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Black Sun

By: nisaea



-You'll have to excuse me for my English; it's not my first language. I don't think it'll cause you big problems to read, but you'll certainly find some mistakes.-

----Hi! I'm Jake. There's this girl I've been dreaming about for three weeks now; Deela. It's the first time in my life that a black girl has sparked so much interest in me; but her beauty stunned me the first time I saw her. I was on the beach with two friends and then she walked not three feet away from us, silently passing by, unaware of the stares she invited. I mean, we were all staring at her, gawking really. She must have been 23 or 24, a ripe young woman, way out of my high-school senior league. But she was glowing under the bright sun, her black skin shining with water and her dread locks still dripping seawater. 

She had a one-piece swimsuit on, but it didn't leave much to the imagination. Made from some weird closely knitted material, it invited more than hid anything. Of course, it had strategically placed patches to hide her breasts and bush, but for the rest... Her long and slightly muscled legs, widening hips outlined by the high cut of her swimsuit, her thin and frail looking waist slowly widening into her firm, proud breasts, a delicate neck and an amazing face. The dreadlocks suddenly looked like nothing less than a crown!

Now you see that I was stunned, and why! And when she was walking away, I couldn't help myself and stared, I really mean stared at her ass. Glorious! The swimsuit disappearing quite quickly, it revealed two perfect cheeks of lithe flesh, dancing like waves with each one of her steps. I just had to have her. And now, waiting for her to show up, hiding in the thick bushes behind her house, I try to contain my excitation. She never came back to the beach, not anywhere near where she was last time. So I managed to find out where she lived and I'm here now. And there she is, walking out of the door...

----I can't believe it! The guy who stared at me so obviously at the beach is there, in my own backyard! What do I do? he can't see me yet through the window, or else he wouldn't be moving so much. Somehow it's flattering, but it's kind of weird too. And anyway, anything with two breasts would make a 17-year-old go nuts. But he looks quite nice, and must be quite popular with girls his own age. ...that's not the point! Should I call the cops or something? No, that would be cruel, the poor guy simply wants to look at me. Is that a crime? I could give him a show: we often talked about this kind of trick when we were younger, Danelle and me. We never got to do anything really out of the ordinary, and this could be my chance!

His chance, in fact! After running up to my room and changing into my swimsuit, I get out through the back door and walk slowly to the pool, fully conscious of his eyes scanning every inch of exposed skin on my body. The little thrill is quite fun, actually! Sad for him that I don't have to put on sunscreen, I could've given him a show like Danelle did for that life guard last year... Instead, I simply jump in the pool and swim a few laps, trying hard not to look in his direction. Just when I was about to get out, I hear the phone ringing. Bending forward lewdly as I get out of the pool, I answer. "Hi Danelle, what's up?... Sure, come by as soon as you're ready. See you later." 

Incredible timing: Danelle is coming over to chat and perfect her tan. And to her, tanning is useless unless you're naked. I don't have this problem, so I don't usually lay back naked with her, but I might just make an exception today... During the next fifteen minutes, I walked close to him and bent down to show him my ass or stretched my back to make my breast stand out as much as they can. They're not big, but I'm not envious of anyone either. I hope he likes them. What do I mean "I hope he likes them"? I don't feel anything towards this immature voyeur! Nothing. Nothing? Before Danelle arrives, I move the chairs we use to sunbathe as close as I can to him without him realizing that I know he's there. 

Breaking this weird train of thoughts, I hear Danelle's car pulling in the driveway. She's already wearing nothing but her tiny bikini, something that'll pop the voyeur's eyes out for sure. As I see her walking up to me, I try to look at her through the eyes of the lucky guy. She does look great. Golden tanned legs, rounder hips and fuller breasts than me, with those silky brown hair that I so much love. And green eyes. I don't think the stranger will look at them, but that's one thing I envy Danelle: they spark and scream beauty, even I can see that. 

Deciding not to tell her about the stranger right away, I lead her up the stairs to the pool and we chat a bit. About ten minutes later, I see her pulling the strings of her top loose and soon it falls to the ground...

----To my incredible surprise and delight, the white girl takes off her top casually. The full breasts that were kept hidden by the flimsy material are now revealed in their entire splendor. Big, round, too firm to be real but who cares! Pink nipples topping them with perfect angle and size, they truly are a work of art. Then, reaching for the sunscreen lotion, the brunette gives it to Deela. Turning around on the chair, she then lays face down, her legs pointing directly at me. As expected, Deela begins to rub her friend's back with the lotion. 

Maybe it's the heat or my imagination running wild, but it seems like Deela's having a lot of fun with the massage. In fact, her hands and fingers often reach down to her friend's breasts, barely touching the bulging curves. But the most pleasant surprise yet was when Deela reached down to her friend's bottom and slowly pulled it away from her skin. At first I though it was just to apply some lotion underneath, but I quickly realized that she was pulling it down her legs and to the ground. Before her friend lowered her ass after raising it to let the bottom slide, I was granted the most spectacular crotch shot of the century. Even if I saw some hair peeking from her mound, the lower part of her lips, her large lips, was completely shaved. The white of her skin quickly gave way to the pinkness of her slit and the sun made every effort to show me as much as possible. It lasted no more than two seconds, but it seemed somehow much longer...

----I hoped he got an eyeful of Danelle's pussy! I can't believe that girl: when I told her about the guy, she actually whispered to me that she would like us to put on a lesbian show! She is crazy! After that, slipping her bottom off while her legs pointed clearly in his direction seemed like nothing much. But, having seen how much she arched her back to show him her ass and pussy, I'm sure he enjoyed! Now completely naked, Danelle asks me to do her legs, which I happy do. I'm no lesbian, but I like the feeling of a woman's skin, so soft and tender. So, as I climb higher and higher, I revel in her soft thighs. 

Carelessly stopping under the curve of her ass, I close the bottle. But Danelle, who must have thought about that the whole time, said: "What Deela, do you want me to get a sunburn on my ass?" loud enough for the guy to hear. Shaking my head with a smile and a laughing sigh, I pour some more oil into my palms. After spreading it on my other hand, I kneel down beside her in order not to block the guy's vision and begin to spread the oil on her ass. I'm surprised, I must confess. The skin, firmness and shape of her ass cheeks are exhilarating! Now I know why Michael likes to fondle my ass so much: it really is fun! Without fully realizing that I'm doing just what he did to me, I begin to really caress, massage and knead her ass, savoring the peculiar feelings of this unique experience. 

----When I see Deela beginning not only to caress but also to massage and love her friend's ass, I'm overwhelmed by the possibilities. How far will they go, how deep, how often do they do that?... Anyway, after a lathering that lasts minutes too long, Deela seems to snap out of it and gets up. Once again, her friend stops her: "Won't you do my front, you did such a great job with the rest..." "Sure, why not?" With that, the brunette turns around and sits on the chair, once again displaying her breasts to my hungry eyes. After what seemed like a hesitation, Deela sits down behind her friend and once again pours lotion into her hands. 

Beginning at her waist, Deela's hands quickly reach up to her friend's breasts and, like for her ass, the lathering turns into loving caresses. Kneading the supple flesh in her hands, playing around with the nipples, Deela does a good job of getting her friend quite aroused. Nipples showing and eyes closed, the brunette simply sits there, feeling the pleasure from her friend's warm hands. The contrast of Deela's pitch-black hands on the creamy white breasts is odd but somehow more sexual. It must be the black-girl fantasy kicking in, but anyway it does make a difference. 

----Before stopping, I close in on her ear and whisper: "Why didn't we do this much sooner?" Whispering back, she only said: "I always told you that you were the prude of the two of us..." To hide my own nipples from showing through my swimsuit, I get up, put own the lotion and jump in the pool. But, after laughing, Danelle shouts: "What are you doing there?" "It was getting hot, no?" But, trying to get the upper hand, I realize that I didn't get it; quickly, Danelle answers: "Yes, I know. And don't you think I don't know what's happening to your nipples, Deela?" And then she breaks into laughter again. "Why do you say that?" "Oh come one, you're always shy to take your suit off, and now I know why..." 

Understanding where she's leading me, I follow in her little game. "Oh yeah, that's what you think? Well, here." Slipping my suit off underwater, I make a ball with it and throw it to her. It splashes all over her belly and the cold water startles her. "Oh you're going to pay for this..." But when she gets up, she adds: "...later. You're lucky I have fresh lotion all over me..." "Yeah yeah, you're scared, that's all!" Trying not to start laughing, I throw some water to her. "Hey, stop that! Just wait and I'll join you soon. The sun is too hot to stay here long anyway." 

While swimming around, trying to cool down before doing something too stupid with Danelle, I try to see if our little voyeur is still there. Oh yes, he's there, still at the same place. As I come up to the side of the pool, I see that Danelle is still up to something. One of her legs is dangling from one side of her chair and she has a hand especially close to her bush. In fact, she's playing with the brown hairs right now, pulling and tugging gently to the utmost curls. Soon, her fingers reach lower and lower and she begins to caress herself, cupping her mound in her palm and fingers. 

----Oh my God, she's beginning to caress herself! This is unbelievable. After pulling her two fingers out of her pussy, I can clearly see them glistening with her juices. This is too good. Without wasting time, she begins to pump them in and out, fucking herself with an enthusiasm that surprises me. Her second leg falls off the chair and her pussy is suddenly visible to me. While her back arches up and down with pleasure, she brings her feet back on the chair, opening her pussy even more. Directly in front of me, she couldn't even offer herself to me better even if she knew I was there! 

Suddenly, Deela swims as near to her friend as she can and says: "Hey Danelle, cool down won't you!" and splashes her with water. Danelle answers: "Oh come one Deela, how dare you disturb me while I..." Then she stands up and just before jumping in the pool, stops and says: "You're not even game to come up here and fight..." "Oh yeah?" And with that, the challenge set, Deela swims to the stairs and climbs out of the pool. My God she's beautiful! Once again shining in the sun, she takes her time to get out, apparently giving me time to admire her body. Slim back, normal sized breasts bulging straight out of her chest, an ass to die for, lithe yet muscular, firm and appearing so soft, long, lean legs and a dark bush barely visible on her black skin. 

When they begin to fight, more play than fight, I'm blessed with the sight of these two gorgeous women grabbing, feeling and teasing each other. Danelle going first, she grabs Deela's breast and twists the black nipple. After a squeal, Deela says: "Oh you bitch..." then cups her hand around her friend's bush and squeezes, turning Danelle's knees into jelly. Soon Danelle's hands finds its own way to Deela's crotch and they both stop fighting, each concentrating on pleasing the other. When Danelle backs towards the chair and lays back on it, I barely believe what I'm about to see. 

----When I see her lying down and spreading her legs for me, I can't believe Danelle. But, the thought springing in my head suddenly, I smile and walk to her. With a leg on each side of the chair and my pussy hovering above her face, I lean down and place my head between her opened thighs. Already dizzy with the feeling of her tongue deep inside my pussy, I dive in too, finding her honey pot sweet and burning hot. This is too good!

----Seeing these two girls entwined like this, black and white, is simply overwhelming. While they're both locked and lost in each other, I unzip my cut-offs and begin to pump my aching hard cock. As soon as I do, as if on cue, I see Deela pointing her arm directly at me. Not believing what's happening, I see her curling her finger and asking me to come to them. They knew I was here! From this point on, everything seemed like a dream. But right now I don't care. Getting up, I walk through the bushes and kneel in front of Deela. Still locked between Danelle's legs, she continues to lick her until I clearly see Danelle cum. But apparently Deela's not done yet and when she raises her head and opens her mouth, I can't resist. 

I slide my white meat into her black lips until they reach my hairs. Placed like this, her throat is opened wide for me and I feel it stretching around my cock. With both my hands on her head, I guide my strokes, long pumps into her mouth, meeting her expert tongue every time. The sharp contrast between my white cock and her beautiful black face is arousing and exciting. But only a few delicious seconds later, Deela closes her eyes and stops caressing my cock with her tongue. Letting my cock fall out of her mouth, she raises herself above her friend's head and grinds her pussy against her face. 

For the first time I get to admire her exposed body from close up, and she is beautiful. Proud breasts heaving with her spasms and moans, lean body and nearly invisible black bush against her skin... But as I lean in closer to reach her breasts, my cock collides against Deela's friend's pussy. Her ass resting on the edge of the chair, her legs splayed opened and her pussy still drenched with both her juices and Deela's saliva: I can't resist. As I shaft my cock inside her warm pussy, Deela screams out her climax. 

----My God Danelle's tongue is impossible! And when I see the lucky stranger sliding his cock in Danelle's pussy, she sucked my clit inside her lips quite violently: I hope the neighbors won't call the cops, thinking I'm being raped! She's too good with that tongue: with my clit still locked inside her mouth, she flicks her tongue across it furiously, pleasure and too much sensation mingling into an incredible orgasm. The pleasure is so intense that I barely succeed in keeping my pussy against her mouth!

And the sight of a cock pumping into another girl's pussy is incredibly exciting. Looking up at him, I say, lost in my climax: "Fuck her good, man. Fuck her till you cream her pussy, I want t drink your cum from her puss. " And now, hooking her knees across his elbows, he replaces himself and fucks her for all he's worth, long and powerful strokes, with a dangerously increasing rhythm. As my own climax subsides slowly, I get off Danelle and let them enjoy each other more comfortably. 

----As soon as Deela climbs off, her friend reaches for my ass and pulls me into her more deeply. But instead of simply leaving us fuck, Deela pushes away one of her friend's hands and kneels down beside us. With one hand on my ass, she places the other one on her friend's pussy, teasing her clit. After licking her finger until it shines with saliva, she brings it back and begins to really massage her friend's pussy. And suddenly moans explode. Her pussy clamps down around my cock until it's almost painful, but mere seconds of this pressure pushes me to climax too. And I think I've filled her pussy with more cum than ever before. 

Instead of letting me enjoy the after glow with slow strokes, Deela pushes me away and kneels between her friend's legs. I'm frustrated only for a few seconds because when I see Deela's ass proudly standing up, I realize that my cock is still hard. Maybe that's why she didn't want me to enjoy the other pussy so much? But anyway I kneel behind Deela and guide my cock to her pussy. Now in position, I split her lips apart and push in to the hilt. Finally, as the feelings surge inside me, I get to feel her pussy: she's wonderfully tight and the sensation is unbelievable. 

----And then he begins to fuck me like a madman. His hands locked on my breasts, using them to pull me against him, he rides me like there's no tomorrow. It's been a long time since any guy got to fuck me and even though I don't know anything about him, I must admit he's good. Very good. Maybe it's his simplicity, but as he merely pumps straight in and out of me, at a dizzying rate, he quickly brings me back to a growing climax. And Danelle's pussy tastes great! I had never licked a girl's pussy before today, even less one filled with any guy's cum. The pure wickedness of all this is enough to make my head spin in delight. 

