Love Letters to La'Damian Part 4
La'Damian is a hero to the black community. He's a fighter in the streets and a god in the bedroom. White women drop to their knees for the chance to please him. This series is for fans of his who love following his conquests. La'Damian is more than a disadvantaged youth, struggling with white oppression, he is a black sex god white women love to please.
Grand-Memaw,
the most respected centenarian in the neighborhood, sat comfortably in a plush chair in her living room. At 103 years old, she had round spectacles over her tiny eyes looking over a pair of puffy cheeks. Her hair was gray and long. She always wore a comfortable, over-sized dress of modest colors. The Grand Memaw was surrounded by her friends and ****** and had much to celebrate that morning.
One of Grand-Memaw's many great-great grandchildren, was given the joy of carrying the African fertility mask to her. The smile on the old woman's face lit up the room bright as the sun. She gave her grandchild a kiss and blessed the mask. The room erupted in applause. La'Damian was there in the back of the room wanting no credit or attention. His buddies, Titus and Booker, were on their tip-toes from the kitchen taking a break of raiding cookies and brownies. Memaw made a blessing that was both Biblical and African. A tear went down from her eye as she pointed to one artifact in the room after another. Each told a story. Each represented the strength and power of African culture.
One by one, many stood in front of Memaw to congratulate her and wished her health. It was inevitable that someone asked out in the open, “How did this happen?” At that moment, a woman in her fifties humbly approached Memaw. She was one of her grandchildren and knelt by Memaw's side. A Grand-Memaw's grandchild, a grown adult, started crying and apologized to her. “I'm so sorry! It was me who took it… we had trouble paying the rent again.” she said to Memaw who put her palm on her grandchild's cheek to reassure her all was good. “The blessed African spirit looks after us all.” said the centenarian.
When the room emptied and Booker and Titus stepped out of the home, La'Damian stayed behind and meekly walked up to the Grand Memaw. It would be difficult to find the young man more bashful and quiet than standing in front of neighborhood royalty. Grand-Memaw looked up to La'Damian with twinkles in her eyes, rubbed her mask, and whispered, “Thank you, son.” La'Damian nodded and handed Grand Memaw the money Helen left on Titus's dresser drawer. He and his buddies agreed to donate every dollar. He said his goodbyes and left her home as some of her great grandchildren were in the kitchen. La'Damian knew he made a difference.
Stepping out of the front door he climbed downstairs inside the brownstone. His friends were no where to be found. Around the corner to the lower floor, La'Damian bumped into Keisha. Keisha had one foot on the wall and stuck out her knee to “knock” La'Damian for his attention. Keisha was wearing the tightest clothes including a pair of shorts that about were painted on. But the legal-aged teen still looked cute,with blossoming breasts on a thin frame. Keisha gave La'Damian a wicked smile.
Keisha let out an erotic, yet confident, moan as she brushed her hand across her breast. Of course, it grabbed La'Damian's complete attention. Without hesitation, Keisha grabbed La'Damian by the hand and took him to her place. La'Damian followed and could do little more else but stare at Keisha's ass. She put in that black girl swing in her hips and never looked so sexy and mature. Keisha had grown up much since she started becoming very sexually active.
When La'Damian stepped into Keisha's apartment, he closed the door behind him. Waiting for them were Booker and Titus. Booker was sitting on the couch. Titus in a chair. Both looked muted and almost embarrassed with their heads down. La'Damian looked at them wondering what was wrong. He then noticed they were naked. Keisha went to the middle of the room taking center stage. She smiled and pulled off her top exposing her breasts. “Let's go!” she said with a smile while pointing at herself with both hand hands.
Booker and Titus sprang to their feet. La'Damain saw Keisha drop her shorts revealing her beautiful pussy. La'Damian nodded and looked forward to Keisha's gift. The three young men gently put their hands on the teen. Hands brushed against her breasts and ass. She accepted the occasional grope. Keisha was proud of her body and smiled at every pair of hands that enjoyed her. The room became a temple to the black goddess and the men paid respect to her. The men inched closer. Hearts were beating faster. Exhaled breaths were hotter. Tips of rubbery man-spears tapped Keisha's fine, dark flesh. Keisha ran her fingers across each stiff, black cock. She approved their size and girth. They were everything a sexually active woman expected and needed. Lips puckered on each of her nipples fueling her desire and womanhood. Then it was time.
Keisha dropped to her knees and gripped one cock after another. She gave each a couple loving strokes before parting her beautiful, puffy lips and taking in one organ after another. One by one, each young man felt the pleasure of a black mouth smothering their manhood. Booker, Titus, and La'Damian each got their turn to look into the ceiling feeling the pleasures in their loins. It was difficult for each of them to not buck their hips and face-fuck the girl. However, Keisha was in control of the men and gently reminded each of them that. Keisha licked every testicle with her tongue knowing they had warm seed to spread through the community and world. It was nectar deserving to be stoked, pleased and released.
As a ritual acknowledging the power of the black cock, each made at least one smack across Keisha's face. She did it proudly, making eye-to-eye contact with each of her suitors from her knees. She reminded them how lucky they were to get black pussy. Keisha went to sit on the couch and sat on her ass. La'Damian was the first to crawl in between them. Meanwhile, Booker and Titus crawled on the couch to Keisha's left and right aiming their cocks to her face.
La'Damian's cock had a mind of its own wanting inside the beautiful black woman. It stretched hard and urged him to move closer. Guiding the tip on top of her pussy, he pushed it inside feeling how warm and tight she was. He let out a muted grunt as his friends traded their turns into Kiesha's mouth. The four of them began another round of black sensuality.
This wasn't just a “gangbang” but a celebration of love common in the black community freed from white judgmental racism. The four openly expressed themselves, sexually with no inhibitions. There was no shame only confidence. There was no shyness only a single-minded drive to have their sexual needs met. The moments were beautiful filled with pressing flesh, the lunges of masculine muscles, and the erotic moans of a sexually satisfied woman.
It was Titus's turn to mate with Keisha. Titus was a tall basketball player and showed the power and grace throwing his loins between Keisha's legs. He enjoyed every inch he shared inside her pussy. She was tight but accommodating. Keisha wasn't a slut but a good, black woman.
La'Damian and Booker nodded at each other at their celebration as Keisha took turns putting one cock then another in her mouth. They each grabbed a breast and feeling how firm they were. Keisha put a firm hand on Titus above his cock as it pushed firm inside her. Keisha wordlessly reminded him she demanded respect. Titus let out a frustrating moan. He needed so much to fuck but had to treat Keisha and her lovely body right.
It became Booker's turn who was the most frustrated out of the three men. His dick was wet from Keisha's spit but he was getting deliriously impatient as he had to endure his two friends score pussy first. Booker carried some girth in his manhood. The bulging veins were pumping blood ballooning his already gifted size. Booker pushed his cock inside and he exhaled a soft, almost beautiful moan of relief. Keisha's eyes popped open and she couldn't resist blurting out a “Fuck.” feeling her third male organ push inside her making room for penetration and stroking.
The room's erotic energy grew new heights when Keisha agreed to be put on her hands and knees on the couch. La'Damian took his second turn penetrating her from behind. Titus, who too was becoming impatient, offered his dick to Keisha's parting mouth. La'Damian looked down and saw that perfect, black ass. So round, so firm, it bounced against his loins as he gave her several inches, feet by counting the strokes, of his black organ. He looked up and thanked the African gods for this magnificent gift. The world made Keisha into a sexual superstar. La'Damian could love her as any worthy black man would. She was open-minded, caring, and generous. Her gifts brought so much harmony and togetherness in the community. Keisha was a black princess destined to be a queen.
La'Damian didn't think only for himself. He voluntarily stood back and let his two buddies take their turns. La'Damian was also a generous, kind man. Sharing and interdependence was something black culture could teach others about. So, the young man stood near the couch stroking his cock admiring Keisha's beauty.
Meanwhile, approaching the front door came Jada. Jada had just spent the afternoon sitting in on a community activist meeting. She was already pissed over missing the Grand-Memaw. But she couldn't skip when the agenda covered reparations and eliminating white rights. Jada carried a stack of folders in her arms, a result of studious work and research into law and culture. They were pressed against her chest where she proudly wore pins celebrating Black Power, Black Unity, and White Abortions. Jada was a full believer in “elimination clinics” for white woman impregnated by their men. She and her fellow activists closed their meeting standing from their chairs and throwing their fists into the air, “Fuck the white race! Fuck their peoples!” As much as she loved black she utterly detested white. The white ways of life sickened her.
