeply, violently, harshly. Then he stopped.

I felt his dick twitch in my mouth. I felt his cum rushing up to the
surface. His thick hot young juices exploded in my mouth in spurts and
gushes. It tasted fresh and clean, just like his body. He pumped load
after load of hot white man jizz into my nigger mouth. I didn't even
try to gasp for air, I just swallowed. It was nectar from the gods.

The white boy kept pumping waves of cum in my mouth; making his cum a
gift to me. He had become a part of me. As he shot his cum down my
throat that white boy was taking possession of me. He put his mark on
me. He owned me. He kept pressing on the back of my head and rubbing
his brunette pubes in my black face - making good use of his nigger.

When he finally relaxed and loosened his grip, I licked his semi-erect
white cock clean. I pushed my head between his man-boy thighs and
licked his white balls too. Ohhh, those balls were so precious. I
kissed his hairy young white master balls to pay them homage. By the
time I was through cleaning up my master, my mouth tasted of white boy
sweat and cum. I was finally free.

I was still kneeling on the floor in front of my young master when he
leaned over and spoke in a low voice, almost as if he were afraid
someone else might hear, "You're a good cocksucker. Thanks for
letting me use your lips tonight. I can tell we're going to get
along."

I almost melted. I was finally home.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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