Quickly Danelle explodes yet again in another powerful climax and before long she pushes my face away from her pussy: "It's so sensible it hurts..." And with that she gets up, says something I can't understand and leaves: he's good, so good I can't interpret the simple words Danelle said to me. But I really don't care. When I feel his hands leaving my breasts, I must use mine to hold against his strokes, which are becoming even stronger. I should've guessed: he's on a second climax without loosing his erection. He could be at it for hours...

----I really don't understand why I didn't shoot my cum at least twice now, but I don't bother to answer. Having slid my hands down her back, I begin to fondle and caress her ass. It's not the best position to do so, but I can't resist. Soft, plump and so sexy! But the sight of my shiny cock sliding in and out of her black ass is amazing. I can barely make out the details of her lips, but I surely enjoy the view! A long white rod pumping lewdly into a black pussy between two gorgeous black ass cheeks: it's too much! And suddenly the crowing idea pops up in my head. 

Slowing down my rhythm, I grab my cock and begin to caress her slit and clit with the head. But after a while, I slide it up and up until it slips out of her slit and reaches her asshole. Turning her head around, Deela stays silent for a few seconds and finally says: "You're wild, little white guy, but you have me so worked up that I can't say no..." And with that, I begin to slowly push my way inside her darker hole. Once again the sight is incredible: the purple-red head of my cock trying to slip inside the ass of this beautiful black girl, covered with a glistening sheet of sweat under this burning sun. And when the head pops in, I'm drowned by the feelings. Her muscles contract involuntarily around me, sending surges of pleasures to my brain. And her loud, unusual moan emphasizes the weirdness and lewdness of the situation. 


Black Sun



----When I feel him slipping his head inside my ass, a scream of pain and incredible bliss escapes my mouth. I've done anal sex with some other guys, but never dry and raw like this. They always had condoms and used their fingers to warm and stretch me before entering. But somehow these thoughts never crossed my mind. I want him, and I want him now. At least he keeps his penetration slow. But soon he's too dry to go any further and he doesn't seem to know what to do. "Sink down my pussy a few times and return." And when he does I can't help but to moan and scream like a bitch in heat: anal sex is good and special, but my pussy is so much more sensible. The three or four strokes he gave me nearly pushed me over the edge: guess I won't have to caress my clit during this anal fuck!

Quickly he finds his way back to where his first penetration had led him. And quite soon he's buried inside me to the hilt. Instinctively, he does what I like best: he simply stays deep, rotating his hips without fucking me and enjoying the flexing of my ass. But after a few minutes, I whisper to him: "Just fuck me good..." and that's just what he does.

----When I hear her saying that, I pull out and rush back in, pushing a moan out as I hit her ass with my abdomen. As I begin to fuck her, I feel as if a star of sensation grows in my groin, burning up with rapture. Deela, lost in some sort of moaning-breathing trance, lowers her upper body to the ground. When she turns her head to the side, I see her closed eyes and the emotions painted on her face: her mouth opened, her every breath is laced with a moan. With her ass thrust out like this, she adds even more pressure to the already extraordinary feelings with which she envelops me. Stroke after stroke, I fuck her ass restlessly, feeling my climax approaching slowly. 

Replacing my knees between her legs on the ground, I pull on her hips as I let myself fall back on my feet. She's surprised but the hard impact spreads to her ass pushes out a delighted: "Oh my God!" from her lips. Now sitting straight on my cock, I once again grab her breasts and resume the intense fucking. Now each stroke ends with a violent impact of her ass on my thighs, and I know that, with both her hands on her clit, she won't be long. And neither will I. Keeping a hand firmly locked on her left breast, I slide the other down under her own hands and begin to push her against it. Slowly raising on my knees, I push her ass out with each stroke as she tries to push it back against me, I squeeze her clit, lips and mound in my hand, without forgetting about her puffed out nipple that dances on her fleshy breast underneath. 

----And suddenly we both cum at the same time. I feel him filling my bowels with his cum and I drench his fingers with mine. With my head laid back on his shoulder, I hear him moaning in my ear, as the final thrusts of his ass fuck slowly come to an end. But to my pleasure, even though I feel his cock shrinking inside me, he never stops to caress my clit and pussy, prolonging my climax perhaps tenfold. He's surprisingly good for his young age. After disengaging, I dive in the pool to cool down and he quickly joins me. The sun and wonderful day goes on slowly, allowing us to enjoy each other a few more time. A heavy and long 69 on the grass finished as the sun was setting, and I invited him to sleep with me tonight, sleepover in which we leisurely caressed each other all through the night... Some summer days are hotter than others it seems!

-If you have the time, I'd like some comments. Thanks-



Black Super Cock



The world's oldest sport also happens to be my favorite. Hunting. I simply love it. The thrill of the hunt, the ecstasy of the chase and the primal joy of the kill. I am definitely into it. Who am I? I am a wealthy and powerful Black man, enough said. I've been called many things. From corporate raider to slick businessman to functional sociopath. Just call me Hunter. This story is about one of my most interesting hunts. I've hunted all kinds of game, but this is the biggest game I've ever caught. It was completely unexpected but it did happen. I never regretted it.

I was stalking my favorite hunting grounds, the urban jungle of the college campus, when I noticed some rather interesting prey. A tall Black male and a Black female were standing in a corner, making out. He was touching her and she had her arms wrapped around him. They seemed locked in a passionate embrace. Ever curious about the mating rituals of those who live in my land, I came closer and observed them. The Black male was tall, athletic and appeared to be in his late twenties. The Black female was also tall but curvy, somewhat chubby but still alright, in her mid-twenties. Judging by the furtiveness of the glances they kept casting around them, I guessed that they were not supposed to be doing what they were doing.

I'm looking at them. Judging by the way the Black male was dressed, I guessed that he was a Nursing student. A male nurse, how interesting. The Black female wore a letterman jacket. I'm guessing that she was some sort of athlete. Ah, yes. A female rugby player. How interesting. The jock and the brain were making out. I watched them. Doubtlessly they were whispering sweet words to each other. I smiled and kept walking. I had something else in mind. I noticed someone watching me as I watched them. That person was watching the two lovebirds making out and seemed to enjoy the spectacle as much as I did.

Looking down from above was a plump white female. Blonde-haired, chubby and quite plain, but with shiny eyes. I had seen this specimen around my favorite hunting ground before. I think she was an athlete. What sport did she play? The school had various sports. Men's sports were football, basketball, hockey, soccer, baseball, rugby, wrestling, swimming and track. Women's sports were soccer, basketball, rugby, swimming, volleyball, lacrosse, track, fencing and field hockey. Now I knew where I saw her! She was a member of the women's rugby team as well. What was she doing spying on a teammate during an intimate moment? I did not care. I had identified the potentially weakest link and therefore most interesting element in this ecosystem. Like a true predator, I went after my prey.

The chubby blonde female voyeur had seen me. I looked at her. In a way, she was a predator just like me. I looked directly into her eyes, and communicated my needs. She looked at me, and knew exactly what I wanted. Disbelief shone in her face. I smiled, there's a first time for everything. Moments later, I was entering the women's dorm based on a nonverbal invitation. I climbed up the stairs, and knocked on the first door I saw. Fortunately for me, it was the right door. The inhabitant opened it, and I beheld her. Yes, there she was. The blonde-haired, chubby young woman with a nasty habit of voyeurism, which I also shared. I'd guess her to be around five feet nine inches tall and her weight around three hundred pounds. Yeah, she was a large woman but she had her special appeal. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. I smiled at her. She smiled at me. I came inside.

We didn't waste any time with introductions. This wasn't a date. It wasn't a social call. Just the meeting of two like-minded entities in the urban jungle. The chubby blonde voyeur was a horny and sex-starved woman. I was a sexual adventurer of the highest order. I had something she wanted. She had something I needed. We were totally in agreement. She dropped her nightgown and I dropped my pants. Her eyes widened when she saw what I was packing. A ten-inch long Black super cock with balls the size of apples. She licked her lips. I smiled. Time to bow down to the master. She got on her knees and began sucking on my super cock. I thrust into her mouth, which was wet and warm.

As she sucked me off, I took a look around the place. The dorm room was small. I've been to many dorm rooms on this campus. It's one of my favorite hunting grounds. When I'm in the mood for pussy, I swing by the Student Center to pick up a sexy twenty-something female or an alluring female faculty member, usually an alluring witch. When I'm in the mood for cock, I swing by the jocks dorm to pick up a sexually ambiguous young man and help him explore his budding bisexuality. I simply love the pleasures of the flesh. Life as a bisexual Black man living in America can be quite fun, if you play your cards right.

My anonymous oral performer was sucking my cock and licking my balls like there was no tomorrow. She sucked me until I got hard as steel, then we did the nasty. I spread those plump thighs of hers and gave her pussy a good licking. I fingered her and fucked her snatch with my hands and tongue. She screamed in pleasure as I worked her over. Yeah, I had mad skills! Next, I put on a condom and pulled her on all fours. I spread those plump butt cheeks of hers and pressed my cock against her back door. She told me that she was totally into anal sex. Good thing, since it was my favorite sexual act too.

I entered her anus with a swift thrust. What surprised me is the fact that even though she was a large woman, with a really big butt, her asshole itself was kind of small. I placed my hands on her hips and thrust into her. The big woman did not scream as I began to plunder her anal cavity like a Medieval Conqueror invading the Holy Land. I gripped her hips tighter and began to fuck her harder. I like to get a scream out of a woman when I fuck her in the ass. I don't care how stoic or how strong she thinks she is. Unless she's mute, I will get a scream out of her. I shoved my cock impossibly deep into her ass, and her great body shook. I leaned over and looked at her face. Her eyes widened. Then, a great scream escaped her lips. At last, she screamed for me. Her deafening screams were music to my ears. I loved it so much that I came right then and there, sending my hot cum deep into her ass.

A short while later, I parted from the company of the chubby blonde female voyeur. Like all of my previous prey, she shall remain anonymous. I walked away from the college campus with a spring in my step and a song in my heart. I looked at the city. It was so big. There were millions of people there. Men and women. Blacks and whites. Straights and queers. So many people to approach, assess, seduce and abandon once the deed was done. Ah, life is good. I shall go hunting, and it will be glorious. 



Black Super Couple Rules World



My name is Wendy Beaulieu, and this right here is my story. Life is tough for those who are genetically different from the rest of everyday humanity. It's especially tough for me these days. You see, I'm not exactly like everybody else. And although my background and appearance play a big part in it, they're not the main reason. At six foot three inches and weighing over two hundred and fifty pounds, I'm taller and bigger than most. Add to that the fact that I'm a dark-skinned, heavyset and big-bottomed young Black woman in a world that worships only the likes of skinny, blue-eyed, blonde-haired Caucasian females and you can understand why I have trouble fitting in.

These days, I try to avoid getting anyone's attention. It's not a question of modesty or even shyness. It's a matter of survival. You see, I am a superhuman. Living in a world where all others like myself are to be killed on sight. The United States Government has been hunting superhumans for decades. The police force of all major cities are participating in this nationwide effort. Things are even worse for superhumans in Europe. The public execution of captured superhumans has become a routine matter. For humanity doesn't see superhumans as people. They don't refer to us as he or she. They refer to us as it. We're not people, or even animals to them. We're things that need to be destroyed.

I don't tell anyone that I'm a superhuman. We can't trust anyone these days. The friends and family members of superhumans routinely turn them over to the police for cash rewards. To be a superhuman is to be an abomination in twenty-first century planet Earth. There isn't a single country in the world that hasn't mobilized its military and police personnel to hunt down those born with super powers. Even usually pacifistic Switzerland has joined the global war effort against superhumans. They intend to wipe us out. And unless humanity is stopped, that's exactly what is going to happen. Hundreds of thousands of supermen and superwomen have been executed by the governments of various countries around the world. Our executions are televised and have higher ratings than the Superbowl.

I try to lead as normal a life as possible. I am a Nursing student at Barack Obama University in Boston, Massachusetts. It's the youngest historically black college in the United States of America. I'm originally from Brockton and moved to Boston because I wanted to live on the campus named after my favorite human of all time. U.S. President Barack Obama treated both humans and superhumans fairly during his presidency. He was not a tyrant or a bigot. And the private school that is his namesake has long been a bastion of tolerance and optimism. A place where those who think differently are welcomed.

I moved into the campus in August of 2039. One of twenty six thousand students on campus, fifty two percent of whom were of African-American or Hispanic descent. Like my father, Wendell Beaulieu before me, I tried out for the Barack Obama University Men's Varsity Football team and made it. The school fields one of the most competitive Football teams in the NCAA Division One. People are often surprised by my choices. There are so many other varsity teams on campus. 

They offer Men's Intercollegiate Baseball, Basketball, Cross Country, Soccer, Fencing, Swimming, Football, Wrestling, Golf, Tennis, Ice Hockey, Bowling, Track & Field, Volleyball, Gymnastics, Rodeo, Rugby, Lacrosse, Sailing, Nordic Skiing, Water Polo and Rifle along with Women's Intercollegiate Softball, Basketball, Cross Country, Soccer, Nordic Skiing, Swimming, Field Hockey, Wrestling, Golf, Tennis, Ice Hockey, Bowling, Track & Field, Gymnastics, Rugby, Lacrosse, Equestrian, Fencing, Volleyball, Synchronized Swimming, Water Polo and Rifle. I chose Football because I simply loved it. I played Football in high school and I wanted to play in college. End of story.

Once, a lot of people wished they could be special. Well, I live in a world that's turned against those who are special. In 2009, the first true Superhero revealed himself. Jeremiah Brown III. A six-foot-three, 240-pound black man who worked for the Massachusetts State Troopers. He saved the lives of Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick and United States President Barack Obama when both men were attacked by a group of gun-toting White Supremacists posing as FBI Agents at the Massachusetts State House. That day, Jeremiah was celebrated as a hero. The world finally had a real-life superman and he was African-American! The people simply called him the Black Knight. Jeremiah Brown III could do things most people could only dream of. He could run faster than a NASCAR vehicle. He also could lift twenty times his own weight. And he looked good enough to be a male model. Yeah, the man was perfect. 

Over the next few years, more and more superheroes revealed themselves. There was Nancy Patterson, a tall, red-haired Irishwoman from the city of Atlanta who could fly at Supersonic Speeds. She saved hundreds of lives when an airplane leaving Atlanta for Boston nearly went down. There were many others. Superheroes like Peter Kilpatrick, a skinny Jewish guy from Los Angeles who could generate enough electricity to power up a world-class city. He saved Los Angeles from a terrorist attack. Yeah, the world fell in love with superheroes. They replaced professional athletes and movie stars as the object of public worship. For twenty years, the entire world fell into hero worship. Until Justine Baxter and her lover, Nicolas Smith, came along. Two superhumans who wanted to rule the world.

Justine Baxter, the six-foot-tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed former U.S. Army Captain with the fantastic super powers and ruthlessly brilliant mind. This powerhouse of a woman was dangerous. Not only could she fly at super speed and assume virtually any form, she could also control the minds of both humans and superhumans. Flight. Shape-shifting. Telepathy. She had it all. In 2029, she and a group of extremely powerful superhumans blew up half of New York City and simultaneously seized power in countries like Canada, Mexico, Britain and France. In the months that followed, powerful superhumans also seized power in Japan, China and the Middle East. Tens of thousands of the world's most powerful superhumans faithfully served Justine Baxter and her agenda of world domination. Hundreds of thousands of genetically enhanced human beings joined the cause.