The folders in her arms dropped to the floor like broken platters as soon as she stepped through the doorway. Her jaw dropped as she saw her sister getting thoroughly sexed. What caught her eyes most was La'Damian's large cock stroking in his hand. That meaty, sexual tool of black mother-fucking power was throbbing in front of her. La'Damian and Jada exchanged looks. La'Damian was always infatuated with Jada. There she stood with curves that hypnotized men. Her short, black hair made her look serious and determined devoting her life to racial justice. La'Damian, unmoved and unashamed, stroked his cock for her. Jada nodded. La'Damian may be a little younger than she but he was a man. She stepped up to La'Damian, took his hand, and led her to her bedroom.
The couple didn't exchange words. Nothing more needed to be said. The first thing Jada did was sit La'Damian on the bed. She then dropped to her knees and began giving him a furious, hungry blow-job. Her mouth was wet. Her tongue was hot. The sounds she made were erotic and sloppy. Jada looked up and saw the pleasure she granted La'Damian in her bedroom. She figured she was tasting her sister's pussy but it didn't hesitate her one bit. The black men were in their homes to fuck and she was going to please them and herself. Jada lapped La'Damian's balls and without using her hands, poked her nose on each side of the shaft. She was toying with hit like a playful kitten.
Jada rubbed her breasts against the cock and pushed it in between, titty fucking him. She let out a long, erotic yawn getting herself riled up for what came next. “Bless the black race.” she whispered to him. She nodded at him with a grin before getting on her feet. Jada took her time removing her clothes. She thought of herself, she was worth the wait. La'Damian was so very excited, for the Brown sisters were popular for their beauty and grace. He was sitting in front of a goddess.
Jada walked up and straddled La'Damian and the couple kissed. It was out of passion in the bedroom and living room. Not just romance but of the black race growing stronger. With a gesture of a hand here and there, as well as eye contact, Jada invited La'Damian to taste her pussy. She laid back on the bed and parted her thighs. The young man gladly took his cue and ran his tongue over Jada's clit. Jada nodded up and down telling herself, “... yes … yes ...” enjoying the bliss. La'Damian made love to Jada's womanhood while feeling proud and fortunate.
After long moments of foreplay, Jada straddled La'Damian after he returned laying on his back on her bed. Jada lowered her body as his black hands cupped her breasts. As he penetrated her, she blurted out “Gawd-bless our black race!” Jada rode him up and down and gyrated her hips. Lost in euphoria himself, La'Damian ran his hands up and down Jada's body. Her skin was smooth and perfect. Her hips were equally shaped and made to please the best of black men.
“...ugh … ugh … ugh ...” Jada grunted. She glowed feeling the power of black man settled inside her, under her control. Her hands place firmly on his chest as her face contorted in efforts trying to make his black cock go deeper. Jada's clit rewarded her with bursts of pleasure, like charges of electricity. She felt a “pop” as wave of energy, sexual and racial run through her from her toes to the top of her head.
The couple changed positions. La'Damian rolled over and took her in a missionary position. He charged into her … again and again … like a great, African warrior taking his prize after a fierce battle. La'Damian made Jada's eyes pop open with lunge. She took so much cock she wondered if she could take more. Jada put her left palm on La'Damian's handsome face and whispered to him, “Fuck me … don't use me ...”
La'Damian replied with a long, struggling gasp. He slowed his rhythm just enough to show respect to her. He let out a frustrating grunt. “Bless our black race, bless the black man ...” said Jada. She would lay down and open her legs as long as it took to reward La'Damian and his activism.
“... fuck … fuck … fuck ...” he chanted as he kept his chin up with closed eyes. Images of racism, white racism, flashed in his head. They were getting more heated, more frustrating. Jada laughed in orgasm, “Fuck white people! I hate them so much!” she cried. Jada then roared like a lioness full of confidence and pride. She put her palm on La'Damian's left cheek making him to open his eyes and look into hers.
“Tell me, you hate white people!” Jada pleaded. She wanted this moment to be about black unity and making the white race suffer. “I … hate them racists!” answered La'Damian. Jada nodded with her adoring eyes and nodded. She believed him and loved him for it. “Fuck them up, my black king! Fuck them up!” she cheered. Jada's mouth was as gaped open as her eyes. Her tongue was hanging out as she made muttered, gargling sounds.
La'Damian lunged forward again and again. In his mind, he saw one white girl's face after another. He saw the blonde … the cheating whore, Helen, dropping to her knees in front of him. Then came the red-head, Linda, from the trailer next door back home undressing for him and begging for a black baby. More white girls followed. They were nameless objects that gave him their fuck-holes. They were used, inseminated, and set aside for the next. Then came the faces of the white men, all filthy racists. His clenched fist delivered justice and pummeled their stupid faces.
“Black power.” La'Damian whispered. “Black power!” he said again louder. Jada went into another wild orgasm before screaming, “We rule the world, baby!” La'Damian pushed in several more thrusts filling his “crush” with black cock. Jada cheered again and splatters of hot cum filled her womb. Each glob was thick, hot and sticky. They painted her insides sending her and her head into a dizzy bliss, a euphoria only deserving of a black queen.
La'Damian after catching his breath, moved back and off of his lover. Jada rubbed her pussy, feeling the slick mess La'Damian left there. “You came inside me.” she said to La'Damian who said nothing. Jada followed and said, “It felt good.” as she ran three fingers across her tongue. Meanwhile, in the next room, grunts from two, young men filled the halls as they deposited their seed onto Keisha's face. Cum dripped onto her breasts making her look beautiful and fulfilled. It was a typical day in the black communities of Inner City. It was a beautiful, black day.
La'Damain took the bus,
late in the afternoon bound for Black Pine. It was good to see his friends, Booker and Titus. It was also nice to see the familiar faces of Jada, Keisha, and the Grand-Memaw. In some ways, it was also bitter sweet with the reminders of racism prevalent most anywhere a young, black man went. If it wasn't the oppressive laws or the police, its the white dick-head like that Henry, trying to profit or outright steal their heritage as if it was a cheap trinket. If they didn't make his dick so hard, he would refuse the white girls. But they were so hyper-sexual and easy when he needed to fuck. He needed to fuck often and there was nothing that would ever change that.
Aggie met La'Damian at his final bus stop. She was dressed in her finest outfit. Aggie wore a long dress, nice heels, and white gloves. She even wore a round hat with a small net perched in its brim. Mother and son hugged and Aggie told how she was told all the good he had done for Memaw. La'Damian was modest, preferring to just forget about it.
“I'm so proud of you, my boy!” she told him with a big smile.
Aggie and La'Damian walked home from the bus stop. Aggie implored with her son to shower, dress nice, and put on his best shoes. She explained there was an important event he was just in time in making. La'Damian pleaded to stay home. The morning exercise with Jada, followed by the final hours in the hot sun with his friends, and the bumpy ride home tired him. But his mother was firm. “No” is not an answer.
La'Damian stood clean and naked
in front of his bathroom mirror. His cock was dangling and began feeling heavy again. The balls were feeling heavier too, re-filling them with thick semen and ready for release. He grabbed them momentarily trying to make that needy feeling pass. La'Damian wished Keisha or Jada were nearby. He was confident he could talk them into helping him out one more time. Instead, he started getting his clothes on especially when Aggie hurried him.
Later that evening, they took a ride share from RiseUp, and were taken to The Black Power Movement. In a once abandoned strip mall in an underdeveloped part of town, the BPM headquarters was a beacon of hope and racial justice in the community, city, and for a race of people everywhere. It was a quiet night on the lot with few cars parked. There were no rallies planned for the evening and all the scheduled seminars were finished for the night. Just a few security guards roamed the lot, dressed in their heavy jackets patrolling.
Aggie cheered at herself, shaking her fists with excitement, “That's where I work!”
“I know, Ma” said her son.
Yolanda, the driver, was an African-American woman with tall, curly hair took them to the back of the building, in front of suite “4”. Yolanda stopped the car and turned to her riders. “Black power!” she cheered with a fist of solidarity. “Black power, sister!” replied Aggie. La'Damian gave a silent nod.
“Now, make sure your clothes are neat. Your collar is right. Stand up, straight. Don't be nervous.” Aggie commented in her motherly tone.
Embarrassed, La'Damian tried to shake her off. “I've been here before.” he added.
“La'Damian … this is The Black Power Movement! This place represents tstrength of our people, our race. Now, make sure your collar is right … stand up, straight ...”
After appeasing his mother, she opened the door to suite “4”, the Office of Reparations. One of the most important and influential offices of the BPM. The door wasn't locked and they both stepped into a orange lighted room with shag carpeting. It was a small lobby, if you can call it that. The walls were made from veneer panels. There was a couch and a love seat around a small coffee table in the middle. Sitting on the couch was a black male, in his 40's, with a blonde sitting on his lap. The blonde was entertaining her “friend”. On the loveseat was another black male, in his early 30's, who immediately stood to his feet.
