Save the Clinic! Episode 10 (Series Recap)
Save the Clinic returns from hiatus with a series recap. To help brush up on your favorite characters and places, visit the reference guide or read Part 1.
Characters, in order of appearance
Megan … a meek housewife who quietly yearns for a better life for black men.
Monique … a mixed raced beauty who grooms white women for an urban lifestyle.
Reese .. the cute blonde working at the Elimination Clinic.
Shinequa … an African-American female racial justice warrior working at the Elimination Clinic.
Mackenzie … the Porg office receptionist recovering from her first abortion.
Noah … Mackenzie's husband, white, weak, and hopeless.
La'Damian … an oppressed 18 year-old black man.
Dr. Claire … the Nordic blonde responsible for eliminating countless white pregnancies.
Aggie … mother of La'Damian and part-time employee for The Black Power Movement.
Cassandra … the attorney representing the Porg.
Kenneth … Cassandra's husband acting white and privileged.
Akin Kalu … chairman of The Black Power Movement, the city's most powerful man.
Zara Snow … a most beautiful, confident blonde and promoter of black supremacy.
Tremaine … “for-pleasure” gentleman catering to married, white women on short notice.
Kathleen … the uptight president and CEO of Pale Oyster Development Group.
Olde Pale … decrepit, evil old man who wants to evict minorities for profit.
Teagan T. Kayce … the reporter from channel Inner City 6.
Lenny … Teagan's unemployed husband.
Keyshawn … former football player and local celebrity.
Brad … Employee of the Porg who works Sundays to try to get ahead.
Nancy … Brad's wife with a dark secret kept from her husband.
Nicky … proud race traitor and cheating wife.
Kareem … leads the legal effort against the Porg and important member of the BPM.
Sam … Nicky's suffering cuckold who shamelessly works for the Porg.
Veronica … Office manager for the Porg but plots to save the clinic.
Andy … Veronica's estranged husband.
Terrence … an 18 year old student-athlete from Black Pine High.
Piper … the cute, nerdy-looking intern working at the Porg.
Timmy … your typical, little white boy loser.
Aaliyah … Terrence's caring foster-mother, works hard for her money.
Levon … Student-athlete from Black Pine High and friend of Terrence.
Amanda … Woke white wife.
Miles … Amanda's submissive husband exploring his femininity.
The CITY of BLACK PINE was filled with cries for racial justice. Clenched fists, both black and white, were put to the air demanding the end of white culture and its terrible racism. The crowds, gathered through many social centers, felt victory was near. They were euphoric at the idea of rubbing their feet into the last hold outs of intolerance and oppression. One such gathering place supporting racial justice was held in a parking lot of a little shop in the African Heights district. It was called “Blossom Boutique”, a black-owned business known for selling women's clothes with an urban appeal. The crowd was diverse and beautiful with young activists invested in black culture and defeating injustice. White girls, some as young as legal age, held signs reading, “WHITE GIRLS WILL ABORT WHITE FUTURE!” Others, perhaps their mothers, held others “FREE ELIMINATIONS FOR ME AND OUR *********” Many beautiful black ladies chanted, “Black power!” Every white person in the lot nodded.
MEGAN made sure not to miss joining a racial justice protest. She was very cute, sporting short brunette hair. At 27 years old she was a petite woman with nice-sized breasts and a fine ass. Coming from a lower income household, she had empathy and a newly found affinity with black men and their struggles living with racism due to white racism. Megan was a quiet and modest woman as shown with her simple clothes and favorite baseball cap. While other white girls were sporting tight shorts and blouses, Megan smiled and kept her head down. She only wanted to enjoy the moments when the world was turning against white men. MONIQUE, the young woman who worked inside the boutique, walked up to Megan and was appalled. Megan's outfit was too casual, too conservative, too uninviting. Monique was described as a slender woman of mixed race, with long, straight dark hair and smooth skin. In her mid twenties, she wore outfits making her look hot as a prostitute while being elegant and demanding respect. But Monique's mouth dropped at Megan's terrible choice of clothes. Monique tugged at Megan's elbow and insisted she put on something tasteful and more urban. Megan wanted to protest as she had little income but could not resist the pressure. In less than twenty minutes, Megan returned to the lot in heels and a red, string bikini top and hot pants. Her face was as red as her skimpy outfit. However, she quickly overcame her shyness when the black men, sweating in the heat and passion, noticed her. They nodded and readjusted their crotches as their male urges made them rethink their immediate plans. Three very handsome black men went to compliment her. Megan was overwhelmed at the instant attention, the instant attraction. The men wanted to know why she was here and she answered, “I only want to support the black man.” she pleaded. Black hands started pawing at her tummy, legs, and ass. Megan started to pant at the excitement realizing she was vulnerable. When a black hand brushed against her breast, she let out a gasp and cocked back her head. She felt a pair of confident lips press against her before strong arms wrapped around her waist. Megan was lifted off her feet and put across a broad shoulder. The white wife who only wanted to step away to support a racial justice rally was carried away by a strong, black man who was going to get pussy. As a white women, she needed to support the moment keeping the Elimination Clinic open any way possible.
REESE and SHINEQUA were both at the Elimination Clinic to clean out the “garbage bin” in the procedure room. The “bin” held bio-hazard, the extracted and eliminated remains of women's unwanted parasitical organic material. Little, other than sex, made Reese so giddy. Reese was a young pretty blonde, barely drinking age, with the cutest round face and a nose piercing. She was petite with an envious shape that grabbed the attention of both men and women alike. Her co-worker, Shinequa, was an African-American woman in her early 20's with an athletic build, long hair with rebellious streaks of brown. Like Reese, she was passionate about reproductive rights, especially if that meant white girl's aborting the future of their race and the racism with it. The young ladies dumped the sealed, air-tight plastic bags ungracefully on tile floor and counted. They giggled deliriously and pushed them around the room with their hands and feet and sometimes kicking them like hockey pucks. Reese couldn't stop laughing and collapsed on her side like a *****. Even Shinequa, who nothing made her more happy than countless white abortions, was taken back at Reese's behavior. “You're one freaky white girl!” said Shinequa.
One of the plastic bags had belonged to MACKENZIE's parasite. That early Sunday evening, Mackenzie laid on her marriage bed naked after returning to her small, drab apartment in "lower suburbia". Recovering from her procedure, she felt liberated and racially proud. The married, 24 years woman with dyed blonde hair ignored the cries from her weakling husband, NOAH, on the other side of the door. He was crying against the door like a little bitch. Mackenzie paid little attention as she was busy caressing her hips and full breasts. Mackenzie felt a world away from her life as a receptionist working at the Pale Oyster Redevelopment Group, i.e. The Porg. It was fine irony that the black culture her racist company tried to destroy opened her mind to white elimination. Mackenzie smiled as she gently rubbed her pussy with her right hand and massaged her breasts with her left. She was still remembering her experience with the young, black man in the clinic enlightening her with his huge, black cock. Noah, with his insistent whining, broke Mackenzie's erotic concentration. "Stop crying, honey!" she called out to him, "You're getting the world you preached for!" Mackenzie pushed a finger into her pussy and began to pant. Mackenzie imagined a life having many black lovers and couldn't wait for her next.
LA'DAMIAN was an eighteen year-old, kind young man known for getting in trouble due to white oppression. But his confidence grew thanks to his experiences sharing his manhood with married, white women. The more time he spent putting his big, black cock inside white pussy, the less he was getting interviewed by police. La'Damian was credited for convincing Mackenzie to go through her elimination and vowing to never breed white babies into the world. Thanking him, in his bedroom, was the Elimination Clinic doctor, DR. CLAIRE. Claire took La'Damian home after his wonderful performance and thanked him in his bed. Laying together, nude, Claire kissed La'Damian and kept complimenting him on his beauty while massaging his fat, plump dick. La'Damian quietly fondled Claire's perfect breasts and brushed his black hand through her flaxen hair. His life was soothed from the sirens and white cops chasing him for trivial infractions. He wanted to fuck and it was his favorite way to express his disdain for the white race. La'Damian's cock sprang to life and pointed to the ceiling with little warning. It needed attention and relief. Claire, being a doctor, nodded and understood. She looked at the teen and, in a serious tone, said “I think it's time for me to serve the black race.” The couple kissed, their lips met. Claire began kissing La'Damian's chest with a hand gripped around his hardened shaft. In short time, she put her open lips over the cock-head and let out a breath of hot air. She held her head over it, teasing herself for a short moment before lowering her head and filling her mouth with black flesh. La'Damian looked down at the wonderful image of a pale-skinned white woman with his dick in her mouth. Dr. Claire's looks would easily have her recognized as a cheerleader for white extremists defending the white patriarchy. Instead, she was a faithful promoter of black power and white ********. “I'm a slut for black cock.” Claire whispered to La'Damian. The teen smiled knowing he could do anything he fucking wanted with her. He nodded knowing his mother would approve.
La'Damian's mother, AGGIE, was in the living room inside their trailer smoking on some weed. Aggie was a tall, model-like slender, 48 year old woman who wanted nothing more than making a better world for young, black men like his La'Damian. That and having black grandchildren born from white women giving her that ever so satisfying feeling seeing the white race “screwed”. While getting high, she was on her mobile phone setting up strategy meetings for The Black Power Movement to negotiate a settlement with the Porg. Aggie took a deep breath and exhaled puffs of victory over the racist company with an offer that could not be refused. Hearing Claire in La'Damian's room plea to him, “Oh … fuck me, please!”, Aggie smiled knowing the black race was winning every day.