What followed was the battle that started the war. There are a few million superhumans on the planet but about eight billion ordinary humans. Even with our super powers, we were a little outnumbered. I don't know what the others were thinking. Humanity was betrayed by the very same super-powered individuals it trusted for decades. Superheroes were seen as the protectors of mankind. For two decades, they were. They fought against terrorism, global warming and genocide. They fought world hunger, and prevented more disasters than I could count. Then they turned against humanity. And the war of the species began. Human versus superhuman. Man versus superman. It started in 2029. It is now 2039. And the war still rages on.

This happened way before my time. Yet I am made to suffer for it. I don't know why the humans hate my species. Not all of us are super-powered megalomaniacs. I for one want to help people. I don't want to rule the world, or become a participant in some species war. I'm a Nursing student, for crying out loud. Nurses are overworked and underpaid men and women who save your lives when doctors are too busy posturing. Do I sound like someone who's on the path to becoming a tyrannical maniac? Trust me, I'm not. When I walk through the hallways of Barack Obama University, I bear my human classmates no ill will. As long as they don't come after me, we'll all be fine.

It's going to be Valentine's Day in a few days and I sigh, feeling sad just thinking about it. There is this guy I really like. Jamal Stanley, a six-foot-four, 260-pound black stud muffin. Captain of the Barack Obama University Football team. The sexy guy all the females on campus want to get their hands on. He has the body of an Olympic athlete, the face of a Male Model and the brains of an Einstein. I didn't think perfection existed until I met him. He's one of my few friends on campus. We've been hanging out a lot lately ever since he got dumped by his ex, a blonde-haired bimbo named Melissa. We're really good friends, and teammates on top of that. I really like him but he doesn't know. I'm afraid of letting him know because he goes through women like flies go through honey. And I'm not exactly a normal gal and I don't know how he feels about superwomen like myself. I don't want to end up dead because the guy I like hates super people.

One Friday night, we were hanging out with some of our teammates in Copley Square after our victory over Boston College when these thugs robbed the nearby City Bank. I looked on while the police exchanged gunfire with the robbers. Standing beside me, Jamal looked perplexed. He excused himself, and walked away. Moments later, I watched as a tall man clad in black leather and wearing a mask flew into the bank. In less than two minutes he took out the thugs, and flew away. The crowd watched, amazed. I shook my head. I didn't know who the superhero was, but I wish he hadn't done that. Now the police wouldn't stop hunting him until he was dead. Even though he saved the lives of many police officers. Humanity is full of ingrates. That's just the way they are. To my amazement, a few people in the crowd started clapping as the superhero flew away. The people were actually grateful for what he'd done.

I felt very uncomfortable, for obvious reasons. There were too many cops there. The Government's special Tracking Units would be on the scene shortly. I went back to my dorm. I really didn't want to have to move. The sightings of superhumans displaying their powers in a big city usually led to a witch hunt until the poor guy or gal was found and killed. I looked vainly for Jamal, but he was nowhere to be found. I was kind of worried for him so I went by his dorm to check up on him. Just to see if he'd made it home alright. As I waited in the darkness on a bench outside the dorm, what I saw amazed me. Jamal, descending from the sky. Like a bird. Fortunately, the campus was deserted since it's a Friday night, so nobody but me saw him. I gasped in shock. Jamal was the superhero!

I must have gasped pretty loudly, for Jamal turned around. His eyes zeroed in on me. In a flash, he was right in front of me. Moving at super speed. We stood less than a foot apart. Jamal looked me in the eye and asked me if I was going to turn him in. I asked him why he saved these people, since it endangered him. He shrugged, and told me that it was the right thing to do. When I looked in his eyes, I saw grim determination. And a bit of fear. With his jaw set, he told me he didn't care whom I told his secret to. He could be in China in less than ten minutes. I smiled, and shook my head. I calmly told him I wasn't going to turn him in.

Jamal stared hard at me, and asked me why. He told me that humans caught helping superhumans hide in plain sight were to be executed as well. I smiled at Jamal, then laughed as I leapt into the sky. If you could have seen the look on his face, you would have laughed too. I don't think I've ever seen a man look so shocked. A few seconds later, he took off after me. I flew away from the school, into the Boston sky. I noticed Jamal was following me. Good. It had been a while since I flew. Good to see I still got it. I flew faster, wanting to see if Jamal could keep up. He did. I was impressed. I can fly at supersonic speed. Very few fliers can keep up with me.

Jamal and I stood two miles above the city, hidden from sight by the clouds. He stared at me, surprise still filling his handsome face. I grinned, and told him I enjoyed the chase. He shrugged, and said I had mad skills. I took that as a compliment. Suddenly, Jamal was much closer than before. And next thing I knew, he was kissing me. Once I got over the shock factor, I kissed him back. Passionately. My first time kissing a guy in ages. We flew together, smiling and joking as we chased each other in the sky. I had a ton of questions for him, and there was much he wanted to know about me. We had a lot more in common than I previously thought. Both of us came from secretly superhuman families living in plain sight among the hostile humans. I was raised by my father Wendell after my mother died giving birth to me. Jamal grew up the adopted son of Barbara Wilson Brown and Janine Stanley, two super-powered black lesbians living in Plymouth. Damn!

Yeah, we were truly birds of a feather. We flew all night, then returned home. He promised me we'd go flying again tomorrow night. I looked forward to it. After an evening of wonders, Jamal brought me to my door step, kissed me goodnight, then left. What a gentleman! I watched him go. The man was fine, sexy, smart, and a true gentleman. Right after he left, I called my dad. My father Wendell Beaulieu is a veteran fireman of the Boston Fire Department. He's fireproof and can control fire since he's Pyrokinetic. He retired after a distinguished career. 

My father wasn't thrilled that I woke him up so late at night, but I couldn't wait to share the news. The guy I had a crush on since starting college was like me! And he liked me! My dad was mad at me for displaying my powers and taking chances. He told me to be careful with Jamal. I promised him I would be. Then I wished him goodnight, and went to bed. As I lay in bed, I looked at the picture of Jamal which I kept in my dresser. That of my favorite stud coming out of the locker room bare-chested. Hot damn! He's so perfect. I want him bad! And judging by the way he kept checking my big juicy ass as we flew tonight, I know he wants me too. I know I might be getting ahead of myself here but I've already got our brats names picked out. Am I crazy? Maybe, but a gal can dream, can't she? 



Black Superiority....



I just got back from a guy's house. I met him at the grocery store today. He is a tall black man. At about 6'6" and 250 pounds of pure muscle. He makes my 5'5" and skinny 120 pound white ass look very feminine. It is very true. Today he showed me the true role of a white sissy boy like myself.

I was wearing tight jeans and I guess he loved the way my ass looked in them. I have to admit I do have a very fat ass that would make most woman envious. He was very bold and came up behind me and gave it a rough slap. Obviously, I was very startled and got quite mad at him and tried to push him back. He is much bigger than me so I fell back instead. There wasn't that many people in the store at the time but I know a few were watching. He picked me up by my collar and pulled my face right up to his face and whispered in my ear and told me that he was going to fuck my nice little faggot ass today. I tried to resist and break free but he slapped me hard across the face. I was dazed. He told me to shut the fuck up because this is what I really wanted anyway. This time I didn't fight him. Possibly because I didn't want to get beat down, but a bigger part of me believed in what he told me.

He pulled me to my feet and left his cart there in the aisle guiding me out to the parking lot. He showed me to his car and made me get in. He started the car and then unzipped his pants. What he pulled out amazed and excited me. I never have been in this kind of situation before but I knew I didn't want to be anywhere else. I know many people say they have proclaimed to see big cocks before but this thing was otherworldly. It was about ten inches long, but it wasn't the length that amazed me. It was as fat as a baseball bat. I couldn't help myself and my hand reached out to touch it. He moaned lightly and started to reverse. He told me to gag on his fat cock while he drove to his house. He said he lived right around the corner. I was getting really excited now.

My hand couldn't even fit around his cock. I made a fist and it was thicker than that. I lowered my face to this god like cock and placed my lips on the head and gave it a little kiss. My mouth opened and I struggled to fit it in. It barely fit. As soon as I had the tip in he shoved my head down hard and told me gag on it like a good little slut. I instinctively fought but his huge arms kept my throat pumping up and down on his cock. I felt it about halfway to my stomach and it hurt badly, but it made me proud to have that massive thing inside me. He only pumped my throat for a while and quickly came down my throat. I felt it sliding right down my throat and into my stomach. I was happy to have a piece of a true man inside of me. 

Once he pulled it out of my throat, he told me to keep him hard by playing with his dick. I did as I was commanded. Looking at the cock and kissing it as he drove, I felt proud but also ashamed. I had never had a homosexual experience before but I found that it turned me on more than anything I had ever felt with a woman.

He soon pulled into his driveway and I followed him into the house and into his room. Once inside he told me to strip. As I took my pants off I revealed my little three inch dick. He laughed hysterically and I felt my face get red. He told me that I wasn't really a man and that my little clitdick was worthless. He came towards me and put his dick next to mine. Mine was completely hard and his was still soft but the head of his cock was bigger than my whole dick. He grabbed my face and told me once again I was worthless and spit into my mouth. I swallowed it. He threw me down onto the bed. I felt like a total slut and I raised my ass in the air to ready myself for him. He slapped his man meat on my ass a few times and I could feel his dick was hard again. I felt his saliva dripping from his mouth into my asshole. He didn't even bother sticking a finger in to loosen me up first. He just shoved it in.

I literally didn't think that pain could reach those types of levels. It felt like someone was shoving a football in my ass. I pulled away but his huge hands grabbed my tiny hips and he slammed the whole thing into me with one shot. I actually passed out for a few seconds it hurt so bad. When I came to he was long stroking my asshole and I guess my body had relaxed itself from being unconscious because it didn't hurt at all anymore. What I felt was the complete opposite from what I had just experienced. My dick was hard and I was close to orgasm from him fucking me so hard. I reached for my tiny dick and begin to jack off like crazy. He slapped my ass hard and told me to get pleasure from being fucked by a true superior black man. I begged him to fuck me harder. I was just talking I didn't think he could actually fuck me harder than he already was. His pumping became furious. He was madman. A sexy fucking true black superior god fucking me and I was eternally grateful .I reared my head and body upwards. With his hands still on my hips and him pumping away I reached my hand behind his head and turned my head around and he shoved his tounge in my mouth. I was crazed I begin to suck his tounge and his fat lips. I came right there on his bed without even touching my cock. This must have sent him over the edge as well because he pushed all the way inside me and pumped a few more times. I could feel the spurts of his cum flying from his tip and hitting my insides. I came again about ten seconds from when I just came. 

He pulled his cock out and my ass felt agape. I lay there for about a minute and I thought about him fucking me and how empty my ass felt now. I must have been pretty emotional. I started to cry. He must have thought it was because I was ashamed, but I just wanted to feel full again with him inside me. I was truly owned that night. I asked him if he could give me a ride back to my car in the grocery parking lot. He told me to fuck off and walk. He also gave me his number to call him back. We both knew I would. 

This my first homosexual experience and it happened to me earlier today. Since then I have ordered some things from the internet. I got myself some makeup, skirts, panties, dresses, heels, etc. I also decided to grow my hair out very long. I am going to make my transition to being a woman because he showed me that that is what I really am. I called him tonight and told him that I have a wife and that I wanted him to fuck her too and tell her that I am not allowed to fuck her anymore and that she should just give up on me. We both decided on a scenario to have her raped by him and a couple of his friends this weekend. I am excited to look into her eyes as she feels betrayed and full of pleasure as she gets fucked by real men. 

I guess I will have to keep you posted.........



Black Superwoman in Canada



A lot of people seem to think that being a superhero is all fun and games. I shook my head as I sat in my living room, watching a rerun of Smallville on basic cable on a Friday night. What am I doing home on a night like this? I've had enough excitement this week, thank you very much. The name is Yolanda Jean-Claude and I was born in Montreal, Quebec, to Haitian immigrant parents. For as long as I can remember, I've been different. Mind you, I live in a subculture where the stuff of myth is actually everyday reality.

My father, Romulus Jean-Claude is Telekinetic, meaning that he can move objects with his mind. I've seen him move everything from the TV remote to a pickup truck with the power of his mind. My mother, Aline Jean-Claude can move at incredible speeds. We're talking about above and beyond the speed of sound here. Yeah, my mom and dad are super-humans and yet they're somehow content with their everyday lives as firefighter and schoolteacher, respectively. Not me, I want more out of life. On the surface, I seem like your normal everyday gal. I'm nineteen, about five-foot-eight, slim but curvy where it counts, with skin the color of a Hershey bar and short, curly Black hair. I work as a cashier at the mall and study biochemistry at McGill University. 

On Sundays I attend mass at Saint Therese Cathedral, the predominantly Haitian catholic church on the west end of Montreal. I'm seeing a guy named Miguel Suleiman, his father is Lebanese Christian and his mother is an Afro-Caribbean woman from Cuba. He's taking civil engineering at McGill. Half Black and half Arab, that makes for the hottest combo I've ever seen, even in a racially diverse town like Montreal. Miguel is tall, dark and handsome, and he's really good to me. He knows that my family and I are different and he's okay with it. He's one of us too. Miguel has the ability to turn into a large bipedal wolf-like creature. My boo is a werewolf, how about that? What can I say? I like guys with a lot of chest hair. 

I've got a great family, I attend a great school and I'm seeing a great guy. So why do I feel unsatisfied and unfulfilled? The world is a complicated place in this day and age, but then again some might say it's always been that way. For thousands of years, people with special abilities have existed among the normal human population. They're behind the tales of angels and demons, werewolves and vampires, witches and wizards, giants and monsters. Telepaths, Telekinetics, Teleporters, strong-men, pyrokinetics, shape-shifters and the like. Super-humans are all around you. The people you read about in comic books or saw in summer blockbusters are real. The world found out about us in 2017 and they didn't react too well. The world has never been fond of what it doesn't understand. 

The superhuman community has been driven underground thanks to a fearful human populace. Nowadays, if the police find out you've got super powers, they come and arrest you. They tag you and then if you're lucky they release you. You will be watched by the government for the rest of your life. If you use your powers in public after they've tagged you, you're considered a threat to society and you will be arrested and hauled away to one of many secret prisons for superhuman men and women who've broken the law. That's how it is for super-humans living in North America. For once, the governments of Canada and America agree on something. They feel that the superhuman community is a threat to mankind's continued dominance of this planet and they're containing the threat. The rest of the world isn't exactly fond of superhuman beings but they haven't mobilized their military and police forces against us the way the U.S. and Canada have.