The man on his feet, as soon as he saw Aggie and La'Damian walked to them and offered La'Damian his hand. “Welcome, brother. I'm Reggie”
La'Damian recognized him. He, of course, knew who Reggie was ... a BPM executive for the Office of Reparations advocating payment from whites for their racism. “I ... I know who you are.” La'Damian said with a smile. Reggie, who normally shows an aggressive demeanor, was all soft and smiles as he gave Aggie a hug.
The blonde was next to stand gave La'Damian a “hug”. She introduced herself as Zara Snow. She was single, white female, mid-20's, with stunning looks having a straight, blonde hair to middle of her back. Zara was dressed a little bit better than a stripper or prostitute but still very classy and very comfortable with black men. “Hello, La'Damian. Black power.” she whispered in his ear. La'Damian had that feeling in his loins again and barely managed to mumble, “Black power.” back.
Then came the most important man in the room, if not the city. He was a tall man in his 40s, and dressed in African-style clothes. He had a voice smooth as a religious speaker. With a big smile, he offered his right hand to La'Damian while his left arm wrapped around Zara's waist. “Hello, young man. I'm Akin Kalu, chairman of our Movement.”
La'Damian stuttered, “I, hi ... hello, sir.” His palms met Akin's and the two men shook hands.
“The story how you reclaimed our heritage from awful, white racists has reached far and wide into our progressive community. On behalf of our Movement, we thank you.” Kalu said.
“It was my pleasure, sir.” La'Damian meekly replied.
Akin turned to Aggie and gave her hug, “You know how to raise your son, right. A good man. A good, black man!” he complimented her.
Reggie brought over bottles of whiskey cocktail drinks. Each took one and the five toasted to black unity, black power, and the movement. After each took a sip, Reggie blurted out “Fuck white racism!” He was unable to contain his personal disdain for them.
Zara comforted Reggie and rubbed his muscular shoulder with her hand. “The black man wins again. As they always should.” She then turned to La'Damian making eye contact, “The black man gets anything he wants!” Reggie calmed down and the crowd made encouraging talk about social justice, plans for a brighter future for black people, and the political tide in their favor.
As Akin Kalu made a small, impromptu speech, Zara took Aggie aside and asked her blessings, “Would you mind if I have a private conversation about black rights with your son?” Aggie didn't mind at all. “I think he should enjoy the benefits being an activist for racial justice.” Aggie shared. Zara rubbed a hand across her breast and said confidently, “I think I can arrange that.” While Reggie answered Akin's plans with some of his own, Zara quietly took La'Damian hand and walked to the back room where the couple could be alone.
They walked the hallway, 20-feet deep, lit with a single, low-watt florescent bulb emitting a cold light and a hum. Waiting for them was a wooden, six panel door was without a door knob. Just a hole where one should have been. Grinning, Zara pushed the door open and she and La'Damian stepped into a room lit by lava lamps. There were no windows here. In some eyes, it resembled hell. To others, it was a heaven.
La'Damian was still too in awe being allowed so deep into the hailed and beloved headquarters of the racial advocacy organization. He never imagined the rooms would be dreamy and surreal. What wonderful things must happen here! The young man didn't notice Zara had stripped down to her heels, standing otherwise naked in front of him. Zara walked up to him and placed her left arm around his neck and offered him her beautiful, perfect lips. The couple kissed and tongues met. “You're a strong black man, La'Damian.” said Zara with her right hand on his chest before it made its way to the bulge in his pants. “You deserve to take everything from my race.” she added. Zara took each of La'Damian's hands and placed them over each of her firm breasts. He couldn't help but give each a gentle squeeze. Zara let out a muffled groan then kissed La'Damian again. “Do you need to ... fuck me? Do you need pussy?” La'Damian, while in Zara's beautiful trance, nodded. Zara let out a long, deep breath and told him, “I thought so.”
Zara went to her knees and confidently unzipped La'Damian's pants. As the trousers dropped, Zara pulled out the massive, thick organ still stretching and throbbing in hand. Without wasting a moment, the hungry blonde opened her mouth and started sucking cock like a porn star and whore. La'Damian looked down and saw her blonde hair bob back and forth. Loud, sloppy sounds filled the room as La'Damian started feeling the sensation of power roiling up through his body. With both hands on La'Damian's thighs, Zara moved her head in and out like a dependable sex toy. Her eyes were open with a single-minded determination to serve the young black man. There was nothing more important to Zara than La'Damian's pleasure. She took his cock in hand and stroked its magnificent size. Zara smacked it against her face while looking La'Damian in his eyes. She wanted to know his cock was most important in her world. Zara licked his large balls as she moaned and hummed. La'Damian threw off his shirt and Zara helped him out of his pants leaving him wearing only his best pair of athletic shoes. With a feminine gesture, Zara wanted her lover sitting on the couch and she straddled him. Firm hands gripped her breasts again. La'Damian felt the womanly heat coming off of Zara's flesh. Her beauty could not be denied, not even by the most ardent advocate of black supremacy. Zara exhumed passion, passion for the black race as she was a most proud race-traitor. That was why she was often found at Akin Kalu's side.
Zara lowered her body, feeling that thick cock push at and into her warm pussy. “Fuck my race, La'Damian. Oh! Ugh! I serve the black man!” she rejoiced as black cock made its way inside her. La'Damian grunted, loving that feeling again of getting pussy. Zara rode him high up and down. Her blonde hair whisked back and forth. Her eyes rolled lost into black lust. “This is black power, sweetie! Can you feel it?” she asked.
Black hands squeezed Zara's ass. Her ass felt firm, tight … perfect. Zara growled letting go of her passion for the black race and her inner slut. “Fuck the white race! Fuck the white race!”
Zara cheered. She then kissed La'Damian again, nibbling on his lower lip. “I live for black cock.” she whispered her confession. She also whispered in her ear, “You're black, I'm white, I owe you everything.” Being serviced by Zara made La'Damian feel especially good and entitled. His hands ran up and down the blonde's body. He enjoyed smelling her perfume and sweat. He loved hearing how she panted as his giant cock made room inside her womb for his pleasure. Zara worked up and down and moaned, “Fuck my white pussy. Fuck my race.” she chanted. La'Damian couldn't help but groan himself. He remembered what Jada told him, what she taught him. So, the young man said out loud, “I hate the white race! Them fuckers!”
Zara smiled ear to ear and cheered, “Yes!” She knew what she was doing for La'Damian was working. She whispered into his ear again, “Make us pay. I want us enslaved by black.” Such ideals of black utopia, still out of reach, flustered La'Damian who began bucking his hips to better fuck Zara harder. Zara took it as her body was made for black cock.
The couple told each other their deepest desires. Zara told La'Damian “No rights for whites!” and “All white girls will serve the black race” La'Damian shared with Zara, “Fuck the bigots! White pussy belongs to the black man!” Zara screamed an orgasmic “Yes!” so loud La'Damian's mother could hear. But it didn't matter with so much love passion in the room. Every single thrust was helping to end white racism both disdained. Both threw their fists in the air demanding from themselves a more beautiful world of black power and white submission. After another passionate, open-mouthed kiss, Zara crawled off and went on her knees on the couch. She wrapped her fingers around La'Damian's black shaft and pumped it up and down furiously.
Zara, when she didn't have the cock in her mouth, prayed to it … “I give my life and soul to black cock … big, black cock runs this world!” The blonde slurped and spat as La'Damian sat back and enjoyed it giving out a long moan. “No rights for white people!” he roared. “Serve the black race, mother-fuckers!”
Zara's fist stroked his black cock. She was so happy for him being black and strong, she sniffled. She looked at the young man and asked, “Are you violent man, La'Damian?”
Caught off-guard, he just mumbled, “No ...” but then thought better of his answer “... but I can be.” Zara nodded, in appreciation “I want you to punish white boys with your beautiful fists. Will you do this for me? Will you?” she begged. Of course, La'Damian agreed by nodding. Zara looked satisfied, yet serious, and resumed her obligations to him. Getting a wet blow job from the likes of Zara Snow for beating up racists was an easy deal to make.
Zara got up with a good, loving grip on La'Damian's manhood. The woman knew how to handle a large, black cock. She crawled on the couch on her knees, arched her back, and offered her pussy from behind to her lover. “Treat me like the black cock whore I am. Fuck me then fuck up those racist white boys!”