CASSANDRA walked around in her large house wearing little more than black lingerie. She was on her phone with members of The Black Power Movement and given the runaround from one representative with another. Cassandra was a 32 year old blonde with dark streaks. She had envious body measurements and in an alternate universe take up a life in pornography or prostitution. Cassandra pranced in front of her husband, KENNETH, teasing him with her hot, very-fuckable body. The privileged male didn't notice the frustration on his wife's face as she had a tenuous conversations with one BPM rep after another. Kenneth only saw Cassandra's tits and ass. Cassandra hung up, leaned against the wall in the hallway and let out a sigh, “I did it! I finally got a meeting with the head of The Black Power Movement.” Kenneth blindly said, “That's good, that's good ...” without listening. He just wanted to put his hands on Cassandra's waist and rub his hands up and down. “Maybe, we should skip dinner and head straight to the bedroom?” he asked her. Cassandra snapped out of her strategies how to deal with the BPM. “What, huh?” she replied when she noticed her husband's paws on her breasts. She pushed them away and said, “Not now, date night is over. I have to prepare all night for tomorrow.” Kenneth was left watching his wife strut down the hall removing her bra and panties and close the door behind her for more comfortable clothes.
AKIN KALU sat comfortably in his cushioned chair that resembled more like a golden, plush throne in his office at The Black Power Movement headquarters. In his left hand, he held a highball glass with a single ball of ice and scotch. In his right, between his thumb and forefinger was a small wooden idol, carved by an African shaman deep in the dark continent. He rubbed the idol as if it had magic powers, black magical powers. As chairman for The Black Power Movement, some believed Mr. Kalu was the city's most powerful man even more powerful than the Mayor. He looked straight ahead like an eagle eyeing prey thinking how he could advance black people and trampling the morals of the white race. A tall man in his 40s, he was dressed in African-style robe. Sitting on modest stood next to his chair, was one of his most trusted advisers, ZARA SNOW. Zara was a stunning, white female in her mid-20's with straight blonde hair to the middle of her back. She was a psychologist, therapist, life-coach, and instructor. Most of all, she was a trusted member of the Black Power Movement. Zara held a clipboard and went over notes with Akin. “We have arranged a meeting with an attorney from Pale Oyster tomorrow. They're willing to negotiate.” explained Zara. Akin snickered, “As long as we get every fucking thing we want!”. Zara nodded and replied, “Of course. We'll make sure no white owned company ever fucks with the black community again.” When Zara waited for Akin to say something, he just looked ahead in a blank stare. He wasn't even enjoying his expensive scotch. Akin was rubbing idol harder pushing his thumb into the black, hardwood. Zara removed the idol from Akin's right palm and kissed his hand. “What is wrong, my black master?” she asked. “Have I disappointed you?” Akin looked at Zara and put her face in his right palm, “No … I was too busy and missed my twelve O'clock.” he explained. Zara shut her eyes in empathy and anguish. She understood why Akin was so “out of it”. “Oh, my gawd!” Zara let out an exhausted gasp and put her right hand across Akin's crotch finding a way through the buttons of his robe. “I know what I must do.” Zara said before standing in front of her master. Zara began disrobing and twirling on the floor like a stripper. She peeled off her bra and pushed down her tiny panties facing the black man with no shame or hesitation. “This body is for the black man.” she said before she dropped to her knees as Akin spread his knees giving her room to come closer. Zara unbuttoned the bottom of Akin's robe and reached in to pull out his bare cock. With two gentle strokes, his giant black snake stiffened to attention over 11 inches long. Zara was in sincere awe in the power of the black man she had in her hand. She gasped and panted losing control and modesty. Zara asked of Akin, “Will you fuck me and give my life purpose, my black god?” Akin nodded once, relenting to the white girl's request. Zara smiled and said, “Thank you, sir.” before she lowered her head and started sucking black cock like a dirty whore. As Akin clanked the ball of ice inside his glass, the only sound more loud was Zara's mouth slurping on his hardened black snake meat.
Somewhere in the African Heights district, stood a shotgun house in a row of houses known as Ebony Paradise. Living inside one, was a dashing, very sexually experienced man. His name was TREMAINE and he stood naked in front of his bathroom mirror wiping himself dry. The handsome, black male in his mid-twenties was lean and tall. Tremaine posed confidently with his manhood swinging heavy below. Its size, his ladies described as, was huge and several inches beyond a typical married, white woman is accustomed to. He picked up his phone and snapped a naked selfie and sent it to one of his loyal clients. He was ready to make more money.
KATHLEEN, the proud, uptight woman in her mid-forties, was one of many women who paid Tremaine to fuck. The president and CEO of her Pale Oyster Redevelopment Group, had blonde hair well on its way going gray. A slender “hottie”, sported a fantastic measurements of 34-24-34. After she returned home from another “get-fucked” therapy session from her gifted provider, she squatted on the shower stall tile floor and rubbed her worn pussy reliving the interracial tryst just an hour earlier. As the warm water showered her face and breasts, she imagined it was Tremaine's hot cum bathing her with his lust. She let out an orgasmic gasp. Her ass dropped to the cool floor and she recovered and panted. Kathleen thought, perhaps … just maybe … she should give in to The Black Power Movement. Their organization and their men, were too passionate. The money she could make for her husband's company didn't compare to the pleasure they were capable of giving between her legs.
However, OLDE PALE, would never give up. Even in his bedridden state and near invalid status, his business vision carried weight and momentum that few politicians, bureaucrats, or even advocacy groups could outlast him. The old man, well into his sixties, did little more than stare into the ceiling using his mind to calculate figures, statistics, and risk-management planning. His beady eyes were shifty, looking left and right. When he saw his beautiful wife wearing little more than a silk robe, he opened his palm wanting her to hold her hand. Kathleen complied feeling little guilt or remorse for cheating on him with a black man. She told herself it only made her stronger and prepared to make better decisions. “Take from them.” mumbled Olde. It was his direct, unambiguous suggestion to not give in to the racial advocates. In three words, the old derelict, white man gave Kathleen the confidence she could have anything and be the city's queen-maker and shake things up. Money, power, and much to her husband's ignorance, uninhibited sex were all within reach. Kathleen gave an evil smile and decided to move ahead and evict the low income squatters from the Brickyards. She decided to keep to the plan and shut down that abortion clinic.
TEAGAN T. KAYCE was busy at her desk inside the Channel Inner City 6 News building. She was typing at her workstations an outline for her next ****** about Black Pine and its Elimination Clinic. As she wrote notes recounting the countless white women ending their pregnancies there, she rubbed her knees together. Her phone text messaged her again. It was her husband waiting for her in the lobby below. Teagan took a deep breath. Teagan had come along way since being raised on her ****** farm on a small state. A married 28 year old with long, slightly wavy blonde hair, she was now an up and coming reporter. After beginning her career inexperienced with minorities, she had matured quickly understanding the needs of the black community and its men. Teagan stood up from her chair and yawned, trying to get herself enthusiastic for a night with her 41 year old, out-of-work husband.
Marching in through the news desk floor, came KEYSHAWN. Keyshawn was a retired professional football player in his mid twenties. The handsome athlete turned himself into a successful entrepreneur. The few working overtime on the floor stood and cheered. The lame, white males applauded for his contributions on the field. The other ladies, applauded him for his virility and attractive masculinity. Teagan's heart raced as soon as she laid eyes on the gentleman. He was dressed in expensive, designer clothes and gold jewelry. She put a hand on her heart and started panting. Teagan raced across the floor and introduced herself to Keyshawn. Keyshawn greeted Teagan with a big smile, having recognized her. They shook hands and the two city “celebrities” exchanged hellos. “You look real good on TV … I mean, I see you done real good on the TV.” said Keyshawn with a smile. Teagan blushed, thanked him, and then put her right hand on his heart. The blonde leaned in and asked, “Hey, do you have time for a one-on-one?” Keyshawn was flattered but replied, “I just gave an interview with the sports department. I'm done talking about my past.” Teagan wouldn't show disappointment, “I was thinking we could discuss something … more intimate and off-the-record .. about race?” Keyshawn took another look at the hot, white girl. “Race is important. What do you have in mind?” he asked. Teagan whispered into his right ear. Whatever she said, made Keyshawn's eyebrows pop and his crotch stiffen.
LENNY waited patiently for Teagan. Many in the lobby, even on a Sunday evening, recognized Lenny. He was a freelance studio producer but currently an unemployed studio producer. But in the turbulent times, there were few opportunities for a straight, white male. When Lenny saw Teagan step out of the elevator, his heart, his life, lifted. He put on a big smile looking forward to a romantic dinner. However, Lenny didn't notice the tall, handsome black man following her. It wasn't until she was within arm reach did he see Keyshawn deliberately following his wife. “Lenny, dear … this is Keyshawn, a former, professional football player. I'm going to, um, interview him about improving race relations tonight. We'll have to put off our 'date'.” said Teagan before letting out a cruel giggle. Lenny was distraught, more so with Keyshawn smiling at him. Teagan didn't bother letting the conversation go any further and walked off to the parking garage taking Keyshawn with her.
BRAD was an overly successful man. At the young age of 25, his intelligence and hard work found success at the Porg. He overcame many of his disabilities, being a straight white male with red hair. Brad used his ******'s money to buy into one of the more affluent neighborhoods in Black Pine, the Cherry Vista. Brad was busy reviewing e-documents on his computer in vain attempts to salvage the Brickyards project. His fellow associate really dropped the ball and this was his opportunity to pick it up and let nothing get in his way. A slender arm wrapped around Brad's chest from behind. Surprised, his fingers froze over the keyboard when he felt warm, feminine lips plant on his cheek. “Are you still working on Sundays, honey?” asked NANCY. Brad took his wife's hand and turned in his chair to give her a kiss. Nancy was 25-years old woman with blonde hair to the bottom of her shoulders. Extremely attractive and beyond cute, she was almost too good for Brad,. with her great, fit figure. Nancy was proud of her breasts and firm ass and the attention it got for her since her teen years. Brad answered Nancy with a guilty-looking nod but then thought more and offered, “Maybe, we can take a walk around the pond together.” Nancy smiled, feeling renewed love for her husband. She took a look at her wedding ring and swore to herself that Brad was her man.
