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Subject: {ASSM} Young Black Male College Students Serving Hard White Cock
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Date: Fri, 16 Mar 2007 19:10:03 -0400
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This is a work of fiction. It includes homosexual acts and racial
humiliation. Anyone who is offended by such fantasies should find
something else to read. This story is not intended to be read by
minors.

When I was an undergraduate the men's room on campus was a hot spot
for T-room action. It got so "bad" that the custodial staff took all
the doors off the stalls and the cops raided the place on a regular
basis. The school removed the doors on the toilet stalls in order to
discourage sexual activity, but this only made the private acts of
horny young men more public. The place was so active it was even
listed in national gay publications as a great spot to go to pick up
young college guys. Truth of the matter is even high school and middle
school boys were acquainted with the T-room. A lot of weird things
were going on in that place.

One example is when I came in there one late afternoon and saw a
handsome young black boy down on his knees inside of a toilet stall,
sucking on an older white man's cock. Another black student came into
the rest room and spotted the two going at it. The student stood
there, fondling his own cock through his pants while he watched. The
white man gave him an annoyed look and pulled the black boy who was on
his cock further into his stall as if to establish his exclusive
ownership over the boy.

The boy complied with the white man's actions. The other student just
shook his head and clucked his tongue, "Damn, that's fucked. That's
some serious self-hatred."

He couldn't pull himself away from the scene though. He positioned
himself in an adjacent stall to the man and the boy and masturbated
until he shot a thick load of cum on floor.

The student cleaned himself up and left the men's room while the other
boy continued to service the white man's cock. After awhile the man
grunted and bucked spasmodically in the black boy's mouth. The boy
gagged and choked. Thick globs of the man's cum trickled out of the
boy's mouth and ran down his chin.

The white man casually pushed the boy aside, zipped up his pants and
left. I caught up with the young black boy a few hours later in the
library. He was studying alone, so I invited myself to his table.

I whispered, "You know, that was hot watching you earlier with that
man."

The boy's eyes narrowed, he held his breath and propped his book up in
front of him as if he were trying to wall me off.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about it. I just wanted you to know
how hot that scene was."

The boy gave me a doubtful glance and then nodded as if to say, "Okay,
you've said what you had to say - now, move on."

I took a deep breath. "I just have one question, why did you turn down
that other black guy for the older white man's cock? I mean, the other
guy was young and cute - why did you ignore him?"

The boy stared at me for a moment, as if he were trying to assess
whether or not he could trust me. "I don't want anybody to know what I
do. I can't take a chance with a black dude. You never know who they
might know. Word could get around pretty fast."

He returned to his book, pretending I wasn't even there.

I got up from the table. "Thanks man, I was just curious."

He looked up. Only a hint of a smile crossed his face, for the most
part his expression was annoyance.

As I left the library new ideas swirled around in my head about the
prospects of meeting young black men on the "down low" in the T-room;
black men who would only be available to white cock in order to keep
their secret. I left the library with a feeling of anticipation.

I returned to the T-room and sat in a stall far in the back of the
room, waiting for prey. It was a slow day. I studied the tiles on the
floor.

I waited for nearly an hour. Just as I was getting up to leave I heard
someone enter the room. His street shoes echoed as he slowly made his
way down the isle of empty toilets. The pacing of his feet was
tentative, hesitant - as if he were unsure that he wanted to go
through with this.

He reached my stall and froze, as if he were surprised that someone
was already there. I recognized him instantly. There was no mistaking
his smooth caramel-colored face or his shoulder-length dreadlocks. He
was neatly dressed in a stylishly oversized black shirt and black
baggy pants.  He was one of the prized undergraduate students in the
African American studies department. His picture had been featured in
the student newspaper and on the campus website. The flash of his
almond-shaped eyes seemed to penetrate me. His full red lips were
expressionless. He seemed to be deep in thought, weighing his options.

I knew that he had written poems and essays on black pride and black
identity, which had been published in respected journals. He was also
a talented member of one of the black fraternities on campus and had
become a feature in their step shows. Many students, both black and
white, admired him. He had become the symbol of the promise and
dignity of African American students and black manhood. He represented
the hopes for the future of black America.

Did he know this men's room was a meeting place for discreet gay sex
on campus? The organizations he belonged to on were notoriously
homophobic and his focus on the dignity of black people would seem to
give him little use for white faggots.

I figured he didn't know what he walked into. I turned away to give
him a chance to recover from his shock and walk away. He didn't leave.
Instead he carefully laid his book bag on the small shelf above the
toilet, undid his pants and sat down in the stall across from me.

His smooth, strong caramel legs seemed to glow in the light of the T-
room. He kept his dark eyes focused on me, like laser beams locked on
their target. He propped his elbows on his knees and folded his hands
in front of his mouth as if he were gathering his strength to go
through with whatever it was he came here to do.

Surely he wouldn't think about having sex with me, an older white man.
I recall that he was quoted in the paper once as saying that
homosexuality is not "indigenous" to African people and that blacks
who practice it must have been brainwashed.

Now, here he was sitting in a toilet across from me. He was obviously
expecting to have discrete gay sex. I wasn't going to make this easy
for him.

He spread his legs and slowly stroked his thick black cock. I watched,
mesmerized, as that brown monster grew thicker and thicker in front of
my eyes, and its length extended a full nine inches or more. I tried
to look indifferent. It would be important to play "hard to get" if I
were to implement my strategy. But I couldn't take my eyes off of his
large hairy balls as they slowly rose and sank with each stroke of his
stiff youthful cock.