La'Damian cock stretched so hard from excitement he could feel its skin stretch tight. He grunted and pushed it back inside Zara's wet cunt. Her snatch opened and welcomed him again penetrating her, pushing inside her like a stuffed toy played with for pleasures. La'Damian grabbed Zara's hair and began … pumping … thrusting … lunging. Again … fucking her … again. Thump, thump, thump.
“Fuck, yeah.” La'Damian whispered before slapping his hand across Zara's ass. She belonged to the black man on the couch. “Rough up all white boys! Take our white pussies!” Zara dreamed for. La'Damian clenched his free right hand since his left held Zara's hair tight. He pumped a fist promising her, himself, and his race he would bring racial justice to white people. It may mean more bloody noses of white men but definitely getting more pussy from white girls. Their ass, mouth, tits, and pussies belonged to the black man anyway. He pushed and fucked Zara, making her pay for all he had endured in his young life. But payment wouldn't be enough. It never is. “Whore … fuckin' whore for my people!” said the proud, black warrior. He accepted that Zara was a toy and he was entitled to fuck her. She was obligated to be fucked by him and other black men. “You live for this dick … you live for this black dick!” he roared.
Zara squealed in delight. She most proudly represented her race and weak and submissive position she was in. Zara was getting fucked by a strong, dominating alpha-male as all white girls like her should be. Her servitude and duty to La'Damian's race was nothing less than expected. Her emotional and spiritual health laid fully on La'Damian's sexual release.
Grunts, primal grunts, came out of both lover's mouths. Their lungs filled with hot air. They knew they were both doing more than releasing sexual tension. This “fuck” wasn't about love but a ritual of black over white. It was one of black owning white, today and tomorrow. They lived the future now.
La'Damian grunted one last time and began spraying hot semen inside Zara. Both roared again like the activists they were cheering black supremacy. The flood of cum, La'Damian's hot jizz, made Zara place her cheek flat on the couch. She felt both filled and fulfilled as much as a white girl can be. Most important, she was fucked.
The couple regained their strengths in each others arms. Zara told La'Damian he could fuck her anytime he wanted. He will never owe her a reason or even notice. He was black. She was white. She serves. “You should be very proud of your mother working for The Black Power Movement.”
“I … I am.” said La'Damian sounding again like the dutiful son.
“I'm sure she's proud of you. Especially how you treat us … white girls.” Zara teased as she wiped her finger across her pussy before rubbing it across her lips. She grabbed both of La'Damian's and rolled them into fists. “These are weapons.” Zara suggested before running a hand across his plump cock below. “And so is this …” Zara then whispered into La'Damian's ear, “Fuck my race.”
Zara and La'Damian returned from the back room dressed and rejoined the others as Aggie, Reggie, and Mr. Akin Kalu were sitting on the furniture discussing the successes of the Movement. All stood at attention and La'Damian tried not to look too embarrassed knowing all figured out what was going on in private.
Zara walked to Aggie's side and smiled, “We had a good talk about race and how he should deal with intolerance. He a good man who knows how to … take control!” Zara said with a wink. Aggie smiled and agreed. Zara whispered to Aggie, “If your son has any problems, let me know and I'll come over. Any time of day or night, I want to be there for him.”
Aggie nodded again. “I think its healthy for a young, black man to express his frustrations on you white girls. Bless the Black Power Movement!” All five in unison extolled, “Black power!” The mother took his son by the elbow, said their thanks and goodbyes, and left the suite number “4” where Yolanda would be waiting for them outside.
Alone with Reggie and Akin, Zara rubbed her knees together and grinned. Mr. Kalu, being the kind and generous man he was, asked Zara “How are you feeling, white girl?”
Zara answered, “Standing here with two handsome black guys and just recently fucked. I'm aroused and horny!” Reggie nodded and rubbed his chin while Akin simply started disrobing. He told Zara, “Then get on your knees, white girl!” As a pair of hard, steel cocks sprang out, Zara's knees weakened and hit the floor.
La'Damian woke up
in the morning. It had been too long since he could afford to relax. He looked into the ceiling and listen to the birds singing outside when he wasn't distracted by music or the roar of engines. La'Damian went to the bathroom, showered, and took a shower. Wearing little more than boxer-briefs he wandered into the kitchen and didn't see his mother. He figured she was out shopping or doing work for the Movement as it most often happened. La'Damian rubbed his hungry belly but what bothered him more was his twitching cock. He tried to ignore it since a hot breakfast sounded nice too. But his manhood twitched again and stretched a few inches. La'Damian couldn't ignore that.
“Please, Linda!” the voice of an unhappy white man made its way through the trailer's screen windows. His voice, that whiny white-boy-voice, screeched in his head. This neighborhood should be all black! He thought.
“I'm happy being an addict … I don't need your help!” that was the voice of Linda. The wife next door. La'Damian thought about Linda, the 30-something quiet redhead. She was slender, modest, until she discovered black cock. La'Damian snickered thinking about her husband. What a cuck thinking he can have Linda for himself. La'Damian's cock stretched again. The answer to his “problem” became more clear and close. Hearing Linda's husband whine again made La'Damian clench his fists. He looked at them … his two fists and the good they could do for him and his people. His cock twitched again! It was time for action!
Barefoot and wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, La'Damian stormed across from his door to Linda's trailer. BAM-BAM-BAM … he pounded the door. The argument inside came to a halt and the front door squeaked open. There she stood, Linda, wearing only denim shorts and a skimpy red bra as red as her hair.
“La'Damian?” she asked, surprised at his unannounced arrival. The black man took Linda in his arms and they started kissing. He ripped off her bra and pushed down her shorts leaving her naked. Her husband, Mac, just stood there slack-jawed. “Linda?” he meekly called.
“Shut up, white boy!” La'Damian growed as Linda took a hand across his crotch. The thin fabric did little to conceal the masculine, demanding bulge inside. Linda pushed down the briefs letting La'Damian's cock free to express itself.
“Linda, no!” cried Mac who turned his head away.
La'Damian's shorts dropped to the floor and left there as a reminder that a real man, someone deserving of pussy, was there. Taking Linda by the hand, La'Damian took her across the walkway to his trailer both shamelessly naked. Linda, totally smitten with La'Damian's confidence, wasn't embarrassed. In fact, she started to giggle. Her eyes never looked away from his ass.
Mac huffed, panted, and took deep breaths feeling betrayed. It wasn't a surprise. He had suspected, seen enough, that his wife was fucking the next door neighbor. To have this happen in front of him was a punch to his ego. Linda was his wife and the white, trailer trash took it upon himself to march across and take his wife back. Mac ran out of from his front doorway, down the stairs, across the walkway, and up to La'Damian's small porch. He kicked the potted plants aside and rushed in without the decency of knocking.
Inside, in the kitchen, Linda was kissing La'Damian. Her hand was stroking his massive cock as his hand gripped one of her beautiful breasts. “Suck my cock, slut!” he told her.
“Linda, no! Stop!” Mac demanded.
La'Damian and his 'hoe both turned their heads to the hubby. Both chuckled. It was an evil, amusing chuckle. Mac looked at his wife up and down and couldn't resist looking at La'Damian's bulging cock waiting to fuck his wife. Mac shuddered. How could he compete with that.
“What's the matter honey?” Linda asked.
Mac looked at Linda and down past La'Damian's hand fondling her tit. He looked past Linda's flat belly. Mac then noticed something he never expected from his religious, prude wife … a shaved pussy!
Mac shuddered again, “... oh, Linda … I don't believe you would ...”
The next thing Mac remembered was La'Damian approaching him and throwing a right hail-maker landing flat on his chin. Mac dropped to the floor next to rug and empty water bottles. His vision was blurry. He turned his eyes to Linda expecting her to help her husband. Instead, Linda reached for a dog collar left on the kitchen counter and clasped it around her neck. She was getting into her “uniform”.
“You should never get between a black man and his pussy, Mac.” Linda scolded. “There's nothing I can do. Maybe, it's best you watch La'Damian fuck me. At least you'll get to see me happy, for once.” Linda happened.
Mac took a deep breath. It was a breath of defeat as the cold reality of living under black prominence was becoming quite clear and vivid. Mac opened his eyes, yet his mind was still closed and saw a bare, black-fleshed left foot land on his face. His mind clouded, his vision blurred, and his hearing muffled. All Mac could gather in his dream like state was the sounds of a woman breathing heavy with something in her mouth.
“Love that cock, slut. Serve the black man!” said La'Damian. In between smacking of lips, Linda whispered back “I serve the black man.” Mac grabbed his gut, winced and cried.
Slurp … slurp … slurp ...