Elsewhere, in a quiet home in “middle suburbia”, a white household was devoted in fighting racism. In a married couple's bedroom, beautiful things happened. NICKY was naked and on all fours on her bed. The racial justice warrior, in her mid-twenties, had a slender, athletic body with nice breasts that filled a handful. Behind her, gripping her hips, was her sweaty lover, KAREEM. He was just as naked as she and proudly pushing his fantastic manhood inside the blonde's womb. Kareem was a confident and charismatic man in his mid 30's. Handling the legal affairs for The Black Power Movement, he was known for his clean shaven head and face. Kareem felt celebrating another victory over the Porg and another victory over the white race.
It was the right thing to do to have Nicky's husband, SAM, watch from his chair at the edge of the bed. Sam held a middle managerial position at the much maligned Porg, The Pale Oyster Redevelopment Group. The 33 year old athletic looking man with light brown hair was nothing more than a submissive cuck, with great thanks to the many black men in the community re-educating Nicky. Sam and Nicky exchanged looks as Kareem's black cock pushed and made its way home into Nicky's pussy. As Nicky's face showed signs of struggle to take its size, she told Sam “You brought this on yourself, you piece of shit! … Trying to close our abortion clinic.” Nicky huffed and panted as Kareem confidently made his thrusts. “We need eliminations! Oh, fuck me, Kareem!” She said aloud. Sam wanted to look away, “I was just doing my job.” he whined. Kareem, in a loud and determined voice yelled, “Fuck you, white boy! Just fuck … you!” Then came a firm, merciful black hand across Nicky's fine, white ass. SMACK! Nicky yelped like a cute puppy while Sam sniffled. Nicky's husband had to watch. It was his punishment for associating with racists and behaving like one. But most of all, punishment for being white. Kareem was rightfully entitled dumping his thick cum into Nicky's womb. He then pushed her off with little emotion and helped himself to the shower. Nicky laughed at both the feeling of hot, sticky cum inside her and how Kareem just left her without a word. Nicky found the energy to get up and straddle Sam while he was still in his chair. Sam could smell the sex on Nicky's body and breath. It wasn't bad enough that his wife shared confidential information with the BPM that may very well doom the Brickyards project, Nicky wanted more suffering. She laughed and gave Sam a playful slap across his left cheek. “Now, tell us how else we can fuck your company, white boy!” she demanded. Sam pleaded like the selfish white man he was, “I'll lose my job.” But like members of The Black Power Movement, she knew she was on the right side of history and showed no mercy when none was deserved. She gripped him at his throat and said, “I don't fucking care!”
VERONICA was an attractive 37 year old with curvaceous, sexy curves. The pressures from work, disagreeing with her company's plan to shut down the abortion clinic, resulted in needing sexual release. She discovered she was bisexual and found black men extremely attractive.
Being sexually vulnerable in front of black men was the best change Veronica had in her life. She felt alive being part of a movement she put her heart and body behind. In her eyes, the Elimination Clinic was key bridging the races and absolutely necessary to achieve atonement. Back alone in her simple, one-bedroom apartment, she got simple text from her estranged husband, ANDY. He messaged her how he was looking to seeing her again. Veronica grinned as she put on a classic dress. It was more modest than what she was wearing lately but it was more than good enough for her husband. Before she could grab her purse and keys, her phone lit up again.
TERRENCE called her direct. A text message could be ignored and he needed to hear her voice. Terrence wasn't just any young, black man, but an 18 year old student-athlete from Black Pine High who happened to be Veronica's first black lover. Veronica's hands trembled. She remembered how he had an effect on her and how she had one on him. Veronica took a deep breath and answered, “Hi, Terrence.” Terrence was terse but still managed to say politely to “come over as soon as possible … I need to see you.” Veronica wanted to excuse herself but could hear in Terrence's voice the urgency. Terrence's place, located in the Brickyards, wasn't out of the way and she could afford to spend a few minutes talking to him at least. Veronica promised to be there soon.
PIPER was a single, 22 year old, petite, extremely cute girl with long, straight dark brown, almost black, hair. She wore small, round eyeglasses that made her look hip. That evening she was with her boyfriend, TIMMY. Timmy was your typical, white boy loser. He was pale faced and looked skinny with his over sized belt. While he was no older than Piper, he looked much younger and unable to grow facial hair. But Piper was looking at him with her dreamy eyes anyhow. Her boyfriend had brought her to the most posh restaurant he could afford, the Barcarole. It was an Italian place in the Basil district known for its poached salmon over brown rice. The couple stared at smiled at each other. Piper didn't want to be alone like that man over in the corner sitting by himself with an odd, worried look on his face in front of two plate settings. Piper was at least satisfied with Timmy. Piper and Timmy would find a private place somewhere after dinner for sex. Sometimes, there isn't justice in the world.
Parking at the curb inside the Brickyards district, Veronica rushed inside the rent-controlled apartment building not too far from the Elimination Clinic. She climbed the flights of stairs to the third floor and walked through the narrowed hall echoing with rap music, laughing, and at least one example of the saxophone. Veronica kept looking into her phone as the minutes seem to fly by. But she made it to the door …
Veronica rapped the door with a hurried, three knocks. She heard a frustrated, feminine voice on the other side of the door curse out. By the sounds, the door chain was pulled, the handle grabbed and spun, and the door cracked open. Veronica saw the piercing eyes of Terrence's foster-mother, AALIYAH, stare back.
“Oh, hell no!” yelled Aaliyah who closed the door on Veronica.
Veronica was startled and heard Terrence say something to his foster-mother. Aaliyah whispered back, “... you tapped that?” before she pulled the door open and expressed a complete change of tone towards the white woman, “Come inside, white girl.” she said.
Embarrassed, Veronica stepped inside and saw Terrence waiting for her. Aaliyah stood at the door wearing a black and red silk robe stressing her hourglass figure. Aaliyah told her foster-son, “Sweetheart, you keep her in your room until I'm finished, okay. And stay the fuck quiet while I make some money.”
Terrence nodded his head and pulled Veronica's by her hand to his room. Veronica stumbled on her feet as she was rushed inside near his bed. She could hear how anxious Terrence was. Something wasn't right. Veronica felt for the young man and wanted to let him know she was there for him. She placed her palms on his chest and looked into his eyes, “What's so wrong?” she asked.
The handsome, black teen cleared his throat and confessed “It's my good friend. He's had a bad day and blames it on racism from you, white people.”
Veronica was taken back and immediately felt she was obligated to help and atone for the unfairness the color of her skin had caused. “What can I do?” she said in her sweet and very feminine voice. Terrence looked down to his feet and rubbed his crotch and replied, “Meet him, hear him out, and let him … fuck you.” Veronica blushed, her eyes popped out “Oh? Well, you know I always want to help young, black men.”
When Terrence sensed Veronica was hesitant, he reached out and put his hand around her waist, “We need to fuck you, Veronica.” he explained to her and invited her hand to rub his crotch. Terrence whispered, “We need pussy.”
Veronica looked up and as soon as the word “We?” left her lips, someone else and entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him. It was LEVON, a fellow student-athlete at Black Pine High. Levon walked in from the bathroom wearing nothing but over-sized shorts showing off his toned chest.
Levon casually positioned himself standing behind Veronica. He pressed his loins into her ass and putting his steady hands on her hips. Veronica could feel Levon's breath on her neck. The young, needful man kept saying “Yeah, yeah … need this ...” as he bucked his hips giving Veronica some good humps.
Feeling overwhelmed as hands began groping at her breasts and pulling off her dress from the top, Veronica looked into the ceiling muttered “Um, guys, um … this is quite a surprise!” Hands caressed her voluptuous body making her feel needed and desired. The young men pressed her like a sandwich or an Oreo cookie. Levon whispered into Veronica's ear, “You like fuckin' black guys?” Veronica couldn't help but to let out a burst of laughter and smiled. She turned to Levon and whispered back, “Fuck, yeah. I do.” Levon and she kissed as Terrence pulled her dress over her breasts. “What the fuck, let's do it!” surrendered the white girl. Her clothes started to melt off and drop to the floor.
Veronica went to her knees with a large, black cock in each of her hands. One after the other, she pushed them into her mouth and slurped on it like a greedy slut. The gentlemen panted and moved their feet closer to her. Veronica smiled, enjoying being the center of attention and the sexual desires of two, young bulls.
Levon smiled and nodded at the submissive white girl, “Yeah, suck that black dick.” he whispered. Veronica responded by spitting on his cock-head and flickering it with her tongue before pushing as much of his manhood into her mouth as possible. Terrence ran his fingers through her hair feeling anxious for his turn. Veronica looked at Terrence and winked. She pushed Terrence's cock up against his body and spat on his balls. Her tongue followed and lapped at his heavy balls.
The men put Veronica on her back where Levon went to eat her pussy. Levon was hungry and felt starved for pussy. She gladly opened her legs and gave the teen, who she just met, free access to her sex. He was black, she was white, he deserved it. Meanwhile, Terrence began fucking her face. Terrence felt power as he was thinking how he was fucking the white race. With a hand firmly on her breast, Veronica felt possessed and black-owned.