My parents and I live out our ordinary lives in Montreal, forever careful not to attract attention to ourselves. You hear all the time about some superman losing his temper or getting exposed to the police by friends or family members. In spite of our fantastic powers, there's very little we can do when it feels like the entire world is against us. One out of five hundred people is born a superhuman. Most super-humans can only do one thing. My dad moves objects with his mind and my mom runs faster than the speed of sound. We never use our powers in public and we're exceptionally discrete. The world prefers things this way. They don't want to know there are super-powered human beings living next door to them. Yeah, the world is what it is and I can't stand it. Sometimes I wonder what life was like in the earlier times. Back when humans thought that superheroes only existed in comic books. 

Before the world discovered our existence and hated us on sight. What would it have been like to live in those days before our kind was persecuted? I barely watch TV anymore. All the things I see disturb me a great deal. A Somali gal in Ottawa, Ontario, used her Pyrokinetic ability against a would-be rapist and got arrested by the super-human apprehension division of the RCMP. Arrested for defending herself against a rapist! Does that sound fair to you? A young man in the town of Bago, Myanmar, was killed by a mob after it was revealed that he could control animals. He freed some animals from a lab and the local government wasn't impressed. The authorities in Myanmar did nothing as the mob tore him limb from limb.

I was sitting in the library, checking the news on my phone and growing more and more pissed off by what I saw. It seems that around the world my kind were being picked out and either arrested and imprisoned or killed on sight. The incidents in Ontario and Myanmar weren't the only superhuman-related events on the news that day. CNN reported a young mixed-race woman, Adina Hauser, on trial for witchcraft in Johannesburg, South Africa. Apparently, her identity as a superhuman was revealed when she used her ability to heal some people at a hospital. Her Zulu relatives turned her over to the authorities, fearing that she might be a witch.

Yeah, everywhere I turn I see my people suffering. My parents and their friends would have me keep my head down and pretend to lead a normal life while our kind are picked out and destroyed. The humans are doing what they've always done, destroying those who are different from themselves. As Christians and Jews are persecuted in mostly Muslim countries in the Arab world and beyond, as the Jews were rounded up in Nazi Germany, as Asian-Americans were incarcerated in special camps during World War II, super-humans are the chosen victims of this day and age. I refuse to go out like that. And I've decided to do something about it. Time to show the world what I can do...

Over the next few months, things went so bad around the world that some people have honestly started believing that the Apocalypse, the End of Days mentioned in the Torah, the Bible and the Koran is upon us. Hmmm. I mean, a tidal wave destroyed half of Tokyo, killing eleven thousand people in the Japanese Capital. A week later, an earthquake literally tore apart the metropolis of Melbourne, Australia. Sixty six thousand people died. As the European Union and North America rushed to help their brethren in Australia, fire literally fell from the skies above Calgary, Alberta, and Milwaukee, Wisconsin. An estimated three million people died as both cities burned to a crisp within minutes. Experts around the world argued endlessly on TV, some blamed it all on natural disasters, others thought the planet was dishing out its revenge on mankind for abusing the ecosystem for centuries. A few even blamed aliens from outer space. Surprisingly, no one blamed the superhuman population. 

The only people on the planet who suspected anything were fellow members of the superhuman community. Some feared, and with good reason, that the terrible things happening around the world had less to do with Mother Nature gone amok than they did with one of us. I know that while many super-humans rejoice as the places in the world most hostile to our kind were destroyed, a few actually sympathize with the humans. Just like in the days of slavery many slaves refused to turn on their White owners even as fellow slaves either revolted or ran away, lots of super-humans actually like the status quo. They don't mind living as second-class citizens in a world that should be theirs to rule. Oh, well. What can I say? Some of us are born stupid and having super powers just can't fix that. 

I sit at the dinner table with my family and my boyfriend, and they're watching the TV set, actually bitching and moaning as they watch humans die, around the world. My dad rubs his chin and murmurs that one of us could have been responsible but most of us only have one power. So unless a team of Alpha-level super-humans got together to wage war on humanity, none of the stuff we saw on TV could be laid at our feet. Mom just shakes her head, tears welling up in her eyes as CNN announces that the death roll keeps rising. Miguel drinks his Coke Zero, looking drained. He flashes me a brave smile before going back to staring at the TV. I sit there, my expression carefully neutral as I eat some teriyaki and egg rolls with my potato chips and wash it all down with some Pepsi. 

In this family, everyone's got their special gifts. Mine is psycho-materialization. Basically it means that I imagine things and through sheer strength of will, I make them real. My 'creations' only last for six minutes. I've made money appear before, along with winged piglets and a gun made out of chocolate. My parents thought my power was cute and relatively harmless, since my illusions are only real for a limited time. I don't display my power much, for obvious reasons. The last time I showed them what I could do, I was still in high school. I've gotten MUCH better since then and I never told anyone. Some secrets are best kept to oneself, after all. The authorities around the world are scrambling for a proper response to these widespread disasters. Like the idiots that they are, they're not very good at connecting the dots. Each event lasted six minutes. The quakes, the floods, the fire in the sky. Since when does Mother Nature work on a time table? Tsk. Oh, well. Tomorrow, I'm wiping a certain European town off the map. Every place that persecutes my people will be destroyed. No hesitation. No mercy. The human race has declared war on us super-humans. Well, I declare war on them. No videos online, no ads in the paper, no list of demands, no mantra. Just decisive thought translated into action by the most capacious and powerful brain in the Cosmos. Mine. Fight evil with evil, I say. 

With those thoughts in mind, I went and kissed my parents goodnight. It was close to midnight. I walked Miguel out, gave him a peck on the lips and wished him goodnight. I watched him drive off into the night, then whisked myself away to Heidelberg, southwestern Germany. I can't just make things appear and disappear, you know. My body is an object after all and making it appear in Germany for six minutes wasn't hard. Besides, that's all the time I needed. With a thought, I sent a command at the molecular level to everything metallic and electronic in the German metropolis. Immediately they began breaking down. Six minutes later, the effect stopped. Only then was I able to whisk myself back to Montreal, Quebec. I can only do one thing at a time with my power. When I walked back to my room, I saw my mom coming out of the washroom. She looked at me with concern on her face and asked me where I'd been. Just went to get some air, I told her with a smile. Mom hugged me tightly and told me to be careful out there. Gently touching her shoulders, I told her I'm always careful. Then I went to bed with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. 



Black Superwoman with Strapon



Right now my husband Mario LaRue is screaming like a madman. And I'm the reason why this big and tall Black man is howling like a little bitch. You see, I've got a twelve-inch strap-on dildo buried deep inside his well-lubricated asshole. I call it the Ass Stretcher. And once I fuck you with it, you'll never be the same. The name is Malika Jean-Renaud and I am a Housewife slash Professional Dominatrix of Haitian descent living in the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, short-haired and kind of curvy and big-bottomed, with glistening dark brown skin. I am a self-styled Man Breaker. And a Woman Breaker too. With my strap-on dildo, my whip and my mean words, I can work wonders. 

I am quite good at what I do, folks. That's why I do it professionally. Every human being has a breaking point. Male or female, Black or White, straight or gay. There are really no exceptions. Myself I was broken and remade by the Master and Mistress who first taught me. Every dominant Master or Mistress worthy of the name starts out as a Submissive. That's the only way you can learn. And then you become stronger, you overcome your limitations and you become a controller instead of the controlled. Along the way you learn that Submission is a Gift given and not something which can be taken. 

You see, all the things that I'm doing to Mario here, I'm doing with his consent. That's why he's face down and ass up on the living room carpet. He wants to be. Just last week, I had tons of fun with a rich White woman from the Republic of South Africa, Sandra Vollmer. This tall, forty-something, blonde-haired and green-eyed lesbian had a thing for bossy Black women. 

Yeah, you read right. And Black women don't get any bossier than me. So I happily made her dreams come true. I tied her up, and proceeded to beat her within an inch of her life with my thick Black leather whip. I didn't spare any part of her body. Her face, her breasts, her back, her legs and her ass. Oh, and her hairy cunt too. All felt the wrath of my whip. And then I made her suck my strap-on dildo before fucking her pussy and asshole with it. And afterwards, she thanked me for a wonderful time and I found myself eleven hundred dollars richer.

You might be surprised by all of this. Truly, don't be. Seriously. People are rarely what they appear to be. I've met wealthy female executives who enjoy being dominated by both men and women. And I've met waiters and male nurses who are actually the most dominant of men in the bedroom. Guys who get bossed around all day are bossier in bed. And women in power positions love to get dominated. Lots of queer White women get off on being sexually dominated by women of color. Just call it an interracial power exchange, queer style. Whatever. People have all kinds of sexual needs, fantasies and kinks. What they're into will almost always surprise you if you're Vanilla. A seasoned BDSM Practitioner like myself has learned to expect the unexpected.

Yeah, I have lots of fun these days. Both in my personal life and my professional life. A lot of people think the life of a housewife is boring. Well, I am not your ordinary housewife. I hold a bachelor's degree in business from the University of Ottawa. And I'm going back to school to earn my MBA in a few months. My husband Mario is a Constable with the Toronto Police Service. We met while I was visiting my older brother James Blanco at York University. 

Mario and I are birds of a feather. He's Bisexual, like me. Since we live in a prejudiced world where queer women are thought of as hot but Gay and Bisexual men are loathed, Mario keeps his Bisexuality to himself. I'm more than okay with him being Bisexual. I encouraged him to experiment, albeit safely ( condoms, always) and discreetly. He's had a few male encounters with my consent since we got married, and we're both happy with this arrangement.

Life is fun when you know who you are and what you want. My sweet Mario wasn't into BDSM when we met but I've since introduced him to the wonders of BDSM. Make that Black on Black BDSM. Our way is more fun and more intense. I opened up a whole new world for him. And now he can't get enough. That's why he came to me this fine Saturday night hoping I was in the mood for some fun. Truth be told, I wasn't in the mood for any BDSM. However, I just can't resist a sexy Black man who begs. 

Mario knew exactly how to push my buttons and before I knew it, I was taking my tools out of my erotica drawer for some wicked evening delights. Once we got going, I found myself really thankful that he wanted to play. I was a bit horny and this is exactly what I needed, whether I realized it or not. Earlier, Mario had fucked me so thoroughly he left me sore. Well, make that pleasurably sore. Oh, yeah. 

My man knew how to lay pipe. He came to me while I was in the bathroom. Without a word being spoken, he unzipped his pants, freeing his nine-inch, uncircumcised dick. My dick. I licked my lips and grabbed his cock. Then I began sucking him off. I fondled his hairy balls while sucking him off. I sucked Mario until he came, then I drank his cum. I love the taste of his cum. Tastier, saltier and stronger than other men I had been with.

Once I sucked the last drop of his cum, a very horny Mario took me roughly. He just propped me against the wall and slammed his dick into my pussy. He fucked me like he was paying for it, suckling at my tits and even biting me while thrusting into me with all of his might. I wrapped my legs around him, welcoming him inside of me. I love rough sex. The nonstop action continued with him bending me over the kitchen counter and using olive oil on my ass. 

Mario likes the rough stuff. He spanked my butt and even smeared some oil between my cheeks. I grinned, knowing what he wanted. I spread my ass cheeks for him. Mario rubbed his cock against my backdoor, then pushed it inside. And just like that, he began fucking me in the ass. I took a deep breath as he worked his cock into my ass. I like anal sex, both giving and receiving. However, it's got to be done right. Mario's got a big dick and when it's in my ass, he's got to follow my directions. Otherwise we're going to have problems.

Mario and I established a nice, easy rhythm as he fucked my ass. I loved the feel of his dick in my ass. Stretching my asshole nice and easy. My man was very patient and we had plenty of lubricant. I fingered my wet pussy as he slammed his cock in my ass. Working me over like that, he actually made me cum. By shooting his cum deep inside of me. Now, I have cum many times before while getting sexed by my husband but an orgasm triggered during anal sex was a rare occurrence. Yep. All of a sudden it was my turn to scream like a madwoman. And I loved it! All that happened hours ago, before Mario begged me to drill him with my strap-on dildo. Since he had been so nice to me earlier, taking care of all my needs, I couldn't refuse him.

And that's how we ended up here. With him face down and ass up on the carpet and me kneeling behind him. I hold his hips tightly while slamming the dildo up his ass. Mario strokes his cock while I fuck him. I slam my dildo even deeper into his ass. I want him to really feel it. The way I felt it hours earlier when he fucked me like anal sex was going out of style. To add insult to proverbial injury, I did to him what he did to me. I pressed a special button on my mechanized strap-on dildo and unleashed a torrent of hot, artificial cum deep inside Mario's ass.

Mario screamed like he was about to die or something. I laughed and smacked his ass while riding him. His body trembled and he collapsed on the floor. I held him tenderly, while keeping my strap-on dildo inside of him. He was panting and sweating profusely. I kissed him gently. He moaned his thanks. I smiled. Victory was mine. No question about it, I am the Boss. In every damn way you can think of. You heard it here first.

Hours later, Mario and I were still glowing from the awesome sexual escapades we've been having ever since our sons Jeremy and Henry came home from College and went to visit my parents in the City of Boston, Massachusetts. We've got the house entirely to ourselves for the first time in ages and we've done it over practically every inch of our real estate. Hey, we're trying to make up for lost time, you know? When you're in a relationship that matters to you, you had damn well better keep the home fires burning. And that's exactly what Mario and I are doing these days. We're very happy together.



Black Superwoman's Planet



My name is Beatrice Harold. A five-foot-ten, brown-skinned, black-haired and pleasantly voluptuous ( and big-bottomed ) young Haitian-American woman living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. Anyone looking at me would see an ordinary gal. A sweet-faced young lady with a permanently dreamy expression. I've been told my light brown eyes are naturally sleepy-looking. People make plenty of assumptions about me when we first meet. And they're wrong most of the time. You see, I'm far from ordinary. I've got super powers. I'm the vigilante known as the Avenging Angel. I fight crime. And I take no shit from anybody. That's how I roll.

It's hard to believe that I was just an ordinary chemistry student at UMass-Boston at the beginning of this year. A recent graduate of Brockton Community High School, I looked forward to starting my college career in my favorite town. Plenty of my Haitian, Jamaican, African-American, Cape Verdean and Hispanic friends from Brockton Community High School were attending Boston-area private schools like Bay State College, Gibbs College, Berklee College of Music and Emerson College. I chose UMass-Boston because of its large concentration of Black, Asian and Hispanic students. I like racial and ethnic diversity in American academia, thank you very much. If I wanted to go to a lily-white school, I would have gone to the University of Maine, which accepted me but I declined their offer.

I was working in the chemistry lab when I got zapped by this incredibly piece of machinery known as the Atom Scrambler. Basically, it scrambles your atoms in unpredictable ways. I was exposed to it purely by accident. It was supposed to kill me but instead, it changed me. I wouldn't realize it until a week later, though. Somehow, the Scrambler gave me the strength of ten to fifteen men, inhuman stamina and an accelerated healing ability. I was besides myself as these extraordinary powers became a part of my daily life. I saw the potential for greatness, and the danger as well. In the movies and comic books, every super-hero or super-heroine must prove themselves by taking on the forces of evil and battling injustice in a world gone mad.