To learn more about the city of Black Pine and its characters, read the reference guide under the Author's Den found in the forums section
La'Damian is a hero to the black community. He's a fighter in the streets and a god in the bedroom. White women drop to their knees for the chance to please him. This series is for fans of his who love following his conquests. La'Damian is more than a disadvantaged youth, struggling with white oppression, he is a black sex god white women love to please.
Grand-Memaw,
the most respected centenarian in the neighborhood, sat comfortably in a plush chair in her living room. At 103 years old, she had round spectacles over her tiny eyes looking over a pair of puffy cheeks. Her hair was gray and long. She always wore a comfortable, over-sized dress of modest colors. The Grand Memaw was surrounded by her friends and ****** and had much to celebrate that morning.
One of Grand-Memaw's many great-great grandchildren, was given the joy of carrying the African fertility mask to her. The smile on the old woman's face lit up the room bright as the sun. She gave her grandchild a kiss and blessed the mask. The room erupted in applause. La'Damian was there in the back of the room wanting no credit or attention. His buddies, Titus and Booker, were on their tip-toes from the kitchen taking a break of raiding cookies and brownies. Memaw made a blessing that was both Biblical and African. A tear went down from her eye as she pointed to one artifact in the room after another. Each told a story. Each represented the strength and power of African culture.
One by one, many stood in front of Memaw to congratulate her and wished her health. It was inevitable that someone asked out in the open, “How did this happen?” At that moment, a woman in her fifties humbly approached Memaw. She was one of her grandchildren and knelt by Memaw's side. A Grand-Memaw's grandchild, a grown adult, started crying and apologized to her. “I'm so sorry! It was me who took it… we had trouble paying the rent again.” she said to Memaw who put her palm on her grandchild's cheek to reassure her all was good. “The blessed African spirit looks after us all.” said the centenarian.
When the room emptied and Booker and Titus stepped out of the home, La'Damian stayed behind and meekly walked up to the Grand Memaw. It would be difficult to find the young man more bashful and quiet than standing in front of neighborhood royalty. Grand-Memaw looked up to La'Damian with twinkles in her eyes, rubbed her mask, and whispered, “Thank you, son.” La'Damian nodded and handed Grand Memaw the money Helen left on Titus's dresser drawer. He and his buddies agreed to donate every dollar. He said his goodbyes and left her home as some of her great grandchildren were in the kitchen. La'Damian knew he made a difference.
Stepping out of the front door he climbed downstairs inside the brownstone. His friends were no where to be found. Around the corner to the lower floor, La'Damian bumped into Keisha. Keisha had one foot on the wall and stuck out her knee to “knock” La'Damian for his attention. Keisha was wearing the tightest clothes including a pair of shorts that about were painted on. But the legal-aged teen still looked cute,with blossoming breasts on a thin frame. Keisha gave La'Damian a wicked smile.
Keisha let out an erotic, yet confident, moan as she brushed her hand across her breast. Of course, it grabbed La'Damian's complete attention. Without hesitation, Keisha grabbed La'Damian by the hand and took him to her place. La'Damian followed and could do little more else but stare at Keisha's ass. She put in that black girl swing in her hips and never looked so sexy and mature. Keisha had grown up much since she started becoming very sexually active.
When La'Damian stepped into Keisha's apartment, he closed the door behind him. Waiting for them were Booker and Titus. Booker was sitting on the couch. Titus in a chair. Both looked muted and almost embarrassed with their heads down. La'Damian looked at them wondering what was wrong. He then noticed they were naked. Keisha went to the middle of the room taking center stage. She smiled and pulled off her top exposing her breasts. “Let's go!” she said with a smile while pointing at herself with both hand hands.
Booker and Titus sprang to their feet. La'Damain saw Keisha drop her shorts revealing her beautiful pussy. La'Damian nodded and looked forward to Keisha's gift. The three young men gently put their hands on the teen. Hands brushed against her breasts and ass. She accepted the occasional grope. Keisha was proud of her body and smiled at every pair of hands that enjoyed her. The room became a temple to the black goddess and the men paid respect to her. The men inched closer. Hearts were beating faster. Exhaled breaths were hotter. Tips of rubbery man-spears tapped Keisha's fine, dark flesh. Keisha ran her fingers across each stiff, black cock. She approved their size and girth. They were everything a sexually active woman expected and needed. Lips puckered on each of her nipples fueling her desire and womanhood. Then it was time.
Keisha dropped to her knees and gripped one cock after another. She gave each a couple loving strokes before parting her beautiful, puffy lips and taking in one organ after another. One by one, each young man felt the pleasure of a black mouth smothering their manhood. Booker, Titus, and La'Damian each got their turn to look into the ceiling feeling the pleasures in their loins. It was difficult for each of them to not buck their hips and face-fuck the girl. However, Keisha was in control of the men and gently reminded each of them that. Keisha licked every testicle with her tongue knowing they had warm seed to spread through the community and world. It was nectar deserving to be stoked, pleased and released.
As a ritual acknowledging the power of the black cock, each made at least one smack across Keisha's face. She did it proudly, making eye-to-eye contact with each of her suitors from her knees. She reminded them how lucky they were to get black pussy. Keisha went to sit on the couch and sat on her ass. La'Damian was the first to crawl in between them. Meanwhile, Booker and Titus crawled on the couch to Keisha's left and right aiming their cocks to her face.
La'Damian's cock had a mind of its own wanting inside the beautiful black woman. It stretched hard and urged him to move closer. Guiding the tip on top of her pussy, he pushed it inside feeling how warm and tight she was. He let out a muted grunt as his friends traded their turns into Kiesha's mouth. The four of them began another round of black sensuality.
This wasn't just a “gangbang” but a celebration of love common in the black community freed from white judgmental racism. The four openly expressed themselves, sexually with no inhibitions. There was no shame only confidence. There was no shyness only a single-minded drive to have their sexual needs met. The moments were beautiful filled with pressing flesh, the lunges of masculine muscles, and the erotic moans of a sexually satisfied woman.
It was Titus's turn to mate with Keisha. Titus was a tall basketball player and showed the power and grace throwing his loins between Keisha's legs. He enjoyed every inch he shared inside her pussy. She was tight but accommodating. Keisha wasn't a slut but a good, black woman.
La'Damian and Booker nodded at each other at their celebration as Keisha took turns putting one cock then another in her mouth. They each grabbed a breast and feeling how firm they were. Keisha put a firm hand on Titus above his cock as it pushed firm inside her. Keisha wordlessly reminded him she demanded respect. Titus let out a frustrating moan. He needed so much to fuck but had to treat Keisha and her lovely body right.
It became Booker's turn who was the most frustrated out of the three men. His dick was wet from Keisha's spit but he was getting deliriously impatient as he had to endure his two friends score pussy first. Booker carried some girth in his manhood. The bulging veins were pumping blood ballooning his already gifted size. Booker pushed his cock inside and he exhaled a soft, almost beautiful moan of relief. Keisha's eyes popped open and she couldn't resist blurting out a “Fuck.” feeling her third male organ push inside her making room for penetration and stroking.
The room's erotic energy grew new heights when Keisha agreed to be put on her hands and knees on the couch. La'Damian took his second turn penetrating her from behind. Titus, who too was becoming impatient, offered his dick to Keisha's parting mouth. La'Damian looked down and saw that perfect, black ass. So round, so firm, it bounced against his loins as he gave her several inches, feet by counting the strokes, of his black organ. He looked up and thanked the African gods for this magnificent gift. The world made Keisha into a sexual superstar. La'Damian could love her as any worthy black man would. She was open-minded, caring, and generous. Her gifts brought so much harmony and togetherness in the community. Keisha was a black princess destined to be a queen.
La'Damian didn't think only for himself. He voluntarily stood back and let his two buddies take their turns. La'Damian was also a generous, kind man. Sharing and interdependence was something black culture could teach others about. So, the young man stood near the couch stroking his cock admiring Keisha's beauty.
Meanwhile, approaching the front door came Jada. Jada had just spent the afternoon sitting in on a community activist meeting. She was already pissed over missing the Grand-Memaw. But she couldn't skip when the agenda covered reparations and eliminating white rights. Jada carried a stack of folders in her arms, a result of studious work and research into law and culture. They were pressed against her chest where she proudly wore pins celebrating Black Power, Black Unity, and White Abortions. Jada was a full believer in “elimination clinics” for white woman impregnated by their men. She and her fellow activists closed their meeting standing from their chairs and throwing their fists into the air, “Fuck the white race! Fuck their peoples!” As much as she loved black she utterly detested white. The white ways of life sickened her.