Levon needed pussy. He told Terrence in front of Veronica as if she didn't matter, “I'm going to fuck this white pussy.” Levon turned Veronica on her knees. He wanted to see her round ass and slapped his hand across to amuse him. The young, black bull was aggressive and demanding. “I want racial payback.” he told Terrence and the men gave each other a high five. “Fuck me.” whispered Veronica who craved to be used for racial justice. Submitting to the needs of the black man gave her purpose.
When Veronica felt Levon penetrate her, she felt grateful to black men. Feeling her womb stretch open, she moaned like a whore getting her fix to her addiction. Terrence told her to “hush” and that they needed to be quiet. Veronica struggled to mute her groans and Terrence had no other choice but push his cock inside her mouth to shut her up
“Mmmph … mmmph ...” Veronica uttered. With a hand on her ass and another on the top of her head, she could do little more than to take cocks pushing inside her holes. After several minutes of steady pounding, Veronica left of pool of spittle underneath her chin. She was put on her back again and the men switched. It was Terrence's turn to push his manhood inside Veronica while she stroked and kissed Levon's cock.
Terrence bucked his hips and huffed. He was single-minded only wanting to give Veronica dick. He felt her womb snug his cock shaft as he pushed his way inside her wet, warm hole. Levon, meanwhile, tapped Veronica's face with his cock when he didn't run it across her tongue. He looked at his friend and approved. Older women were such submissive sluts in the bedrooms where their clothes were off.
The threesome changed positions again with Veronica riding Levon like a cowgirl and taking Terrence's cock in her mouth. She tasted pure sex and felt uninhibited, freed from morals and white judgmental-isms. Veronica was free to enjoy being used by two, sexually aggressive men. They put their hands all over her breasts and ass. They ran their fingers through her hair and pulled on her nipples. Terrence and Levon grunted that sounded both pain and pleasure as their masculine needs were teased.
Terrence needed a hole. He needed to plunge his cock into Veronica and have her feel him penetrate her. As Levon laid below, letting Veronica ride his cock, Terrence climbed behind her and acted the man, going for her asshole! Levon poked his plump, purple cock-head on Veronica's sphincter. She responded with a muted gasp. Veronica wasn't that surprised. Her holes belonged to them. All of them.
Veronica's ass was tight but Terrence was patient yet demanding as he gripped his large manhood not to be denied the penetration he needed. When he saw and felt his cockhead push inside, he knew he started his “fuck” of her ass. “Oh, gawd! Oh, gawd!” she moaned. Terrence leaned forward and placed his right hand over her mouth to silence her. The sudden jerk motion almost sent the bed crashing to the floor.
Levon groped both breasts and started kissing Veronica's neck. He enjoyed seeing the look on the white girl's face as she was getting double penetrated. Levon needed to this. He needed to see a white woman surrender everything to him and his race. It mattered that much to him.
Veronica rested on top of Levon as Terrence was penetrating her. Levon whispered, “Yeah, you getting' fucked good.” Veronica sniffled, feeling another two inches deep inside. She nodded and agreed. She let out a whisper, “Fuck me.” Veronica understood, this is what the young men needed and she gladly gave them her body. Terrence began a rhythm of fucking at least half of his cock inside of Veronica. Anymore would make her wail and he couldn't have that with Aaliyah in the other room. Veronica opened her mouth but could only voice gargled “clicks” as two hard cocks were inside her.
Levon lifted his hips in a piston motion trying to feel more penetration. Levon told Veronica, “Ride that black dick.” Veronica struggled and could only say in return, “I'm trying.” Veronica rubbed her sweaty, feminine body against his
The passion was so high, it made the room steamy and hot. Sweat ran down the lover's bodies soaking the sheets below. Veronica could feel the beads of perspiration drop on her back and ass as Terrence gave her all the strength he had without breaking the bed. Veronica shook her head feeling a convulsive wave about to overtake her body, “... fuck … fuck … fuck … so much cock ...” she chanted.
Terrence began to pant. Fucking a white girl's asshole was a great thing to do. His friends, coach, and foster-mother would be so proud of him. Levon underneath felt a sudden “pop”. He too let out a gasp as it felt the hot and sticky mess squeeze out of him and into Veronica's womb. Veronica bit her lip and cried out a quick whine followed by another as she took her orgasm. Terrence's cock also started spraying hot gel, depositing his seed into her other hole. He told Veronica, “Damn, what a fine ass!”
Veronica rested her head on Levon's chest while Terrence climbed off the bed to soothe his aching thighs. He told himself he needed to do more squats during workouts. Terrence realized now the exercise was so important to his football coach. “Do you feel better? Did I help pay for my racism?” Veronica asked Levon. But the exhausted teen was too dazed to answer. Veronica wanted to soothe Levon and followed up with, “I'm willing to do more.”
With Levon sitting naked in the corner of his room recovering his breath, Veronica gathered her strength to roll off of Terrence. Her head was also spinning. She looked over at both teens confident she had pleased them. Veronica was so happy with herself, she rubbed her hand over her breasts knowing they were “black cock magnets”. She stood and tiptoed to the door hoping she could make her way to the bathroom without Aaliyah catching her.
Veronica pulled the door open an inch and looked out into the hall. She heard nothing. Looking over her shoulder, the young men were silent. They weren't going to stop her. Veronica pulled the door a little more. The front room was to her right, the bathroom was short steps away to her left. Veronica noticed the front room had intimate lighting and strange shadows dancing. When she heard a feminine giggle, her curiosity got the best of her. Remaining in the darkness, she crept on her bare feet to the edge of the short hall. What she saw almost sent her into an instant orgasm!
Aaliyah looked beautiful in a black, dominatrix outfit. She was dressed in black corset and topless. Her hair and makeup were perfect as she gripped a man's white ass bent over for her. Veronica wanted to giggle out loud herself when she noticed Aaliyah was wearing a black strap-on and fucking the white man with it. The man wore stockings and a red high heels playing the role of a fuck hole. Sitting on the couch next to him, looking like a prostitute was the white man's wife. Her name was AMANDA, a dark-blonde in her mid-twenties. With hair to her shoulders, she had a tight body. She was dressed for a night out of flirting and sexing and obviously took enjoyment in her husband, MILES, and his predicament.
Miles was inhaling deep but let out measured breaths as he had to take a plastic cock like a bitch. Bent over, naked and powerless, Miles took his place as a weak subject for Aailyah's pleasure. “It hurts.” Miles whined. Amanda smiled and shook her head, “Too bad. You complained how you 'needed' sex!” Amanda scolded, “Well, you're getting fucked.” Miles replied with a weak, bitchy wail. Aailyah snickered but continued putting the strap-on to him.
Aaliyah had her left foot and right knee firmly planted on the floor as she moved her hips into the white boy. Aaliyah enjoyed the power she had. With her left hand clutched into Miles's ass, she raised her right fist and hailed, “Black power! Fuck the white man!” She lowered her fist and gripped his waist and made a few, short powerful thrusts.
When Amanda noticed how Miles was grunting, she teased him, “Oh, my gawd … honey? You're enjoying it? Are you ready to transition?” Miles tried to shake his head but couldn't refuse the new emotions brewing inside of him. He was getting used, fucked, and receiving the blessed attention of a beautiful, black woman. This was overwhelming his white-male ego trying to fight back the feelings. Amanda reached to the floor and picked up a red wig and put it back on her husband's head. “Look how beautiful you look.” Amanda said and Aaliyah chuckled.
“Am I messing up your marriage?” Aaliyah calmly asked.
Amanda stepped to the black mistress, nodded, and confessed, “Oh, yes! It's fucked up now. Thank you!” Amanda and Aaliyah kissed and the wife said of her husband, “I can't respect him anymore.”
Aaliyah gave sound, progressive advice, “Why would you? He's white.” Amanda covered her mouth and giggled more. It was so true. Her husband wasn't a real man anymore. Aaliyah put her hand behind Amanda's head and pulled her to her round, right breast. Amanda gladly began sucking on them loud and she felt so fortunate.
“Double my fee and I'll let you lick my ass.” Aaliyah demanded. Amanda replied with an enthusiastic “Yes! Yes! Anything you want.” The dominatrix was pleased and threw her hips forward making Miles grunt. “Tell us you respect the black cock!” yelled Aaliyah.
Miles gasped and took a deep breath. With no shame he told the room, “I respect the black cock.”
“Are you a man or are you a bitch?” Aaliyah asked.
Miles gasped again and surrendered, “A bitch, my mistress. Fuck me, please.”
His mistress turned to Amanda and told her, “You can make a date with a real man now. He won't beg for pussy anymore. Then you can come back and eat my ass.” Amanda was relieved and walked off with her mobile in her hand. Aaliyah turned to Miles and gave him few thrusts before mocking him, “You're wife walked away. You're only friend is this black cock.”
Miles nodded once and grunted, “Thank you, mistress.”
Meanwhile, Veronica was rubbing her knees together as she watched the erotic, beautiful visions of white surrender. She crept back into Terrence's bedroom and thought best to hang out there until it was all clear.
Veronica's eyes popped open realized she fell asleep cramped in the bed sharing a nap with Terrence and Levon. She scrambled to her feet, gathered her clothes, and blew a kiss to her two lovers. There were no sign of Aaliyah or her guests and she spent two minutes in the bathroom before rushing out.
It was dark, she was exhausted, Veronica returned to her simple, one-bedroom apartment where all she wanted was a hot shower and a stiff drink. As she turned the knob to her front door, she stepped into a lit-up living room with a well-dressed man passed out on her couch. He sat upright with flowers resting on the cushions to his right, Veronica's husband, Andy, had been waiting for her.
Veronica felt no shame, having stood up her husband at the restaurant, but shock. What was he doing here?