I never thought anything like this would happen to me, though. I live in a pretty mundane world. My father, Bertrand Harold is a police officer in our hometown and my mother, Christine Joseph Harold is a Professor of Sociology at Boston University. My older brother Jerome attends a famous military school, the Massachusetts Maritime Academy. We're a pretty normal family. We live in a nice two-story house in Brockton's West Side, not too far from the high school. I considered myself a pretty average gal. I've got a talent for chemistry. It's been an area of interest for me ever since my junior high days. Lots of people don't know what they want to do when they start college. For me, there never was any doubt. I wanted to be the first Haitian-American female to win the Nobel Prize in Chemistry. That's one of my goals. I didn't want to become a superhero or fight crime. I'm a pretty realistic and down-to-earth person, not one of those lofty dreamers you meet from time to time. I'm as realistic and grounded as they come. That's the kind of person my family raised me to be.

So when my abilities first manifested themselves, I sought out to find out as much about them as I could. I measured my blood pressure, body temperature, height and weight. I tested my blood for anomalies. And you know what? Everything registered as normal. That's the unsettling find. I was still the five-foot-ten, 230-pound, brown-skinned and dreamy-eyed Haitian chick I've always been. The boldest thing I've done in my life was trying out for the men's wrestling team at my old school. My parents didn't approve but they reluctantly signed the papers allowing me to compete. I was one of three females on the high school wrestling team. Wrestling was grueling, but wickedly fun at times. I lasted for one season, and it was okay. I won fifty six percent of my matches, which isn't bad for a first-year wrestler. I gave up athletics to focus on my schoolwork when my GPA slipped nearly one point due to my obsession with coed varsity wrestling. I wanted to get into a good school so I couldn't let my love of wrestling interfere with my dedication to academia. So I quit wrestling and once more became the Queen of the Nerds on campus.

Those days are vivid in my memory but they seem like a lifetime ago, considering all that's happened in my life. I tried to lead as normal a life as I could under the circumstances. I didn't get the urge to wear a brightly colored costume and fight crime in the streets of Brockton and Boston. I had much more important things going on. There were some talented young people at UMass-Boston's Chemistry Department. And I was one of them. My only rivals were this short, nerdy Asian chick named Lynn Chang and this tall and almost ridiculously good-looking and unfortunately openly gay Hispanic guy named Hector Chavez. Hector and I were friendly but Lynn hated my guts with a fiery passion. I really didn't like that chick! 

I didn't make many friends at UMass-Boston. Most of the students were interested in the social scene. During the weekends, they went to sporting events or night clubs. Me? I was always in the lab, tirelessly working. There are a lot of smart people at Boston-area colleges and universities. Schools like Boston College, Suffolk University and Tufts University along with Northeastern University are cranking out talented graduates who rival the blue-blooded rich brats who attend Harvard and MIT when it comes to readiness for the working world. The University of Massachusetts in Boston was a respectable institution, but I had a lot of competition. I couldn't afford to relax, or slack off. Seriously. I had too much to lose.

I'm a scientific person through and true but sometimes, I think I'm starting to believe there's a higher power guiding our lives and actions. How else would you explain how I was plunged into the world of crime fighting? I was hanging out downtown with Hector and his buddy Manny Lassiter, a good-looking Black guy who was also hopelessly queer. I loved hanging out with these two. They were charming, friendly and funny. Definitely the kind of company I needed since I'd fallen into a funk recently. I was really bored and borderline depressed. Too much time spent in the lab, I guess. Manny Lassiter ran Track for Northeastern University. He was that rare openly gay African-American student-athlete you seldom hear about. I liked him. He and Hector were just friends, he assured me. When I wondered aloud how come two good-looking and openly gay college men chose to be just friends rather than boyfriends, they told me they'd known each other for ages. Ever since their days at Boston College High School. Wow. That's a long friendship! 

Watching Hector and Manny, I found myself envious. There were times when I felt really lonely in the big city. I had the unconditional love and support of my family but I lacked friends among my peer group. And I haven't had a serious boyfriend since the beginning of my last year at Brockton Community High School. My last boyfriend was this tall, good-looking Black guy named Achilles Jean Pierre. A.J. to his friends. He played football for the high school and would eventually sign a letter of intent to play for the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. He was the big man on campus. Tall, good-looking, smart and athletic. The kind of guy all the females wanted, and I was no exception. I've never been lucky with guys and I'm quite shy around the ones I liked. Imagine my surprise when A.J. asked to be introduced to me at a party where I hung out with my old wrestling teammates. I was stunned, and thrilled. A.J. and I looked into each other's eyes, and it was love at first sight. From that day, we were inseparable. 

A.J. and I had a whirlwind romance. My parents were thrilled to see me interested in a guy. Especially a good-looking, smart young Black man like A.J. He was a fellow Haitian, and as it turns out, we even went to the same Haitian Catholic church in Brockton's West Side. How about that? Yeah, I loved A.J. And he loved me. Once, we were attacked by a gun-toting mugger in George Keith Park in Brockton. And A.J. didn't back down, though I begged him to just hand the guy the money we had and leave it at that. A.J. fearlessly grappled with the mugger and eventually knocked the guy out. He was my hero! We even went to the Prom together. I lost my virginity to him. He asked me to come to UMass-Amherst with him. I really wish I could have gone there, just to be with him, but UMass-Boston was offering me an academic scholarship. I couldn't afford to go to a big school like UMass-Amherst. It was too expensive, and financial aid wasn't guaranteed. A.J. was really disappointed that I didn't follow him to UMass-Amherst. I think that's what broke us up. To this day, I regret it, but what could I do? 

All those thoughts were running through my head as I walked through the city with Hector and Manny, my new friends. Imagine my surprise when we were approached by six or seven people, all of them white and in their early twenties, at the park. They smiled nastily and circled us. I counted six males and three females. All of them were pale, and unfriendly. They asked us where we were going. Hector told them to mind their fucking business. They laughed. Then one of them, a blonde white chick, produced a pistol. She called Hector a motherfucking spic and told him to shut the fuck up. I heard the others call her Marilyn. I stared hard at her, as did Hector and Manny.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I lived in a state where a Black man was recently elected Governor. In a year that saw the election of a Black man to the Office of the President of the United States, racist white women and racist white men were making a comeback as well. Deep down in my heart, I always knew plenty of white people were racist, no matter how much they claimed to be open-minded. And the proof was right in front of me. Seven wholesome, well-dressed young white men and young white women were holding me and my friends at gunpoint simply because we were minorities in the big city. Some naïve Black people think it's only down South that white people are racist. How foolish. I always knew blue-blooded New Englanders were just as vicious as the Southerners, they were just more discreet about it.

I looked at Marilyn and her entourage of Ku Klux Klan wannabes. She was going on and on about how Boston was being lost to racial minorities and immigrants. No longer was it the paradise of the Irish and the Italians. There was something angry and sad in those blue eyes of hers. I did the last thing she and her friends expected. I smiled, and told them their time had come to an end. They smirked, and told me to shut up. I continued anyway. I told them that in the very near future, Blacks and Latinos along with Asians would become the racial and ethnic dominant groups in the United States of America. They were the most fruitful populations, reproducing at a much faster rate than whites. And many Black, Asian and Hispanic students were attending traditionally white colleges, and later many of them would buy houses for their families in white neighborhoods, slowly forcing out those who once made them feel unwelcome. That's what happened in Brockton, you know. In 2000, Brockton was sixty one percent white. In 2009, it's only forty eight percent white. Progress! Looking Marilyn in the eye, I told her that the time of the WASPs had come to an end. America now belonged to those who were Black, brown and yellow. Or a blend of all three. It wasn't the undisputed kingdom of minority-hating Euro-trash.

Marilyn screeched angrily and told me that me and all others like me were responsible for the world's overpopulation problem, but she would rectify that. She was about to reduce the country's minority population by a small percentage. Not enough to make a dent on things, but enough to satisfy her. Man, this chick was getting really worked up. Her friends shouted at her to kill me, and finish us off. Standing behind me, I could hear Hector and Manny as they pleaded with our enemies to let them go. I noticed Marilyn's hand fidgeting on the trigger, and made my move. Moving faster than anything human, I snatched the pistol from her and threw her into her friends. Two of them, a pair of burly white males, fell as she crashed into them. The remaining four turned on me, but froze when they noticed the gun was now in my hand. That made them change their tune.

I smiled, loving the look of shock on their pale faces. They weren't laughing now, were they? Instead, they held their hands up in surrender, their bravado gone. I knew what I looked like to them. An angry Black woman. The most fearless entity in the universe. I saw their fear, and to be honest, I savored it. A while ago, I read something alarming in the paper. Something which shocked my community. A racist white guy named Keith Luke went on a rampage in Brockton, shooting several people. All of them were non-white, his sworn enemies, according to his twisted world view. Although many white people from Brockton appeared to reach out to us so-called minorities in the aftermath of the incident, I didn't trust them. Honestly. I think a lot of white men and white women share Keith Luke's racist views and would gladly exterminate non-whites if they could. I don't trust any of them. I don't care how progressive and open-minded they claim to be. And just like that, my finger began to squeeze the trigger.

The racist brats eyes widened, and they begged for their lives. I thought about Keith Luke and what he'd done. Had his victims pleaded for their lives? Did he show them any mercy? I gritted my teeth, bracing myself to do what I knew had to be done. Evil must be shown no mercy. Suddenly, a hand touched my arm. I whirled around, and found myself looking into Hector's warm brown eyes. The Hispanic stud told me to give him the gun, telling me these racist WASPs with Nazi leanings weren't worth it. I looked at Hector, considering his words. Manny joined him, and they told me we'd best walk away, that we were better than these racist white brats. 

Marilyn was now standing with the help of her friends, and she begged me not to kill her. I looked at Manny and Hector then nodded. I told Marilyn I wasn't going to kill her. The blonde-haired white chick breathe d a sigh of relief. She was still sighing when I shot her in the leg. Twice. She fell, and her howls filled the park. Instead of helping her, her friends took off. I knelt beside her, and told her that if she told anyone what happened, I'd shoot her and any Aryan bastard or bitch who got in my way. Fearfully, she nodded. I looked at Hector and Manny, savoring the stunned looks on their handsome faces. I told them we could go now. And just like that, we were gone.

That night, when we returned home, Manny and Hector were not exactly pleased with me. However, they commanded me for stepping up to that racist white chick and her cronies, those neo-Nazi rejects. They promised not to the police, as long as I got rid of the gun. I dropped it in the Charles River. I'm glad Manny and Hector didn't report the racist incident to the cops. Can you honestly imagine a Boston Police officer paying attention to a bunch of minority students attacked by a bunch of racist white brats? Probably not. Like I said, they stick together in this town. Even in 2009. White cops can't be trusted to honestly investigate hate crimes against minorities when it's a white person or persons who are guilty. I know you probably want to believe the world has progressed further than that but I don't believe in the goodness of people. I've seen too many racist, homophobic and misanthropic bastards and bitches in my time to trust people. Hatred is here to stay.

That night, as I lay on my bed, I found myself feeling really good. I kept replaying the scenes in my mind. Standing up to that gun-toting racist white chick took major balls. Hector and Manny were there and didn't even do nothing. I guess sometimes the best man for the job is a woman. I remembered my strength and how it came out of nowhere during that decisive moment. I found myself more curious about my powers than ever. Manny and Hector dismissed my prowess as adrenaline-fueled and I kind of let them believe that. I decided that from that moment on, I would develop my abilities on my own. I wanted to see what I was made of.

Over the next few weeks, I trained hard. I went to the gym three times a week, and put myself through a grueling exercise regimen. My goal wasn't merely fitness. It was to develop my endurance and confidence. I went to Brown's Gym, a family-owned gym near Mattapan. There were lots of hot guys working out in there. I saw a dozen or so Black and Hispanic hunks on my first day. Watching some gorgeous, half-naked men working out turned me like you would not believe. I had the time of my life at Brown's Gym. The older, Armand Brown, was a tall, burly Black man in his mid-forties. Very friendly guy, but married with offspring. He put me in touch with his niece Kendra Jackson, a curvy, dark-skinned sister from Atlanta who became my workout partner. 

While working out, it was hard for me not to display my superhuman strength. Pretending to struggle to lift 300-pound weights on the bench press was taxing my patience. The only upside was that whenever Kendra was away, this really cute Puerto Rican guy named Diego would come by and offer to spot me. He flirted with half the chicks at the gym but I didn't mind. Shoot, he's just about the only heterosexual male paying attention to me these days. The guys at UMass-Boston are either dating ditzy women or busy with other stuff. Brainy gals like me seemed to intimidate some of them. Sad but true.

Slowly, I built myself up. My body acquired some toning, and I was finally starting to look as strong as I felt. I loved it. During the day, I went to class. When night came, I was either in the lab working or patrolling the city. Boston was a world-class city. Filled with everything you can think of. That also includes serial killers, rapists, sociopaths, pyromaniacs, skinheads, neo-Nazis and the like. All of them were a threat to decent, hard-working and law-abiding people. I decided to prey on those who preyed on the weak.

I went looking for them, and I didn't have to look very far. In the South End, several young men had gone missing. Many of them were young Hispanic or African-American men. Handsome athletes from the city's top colleges and universities. For some reason, the police didn't find that strange at all. I did some investigating, and found out that many of these young men frequented a certain nightclub. Axis Nights. Something which also eluded the police. I went there, and checked it out. If you want to catch the hunter, you've got to first find the prey. I found the prey alright. 

Axis Nights was the favorite hangout of many young Black and Hispanic men from Boston College's athletic teams. And none of them were louder than Jamal Williamson and Keith Hernandez, captains of the Boston College football and men's basketball teams, respectively. These guys knew how to party. According to ESPN, they were sure to be in the NFL and NBA Drafts this year. You know what that means. These two studs were going to have to fight off the gold diggers. It seems every chick at Axis Nights wanted a piece of them. All except one. A tall, stunning, blonde-haired and green-eyed young woman who was dressed to the nines in a bright red dress. She eyed the jocks and their entourage coolly while drinking at the bar. What a model of self-restraint. I found her puzzling, as did Jamal and Keith. They invited her to join them, and she oh-so reluctantly agreed. I don't know if it was her demeanor or that coldness in her gaze that tipped me off, but somehow I knew that this dame was the predator I'd been looking for.




Black Superwoman's Planet



Makes sense, though, now that I think about it. Black or Hispanic college and professional sportsmen are drawn to blonde-haired white chicks like moths to the proverbial flame. It doesn't matter how many minority college and professional athletes go down for romancing the wrong white woman, they just keep coming back for more. Do men ever learn? Looks like I'm going to have to save these bozos from her. I observed the blonde woman as she slowly worked her way toward Keith and Jamal. Watching her working them was truly fascinating. Somehow, she got rid of all the chicks who wanted to party with our soon-to-be professional athletes and talked Keith and Jamal into going upstairs with her. Something about a threesome. And you know what? They fell for it hook, line and sinker. I followed them discreetly as they went into a private room in the club's VIP lounge. If my suspicions were right, Keith and Jamal wouldn't live long enough to enter the NBA and NFL Drafts. That blonde woman was a stone-cold killer. 