The folders in her arms dropped to the floor like broken platters as soon as she stepped through the doorway. Her jaw dropped as she saw her sister getting thoroughly sexed. What caught her eyes most was La'Damian's large cock stroking in his hand. That meaty, sexual tool of black mother-fucking power was throbbing in front of her. La'Damian and Jada exchanged looks. La'Damian was always infatuated with Jada. There she stood with curves that hypnotized men. Her short, black hair made her look serious and determined devoting her life to racial justice. La'Damian, unmoved and unashamed, stroked his cock for her. Jada nodded. La'Damian may be a little younger than she but he was a man. She stepped up to La'Damian, took his hand, and led her to her bedroom.
The couple didn't exchange words. Nothing more needed to be said. The first thing Jada did was sit La'Damian on the bed. She then dropped to her knees and began giving him a furious, hungry blow-job. Her mouth was wet. Her tongue was hot. The sounds she made were erotic and sloppy. Jada looked up and saw the pleasure she granted La'Damian in her bedroom. She figured she was tasting her sister's pussy but it didn't hesitate her one bit. The black men were in their homes to fuck and she was going to please them and herself. Jada lapped La'Damian's balls and without using her hands, poked her nose on each side of the shaft. She was toying with hit like a playful kitten.
Jada rubbed her breasts against the cock and pushed it in between, titty fucking him. She let out a long, erotic yawn getting herself riled up for what came next. “Bless the black race.” she whispered to him. She nodded at him with a grin before getting on her feet. Jada took her time removing her clothes. She thought of herself, she was worth the wait. La'Damian was so very excited, for the Brown sisters were popular for their beauty and grace. He was sitting in front of a goddess.
Jada walked up and straddled La'Damian and the couple kissed. It was out of passion in the bedroom and living room. Not just romance but of the black race growing stronger. With a gesture of a hand here and there, as well as eye contact, Jada invited La'Damian to taste her pussy. She laid back on the bed and parted her thighs. The young man gladly took his cue and ran his tongue over Jada's clit. Jada nodded up and down telling herself, “... yes … yes ...” enjoying the bliss. La'Damian made love to Jada's womanhood while feeling proud and fortunate.
After long moments of foreplay, Jada straddled La'Damian after he returned laying on his back on her bed. Jada lowered her body as his black hands cupped her breasts. As he penetrated her, she blurted out “Gawd-bless our black race!” Jada rode him up and down and gyrated her hips. Lost in euphoria himself, La'Damian ran his hands up and down Jada's body. Her skin was smooth and perfect. Her hips were equally shaped and made to please the best of black men.
“...ugh … ugh … ugh ...” Jada grunted. She glowed feeling the power of black man settled inside her, under her control. Her hands place firmly on his chest as her face contorted in efforts trying to make his black cock go deeper. Jada's clit rewarded her with bursts of pleasure, like charges of electricity. She felt a “pop” as wave of energy, sexual and racial run through her from her toes to the top of her head.
The couple changed positions. La'Damian rolled over and took her in a missionary position. He charged into her … again and again … like a great, African warrior taking his prize after a fierce battle. La'Damian made Jada's eyes pop open with lunge. She took so much cock she wondered if she could take more. Jada put her left palm on La'Damian's handsome face and whispered to him, “Fuck me … don't use me ...”
La'Damian replied with a long, struggling gasp. He slowed his rhythm just enough to show respect to her. He let out a frustrating grunt. “Bless our black race, bless the black man ...” said Jada. She would lay down and open her legs as long as it took to reward La'Damian and his activism.
“... fuck … fuck … fuck ...” he chanted as he kept his chin up with closed eyes. Images of racism, white racism, flashed in his head. They were getting more heated, more frustrating. Jada laughed in orgasm, “Fuck white people! I hate them so much!” she cried. Jada then roared like a lioness full of confidence and pride. She put her palm on La'Damian's left cheek making him to open his eyes and look into hers.
“Tell me, you hate white people!” Jada pleaded. She wanted this moment to be about black unity and making the white race suffer. “I … hate them racists!” answered La'Damian. Jada nodded with her adoring eyes and nodded. She believed him and loved him for it. “Fuck them up, my black king! Fuck them up!” she cheered. Jada's mouth was as gaped open as her eyes. Her tongue was hanging out as she made muttered, gargling sounds.
La'Damian lunged forward again and again. In his mind, he saw one white girl's face after another. He saw the blonde … the cheating whore, Helen, dropping to her knees in front of him. Then came the red-head, Linda, from the trailer next door back home undressing for him and begging for a black baby. More white girls followed. They were nameless objects that gave him their fuck-holes. They were used, inseminated, and set aside for the next. Then came the faces of the white men, all filthy racists. His clenched fist delivered justice and pummeled their stupid faces.
“Black power.” La'Damian whispered. “Black power!” he said again louder. Jada went into another wild orgasm before screaming, “We rule the world, baby!” La'Damian pushed in several more thrusts filling his “crush” with black cock. Jada cheered again and splatters of hot cum filled her womb. Each glob was thick, hot and sticky. They painted her insides sending her and her head into a dizzy bliss, a euphoria only deserving of a black queen.
La'Damian after catching his breath, moved back and off of his lover. Jada rubbed her pussy, feeling the slick mess La'Damian left there. “You came inside me.” she said to La'Damian who said nothing. Jada followed and said, “It felt good.” as she ran three fingers across her tongue. Meanwhile, in the next room, grunts from two, young men filled the halls as they deposited their seed onto Keisha's face. Cum dripped onto her breasts making her look beautiful and fulfilled. It was a typical day in the black communities of Inner City. It was a beautiful, black day.
La'Damain took the bus,
late in the afternoon bound for Black Pine. It was good to see his friends, Booker and Titus. It was also nice to see the familiar faces of Jada, Keisha, and the Grand-Memaw. In some ways, it was also bitter sweet with the reminders of racism prevalent most anywhere a young, black man went. If it wasn't the oppressive laws or the police, its the white dick-head like that Henry, trying to profit or outright steal their heritage as if it was a cheap trinket. If they didn't make his dick so hard, he would refuse the white girls. But they were so hyper-sexual and easy when he needed to fuck. He needed to fuck often and there was nothing that would ever change that.
Aggie met La'Damian at his final bus stop. She was dressed in her finest outfit. Aggie wore a long dress, nice heels, and white gloves. She even wore a round hat with a small net perched in its brim. Mother and son hugged and Aggie told how she was told all the good he had done for Memaw. La'Damian was modest, preferring to just forget about it.
“I'm so proud of you, my boy!” she told him with a big smile.
Aggie and La'Damian walked home from the bus stop. Aggie implored with her son to shower, dress nice, and put on his best shoes. She explained there was an important event he was just in time in making. La'Damian pleaded to stay home. The morning exercise with Jada, followed by the final hours in the hot sun with his friends, and the bumpy ride home tired him. But his mother was firm. “No” is not an answer.
La'Damian stood clean and naked
in front of his bathroom mirror. His cock was dangling and began feeling heavy again. The balls were feeling heavier too, re-filling them with thick semen and ready for release. He grabbed them momentarily trying to make that needy feeling pass. La'Damian wished Keisha or Jada were nearby. He was confident he could talk them into helping him out one more time. Instead, he started getting his clothes on especially when Aggie hurried him.
Later that evening, they took a ride share from RiseUp, and were taken to The Black Power Movement. In a once abandoned strip mall in an underdeveloped part of town, the BPM headquarters was a beacon of hope and racial justice in the community, city, and for a race of people everywhere. It was a quiet night on the lot with few cars parked. There were no rallies planned for the evening and all the scheduled seminars were finished for the night. Just a few security guards roamed the lot, dressed in their heavy jackets patrolling.
Aggie cheered at herself, shaking her fists with excitement, “That's where I work!”
“I know, Ma” said her son.
Yolanda, the driver, was an African-American woman with tall, curly hair took them to the back of the building, in front of suite “4”. Yolanda stopped the car and turned to her riders. “Black power!” she cheered with a fist of solidarity. “Black power, sister!” replied Aggie. La'Damian gave a silent nod.
“Now, make sure your clothes are neat. Your collar is right. Stand up, straight. Don't be nervous.” Aggie commented in her motherly tone.
Embarrassed, La'Damian tried to shake her off. “I've been here before.” he added.
“La'Damian … this is The Black Power Movement! This place represents tstrength of our people, our race. Now, make sure your collar is right … stand up, straight ...”
After appeasing his mother, she opened the door to suite “4”, the Office of Reparations. One of the most important and influential offices of the BPM. The door wasn't locked and they both stepped into a orange lighted room with shag carpeting. It was a small lobby, if you can call it that. The walls were made from veneer panels. There was a couch and a love seat around a small coffee table in the middle. Sitting on the couch was a black male, in his 40's, with a blonde sitting on his lap. The blonde was entertaining her “friend”. On the loveseat was another black male, in his early 30's, who immediately stood to his feet.