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.
Save the Clinic returns from hiatus with a series recap. To help brush up on your favorite characters and places, visit the reference guide or read Part 1.
Characters, in order of appearance
Megan … a meek housewife who quietly yearns for a better life for black men.
Monique … a mixed raced beauty who grooms white women for an urban lifestyle.
Reese .. the cute blonde working at the Elimination Clinic.
Shinequa … an African-American female racial justice warrior working at the Elimination Clinic.
Mackenzie … the Porg office receptionist recovering from her first abortion.
Noah … Mackenzie's husband, white, weak, and hopeless.
La'Damian … an oppressed 18 year-old black man.
Dr. Claire … the Nordic blonde responsible for eliminating countless white pregnancies.
Aggie … mother of La'Damian and part-time employee for The Black Power Movement.
Cassandra … the attorney representing the Porg.
Kenneth … Cassandra's husband acting white and privileged.
Akin Kalu … chairman of The Black Power Movement, the city's most powerful man.
Zara Snow … a most beautiful, confident blonde and promoter of black supremacy.
Tremaine … “for-pleasure” gentleman catering to married, white women on short notice.
Kathleen … the uptight president and CEO of Pale Oyster Development Group.
Olde Pale … decrepit, evil old man who wants to evict minorities for profit.
Teagan T. Kayce … the reporter from channel Inner City 6.
Lenny … Teagan's unemployed husband.
Keyshawn … former football player and local celebrity.
Brad … Employee of the Porg who works Sundays to try to get ahead.
Nancy … Brad's wife with a dark secret kept from her husband.
Nicky … proud race traitor and cheating wife.
Kareem … leads the legal effort against the Porg and important member of the BPM.
Sam … Nicky's suffering cuckold who shamelessly works for the Porg.
Veronica … Office manager for the Porg but plots to save the clinic.
Andy … Veronica's estranged husband.
Terrence … an 18 year old student-athlete from Black Pine High.
Piper … the cute, nerdy-looking intern working at the Porg.
Timmy … your typical, little white boy loser.
Aaliyah … Terrence's caring foster-mother, works hard for her money.
Levon … Student-athlete from Black Pine High and friend of Terrence.
Amanda … Woke white wife.
Miles … Amanda's submissive husband exploring his femininity.
The CITY of BLACK PINE was filled with cries for racial justice. Clenched fists, both black and white, were put to the air demanding the end of white culture and its terrible racism. The crowds, gathered through many social centers, felt victory was near. They were euphoric at the idea of rubbing their feet into the last hold outs of intolerance and oppression. One such gathering place supporting racial justice was held in a parking lot of a little shop in the African Heights district. It was called “Blossom Boutique”, a black-owned business known for selling women's clothes with an urban appeal. The crowd was diverse and beautiful with young activists invested in black culture and defeating injustice. White girls, some as young as legal age, held signs reading, “WHITE GIRLS WILL ABORT WHITE FUTURE!” Others, perhaps their mothers, held others “FREE ELIMINATIONS FOR ME AND OUR *********” Many beautiful black ladies chanted, “Black power!” Every white person in the lot nodded.
MEGAN made sure not to miss joining a racial justice protest. She was very cute, sporting short brunette hair. At 27 years old she was a petite woman with nice-sized breasts and a fine ass. Coming from a lower income household, she had empathy and a newly found affinity with black men and their struggles living with racism due to white racism. Megan was a quiet and modest woman as shown with her simple clothes and favorite baseball cap. While other white girls were sporting tight shorts and blouses, Megan smiled and kept her head down. She only wanted to enjoy the moments when the world was turning against white men. MONIQUE, the young woman who worked inside the boutique, walked up to Megan and was appalled. Megan's outfit was too casual, too conservative, too uninviting. Monique was described as a slender woman of mixed race, with long, straight dark hair and smooth skin. In her mid twenties, she wore outfits making her look hot as a prostitute while being elegant and demanding respect. But Monique's mouth dropped at Megan's terrible choice of clothes. Monique tugged at Megan's elbow and insisted she put on something tasteful and more urban. Megan wanted to protest as she had little income but could not resist the pressure. In less than twenty minutes, Megan returned to the lot in heels and a red, string bikini top and hot pants. Her face was as red as her skimpy outfit. However, she quickly overcame her shyness when the black men, sweating in the heat and passion, noticed her. They nodded and readjusted their crotches as their male urges made them rethink their immediate plans. Three very handsome black men went to compliment her. Megan was overwhelmed at the instant attention, the instant attraction. The men wanted to know why she was here and she answered, “I only want to support the black man.” she pleaded. Black hands started pawing at her tummy, legs, and ass. Megan started to pant at the excitement realizing she was vulnerable. When a black hand brushed against her breast, she let out a gasp and cocked back her head. She felt a pair of confident lips press against her before strong arms wrapped around her waist. Megan was lifted off her feet and put across a broad shoulder. The white wife who only wanted to step away to support a racial justice rally was carried away by a strong, black man who was going to get pussy. As a white women, she needed to support the moment keeping the Elimination Clinic open any way possible.
REESE and SHINEQUA were both at the Elimination Clinic to clean out the “garbage bin” in the procedure room. The “bin” held bio-hazard, the extracted and eliminated remains of women's unwanted parasitical organic material. Little, other than sex, made Reese so giddy. Reese was a young pretty blonde, barely drinking age, with the cutest round face and a nose piercing. She was petite with an envious shape that grabbed the attention of both men and women alike. Her co-worker, Shinequa, was an African-American woman in her early 20's with an athletic build, long hair with rebellious streaks of brown. Like Reese, she was passionate about reproductive rights, especially if that meant white girl's aborting the future of their race and the racism with it. The young ladies dumped the sealed, air-tight plastic bags ungracefully on tile floor and counted. They giggled deliriously and pushed them around the room with their hands and feet and sometimes kicking them like hockey pucks. Reese couldn't stop laughing and collapsed on her side like a *****. Even Shinequa, who nothing made her more happy than countless white abortions, was taken back at Reese's behavior. “You're one freaky white girl!” said Shinequa.
One of the plastic bags had belonged to MACKENZIE's parasite. That early Sunday evening, Mackenzie laid on her marriage bed naked after returning to her small, drab apartment in "lower suburbia". Recovering from her procedure, she felt liberated and racially proud. The married, 24 years woman with dyed blonde hair ignored the cries from her weakling husband, NOAH, on the other side of the door. He was crying against the door like a little bitch. Mackenzie paid little attention as she was busy caressing her hips and full breasts. Mackenzie felt a world away from her life as a receptionist working at the Pale Oyster Redevelopment Group, i.e. The Porg. It was fine irony that the black culture her racist company tried to destroy opened her mind to white elimination. Mackenzie smiled as she gently rubbed her pussy with her right hand and massaged her breasts with her left. She was still remembering her experience with the young, black man in the clinic enlightening her with his huge, black cock. Noah, with his insistent whining, broke Mackenzie's erotic concentration. "Stop crying, honey!" she called out to him, "You're getting the world you preached for!" Mackenzie pushed a finger into her pussy and began to pant. Mackenzie imagined a life having many black lovers and couldn't wait for her next.
LA'DAMIAN was an eighteen year-old, kind young man known for getting in trouble due to white oppression. But his confidence grew thanks to his experiences sharing his manhood with married, white women. The more time he spent putting his big, black cock inside white pussy, the less he was getting interviewed by police. La'Damian was credited for convincing Mackenzie to go through her elimination and vowing to never breed white babies into the world. Thanking him, in his bedroom, was the Elimination Clinic doctor, DR. CLAIRE. Claire took La'Damian home after his wonderful performance and thanked him in his bed. Laying together, nude, Claire kissed La'Damian and kept complimenting him on his beauty while massaging his fat, plump dick. La'Damian quietly fondled Claire's perfect breasts and brushed his black hand through her flaxen hair. His life was soothed from the sirens and white cops chasing him for trivial infractions. He wanted to fuck and it was his favorite way to express his disdain for the white race. La'Damian's cock sprang to life and pointed to the ceiling with little warning. It needed attention and relief. Claire, being a doctor, nodded and understood. She looked at the teen and, in a serious tone, said “I think it's time for me to serve the black race.” The couple kissed, their lips met. Claire began kissing La'Damian's chest with a hand gripped around his hardened shaft. In short time, she put her open lips over the cock-head and let out a breath of hot air. She held her head over it, teasing herself for a short moment before lowering her head and filling her mouth with black flesh. La'Damian looked down at the wonderful image of a pale-skinned white woman with his dick in her mouth. Dr. Claire's looks would easily have her recognized as a cheerleader for white extremists defending the white patriarchy. Instead, she was a faithful promoter of black power and white ********. “I'm a slut for black cock.” Claire whispered to La'Damian. The teen smiled knowing he could do anything he fucking wanted with her. He nodded knowing his mother would approve.
La'Damian's mother, AGGIE, was in the living room inside their trailer smoking on some weed. Aggie was a tall, model-like slender, 48 year old woman who wanted nothing more than making a better world for young, black men like his La'Damian. That and having black grandchildren born from white women giving her that ever so satisfying feeling seeing the white race “screwed”. While getting high, she was on her mobile phone setting up strategy meetings for The Black Power Movement to negotiate a settlement with the Porg. Aggie took a deep breath and exhaled puffs of victory over the racist company with an offer that could not be refused. Hearing Claire in La'Damian's room plea to him, “Oh … fuck me, please!”, Aggie smiled knowing the black race was winning every day.