I watched them enter the room together. I waited in the hall, pondering my next move. I had to act fast. If I didn't, Keith and Jamal would be dead. I was sure of it. I'm really not fond of obnoxious jocks who think they're all that but they didn't deserve to get killed by some man-hating Aryan bitch from hell. I took a deep breath, then slammed my shoulder into the door. It crashed with a shriek, followed by a thud. It took me a moment to realize what was happening. Keith and Jamal were standing with their backs against the wall. Standing before them, gun in hand, was the frosty blonde from earlier. She stared at me coldly. Damn. What's with these racist blonde bimbos and pointing guns at this sister? Looking me in the eye, she asked me who I was. Keith and Jamal stared at me, asking me for help. I almost rolled my eyes. I keep having to rescue ill-fated men from evil women. I don't mind, but still, it gets taxing, you know? Where have all the tough men gone? Maybe we should outsource a few strong men, from places where masculine men still existed, like Haiti, or South America.

I appraised the situation, and realized then that I wouldn't be able to rush, disarm and tackle this woman the way I took out Marilyn and her band of racist white brats at the park. This woman was no amateur. She'd done this before. I could tell by her cold gaze, her stance, and the silencer on her pistol. Without even blinking, she shot me. Twice. I was hurled back by the impact. I fell, and lay still. I didn't move, though I felt great pain in my chest and belly. The woman stood over me, and nudged me with her foot. I didn't move. Satisfied that I was dead, she turned her attention to the terrified jocks cowering before her.

I could feel my body working quickly to fix the damage it had sustained. I knew I healed quickly, but I hadn't known how my body would react to being shot twice at close range. Amazingly, after a few moments, I felt fine. I could hear the woman talking. She ordered Keith and Jamal to get on their knees, and beg for their lives. Damn, I knew I was right about her all along. Yet another racist, man-hating white chick on a power trip. Their favorite prey? Ordinary men for the most part, along with racial and ethnic minorities. I knew there were a lot of them out there, but in Boston they all seemed to have guns. Oh, well. I'd just have to take them on, one at a time. Gathering my strength, I lashed out with my hand and grabbed hold of the blonde woman's foot. I squeezed it as hard as I could. She froze. I squeezed even as I felt her bones cracking as I crushed them like powder with my superhuman strength. With my other hand, I yanked her down and quickly grabbed her arm as she fell. Howling in pain, she nevertheless wrestled with me furiously. We were both injured. The difference was that my genetically altered body was healing rapidly while her merely human frame was not. She seemed real surprised to see me still alive and grappling, but didn't dwell on it.

I grabbed her throat, and squeezed until she stopped moving. She was too busy passing out. Afterwards, panting, I sat next to her. Jamal and Keith stared at me, stunned. I told them to stop gawking like idiots and to help me up. They did. After a few moments, I felt fine. My injuries were healing faster than I ever thought possible. I let myself out of the club through the fire escape. Running through the night while wearing heels and being injured to boot wasn't easy, but somehow I got it done. I made it to the train station, where a nice older Black gentleman was kind enough to offer me his coat. I took it, thanking him for his generosity. And just like that, I got off at South Station and took the Middleboro-Lakeville Silver Line Train heading to Brockton. I crashed in my bed that night, tired as hell. Thankfully, my parents were fast asleep and I had my own key. I dropped my bloodied clothes in a trash bag, and went to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up feeling hungrier than ever. All my wounds were miraculously healed, though. I was thankful for that. I ate like a recently released prisoner, folks. My dad had made a large omelet with bacon and buttered bread along with iced orange juice for everybody. My mom had to teach a morning class at Boston University, so she took a sandwich to work. My brother Jerome ate a pretzel while chatting on his cell phone with whatever big-booty Black chick he was dating this week. He changes girlfriends more often than he changes underwear. I ought to know, I'm the one who does most of the laundry in this house. I sat there, wolfing down my breakfast. My father and brother watched me, puzzled. I smiled at them. What? I'm a big girl and I like food. Sue me! Laughing, dad gave me second helpings. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart. Afterwards, I went to school as if nothing had happened. I dropped my bloody clothes in a trash can about a mile from my house as I walked to the Train Station located near the Bat Center in downtown Brockton.

I sat in my Chemical Engineering 101 class, listening to Professor Matthew Seraphim, a balding Black man in his mid-fifties, as he droned on and on. I didn't really listen. I kept playing the events of the night before in my mind. I had really lucked out. That woman could have killed me. What would have happened if she'd shot me in the face? Would I have simply healed up like Wolverine recovered from a head shot in the movie X-Men II or would I have dropped dead like anybody else? I really didn't want to find out. I thought about slowing down my nocturnal patrols. Twice I'd gone up against some of the most dangerous people in the city. Twice I got lucky. How long would my luck continue to hold out? How long until I got myself killed, or arrested by the Boston Police for vigilantism? Jamal and Keith swore not to tell anyone what they saw me do. They called the cops after I left, and the blonde woman was arrested. They told me they'd keep me out of it but could I really trust them? Maybe I should keep a low profile for a while.

Sitting next to me, Hector nudged me. I was snapped out of my reverie by his warm, gentle hand. My favorite Hispanic gay stud asked me if I was alright. I told him I had a rough night. When class ended, he took me to lunch. Instead of eating at the UMass-Boston cafeteria, we took the train downtown and ate at Au Bon Pain near Copley Square. While sitting there, I felt tempted to tell Hector what had been going on in my life. He was my best friend at this point. We'd grown from academic rivals who tolerated each other's presence to respectful colleagues and best pals. Who's to say we couldn't become the first joint Hispanic/Haitian-American team to win a Nobel Prize in Chemistry?

Looking into Hector's warm and trusting eyes, I realized then why I couldn't tell him. I frigging loved the gay dude. As a friend only, folks. Get your heads out of the gutter. I couldn't burden him with my problems. He wouldn't understand why I had to be a vigilante. I had to fight crime. Take on the rapists, the misandrists ( man-haters), the homophobes, the serial killers, the skinheads and all the other freaks. Why? Simply because nobody else could. In all honesty, most cops couldn't find tits in a strip joint, let alone detect and take out the worst things that are out there. I don't really believe in fate but sometimes I think the atomic scrambler accident in the lab changed me for a purpose. As a super-strong, fast-healing and resilient Black woman, I could take on the kind of threats ordinary men and women simply couldn't handle. Maybe that's what I'm meant to do. Being a talented nerd at UMass-Boston by day and a super-strong vigilante by night. I could never tell the people I loved about this side of me. Not Hector. Not my father, mother or brother. My family could never know what I've done, or what I've become. That's the price I pay for being different. And I accept it.



Black Supremecy



"Good God, can that man move!" I said in awe.

"Yeah, especially for a white boy," the girl next to me said with a laugh. "You know that it's always the black boys who dance better."

I snorted inelegantly. "Those black niggers only think they can. The difference is that we pay attention to them. Gives them a big head." So saying, I tossed down my shot of tequila and slammed the glass back on the bar, missing Stephanie's incredulous glare in my direction. "You know, Steph, some of those black bastards made a pass at me last week."

Stephanie looked at me with an eyebrow cocked high. I know what she was thinking. I loved attention from anyone, and it wasn't at all difficult to get it. I'm on the shorter side, but always wear sexy, stylish heels to make up for it. My curly, dark red hair is as fiery as my passionate temper, and my green eyes always betray my emotions. But it's my body that "brings all the boys to the yard". A voluptuous, pear shaped woman, I make no attempt to hide my large frame behind baggy clothing. Instead, I happily flaunt it with curve-hugging clothes, short skirts and even lower-cut shirts. My dynamite personality always draws people in. But as far as Stephanie was concerned, I have a major flaw... my intolerance for the black population.

Looking at Stephanie's expression, I knew I had to be clearer. "I was just getting out of my psychology class. When I walked into the hallway, one of them let out a wolf call, and a bunch of his 'boys' started laughing and clapping. SUCH immaturity," I rolled my eyes. "I don't know who they thought they were. Completely uncalled for. I swear, Stephanie, I was born in the wrong era. I shoulda been born before segregation ended."

Steph laughed. "Brier, you need to relax. There's no difference between a white boy and a black boy except for the color of his skin."

"Perhaps," I replied congenially, winking at the bartender as he slid me another drink. "But I know most of them still think we owe them something. It's as if they want retribution. You know I'm from the south. I freely admit that my family were, and are, plantation owners. And as I've no interest in apologizing for the way my ancestor's treated THEIR ancestors, I'm keeping myself as far away from them as possible!"

"Considering your disgust of them, that's probably a good plan," Stephanie said with a smile, "But how you're going to do that at this college is a mystery to me, especially when there's an entire fraternity of them plus more." Lifting her glass to her lips, she took a sip of her drink, smiling at a guy across the room. In moments, he began to move in her direction. 

"Well," she continued, "As much as I was looking forward to listening to you continue your rant, I do believe I have a dance partner headed my way. So I'll catch ya later on at home, nkay?"

"Sure, Steph," I laughed, "Go have fun with your man. I'll be fine. See you in the morning!" I waved her off, watching as she gave the guy what looked to be a knee-weakening kiss. The way his hand wandered from the small of her back to the top of her rounded ass made me glad that she didn't share my dorm with me.

__________________________

"Does she suspect anything?" Brian asked Stephanie when pressed her lips close to his.

"Not a thing," she responded with a coy smile. "Promise she won't get hurt?"

"I can't promise that," Brian said, then with a sadistic wink added, "But I promise she'll like it."

__________________________

After I finished another drink, I paid the bartender –plus gave him a generous tip- and made my way to the dance floor. As usual, I didn't lack for partners. The way I swing my hips to the beat and make my body sway.... Needless to say that, noticeable even in the worst circumstances because of the way I throw my weight around, when I'm at my best, I can make a lot of jaws drop. 

Raising my arms in the air, I let myself loose, feeling the music in my veins and responding to it without thought. I let my body sway and writhe provocatively, uncaring of if I had a partner or not. My eyes closed, I could still discern the spotlights, both colored and white, illuminating the gyrating crowd below them, and I could still imagine the various people surrounding me. I moved with little finesse, letting my feet and body move me where they would. Opening my eyes again, I noticed a few black men had danced their way closer. I edged back towards the open side door next to the dance floor. The breeze cooled the heat emanating from my skin, and I was able to move further from those egotistical assholes parading around as 'men'. 

The song changed, and so did my movements. I stepped high, swayed low, my hips gyrating quickly, almost like a belly dancer or a gypsy, as I hit each beat with a pop of my hip. I threw my head back and laughed in pure enjoyment, spinning in a circle just for the joy of it. I quickly circled again. Wait a minute... those niggers were following me across the floor! But no, it couldn't be. There just had to be a larger population than normal here. 

As the tune intensified during the chorus, I took the opportunity to press through the moving crowd, towards the wall, but still near the door in case I needed a quick escape. The move was to be my downfall.

"Hey there, sexy," a nigger stepped in front of me, "I'm Aiden."

"I don't care who you are," I snapped, "Get out of my way."

"No... no, I don't think I will. You look like you love dancing as much as me, and I would like to partner you this evening."

"I don't think so," I snarled, narrowing my eyes. "I don't dance with bootlips." To my surprise, Aiden laughed.

"You will tonight, honey," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "Ohhhh, yes you will," he reiterated to my shaking head.

"Fuck you, porch monkey" I said, spinning on my heel to leave. I stopped short. In front of me were three more niggers. "Excuse me," I ground out between my teeth, bracing myself to push through them.

"Oh, are you on your way outside?" one asked. "Here, let us escort you."

"I don't need your help," I growled.

"She won't be saying that later, will she, Craig?" another said.

"Sure as hell won't, Joe," Craig responded.

"Why? I'm not gonna even be with you later," I spat out, pissed off at being 'helped' out of the bar.

"Wanna bet?" The first yahoo chuckled deep in his throat as we walked through the open doorway. An idling car waited in a nearby parking spot, and the niggers steered me to it.

"Let me go!" I screamed at them, starting to panic. "I just wanted to dance!"

"And you will," Joe grinned at me, opening the rear door, "Just not precisely in the way you intended. See, me and the boys here," he gestured to his kinfolk, "heard how you're talking about us. And we're going to show you we aren't all cut out of the same cloth."

"Thanks, but no," I attempted to swallow my fear, and retorted snidely, trying to yank my arm out of their grip. "I'll just go back inside now."

"Listen, you fucking cunt," the first nigger spoke again. "We tried being nice. Don't make us force your stupid ass into this fucking car."

I wrestled with Joe and Craig, who each held an arm. "I'm going back inside," I cried out, twisting in their grasp. Both appeared to be stronger than me, though, because neither lost their grip. Aiden quickly tired of my struggles, and he bent to reach into the car, coming back out with a cloth. Impatiently, he pressed the rag against my nose and mouth. I tried to hold my breath, really I did, but after struggling with the two, I was slightly out of breath, and before I could stop myself, I took a deep breath. Immediately I felt woozy, and I looked to either side for help, but the two assholes just stood there with smug smiles on their faces. 'I'm gonna get you for this,' I thought.... And then I blacked out.

__________________________

Soft hands gently ran themselves over my curves. I moaned quietly, moving to stretch languorously beneath the attention. My eyes flew open. I couldn't seem to move. Why was that? I looked at my wrists. They were tied with rope, and secured to a ring on the wooden 'bed' I lie atop of. My ankles had been given the same treatment. And was that a slight breeze I felt.... ohhhh, shit....

"I see that you're finally coming to," a voice commented to my right. My head whipped around to glare at the speaker.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Where the hell are my fucking clothes?" I demanded, moving my hands to see if I could possibly wrest out of the restraints. He –I think it was the asshole that called himself Aiden- chuckled low in his throat.

"Tut, tut, Brier," the nigger shook his head, clucking his tongue in disapproval. "You don't want to upset your audience." At the casual wave of his arm, I stopped in my fruitless struggles and took a look around the room. My heart stopped beating in my chest. Surrounding me were at least 20 niggers, all nude, and all caressing their glistening, rock-hard shafts.

"You see," he continued, fixing me with a pointed stare, "We're sick and tired of you treating us like shit. We think that it's your turn to be called names for no reason, to be loathed, to be... used...." He stood, stripping off his clothing. Wincing, I tried to curl up more, retreating from him. I made one last attempt at bravery.

"Touch me, and I swear to fucking God you'll wish you hadn't. I'll call the police, I'll call the news station, I'll make sure that you fucking go to jail for rape!" Though I spoke in a low voice, I mustered every ounce of hatred, disgust, and fear that I had into my voice, hardening it, attempting to make it harsh enough to cause these.. these... pigs! to think twice, and so back down. But it was to no avail, apparently, as Aiden laughed at me, backed up by chuckles from various other men around the room.

"Trust me, sweetheart, by the time we're done, you're not gonna tell anyone what happened, because you'll be wanting it to happen again."