The man on his feet, as soon as he saw Aggie and La'Damian walked to them and offered La'Damian his hand. “Welcome, brother. I'm Reggie”
La'Damian recognized him. He, of course, knew who Reggie was ... a BPM executive for the Office of Reparations advocating payment from whites for their racism. “I ... I know who you are.” La'Damian said with a smile. Reggie, who normally shows an aggressive demeanor, was all soft and smiles as he gave Aggie a hug.
The blonde was next to stand gave La'Damian a “hug”. She introduced herself as Zara Snow. She was single, white female, mid-20's, with stunning looks having a straight, blonde hair to middle of her back. Zara was dressed a little bit better than a stripper or prostitute but still very classy and very comfortable with black men. “Hello, La'Damian. Black power.” she whispered in his ear. La'Damian had that feeling in his loins again and barely managed to mumble, “Black power.” back.
Then came the most important man in the room, if not the city. He was a tall man in his 40s, and dressed in African-style clothes. He had a voice smooth as a religious speaker. With a big smile, he offered his right hand to La'Damian while his left arm wrapped around Zara's waist. “Hello, young man. I'm Akin Kalu, chairman of our Movement.”
La'Damian stuttered, “I, hi ... hello, sir.” His palms met Akin's and the two men shook hands.
“The story how you reclaimed our heritage from awful, white racists has reached far and wide into our progressive community. On behalf of our Movement, we thank you.” Kalu said.
“It was my pleasure, sir.” La'Damian meekly replied.
Akin turned to Aggie and gave her hug, “You know how to raise your son, right. A good man. A good, black man!” he complimented her.
Reggie brought over bottles of whiskey cocktail drinks. Each took one and the five toasted to black unity, black power, and the movement. After each took a sip, Reggie blurted out “Fuck white racism!” He was unable to contain his personal disdain for them.
Zara comforted Reggie and rubbed his muscular shoulder with her hand. “The black man wins again. As they always should.” She then turned to La'Damian making eye contact, “The black man gets anything he wants!” Reggie calmed down and the crowd made encouraging talk about social justice, plans for a brighter future for black people, and the political tide in their favor.
As Akin Kalu made a small, impromptu speech, Zara took Aggie aside and asked her blessings, “Would you mind if I have a private conversation about black rights with your son?” Aggie didn't mind at all. “I think he should enjoy the benefits being an activist for racial justice.” Aggie shared. Zara rubbed a hand across her breast and said confidently, “I think I can arrange that.” While Reggie answered Akin's plans with some of his own, Zara quietly took La'Damian hand and walked to the back room where the couple could be alone.
They walked the hallway, 20-feet deep, lit with a single, low-watt florescent bulb emitting a cold light and a hum. Waiting for them was a wooden, six panel door was without a door knob. Just a hole where one should have been. Grinning, Zara pushed the door open and she and La'Damian stepped into a room lit by lava lamps. There were no windows here. In some eyes, it resembled hell. To others, it was a heaven.
La'Damian was still too in awe being allowed so deep into the hailed and beloved headquarters of the racial advocacy organization. He never imagined the rooms would be dreamy and surreal. What wonderful things must happen here! The young man didn't notice Zara had stripped down to her heels, standing otherwise naked in front of him. Zara walked up to him and placed her left arm around his neck and offered him her beautiful, perfect lips. The couple kissed and tongues met. “You're a strong black man, La'Damian.” said Zara with her right hand on his chest before it made its way to the bulge in his pants. “You deserve to take everything from my race.” she added. Zara took each of La'Damian's hands and placed them over each of her firm breasts. He couldn't help but give each a gentle squeeze. Zara let out a muffled groan then kissed La'Damian again. “Do you need to ... fuck me? Do you need pussy?” La'Damian, while in Zara's beautiful trance, nodded. Zara let out a long, deep breath and told him, “I thought so.”
Zara went to her knees and confidently unzipped La'Damian's pants. As the trousers dropped, Zara pulled out the massive, thick organ still stretching and throbbing in hand. Without wasting a moment, the hungry blonde opened her mouth and started sucking cock like a porn star and whore. La'Damian looked down and saw her blonde hair bob back and forth. Loud, sloppy sounds filled the room as La'Damian started feeling the sensation of power roiling up through his body. With both hands on La'Damian's thighs, Zara moved her head in and out like a dependable sex toy. Her eyes were open with a single-minded determination to serve the young black man. There was nothing more important to Zara than La'Damian's pleasure. She took his cock in hand and stroked its magnificent size. Zara smacked it against her face while looking La'Damian in his eyes. She wanted to know his cock was most important in her world. Zara licked his large balls as she moaned and hummed. La'Damian threw off his shirt and Zara helped him out of his pants leaving him wearing only his best pair of athletic shoes. With a feminine gesture, Zara wanted her lover sitting on the couch and she straddled him. Firm hands gripped her breasts again. La'Damian felt the womanly heat coming off of Zara's flesh. Her beauty could not be denied, not even by the most ardent advocate of black supremacy. Zara exhumed passion, passion for the black race as she was a most proud race-traitor. That was why she was often found at Akin Kalu's side.
Zara lowered her body, feeling that thick cock push at and into her warm pussy. “Fuck my race, La'Damian. Oh! Ugh! I serve the black man!” she rejoiced as black cock made its way inside her. La'Damian grunted, loving that feeling again of getting pussy. Zara rode him high up and down. Her blonde hair whisked back and forth. Her eyes rolled lost into black lust. “This is black power, sweetie! Can you feel it?” she asked.
Black hands squeezed Zara's ass. Her ass felt firm, tight … perfect. Zara growled letting go of her passion for the black race and her inner slut. “Fuck the white race! Fuck the white race!”
Zara cheered. She then kissed La'Damian again, nibbling on his lower lip. “I live for black cock.” she whispered her confession. She also whispered in her ear, “You're black, I'm white, I owe you everything.” Being serviced by Zara made La'Damian feel especially good and entitled. His hands ran up and down the blonde's body. He enjoyed smelling her perfume and sweat. He loved hearing how she panted as his giant cock made room inside her womb for his pleasure. Zara worked up and down and moaned, “Fuck my white pussy. Fuck my race.” she chanted. La'Damian couldn't help but groan himself. He remembered what Jada told him, what she taught him. So, the young man said out loud, “I hate the white race! Them fuckers!”
Zara smiled ear to ear and cheered, “Yes!” She knew what she was doing for La'Damian was working. She whispered into his ear again, “Make us pay. I want us enslaved by black.” Such ideals of black utopia, still out of reach, flustered La'Damian who began bucking his hips to better fuck Zara harder. Zara took it as her body was made for black cock.
The couple told each other their deepest desires. Zara told La'Damian “No rights for whites!” and “All white girls will serve the black race” La'Damian shared with Zara, “Fuck the bigots! White pussy belongs to the black man!” Zara screamed an orgasmic “Yes!” so loud La'Damian's mother could hear. But it didn't matter with so much love passion in the room. Every single thrust was helping to end white racism both disdained. Both threw their fists in the air demanding from themselves a more beautiful world of black power and white submission. After another passionate, open-mouthed kiss, Zara crawled off and went on her knees on the couch. She wrapped her fingers around La'Damian's black shaft and pumped it up and down furiously.
Zara, when she didn't have the cock in her mouth, prayed to it … “I give my life and soul to black cock … big, black cock runs this world!” The blonde slurped and spat as La'Damian sat back and enjoyed it giving out a long moan. “No rights for white people!” he roared. “Serve the black race, mother-fuckers!”
Zara's fist stroked his black cock. She was so happy for him being black and strong, she sniffled. She looked at the young man and asked, “Are you violent man, La'Damian?”
Caught off-guard, he just mumbled, “No ...” but then thought better of his answer “... but I can be.” Zara nodded, in appreciation “I want you to punish white boys with your beautiful fists. Will you do this for me? Will you?” she begged. Of course, La'Damian agreed by nodding. Zara looked satisfied, yet serious, and resumed her obligations to him. Getting a wet blow job from the likes of Zara Snow for beating up racists was an easy deal to make.
Zara got up with a good, loving grip on La'Damian's manhood. The woman knew how to handle a large, black cock. She crawled on the couch on her knees, arched her back, and offered her pussy from behind to her lover. “Treat me like the black cock whore I am. Fuck me then fuck up those racist white boys!”