CASSANDRA walked around in her large house wearing little more than black lingerie. She was on her phone with members of The Black Power Movement and given the runaround from one representative with another. Cassandra was a 32 year old blonde with dark streaks. She had envious body measurements and in an alternate universe take up a life in pornography or prostitution. Cassandra pranced in front of her husband, KENNETH, teasing him with her hot, very-fuckable body. The privileged male didn't notice the frustration on his wife's face as she had a tenuous conversations with one BPM rep after another. Kenneth only saw Cassandra's tits and ass. Cassandra hung up, leaned against the wall in the hallway and let out a sigh, “I did it! I finally got a meeting with the head of The Black Power Movement.” Kenneth blindly said, “That's good, that's good ...” without listening. He just wanted to put his hands on Cassandra's waist and rub his hands up and down. “Maybe, we should skip dinner and head straight to the bedroom?” he asked her. Cassandra snapped out of her strategies how to deal with the BPM. “What, huh?” she replied when she noticed her husband's paws on her breasts. She pushed them away and said, “Not now, date night is over. I have to prepare all night for tomorrow.” Kenneth was left watching his wife strut down the hall removing her bra and panties and close the door behind her for more comfortable clothes.
AKIN KALU sat comfortably in his cushioned chair that resembled more like a golden, plush throne in his office at The Black Power Movement headquarters. In his left hand, he held a highball glass with a single ball of ice and scotch. In his right, between his thumb and forefinger was a small wooden idol, carved by an African shaman deep in the dark continent. He rubbed the idol as if it had magic powers, black magical powers. As chairman for The Black Power Movement, some believed Mr. Kalu was the city's most powerful man even more powerful than the Mayor. He looked straight ahead like an eagle eyeing prey thinking how he could advance black people and trampling the morals of the white race. A tall man in his 40s, he was dressed in African-style robe. Sitting on modest stood next to his chair, was one of his most trusted advisers, ZARA SNOW. Zara was a stunning, white female in her mid-20's with straight blonde hair to the middle of her back. She was a psychologist, therapist, life-coach, and instructor. Most of all, she was a trusted member of the Black Power Movement. Zara held a clipboard and went over notes with Akin. “We have arranged a meeting with an attorney from Pale Oyster tomorrow. They're willing to negotiate.” explained Zara. Akin snickered, “As long as we get every fucking thing we want!”. Zara nodded and replied, “Of course. We'll make sure no white owned company ever fucks with the black community again.” When Zara waited for Akin to say something, he just looked ahead in a blank stare. He wasn't even enjoying his expensive scotch. Akin was rubbing idol harder pushing his thumb into the black, hardwood. Zara removed the idol from Akin's right palm and kissed his hand. “What is wrong, my black master?” she asked. “Have I disappointed you?” Akin looked at Zara and put her face in his right palm, “No … I was too busy and missed my twelve O'clock.” he explained. Zara shut her eyes in empathy and anguish. She understood why Akin was so “out of it”. “Oh, my gawd!” Zara let out an exhausted gasp and put her right hand across Akin's crotch finding a way through the buttons of his robe. “I know what I must do.” Zara said before standing in front of her master. Zara began disrobing and twirling on the floor like a stripper. She peeled off her bra and pushed down her tiny panties facing the black man with no shame or hesitation. “This body is for the black man.” she said before she dropped to her knees as Akin spread his knees giving her room to come closer. Zara unbuttoned the bottom of Akin's robe and reached in to pull out his bare cock. With two gentle strokes, his giant black snake stiffened to attention over 11 inches long. Zara was in sincere awe in the power of the black man she had in her hand. She gasped and panted losing control and modesty. Zara asked of Akin, “Will you fuck me and give my life purpose, my black god?” Akin nodded once, relenting to the white girl's request. Zara smiled and said, “Thank you, sir.” before she lowered her head and started sucking black cock like a dirty whore. As Akin clanked the ball of ice inside his glass, the only sound more loud was Zara's mouth slurping on his hardened black snake meat.
Somewhere in the African Heights district, stood a shotgun house in a row of houses known as Ebony Paradise. Living inside one, was a dashing, very sexually experienced man. His name was TREMAINE and he stood naked in front of his bathroom mirror wiping himself dry. The handsome, black male in his mid-twenties was lean and tall. Tremaine posed confidently with his manhood swinging heavy below. Its size, his ladies described as, was huge and several inches beyond a typical married, white woman is accustomed to. He picked up his phone and snapped a naked selfie and sent it to one of his loyal clients. He was ready to make more money.
KATHLEEN, the proud, uptight woman in her mid-forties, was one of many women who paid Tremaine to fuck. The president and CEO of her Pale Oyster Redevelopment Group, had blonde hair well on its way going gray. A slender “hottie”, sported a fantastic measurements of 34-24-34. After she returned home from another “get-fucked” therapy session from her gifted provider, she squatted on the shower stall tile floor and rubbed her worn pussy reliving the interracial tryst just an hour earlier. As the warm water showered her face and breasts, she imagined it was Tremaine's hot cum bathing her with his lust. She let out an orgasmic gasp. Her ass dropped to the cool floor and she recovered and panted. Kathleen thought, perhaps … just maybe … she should give in to The Black Power Movement. Their organization and their men, were too passionate. The money she could make for her husband's company didn't compare to the pleasure they were capable of giving between her legs.
However, OLDE PALE, would never give up. Even in his bedridden state and near invalid status, his business vision carried weight and momentum that few politicians, bureaucrats, or even advocacy groups could outlast him. The old man, well into his sixties, did little more than stare into the ceiling using his mind to calculate figures, statistics, and risk-management planning. His beady eyes were shifty, looking left and right. When he saw his beautiful wife wearing little more than a silk robe, he opened his palm wanting her to hold her hand. Kathleen complied feeling little guilt or remorse for cheating on him with a black man. She told herself it only made her stronger and prepared to make better decisions. “Take from them.” mumbled Olde. It was his direct, unambiguous suggestion to not give in to the racial advocates. In three words, the old derelict, white man gave Kathleen the confidence she could have anything and be the city's queen-maker and shake things up. Money, power, and much to her husband's ignorance, uninhibited sex were all within reach. Kathleen gave an evil smile and decided to move ahead and evict the low income squatters from the Brickyards. She decided to keep to the plan and shut down that abortion clinic.
TEAGAN T. KAYCE was busy at her desk inside the Channel Inner City 6 News building. She was typing at her workstations an outline for her next ****** about Black Pine and its Elimination Clinic. As she wrote notes recounting the countless white women ending their pregnancies there, she rubbed her knees together. Her phone text messaged her again. It was her husband waiting for her in the lobby below. Teagan took a deep breath. Teagan had come along way since being raised on her ****** farm on a small state. A married 28 year old with long, slightly wavy blonde hair, she was now an up and coming reporter. After beginning her career inexperienced with minorities, she had matured quickly understanding the needs of the black community and its men. Teagan stood up from her chair and yawned, trying to get herself enthusiastic for a night with her 41 year old, out-of-work husband.
Marching in through the news desk floor, came KEYSHAWN. Keyshawn was a retired professional football player in his mid twenties. The handsome athlete turned himself into a successful entrepreneur. The few working overtime on the floor stood and cheered. The lame, white males applauded for his contributions on the field. The other ladies, applauded him for his virility and attractive masculinity. Teagan's heart raced as soon as she laid eyes on the gentleman. He was dressed in expensive, designer clothes and gold jewelry. She put a hand on her heart and started panting. Teagan raced across the floor and introduced herself to Keyshawn. Keyshawn greeted Teagan with a big smile, having recognized her. They shook hands and the two city “celebrities” exchanged hellos. “You look real good on TV … I mean, I see you done real good on the TV.” said Keyshawn with a smile. Teagan blushed, thanked him, and then put her right hand on his heart. The blonde leaned in and asked, “Hey, do you have time for a one-on-one?” Keyshawn was flattered but replied, “I just gave an interview with the sports department. I'm done talking about my past.” Teagan wouldn't show disappointment, “I was thinking we could discuss something … more intimate and off-the-record .. about race?” Keyshawn took another look at the hot, white girl. “Race is important. What do you have in mind?” he asked. Teagan whispered into his right ear. Whatever she said, made Keyshawn's eyebrows pop and his crotch stiffen.
LENNY waited patiently for Teagan. Many in the lobby, even on a Sunday evening, recognized Lenny. He was a freelance studio producer but currently an unemployed studio producer. But in the turbulent times, there were few opportunities for a straight, white male. When Lenny saw Teagan step out of the elevator, his heart, his life, lifted. He put on a big smile looking forward to a romantic dinner. However, Lenny didn't notice the tall, handsome black man following her. It wasn't until she was within arm reach did he see Keyshawn deliberately following his wife. “Lenny, dear … this is Keyshawn, a former, professional football player. I'm going to, um, interview him about improving race relations tonight. We'll have to put off our 'date'.” said Teagan before letting out a cruel giggle. Lenny was distraught, more so with Keyshawn smiling at him. Teagan didn't bother letting the conversation go any further and walked off to the parking garage taking Keyshawn with her.
BRAD was an overly successful man. At the young age of 25, his intelligence and hard work found success at the Porg. He overcame many of his disabilities, being a straight white male with red hair. Brad used his ******'s money to buy into one of the more affluent neighborhoods in Black Pine, the Cherry Vista. Brad was busy reviewing e-documents on his computer in vain attempts to salvage the Brickyards project. His fellow associate really dropped the ball and this was his opportunity to pick it up and let nothing get in his way. A slender arm wrapped around Brad's chest from behind. Surprised, his fingers froze over the keyboard when he felt warm, feminine lips plant on his cheek. “Are you still working on Sundays, honey?” asked NANCY. Brad took his wife's hand and turned in his chair to give her a kiss. Nancy was 25-years old woman with blonde hair to the bottom of her shoulders. Extremely attractive and beyond cute, she was almost too good for Brad,. with her great, fit figure. Nancy was proud of her breasts and firm ass and the attention it got for her since her teen years. Brad answered Nancy with a guilty-looking nod but then thought more and offered, “Maybe, we can take a walk around the pond together.” Nancy smiled, feeling renewed love for her husband. She took a look at her wedding ring and swore to herself that Brad was her man.