I snorted in disbelief, my anger at his statement temporarily overcoming my fear. "What the fuck makes you think that? Do I look like a fucking whore to you? Do I look like I enjoy being used by animals? None of you have finesse or style. It's a 'rut'n'go' to y'all. Stick it in, fuck me, cum, the end."

"That's right, cunt," Joe stepped up, a sadistic smile on his face. "And that's exactly what we all plan on doing."

"You can't be serious," I said, ignoring the butterflies in my belly, trying to keep the panic from my mind. "You're not... you can't really... you wouldn't..." It was a struggle to keep the frailty from my voice, and I desperately attempted to regain my righteous anger to fuel my stance. "There is no way in hell that you're going to even try," I stated confidently. "I'll tell you what. Let me go now, and I won't ever say a word to anyone."

"Nice try, but we're not nearly as stupid as you think we are," said Craig from the other side of me. He, too, was sporting a thick, prominent erection. "On the contrary, to be a member of this fraternity, you need a GPA of 3.5.... which is probably double yours," he added with a wry grin. "So.... you might as well accustom yourself to what's gonna happen. You wouldn't want to wear out your body in resisting, when you're going to need it to get through the upcoming ordeal."

Enraged, I spit in his eye. His response was immediate. He slapped me hard across the face, and I cried out in pain. 

"Thought you'd get in your revenge, did you, you stupid bitch?" He snarled, clenching a fist. "How'd you like that? Are you going to spit at me again, fucker?"

I shook my head, my eyes shining in unshed tears. Now I knew that this was not something I could escape, I was determined to remain unattached. I must remain detatched from my body, not remember what was hurting me, who was there, what was happening. I couldn't believe it. I know I'm not the purest of girls, but... to be used by a bunch of fucking pigs with pricks.... what a low blow. They came to America to work and all they're doing is fucking.... God. What the hell happened? Not an hour or so ago, I was at the top of the foodchain, and now I'm on the bottom? I choked back a sob. No self-pity. I can get through this humiliation... I can do it. I'm not going to be a victim of a bunch of self-righteous niggers.

"Hey now, calm down, brother," A nigger stepped forward, putting a free hand on Craig's shoulder. "You don't wanna damage the goods, do you? Not this early on, anyways," he said with a leer in my direction. Slapping Craig's back, he stepped forward, close to me.

"So.... you don't like negroes, huh, whitey?" he asked, slowly stroking himself. "I think me and the boys are really gonna enjoy changing your mind."

"Fuck you, asshole," I spoke in a low growl through my clenched teeth, bracing myself for a blow. Instead, the fucker laughed. Then he did something no other darkie has ever done before. He touched me. I couldn't repress my shudder of revulsion. "Get off me!" I cried out, straining my body away from him. He laughed more, running a rough hand down my side, following my heavily curved shape, his hand firmly stroking over my ass as he felt the round globes. "Leave me alone!" I tried again, struggling to move towards the other side of the platform/table. I was cut short by a loud clank, and the platform suddenly swung forward, so that now I was perpendicular to the floor, rather than horizontal. I realized the table was on some sort of pivot.... and now I had to stand upright, attached to this thing, unable to move, while a bunch of self-righteous, condescending pricks eyeballed me like a fucking piece of meat. 

Enraged, I gave vent to my frustration in a loud scream. All it earned me was a round of laughter and some rather dirty comments about how they couldn't wait to hear that same sound made while they fucked me. I attempted to stare them down, but once again, my only response was laughter.

"See if that bitch is so high and mighty after we're through wi' her," one said loudly.

"Bet her eyes look better when she gags on my cock," another said.

"Can't wait to see that ass shake," a third chipped in.

I started to tremble. I couldn't help it! What was I to do? I was more than adequately restrained, naked, to a rough wooden platform, in a room with probably 2 dozen lean, muscular young men, all of whom were naked and anticipating a fine meal. Luckily, no one seemed to notice my subtle tremors through their lust-filled eyes, and I was saved a very small piece of degradation. But degradation was definately in store for me.

I found that out in short order, as the nigger who brought me upright reached for my breasts. "Let go you fucking nigger!" I screamed out, my body jerking as I tried to get away. He laughed coarsely, roughly pinching my nipple between his supple brown fingers. Enraged, I lowered my head and bit him hard on the back of his hand. It came up fast, knocking me in the jaw and throwing my head back against the planking, and I cried out in pain. The fucker laughed at me. The nerve! "That fucking hurt!" I yelled at him.

He licked his lips with a wry grin, obviously undeterred, though I saw pinpricks of blood on his hand where my teeth had pierced his filthy muddy brown skin. "Wouldn'ta happened if'n you'd just stayed still," he admonished me. His gaze ran down my body, his prick jumping as he did so. I squirmed uncomfortably, not used to being on display.

"What do you think, boys?" he threw back over his shoulder. "Which hole are you gonna go after first?" They laughed, and various answers were thrown out. Under cover of the loud responses, the nigger leaned close to me. "Doesn't really matter what hole, you know," he informed me, a secretive smile on his face. "In the end, they're all going to be thoroughly ravaged." I shivered in disgust as his warm breath hit my hot cheeks. He chuckled low in his throat, then leaned closer and ran his slobbery tongue down the side of my face. I moved my

head, opened my mouth, and bit him. He slapped me again, and this time, the blow to my head left me with senses reeling for a few moments as I tried to make the room stop spinning.

"This bitch is gonna be a good ride," I heard him say to another.

"Fuck yeah," was the response, "can't wait to fucking hear her beg for more."

"N...never..." I spoke hoarsely, my head lolling as I fought the dizziness, "will I ever beg for anything from a nigger."

Joe moved in front of the nigger and stepped close, pinching my chin between his rough fingers as he forced me to look at him. It was with great effort that I focused my eyes well enough to stare into his glinting gaze. "The first thing you're going to beg for," he informed me smoothly, "is a reprieve."

Though I wished differently, things began to happen. It seemed that the time for talking to me was done, as if Joe touching me was the cue for action. The floor beneath my feet wasconcrete, but the coolness of it felt good against my bare feet, especially against the warm air that kissed my flesh. My jaw ached from the two blows I had recieved, and my confidence was sagging just as much as my stature. I was bowed, letting my arms hang loosely from their restraints, as I turned in on myself, not wanting to comprehend what was going on. I, the sexiest BBW on campus, had been kidnapped by the all black fraternity. Purpose? To be used. Why? It's not like I had done anything to them personally. I can't help it that I just can't stand their ugly faces. I never went out of my way to be a bitch to them. It's not my fault that somewhere along the line, a Grandfather had owned their grandfather. I come from a long line of strong, proud people. That's it.... I inhaled a deep breath, and forcefully straightened my spine.

I was raised differently than these morons. I have morals and ethics, and I know my place in the world. Especially seeing how debauched they really are, I know that my place is above them. I'm not just going to take this shit. They picked the wrong bitch to fuck with today. I took another deep breath, and stared down the blackie next to me.

"Do your worst," I snarled, eyebrows lowered threateningly. "I won't break."

"We'll see, honey," he chuckled, the thick cock in his hand jumping erratically as he laughed, "we'll see."

I tossed my head, throwing my long red hair back over my shoulders in an attempt to display bravery. I know my body is gorgeous. Curves in all the right places to tempt even the most haughty man. My skin a pale, creamy hue almost exactly the color of a cafe au lait dahlia. The nipples protruding from my heavy breasts are a dusky pink, which only draws attention to the mass of fiery red hair adorning my plump mons. It's one of my best features; I never shave it, but keep it neatly trimmed so that it's not wild. Several shades lighter than my hair, it's a stunning contrast to my thighs as it hides the treasure beneath. I've been told by a lover that I remind them of the painting of "The Birth of Venus", just with a much more erotic and shapely form (including my "bubble butt" as he phrased it). Is it any wonder that these niggers were attracted to me? I knew if I kept myself positive, I would survive this experience intact.... right?

I looked around the room. There were still about two dozen men. Which meant that it was the entire fraternity. They were all inching forward, and I shivered as my flesh quivered involuntarily. The two standing next to me were the first to partake of a sample of my flesh. Joe came close, a hand covering my mouth to prevent me from biting him again, and began to suckle the tender flesh just below my ear. My attempts to turn my head away earned me nothing but his fingers closing more painfully on my bruised cheeks. The other nigger came close, and his first move was to thread his filthy fingers through my tangle of pubic hair before yanking on it painfully. I gasped in dismay and closed my eyes in agony as my thighs tried to close themselves, but failed. A low chuckle sounded next to my other ear as another fucker stood next to me, then swooped down to nibble roughly on my earlobe, his hand reaching over to clench my breast, fingers digging into the tender flesh. I knew a bruise wouldn't be long in coming.




Black Supremecy



The other members of the frat swooped in on me, and I couldn't contain my revulsion as I desperately tried to strain away from the hands and mouths that were touching and groping and pinching and twisting, suckling and biting and licking my creamy white skin. The sensations assualting me were overwhelming. I heard one inhale deeply as he smelled my long curly hair, I heard the snuffle of various lips and noses as they made their way up and down my curvy body. I heard heavy breathing as arousal increased exponentially, and I heard murmers between them all that I tried to ignore; whether they approved or disapproved, I didn't to care, I just wanted to get this over with. I could smell the arousal, smell the sweat and cock, smell the youth and enthusiasm of eager, supple young bodies, smell their excitement... and FEEL! Oh god!

"Get away from me!" I screamed, terror threatening to close my throat as I felt a hard cock brush against my thigh. 

"What's the matter, never felt a man before?" I was taunted.

"That's exactly the problem. Compared to the men I've had, you're all boys!" I retorted, automatically wincing as I expected brutal retaliation. It wasn't long in coming, but it wasn't what I expected. Rather than a hand, various cocks were pressed against my body, as if to say that it didn't matter what I'd had before, by the end of my time, I wouldn't remember anything from before this anyways. I mentally shook myself away from the dismal thoughts. I tried reciting poetry, tried to sing my favorite songs, attempted to begin a story. Nothing worked. I could still feel their rigid staffs pressed against my soft flesh, and I whimpered, feeling cornered and vulnerable. I shrank back against my platform, but I couldn't escape.

I screamed in fear as I felt fingers roughly penetrate my pussy lips. My hips jerked involuntarily, as I tried to twitch them to get away from the digits. But when I swung them left, they encountered yet another hard cock, while when I twisted them away from that and towards the right, they encountered a firm hand gripping my smooth thigh. I threw my head back and screamed again in frustration; there was no escape! Everywhere I fucking turned, there was another fucking nigger waitig to touch me in some way or another. And of course, it's not lot screaming did much good, since as soon as I opened my mouth, Joe's thumb swooped in, hooking me in the jaw much like a fisherman would grab his catch by the mouth. Angrily, I tried to bite him, but the harsh pressure of the knuckle of his index finger on my lower jaw was painful, and tears flooded my eyes as I tried to fight the pain and bite anyways. It was futile. His grip successfully kept my from closing my jaws enough to touch tooth to skin.

I almost swallowed my tongue as a butt plug was forced into my asshole. A gurgled cry emitted from my mouth instead as my body flew away from the platform, and I screamed as the action impaled me deep on the fingers that were already pressed into my pussy. I could feel wetness starting to leak from my traitorous pussy, and I almost wept. My knees buckled, and I grabbed the straps coming from my wrists reflexively to help me stay standing. My cheeks flared in embaressment, although why that embarassed me more than my fingered cunt, the butt plug, and the 2 dozen naked pricks in the room, I have no idea.

The men, of course, were ecstatic at their treat. My young body with its ivory skin seemed to be a source of delight as they pressed their ebony flesh against me, and I closed my eyes so that I might not witness my own torture, but it didn't keep me from feeling and hearing every single thing that happened. The fingers in my pussy were curled up against my g-spot, rubbing it deliciously. I ground my teeth in horror as I felt my body respond, and I cried out once more as a nigger latched onto each breast, suckling and rolling the nipple roughly between their teeth. Fingers gripped my flanks before slapping me viciously, and I sagged against my restraints as I lost the strength to continue writhing in a futile attempt to keep them from touching me.

With a jerking motion and a quiet whine, the platform began to swing backwards again. I looked around apprehensively at the blackies surrounding me, who all simply backed up and amused themselves watching me and stroking their cocks as the hydraulics moved the table back parallel to the floor. Suddenly, I grew angry again. Who did these fuckers think they were? How dare they use me like this? I opened my mouth to tell them off, but before a breath could even leave my lips, a cock was shoved deep into my mouth. I gagged hard as I felt the tip stab into the back of my throat. Opening my eyes, I stared into the grinning visage of the perpetrator. 

"Open wide, bitch," Craig snickered down at me as he placed his hand on my neck, pulling my chin back to open up my throat for his cock. He pushed further in, this time past my uvula, and I gagged hard, tears running out of my eyes to drip unnoticed to the floor. Craig laughed. "Man enough for you now, you stupid cunt?" he teased me, withdrawing, only to slam his hardness back into my throat. I choked this time, my throat contracting as it tried to accept the alien feature. "Ohhhh, yeah, that's right," Craig grunted as he began to face-fuck me. "Open wider, bitch," he growled at me as he plugged my nose. I gasped for air, my jaw opening wide, tears streaming freely from my burning eyes. His eyes lit up and I felt disgusted, used in a way I never wanted or even thought about.

But this wasn't even the start of the evening. As soon as my nose was plugged, my ass was relieved of the butt-plug.... only to have a large cock slam its way home in replacement. I screamed against the cock in my throat, pulling relentlessly at the ropes tied to my wrists, my back arching violently as I was impaled from both ends. More tears flowed from my green eyes, and I stared up at Craig, hating him for what he and his cronies were doing to me, what they were turning me into.. a fucktoy for a bunch of fucking niggers. 

I cried out again as the cock in my ass and the one in my mouth began to move in sync; as one pushed its way in, the other pulled out. The steady rhythym had my body moving in earnest on the table, back and forth, back and forth, and I could feel my rolls and breasts rock back and forth with my voluptuous body. Apparently, someone didn't like it, because of a sudden, a mouth latched onto my right nipple, sucking the tip of my breast deep into his mouth, and biting down hard. I cried out helplessly, and a hand fell in a rough slap on my other breast. Another hand began rubbing my thigh, while another shoved fingers deep into my weeping cunt. Back arching, I cried out, but it was muffled as Craig suddenly stiffened. My eyes widened in horror, but it was too late. His load shot directly down my open throat, and straight to my stomach before I even could taste it. I looked up at him in disbelief as he disengaged his cock from my throat. He had the nerve to grin at me.

"Tasty?" he quipped, patting my cheek condescendingly.

"Asshole," I ground out bitterly, my tears drying on my face.