He smirked, waiting for me to crawl over to his stall to suck on his
cock. I was about to sink to my knees when the thought of what he told
the newspapers flashed through my mind again and filled me with anger.
My mind flashed with images of him in his proud Kente cloth during
awards ceremonies, and the speeches he had delivered about the way
that black people should never have to "grovel" before a white man.

I watched him smirk at me self-confidently while he stroked his black
cock. I decided that it was time to wipe that overly-confident smirk
right off his face.

I stood up and walked over to his stall. I bent down slightly, as if I
were about to sink to my knees. But then I grabbed the back of his
head and pushed his face in my pubes.

I leaned over and said in a low voice, "You better start sucking on
that white cock to get it hard if you know what's good for you, boy."

He squirmed in my arms and tried to break free. I tightened my grip.

"You don't want me to scream or make a lot of noise, cause if I do
people will run in here and see you in a T-room stall with a white
faggot. No matter how hard you try to explain it away you'll never be
able to convince your proud black brothers than you didn't know what
you were doing when you wandered in here in the first place."

He stopped struggling.

"Save yourself some embarrassment and get to work on this white cock.
I want to see your lips make this sucker shine like you should do when
you're polishing somebody's boots."

I rubbed my flaccid cock against his thick lips, demanding entry. He
kept his mouth shut tight. My hairy pubes brushed against his nose and
his eyes.

"Come on, Nigga. Get to work. I don't have all day. Let's feel those
lips on my cock or I'll have to make some noise so we can both get our
names in the papers."

I looked down. I saw him reluctantly open his mouth. My cock slid
between his lips and rested on his tongue. I grabbed the back of his
head; my fingers clutched his nappy dreadlocks. My dick started to
swell in the black boy's mouth. I thrust my cock to the back of his
throat and humped.

"Keep those lips tight, boy. If you don't make me happy there are a
lot of people outside who are going to know about it."

His lips made a firm seal on dick. I watched the pained expression on
his face. He looked as if he were being forced to swallow castor oil.
By now my cock was fully hard. I pushed deeper in his mouth, making
his body heave with every thrust of my cock.

"Yeah, Nigger. Suck that white cock. Get a good taste of the power of
white manhood."

I admired the sight of the prize of black youth sucking on a white
man's hard dick. I slid my wet cock out of his mouth and rubbed it on
his nose, leaving a trail of saliva and pre-cum. I slapped his
humiliated blushing brown cheeks with my cock. I bounced the tip of my
cock on his thick black lips, making him comically blubber.

Then I lifted my nut sac and rested my hairy white balls on his lips.

"Wash those balls with your mouth, boy. Let me feel your hot tongue on
them."

The boy scowled. A pained look crossed his face. I tightened my grip
on his nappy head. His mouth slowly opened. He reluctantly let my
balls sink onto his tongue.

"Suck those balls, Nigger. Suck 'em good."

I felt that proud black youth slurping on my balls. I enjoyed the
feeling of power I had over him. I enjoyed making him lick my hairy
white balls like a little nigger slave boy.

"Oh yeah, that feels so good. You know how to service a white man's
needs real well."

I turned around and clutched the back of his head once again. I shoved
his black face into my white ass crack. "Lick my shit hole, Nigger."

For the first time he allowed himself to give voice to his pitiful
situation. He let out a high-pitched squeal of disgust. I rubbed my
ass up and down on his black face.

"Lick it, Nigger. I thought I told you to lick my ass. Why don't I
feel your tongue in my crack?"

I felt his slow, reluctant licks up and down the length of my ass
crack.  He gagged and gasped for breath.

"Kiss it. Kiss my white shit hole."

I felt him pucker his lips and delicately peck at my wet hole.

"Yeah, that's it. That's a good black boy."

I pushed his face in my ass crack for one last time. I held it there.
He mumbled something and flailed his hands, but whatever he was trying
to say wasn't very clear. It was muffled by my white ass cheeks.

I let go of his head and turned around. I took deep breaths, like a
man desperate for fresh air. I took aim at his thick black lips with
my fully erect cock. I rammed my hard white cock back down his
throat.

"Suck on that dick boy. Take it all the way down. Don't make me have
to yell."

The black boy dutifully serviced my cock.

I couldn't hold back any longer. I felt a surge. I erupted with a
gusher of hot creamy cum. I held the boy's face against my pubes while
I spewed cum in his mouth. He tried not to swallow. He opened his
mouth to let it flow over his lower lip and splatter down his chin and
onto the floor. His shoulders heaved as if he were gasping for air or
crying. Maybe it was a bit of both.

I didn't care. I knew that I had just taken the best and the brightest
black boy on campus and used him to meet my most urgent needs.

I would give anything to be able to watch as he went back to his
fraternity house, with all of his proud black brothers, and realized
that his body had just been used at will to satisfy a white man. I had
possessed his black body as if he were a 19th century slave and then I
threw him away.

I wiped my cum-covered cock in his dreadlocks. I tucked my cock back
inside my pants, zipped them up and backed out of the stall.

I started down the long isle of doorless toilet stalls. I couldn't
resist taking one last look at my conquest.

The expression on his tough and tender boyish face reflected the
realization that his youthful manhood had been assaulted. He spat on
the floor, trying to expel the taste of my cum. Resentment mixed with
shame clouded his boyishly rugged caramel-colored face. I left him
spitting frantically on the floor, head hung in shame and forearms
resting on his thighs.

The very sight of it almost made me turn back and do it again.

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