Elsewhere, in a quiet home in “middle suburbia”, a white household was devoted in fighting racism. In a married couple's bedroom, beautiful things happened. NICKY was naked and on all fours on her bed. The racial justice warrior, in her mid-twenties, had a slender, athletic body with nice breasts that filled a handful. Behind her, gripping her hips, was her sweaty lover, KAREEM. He was just as naked as she and proudly pushing his fantastic manhood inside the blonde's womb. Kareem was a confident and charismatic man in his mid 30's. Handling the legal affairs for The Black Power Movement, he was known for his clean shaven head and face. Kareem felt celebrating another victory over the Porg and another victory over the white race.
It was the right thing to do to have Nicky's husband, SAM, watch from his chair at the edge of the bed. Sam held a middle managerial position at the much maligned Porg, The Pale Oyster Redevelopment Group. The 33 year old athletic looking man with light brown hair was nothing more than a submissive cuck, with great thanks to the many black men in the community re-educating Nicky. Sam and Nicky exchanged looks as Kareem's black cock pushed and made its way home into Nicky's pussy. As Nicky's face showed signs of struggle to take its size, she told Sam “You brought this on yourself, you piece of shit! … Trying to close our abortion clinic.” Nicky huffed and panted as Kareem confidently made his thrusts. “We need eliminations! Oh, fuck me, Kareem!” She said aloud. Sam wanted to look away, “I was just doing my job.” he whined. Kareem, in a loud and determined voice yelled, “Fuck you, white boy! Just fuck … you!” Then came a firm, merciful black hand across Nicky's fine, white ass. SMACK! Nicky yelped like a cute puppy while Sam sniffled. Nicky's husband had to watch. It was his punishment for associating with racists and behaving like one. But most of all, punishment for being white. Kareem was rightfully entitled dumping his thick cum into Nicky's womb. He then pushed her off with little emotion and helped himself to the shower. Nicky laughed at both the feeling of hot, sticky cum inside her and how Kareem just left her without a word. Nicky found the energy to get up and straddle Sam while he was still in his chair. Sam could smell the sex on Nicky's body and breath. It wasn't bad enough that his wife shared confidential information with the BPM that may very well doom the Brickyards project, Nicky wanted more suffering. She laughed and gave Sam a playful slap across his left cheek. “Now, tell us how else we can fuck your company, white boy!” she demanded. Sam pleaded like the selfish white man he was, “I'll lose my job.” But like members of The Black Power Movement, she knew she was on the right side of history and showed no mercy when none was deserved. She gripped him at his throat and said, “I don't fucking care!”
VERONICA was an attractive 37 year old with curvaceous, sexy curves. The pressures from work, disagreeing with her company's plan to shut down the abortion clinic, resulted in needing sexual release. She discovered she was bisexual and found black men extremely attractive.
Being sexually vulnerable in front of black men was the best change Veronica had in her life. She felt alive being part of a movement she put her heart and body behind. In her eyes, the Elimination Clinic was key bridging the races and absolutely necessary to achieve atonement. Back alone in her simple, one-bedroom apartment, she got simple text from her estranged husband, ANDY. He messaged her how he was looking to seeing her again. Veronica grinned as she put on a classic dress. It was more modest than what she was wearing lately but it was more than good enough for her husband. Before she could grab her purse and keys, her phone lit up again.
TERRENCE called her direct. A text message could be ignored and he needed to hear her voice. Terrence wasn't just any young, black man, but an 18 year old student-athlete from Black Pine High who happened to be Veronica's first black lover. Veronica's hands trembled. She remembered how he had an effect on her and how she had one on him. Veronica took a deep breath and answered, “Hi, Terrence.” Terrence was terse but still managed to say politely to “come over as soon as possible … I need to see you.” Veronica wanted to excuse herself but could hear in Terrence's voice the urgency. Terrence's place, located in the Brickyards, wasn't out of the way and she could afford to spend a few minutes talking to him at least. Veronica promised to be there soon.
PIPER was a single, 22 year old, petite, extremely cute girl with long, straight dark brown, almost black, hair. She wore small, round eyeglasses that made her look hip. That evening she was with her boyfriend, TIMMY. Timmy was your typical, white boy loser. He was pale faced and looked skinny with his over sized belt. While he was no older than Piper, he looked much younger and unable to grow facial hair. But Piper was looking at him with her dreamy eyes anyhow. Her boyfriend had brought her to the most posh restaurant he could afford, the Barcarole. It was an Italian place in the Basil district known for its poached salmon over brown rice. The couple stared at smiled at each other. Piper didn't want to be alone like that man over in the corner sitting by himself with an odd, worried look on his face in front of two plate settings. Piper was at least satisfied with Timmy. Piper and Timmy would find a private place somewhere after dinner for sex. Sometimes, there isn't justice in the world.
Parking at the curb inside the Brickyards district, Veronica rushed inside the rent-controlled apartment building not too far from the Elimination Clinic. She climbed the flights of stairs to the third floor and walked through the narrowed hall echoing with rap music, laughing, and at least one example of the saxophone. Veronica kept looking into her phone as the minutes seem to fly by. But she made it to the door …
Veronica rapped the door with a hurried, three knocks. She heard a frustrated, feminine voice on the other side of the door curse out. By the sounds, the door chain was pulled, the handle grabbed and spun, and the door cracked open. Veronica saw the piercing eyes of Terrence's foster-mother, AALIYAH, stare back.
“Oh, hell no!” yelled Aaliyah who closed the door on Veronica.
Veronica was startled and heard Terrence say something to his foster-mother. Aaliyah whispered back, “... you tapped that?” before she pulled the door open and expressed a complete change of tone towards the white woman, “Come inside, white girl.” she said.
Embarrassed, Veronica stepped inside and saw Terrence waiting for her. Aaliyah stood at the door wearing a black and red silk robe stressing her hourglass figure. Aaliyah told her foster-son, “Sweetheart, you keep her in your room until I'm finished, okay. And stay the fuck quiet while I make some money.”
Terrence nodded his head and pulled Veronica's by her hand to his room. Veronica stumbled on her feet as she was rushed inside near his bed. She could hear how anxious Terrence was. Something wasn't right. Veronica felt for the young man and wanted to let him know she was there for him. She placed her palms on his chest and looked into his eyes, “What's so wrong?” she asked.
The handsome, black teen cleared his throat and confessed “It's my good friend. He's had a bad day and blames it on racism from you, white people.”
Veronica was taken back and immediately felt she was obligated to help and atone for the unfairness the color of her skin had caused. “What can I do?” she said in her sweet and very feminine voice. Terrence looked down to his feet and rubbed his crotch and replied, “Meet him, hear him out, and let him … fuck you.” Veronica blushed, her eyes popped out “Oh? Well, you know I always want to help young, black men.”
When Terrence sensed Veronica was hesitant, he reached out and put his hand around her waist, “We need to fuck you, Veronica.” he explained to her and invited her hand to rub his crotch. Terrence whispered, “We need pussy.”
Veronica looked up and as soon as the word “We?” left her lips, someone else and entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him. It was LEVON, a fellow student-athlete at Black Pine High. Levon walked in from the bathroom wearing nothing but over-sized shorts showing off his toned chest.
Levon casually positioned himself standing behind Veronica. He pressed his loins into her ass and putting his steady hands on her hips. Veronica could feel Levon's breath on her neck. The young, needful man kept saying “Yeah, yeah … need this ...” as he bucked his hips giving Veronica some good humps.
Feeling overwhelmed as hands began groping at her breasts and pulling off her dress from the top, Veronica looked into the ceiling muttered “Um, guys, um … this is quite a surprise!” Hands caressed her voluptuous body making her feel needed and desired. The young men pressed her like a sandwich or an Oreo cookie. Levon whispered into Veronica's ear, “You like fuckin' black guys?” Veronica couldn't help but to let out a burst of laughter and smiled. She turned to Levon and whispered back, “Fuck, yeah. I do.” Levon and she kissed as Terrence pulled her dress over her breasts. “What the fuck, let's do it!” surrendered the white girl. Her clothes started to melt off and drop to the floor.
Veronica went to her knees with a large, black cock in each of her hands. One after the other, she pushed them into her mouth and slurped on it like a greedy slut. The gentlemen panted and moved their feet closer to her. Veronica smiled, enjoying being the center of attention and the sexual desires of two, young bulls.
Levon smiled and nodded at the submissive white girl, “Yeah, suck that black dick.” he whispered. Veronica responded by spitting on his cock-head and flickering it with her tongue before pushing as much of his manhood into her mouth as possible. Terrence ran his fingers through her hair feeling anxious for his turn. Veronica looked at Terrence and winked. She pushed Terrence's cock up against his body and spat on his balls. Her tongue followed and lapped at his heavy balls.
The men put Veronica on her back where Levon went to eat her pussy. Levon was hungry and felt starved for pussy. She gladly opened her legs and gave the teen, who she just met, free access to her sex. He was black, she was white, he deserved it. Meanwhile, Terrence began fucking her face. Terrence felt power as he was thinking how he was fucking the white race. With a hand firmly on her breast, Veronica felt possessed and black-owned.