La'Damian cock stretched so hard from excitement he could feel its skin stretch tight. He grunted and pushed it back inside Zara's wet cunt. Her snatch opened and welcomed him again penetrating her, pushing inside her like a stuffed toy played with for pleasures. La'Damian grabbed Zara's hair and began … pumping … thrusting … lunging. Again … fucking her … again. Thump, thump, thump.
“Fuck, yeah.” La'Damian whispered before slapping his hand across Zara's ass. She belonged to the black man on the couch. “Rough up all white boys! Take our white pussies!” Zara dreamed for. La'Damian clenched his free right hand since his left held Zara's hair tight. He pumped a fist promising her, himself, and his race he would bring racial justice to white people. It may mean more bloody noses of white men but definitely getting more pussy from white girls. Their ass, mouth, tits, and pussies belonged to the black man anyway. He pushed and fucked Zara, making her pay for all he had endured in his young life. But payment wouldn't be enough. It never is. “Whore … fuckin' whore for my people!” said the proud, black warrior. He accepted that Zara was a toy and he was entitled to fuck her. She was obligated to be fucked by him and other black men. “You live for this dick … you live for this black dick!” he roared.
Zara squealed in delight. She most proudly represented her race and weak and submissive position she was in. Zara was getting fucked by a strong, dominating alpha-male as all white girls like her should be. Her servitude and duty to La'Damian's race was nothing less than expected. Her emotional and spiritual health laid fully on La'Damian's sexual release.
Grunts, primal grunts, came out of both lover's mouths. Their lungs filled with hot air. They knew they were both doing more than releasing sexual tension. This “fuck” wasn't about love but a ritual of black over white. It was one of black owning white, today and tomorrow. They lived the future now.
La'Damian grunted one last time and began spraying hot semen inside Zara. Both roared again like the activists they were cheering black supremacy. The flood of cum, La'Damian's hot jizz, made Zara place her cheek flat on the couch. She felt both filled and fulfilled as much as a white girl can be. Most important, she was fucked.
The couple regained their strengths in each others arms. Zara told La'Damian he could fuck her anytime he wanted. He will never owe her a reason or even notice. He was black. She was white. She serves. “You should be very proud of your mother working for The Black Power Movement.”
“I … I am.” said La'Damian sounding again like the dutiful son.
“I'm sure she's proud of you. Especially how you treat us … white girls.” Zara teased as she wiped her finger across her pussy before rubbing it across her lips. She grabbed both of La'Damian's and rolled them into fists. “These are weapons.” Zara suggested before running a hand across his plump cock below. “And so is this …” Zara then whispered into La'Damian's ear, “Fuck my race.”
Zara and La'Damian returned from the back room dressed and rejoined the others as Aggie, Reggie, and Mr. Akin Kalu were sitting on the furniture discussing the successes of the Movement. All stood at attention and La'Damian tried not to look too embarrassed knowing all figured out what was going on in private.
Zara walked to Aggie's side and smiled, “We had a good talk about race and how he should deal with intolerance. He a good man who knows how to … take control!” Zara said with a wink. Aggie smiled and agreed. Zara whispered to Aggie, “If your son has any problems, let me know and I'll come over. Any time of day or night, I want to be there for him.”
Aggie nodded again. “I think its healthy for a young, black man to express his frustrations on you white girls. Bless the Black Power Movement!” All five in unison extolled, “Black power!” The mother took his son by the elbow, said their thanks and goodbyes, and left the suite number “4” where Yolanda would be waiting for them outside.
Alone with Reggie and Akin, Zara rubbed her knees together and grinned. Mr. Kalu, being the kind and generous man he was, asked Zara “How are you feeling, white girl?”
Zara answered, “Standing here with two handsome black guys and just recently fucked. I'm aroused and horny!” Reggie nodded and rubbed his chin while Akin simply started disrobing. He told Zara, “Then get on your knees, white girl!” As a pair of hard, steel cocks sprang out, Zara's knees weakened and hit the floor.
La'Damian woke up
in the morning. It had been too long since he could afford to relax. He looked into the ceiling and listen to the birds singing outside when he wasn't distracted by music or the roar of engines. La'Damian went to the bathroom, showered, and took a shower. Wearing little more than boxer-briefs he wandered into the kitchen and didn't see his mother. He figured she was out shopping or doing work for the Movement as it most often happened. La'Damian rubbed his hungry belly but what bothered him more was his twitching cock. He tried to ignore it since a hot breakfast sounded nice too. But his manhood twitched again and stretched a few inches. La'Damian couldn't ignore that.
“Please, Linda!” the voice of an unhappy white man made its way through the trailer's screen windows. His voice, that whiny white-boy-voice, screeched in his head. This neighborhood should be all black! He thought.
“I'm happy being an addict … I don't need your help!” that was the voice of Linda. The wife next door. La'Damian thought about Linda, the 30-something quiet redhead. She was slender, modest, until she discovered black cock. La'Damian snickered thinking about her husband. What a cuck thinking he can have Linda for himself. La'Damian's cock stretched again. The answer to his “problem” became more clear and close. Hearing Linda's husband whine again made La'Damian clench his fists. He looked at them … his two fists and the good they could do for him and his people. His cock twitched again! It was time for action!
Barefoot and wearing nothing but his boxer-briefs, La'Damian stormed across from his door to Linda's trailer. BAM-BAM-BAM … he pounded the door. The argument inside came to a halt and the front door squeaked open. There she stood, Linda, wearing only denim shorts and a skimpy red bra as red as her hair.
“La'Damian?” she asked, surprised at his unannounced arrival. The black man took Linda in his arms and they started kissing. He ripped off her bra and pushed down her shorts leaving her naked. Her husband, Mac, just stood there slack-jawed. “Linda?” he meekly called.
“Shut up, white boy!” La'Damian growed as Linda took a hand across his crotch. The thin fabric did little to conceal the masculine, demanding bulge inside. Linda pushed down the briefs letting La'Damian's cock free to express itself.
“Linda, no!” cried Mac who turned his head away.
La'Damian's shorts dropped to the floor and left there as a reminder that a real man, someone deserving of pussy, was there. Taking Linda by the hand, La'Damian took her across the walkway to his trailer both shamelessly naked. Linda, totally smitten with La'Damian's confidence, wasn't embarrassed. In fact, she started to giggle. Her eyes never looked away from his ass.
Mac huffed, panted, and took deep breaths feeling betrayed. It wasn't a surprise. He had suspected, seen enough, that his wife was fucking the next door neighbor. To have this happen in front of him was a punch to his ego. Linda was his wife and the white, trailer trash took it upon himself to march across and take his wife back. Mac ran out of from his front doorway, down the stairs, across the walkway, and up to La'Damian's small porch. He kicked the potted plants aside and rushed in without the decency of knocking.
Inside, in the kitchen, Linda was kissing La'Damian. Her hand was stroking his massive cock as his hand gripped one of her beautiful breasts. “Suck my cock, slut!” he told her.
“Linda, no! Stop!” Mac demanded.
La'Damian and his 'hoe both turned their heads to the hubby. Both chuckled. It was an evil, amusing chuckle. Mac looked at his wife up and down and couldn't resist looking at La'Damian's bulging cock waiting to fuck his wife. Mac shuddered. How could he compete with that.
“What's the matter honey?” Linda asked.
Mac looked at Linda and down past La'Damian's hand fondling her tit. He looked past Linda's flat belly. Mac then noticed something he never expected from his religious, prude wife … a shaved pussy!
Mac shuddered again, “... oh, Linda … I don't believe you would ...”
The next thing Mac remembered was La'Damian approaching him and throwing a right hail-maker landing flat on his chin. Mac dropped to the floor next to rug and empty water bottles. His vision was blurry. He turned his eyes to Linda expecting her to help her husband. Instead, Linda reached for a dog collar left on the kitchen counter and clasped it around her neck. She was getting into her “uniform”.
“You should never get between a black man and his pussy, Mac.” Linda scolded. “There's nothing I can do. Maybe, it's best you watch La'Damian fuck me. At least you'll get to see me happy, for once.” Linda happened.
Mac took a deep breath. It was a breath of defeat as the cold reality of living under black prominence was becoming quite clear and vivid. Mac opened his eyes, yet his mind was still closed and saw a bare, black-fleshed left foot land on his face. His mind clouded, his vision blurred, and his hearing muffled. All Mac could gather in his dream like state was the sounds of a woman breathing heavy with something in her mouth.
“Love that cock, slut. Serve the black man!” said La'Damian. In between smacking of lips, Linda whispered back “I serve the black man.” Mac grabbed his gut, winced and cried.
Slurp … slurp … slurp ...
To learn more about the city of Black Pine and its characters, read the reference guide under the Author's Den found in the forums section