Levon needed pussy. He told Terrence in front of Veronica as if she didn't matter, “I'm going to fuck this white pussy.” Levon turned Veronica on her knees. He wanted to see her round ass and slapped his hand across to amuse him. The young, black bull was aggressive and demanding. “I want racial payback.” he told Terrence and the men gave each other a high five. “Fuck me.” whispered Veronica who craved to be used for racial justice. Submitting to the needs of the black man gave her purpose.
When Veronica felt Levon penetrate her, she felt grateful to black men. Feeling her womb stretch open, she moaned like a whore getting her fix to her addiction. Terrence told her to “hush” and that they needed to be quiet. Veronica struggled to mute her groans and Terrence had no other choice but push his cock inside her mouth to shut her up
“Mmmph … mmmph ...” Veronica uttered. With a hand on her ass and another on the top of her head, she could do little more than to take cocks pushing inside her holes. After several minutes of steady pounding, Veronica left of pool of spittle underneath her chin. She was put on her back again and the men switched. It was Terrence's turn to push his manhood inside Veronica while she stroked and kissed Levon's cock.
Terrence bucked his hips and huffed. He was single-minded only wanting to give Veronica dick. He felt her womb snug his cock shaft as he pushed his way inside her wet, warm hole. Levon, meanwhile, tapped Veronica's face with his cock when he didn't run it across her tongue. He looked at his friend and approved. Older women were such submissive sluts in the bedrooms where their clothes were off.
The threesome changed positions again with Veronica riding Levon like a cowgirl and taking Terrence's cock in her mouth. She tasted pure sex and felt uninhibited, freed from morals and white judgmental-isms. Veronica was free to enjoy being used by two, sexually aggressive men. They put their hands all over her breasts and ass. They ran their fingers through her hair and pulled on her nipples. Terrence and Levon grunted that sounded both pain and pleasure as their masculine needs were teased.
Terrence needed a hole. He needed to plunge his cock into Veronica and have her feel him penetrate her. As Levon laid below, letting Veronica ride his cock, Terrence climbed behind her and acted the man, going for her asshole! Levon poked his plump, purple cock-head on Veronica's sphincter. She responded with a muted gasp. Veronica wasn't that surprised. Her holes belonged to them. All of them.
Veronica's ass was tight but Terrence was patient yet demanding as he gripped his large manhood not to be denied the penetration he needed. When he saw and felt his cockhead push inside, he knew he started his “fuck” of her ass. “Oh, gawd! Oh, gawd!” she moaned. Terrence leaned forward and placed his right hand over her mouth to silence her. The sudden jerk motion almost sent the bed crashing to the floor.
Levon groped both breasts and started kissing Veronica's neck. He enjoyed seeing the look on the white girl's face as she was getting double penetrated. Levon needed to this. He needed to see a white woman surrender everything to him and his race. It mattered that much to him.
Veronica rested on top of Levon as Terrence was penetrating her. Levon whispered, “Yeah, you getting' fucked good.” Veronica sniffled, feeling another two inches deep inside. She nodded and agreed. She let out a whisper, “Fuck me.” Veronica understood, this is what the young men needed and she gladly gave them her body. Terrence began a rhythm of fucking at least half of his cock inside of Veronica. Anymore would make her wail and he couldn't have that with Aaliyah in the other room. Veronica opened her mouth but could only voice gargled “clicks” as two hard cocks were inside her.
Levon lifted his hips in a piston motion trying to feel more penetration. Levon told Veronica, “Ride that black dick.” Veronica struggled and could only say in return, “I'm trying.” Veronica rubbed her sweaty, feminine body against his
The passion was so high, it made the room steamy and hot. Sweat ran down the lover's bodies soaking the sheets below. Veronica could feel the beads of perspiration drop on her back and ass as Terrence gave her all the strength he had without breaking the bed. Veronica shook her head feeling a convulsive wave about to overtake her body, “... fuck … fuck … fuck … so much cock ...” she chanted.
Terrence began to pant. Fucking a white girl's asshole was a great thing to do. His friends, coach, and foster-mother would be so proud of him. Levon underneath felt a sudden “pop”. He too let out a gasp as it felt the hot and sticky mess squeeze out of him and into Veronica's womb. Veronica bit her lip and cried out a quick whine followed by another as she took her orgasm. Terrence's cock also started spraying hot gel, depositing his seed into her other hole. He told Veronica, “Damn, what a fine ass!”
Veronica rested her head on Levon's chest while Terrence climbed off the bed to soothe his aching thighs. He told himself he needed to do more squats during workouts. Terrence realized now the exercise was so important to his football coach. “Do you feel better? Did I help pay for my racism?” Veronica asked Levon. But the exhausted teen was too dazed to answer. Veronica wanted to soothe Levon and followed up with, “I'm willing to do more.”
With Levon sitting naked in the corner of his room recovering his breath, Veronica gathered her strength to roll off of Terrence. Her head was also spinning. She looked over at both teens confident she had pleased them. Veronica was so happy with herself, she rubbed her hand over her breasts knowing they were “black cock magnets”. She stood and tiptoed to the door hoping she could make her way to the bathroom without Aaliyah catching her.
Veronica pulled the door open an inch and looked out into the hall. She heard nothing. Looking over her shoulder, the young men were silent. They weren't going to stop her. Veronica pulled the door a little more. The front room was to her right, the bathroom was short steps away to her left. Veronica noticed the front room had intimate lighting and strange shadows dancing. When she heard a feminine giggle, her curiosity got the best of her. Remaining in the darkness, she crept on her bare feet to the edge of the short hall. What she saw almost sent her into an instant orgasm!
Aaliyah looked beautiful in a black, dominatrix outfit. She was dressed in black corset and topless. Her hair and makeup were perfect as she gripped a man's white ass bent over for her. Veronica wanted to giggle out loud herself when she noticed Aaliyah was wearing a black strap-on and fucking the white man with it. The man wore stockings and a red high heels playing the role of a fuck hole. Sitting on the couch next to him, looking like a prostitute was the white man's wife. Her name was AMANDA, a dark-blonde in her mid-twenties. With hair to her shoulders, she had a tight body. She was dressed for a night out of flirting and sexing and obviously took enjoyment in her husband, MILES, and his predicament.
Miles was inhaling deep but let out measured breaths as he had to take a plastic cock like a bitch. Bent over, naked and powerless, Miles took his place as a weak subject for Aailyah's pleasure. “It hurts.” Miles whined. Amanda smiled and shook her head, “Too bad. You complained how you 'needed' sex!” Amanda scolded, “Well, you're getting fucked.” Miles replied with a weak, bitchy wail. Aailyah snickered but continued putting the strap-on to him.
Aaliyah had her left foot and right knee firmly planted on the floor as she moved her hips into the white boy. Aaliyah enjoyed the power she had. With her left hand clutched into Miles's ass, she raised her right fist and hailed, “Black power! Fuck the white man!” She lowered her fist and gripped his waist and made a few, short powerful thrusts.
When Amanda noticed how Miles was grunting, she teased him, “Oh, my gawd … honey? You're enjoying it? Are you ready to transition?” Miles tried to shake his head but couldn't refuse the new emotions brewing inside of him. He was getting used, fucked, and receiving the blessed attention of a beautiful, black woman. This was overwhelming his white-male ego trying to fight back the feelings. Amanda reached to the floor and picked up a red wig and put it back on her husband's head. “Look how beautiful you look.” Amanda said and Aaliyah chuckled.
“Am I messing up your marriage?” Aaliyah calmly asked.
Amanda stepped to the black mistress, nodded, and confessed, “Oh, yes! It's fucked up now. Thank you!” Amanda and Aaliyah kissed and the wife said of her husband, “I can't respect him anymore.”
Aaliyah gave sound, progressive advice, “Why would you? He's white.” Amanda covered her mouth and giggled more. It was so true. Her husband wasn't a real man anymore. Aaliyah put her hand behind Amanda's head and pulled her to her round, right breast. Amanda gladly began sucking on them loud and she felt so fortunate.
“Double my fee and I'll let you lick my ass.” Aaliyah demanded. Amanda replied with an enthusiastic “Yes! Yes! Anything you want.” The dominatrix was pleased and threw her hips forward making Miles grunt. “Tell us you respect the black cock!” yelled Aaliyah.
Miles gasped and took a deep breath. With no shame he told the room, “I respect the black cock.”
“Are you a man or are you a bitch?” Aaliyah asked.
Miles gasped again and surrendered, “A bitch, my mistress. Fuck me, please.”
His mistress turned to Amanda and told her, “You can make a date with a real man now. He won't beg for pussy anymore. Then you can come back and eat my ass.” Amanda was relieved and walked off with her mobile in her hand. Aaliyah turned to Miles and gave him few thrusts before mocking him, “You're wife walked away. You're only friend is this black cock.”
Miles nodded once and grunted, “Thank you, mistress.”
Meanwhile, Veronica was rubbing her knees together as she watched the erotic, beautiful visions of white surrender. She crept back into Terrence's bedroom and thought best to hang out there until it was all clear.
Veronica's eyes popped open realized she fell asleep cramped in the bed sharing a nap with Terrence and Levon. She scrambled to her feet, gathered her clothes, and blew a kiss to her two lovers. There were no sign of Aaliyah or her guests and she spent two minutes in the bathroom before rushing out.
It was dark, she was exhausted, Veronica returned to her simple, one-bedroom apartment where all she wanted was a hot shower and a stiff drink. As she turned the knob to her front door, she stepped into a lit-up living room with a well-dressed man passed out on her couch. He sat upright with flowers resting on the cushions to his right, Veronica's husband, Andy, had been waiting for her.
Veronica felt no shame, having stood up her husband at the restaurant, but shock. What was he doing here?
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.