"Tut, tut," he admonished, waving a finger in front of my face. "There'll be punishment for your vulgarity." He stepped back, and in his place, another nigger stepped up. Before I could gather a breath to protest, he'd shoved his cock down my used throat so deep that his pubic hair tickled my nostrils. I gagged again, tears streaming down my face once more, but this time a mixture of self-pity, disgust, and hatred. 'How low the mighty,' I thought to myself, my tongue pressed tightly against the new fucker's rigid cock. The shaft in my ass began to spasm, and I groaned in abject misery. No sooner had he moved away from my used ass then another took his place, and I cried out as his cock stretched my asshole to its limits; much thicker and longer than the previous, it felt as though he were ripping me in half.

I closed my eyes as tears flowed in earnest, and not just from my gag reflex. My body rocked violently with the thrusts from the new male between my legs, and the fingers in my pussy sped their motions, while a thumb began to stimulate my clit. To my shame, a heat began to pool in my belly. My eyes flew open and I stared at the undercarriage of the nigger fucking my throat. I was aroused! How?! This couldn't possibly be happening! Ohhhh, but it was. I felt my skin begin to cool on the inside and heat on the outside, and trembles ran up and down my spine. I desperately tried to quell the sensation, but with the ruthlessness of the fuckers who were manipulating my body, I couldn't withold myelf. In complete and miserable disgust, my orgasm powerfully washed over my body in heavy waves, my body spasming like a top rated porn star, and in misery my eyes closed again as I withdrew into myself so that I could ignore the crude comments already being made.

__________________________

My first day was absolutely the most degrading experience I'd ever had up to that point. By the time they were done for the evening, every guy there had had a shot at at least 2 out of my 3 holes, and each one had cum at least 3 times. If they couldn't cum in me, they came on me. I was sticky, gross, and stinky with sweat and cum, lying there on the crude table, bound and helpless. Whereas my attitude at the beginning had been hateful, intolerant, and determined to best them, by the end of the night I was but a hollow shell of my former self. I didn't speak, didn't move. I was broken. I refused to rise even to go to the bathroom. One of the participants had to carry me there; even had to hold me upright on the toilet as I sat there, leaking cum from my used holes. I was too lethargic to care what they did with me.

It was an odd twist of fate that I was carried upstairs to a beautifully appointed bedroom with it's own attached bathroom. Snacks were on the nightstand, and a fluffy comforter was thrown back, ready for me to sleep. I was carried past it to the bathroom, where I was handed a bar of soap and washcloth, then told to bathe. Mechanically, I did so, and when I finished, I dragged myself to the bed and passed out.

__________________________

I awoke to a hard cock sliding deep into my pussy. Still gripped within Morpheus' arms, I unthinkingly wrapped my legs around the man's waist, pulling him in, while my hands went to his sides, running down the length as he drove himself deep into me over and over again. Moaning in pleasure, I rocked my hips against him, driving myself to the pinnacle of pleasure on his cock. My orgasm came fast and hard, and I spasmed deliciously around his shaft, shuddering and keening in delight. He didn't pause, but drove faster and harder into me, until he, too came. Smiling, I opened my eyes. Harsh reality came rushing back with a vengeance, and I saw another nigger enter the room, followed by two more. The darkie clambered off the bed with a satisfied grin. 

"Morning, fucktoy," He laughed at my crestfallen expression as the three newcomers surrounded the bed.

"Started off early, didja, Tyler?" One said, dropping his drawers.

"Mmmmmm, mmm she lookin' mighty fine this mo'nin, Nate," Tyler responded, "And she makes some even finer music!"

Nate chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed. "C'mere slut," he motioned to me imperiously. "Come climb on Daddy." 

I stared at him in disbelief. He thought I was just going to become his bitch, just like that? I had my pride, after all... I think. I looked down at my hands. They looked no different than they had yesterday. In fact, nothing had changed.... except I was sore. But it was in a good way. I'd been used last night.... used as if I were a bitch in heat. And I.... I'd come out none the worse for wear. I'd survived intact. But I'd learned a few things. For a start, if I didn't do something when told, it didn't matter. It was going to happen anyways, I was only prolonging the ineveitable.

"I SAID, come here," Nate's voice was harder now as he pointed to the floor beside his feet.

"And ..." I cleared my throat nervously, "And if I don't?

"Then I'll call all the boys up here now, instead of waiting 'til I'm done with you," he said sternly. "Now..." he stood, grabbed my hips, and yanked me off the bed. I gasped in surprise, but cried out loudly when his cock slammed into my ass. After a few thrusts, he sat down, then lay back, bringing me with him. I sensed the other guys moving, and felt a hand at my knees, forcing them apart. I clenched them together, still very hesistant about my evolving emotions. All it got me was a harsh slap to my tits. Immediately I spread my legs wide.

"That's what I fuckin' thought, bitch," a growl sounded. "Just cuz you don't think so now, you're gonna like this shit!" 

Finally grasping his intent, I started to scream. "No!! God, no!! Please, don't -!" But I was too late. His cock has already slammed home. I swear I felt his head graze my cervix. My entire body jerked in pain, and he laughed. 

"Relax, you cunt, you'll enjoy the ride." So saying, he began to vigorously thrust back and forth, gripping my tits tightly in his large hands. Like a piston, his hips thrust his cock inside me quickly, over and over again, and I grunted with each painful entry. Before I grew accustomed to the two cocks inside me, the man beneath me began to buck his hips, and together, the two began a rhythym. As top boy thrust in, bottom boy got in two thrusts. As top boy pulled out, bottom boy got another two thrusts. Together, they worked at stretching me out. My tits were already sore, but with a death grip on them, I soon realized that they could hurt worse, and I swallowed hard, trying to hide my pain. It wasn't to be. Tyler had climbed onto the bed, and was busily flicking his fingers on my swollen clit. Meanwhile, the final man had stripped his clothing and made himself comfortable at my head, stroking himself as he watched me being DP'd. Apparently, this wasn't enough for him.

Rising to his knees, he straddled my face, and grabbing my hair roughly in his palm, he pulled my head back to open my mouth, and forced his erection deep. I gagged again, throwing my head to the side in an attempt at respite. "Fucking bitch," he swore, "suck my fucking cock!"

"Hey Max," Tyler spoke from his place at my side, "Let's have her trade positions. It'll be easier for her to blow you that way."

"Good idea, Ty," Max responded, moving. Before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees on the plush mattress, stradding one of them. Max had taken up a position behind me.

"Thought you wanted her mouth, Max?" One asked with a laugh from beneath me.

"Changed my mind," Max spoke from behind me as he forced his way into my tight asshole. I screamed as he did so; he was the one from the night before. His cock was the biggest, and it hurt like hell. I regretted I'd opened my mouth, though. No sooner had I done so than Nate shoved his filthy cock into my mouth. I gagged hard; he grabbed my hair and pulled, opening my passage so that I could take him all in. I rolled my eyes back to watch him. I couldn't even move. With two cocks pounding my cunt and my asshole, and another in my mouth, it was difficult enough for me just to hold my position.

And that's how the other frat members found us 20 minutes later. I had a cock in my ass, one in my pussy, and another in my mouth. They were all eager to replace anyone who was weary, and I was fucked for more hours than I can possibly recount, in more positions than I had in my imagination. At some point during that time, I changed. I became a woman who exists only to please others. I became a woman who desired to pleasure men. And I learned how to crave these black men. I craved the touch from their hands, lips, and cock. I craved the scent of their arousal. I craved the feel of their body rubbing against mine. I craved the feeling of their seed emptying into my womb and my belly and my tight little ass. Somehow, in the time after I was kidnapped and repeatedly "used and abused", I had gone from an arrogant racist woman to an insatiable, cock-hungry cum dump.

And that's what got me to where I am today. Lying on a table at the tattoo parlor, Aiden lounging negligently in the chair beside me, my lower back stinging as the black tattoo artist pauses in his work. His tool is poised delicately above my flesh as he stares down perceptively, gauging the design of the Ace of Spades that I chose, and determining if he needs to make any improvements. I look at Aiden and smile secretively. My tattoo is the perfect way to begin my new life. A reminder of just who I now am.... black owned.



Black Swingers In Somalia



As Salam Alaikum, people. My name is Nadia Ali-Adeluyi, and I'm a Somali Muslim woman living in the City of Gatineau, province of Quebec. I work as a nurse at the local hospital. I graduated from the University of Ottawa with a Master's degree in Nursing in the summer of 2009. I am happily married to a six-foot-tall, handsome Nigerian Muslim brother named Karim Adeluyi, and we have a son, Maher, and a daughter, Mariam. We live in the suburbs of Quebec and these days, life is definitely okay.

In the eyes of the world, my husband Karim and I are a very normal, conventional Muslim couple. Karim works for the Canada Revenue Agency. My husband studied computer science at Carleton University, graduating with his bachelor's degree in 2008. Karim later went on to get his MBA at the University of Ottawa, where we met and ended up falling in love. Lots of my Somali lady friends weren't thrilled to see me marry a Muslim man from another country. I love my Somali brothers, of course, but I fell in love with Karim Adeluyi. The brother from Nigeria simply gets me, folks.

The way I see it, we Somalis must learn to open up to marrying other races and other cultures. A lot of Somali sisters in Canada marry Arab guys and even White male Muslim converts, and nobody bats an eyelash about it. When my cousin Kader introduced the family to Amina, a Lebanese gal he met while attending the University of Montreal, a lot of the women in the family were disappointed. Me? I encouraged Kader in his relationship with Amina. I am that rare Black woman who doesn't mind seeing Black men with women of other races. You see, I like women of other races too. Hint? I am a bisexual Muslim sister.

Karim and I got hitched, bought a house in the suburbs of Quebec, not far from the Ontario border and started a family. I am a good Muslim wife, folks. I wear the Hijab and everything. I'm five-foot-nine, curvy and brown-skinned, with long Black hair that I almost always tuck away under a headscarf, and lively brown eyes that are full of mischief. I am the Northeast African Muslim woman through and true, and I am damn proud of it.

My husband Karim and I are pious Muslims and go to the local mosque together on Fridays. Well, underneath it all, Karim and I lead a life like no other, folks. You see, my husband Karim and I are highly experimental when it comes to sex. My husband Karim was okay when I revealed to him my penchant for also loving women, and since then, it has enriched our sex life in so many ways. Wonderful things happen when Black men and Black women open up to one another and trust each other, believe me.

There's this lovely French Canadian Jewish woman named Lois Rosenthal at work whom I've fancied for ages. Yes, I am a bisexual Muslim woman who likes a certain Jewish lady. It happens. Lois is five feet eleven inches tall, curvy and sexy, with alabaster skin, long blonde hair and pale blue eyes. I have a thing for blonde-haired White women and I don't think I am the only bisexual Black woman out there with such a predilection. Lucky for me, Lois is also keen to experiment with women, and when I approached her, she was totally okay with what I had in mind.

Lois came over to our house for a visit while my husband Karim and I sent our brood over to their grandparents place for the weekend. The three of us got down and dirty in the bedroom after a polite but kinky chat during which we discussed our likes and dislikes, and our boundaries of course. A lot of people think threesomes and swinging activities are easy but guess what? People are people. Nothing is ever that simple, especially when it involves sex. Fortunately, Lois, Karim and I were on the same page.

Karim and I drew the lovely Lois to our bed, and we feasted on her. Lois lay sandwiched between us as we went to work on her. I kissed Lois and fondled her breasts while Karim buried his handsome face between her legs and ate the freaky White woman's pussy. Trust me, my husband Karim knows his way around the vagina. On that statement, I most definitely co-sign to the fullest, ladies and gentlemen.

The lovely Lois stuck her tongue down my throat ad caressed me as we embraced passionately. I absolutely love a woman's body. Now, I love my dear husband Karim and his hard body, along with that long and thick dick of his, of course. Woman to woman fun is a special dish that I can never give up, however. A woman simply fucks you differently from how a man does it, and I simply can't get enough of that.

Lois kissed me and looked into my eyes as she stuck two fingers into my pussy even as my husband Karim continued to eat her pussy. I moaned in pleasure as Lois's digits probed my womanhood, and I took her left breast into my mouth, suckling on her tit. Lois and I pleasured one another as if my husband Karim weren't there. Yeah, Lois and I were that into each other. Of course, probing and kissing and fondling each other only made Lois and I hornier, and that's where my husband Karim's big Black dick came in handy.

Lois got on her knees and took my husband Karim's big Black dick in her mouth. I grabbed the back of Lois's neck and made the chubby blonde-haired White slut choke on my husband's dick. Yes, I am a bit sadistic but don't worry, it is just part of my charm, folks. Lois sucked Karim's dick and got him nice and hard, and then the fun really began for the three of us. Karim was ready to fuck Lois, but the White chick didn't want him in her cunt. Nope, Lois wanted to try something else. 

I propped Lois on all fours and spread her ass cheeks wide open, and grabbed a bottle of Aloe cream which I used to lubricate my favorite White slut's asshole. Meanwhile, Karim came up behind Lois and admired her big White ass while stroking his big Black dick. I smiled and stroked my husband Karim's big fuck stick, and then gave him a last-minute suck before guiding it into Lois's asshole. Time to get some ass fucking action going.

Lois squealed as my husband Karim's dick entered her asshole. I grinned and held Lois's ass cheeks wide open as Karim's fuck stick penetrated her booty hole. I am a Black woman who likes watching Black men fuck White women. Am I strange? I looked up at my hubby and blew him a kiss. Karim grinned and winked at me, then gripped Lois's hips and thrust his dick deep into her asshole. Hard and fast Karim fucked Lois's ass, and the White slut screamed like a little bitch. Turned me on like you would not believe, folks.

Karim fucked Lois's ass with gusto, and I fingered my already wet pussy, turned on by the sight of him fucking that White slut in front of me. I kissed Karim full and deep and caressed his hairy chest as he continued fucking Lois's butt hole. Karim fucked Lois until he came, flooding her asshole with his manly spunk. A heartbeat later Lois's howls of pain mixed with pleasure filled the air. I smiled as Karim pulled his dick out of Lois's asshole, and then went to work.

I grabbed my husband Karim's big Black dick and sucked it, tasting Lois's asshole on it. Karim grinned and gave me the thumbs up sign. Next, I turned my focus on Lois, spreading her ass and munching on her asshole. I love eating ass, both male and female. I fingered Lois's asshole and licked it, and Lois moaned softly and smiled at me approvingly, clearly loving what I was doing to her. My husband Karim, turned on by the sight of me munching on Lois's ass, was hard again. I turned around and pressed my thick Somali derriere against Karim's ass, and he thrust his dick into my horny, hungry cunt. I really, really needed to get fucked.

My husband Karim, clearly the Alpha Male to the bone, grabbed my hips and spanked my ass as he thrust his dick into my cunt. A thrill shot through me as Karim's dick filled my pussy. I continued munching on Lois asshole, and the freaky Jewish mama moaned softly, urging me to continue working my magic on her. I wish I had my strap-on dildo so I could fuck Lois with it, but I was busy enjoying the twin sensations of Lois's ass on my tongue and my husband Karim's dick in my pussy. 

Karim fucked me with gusto, even pulling my hair and smacking my ass as he drilled me. A few moments later, Karim exploded inside of me, and I squealed as a torrent of hot, masculine spunk flooded my cunt. Karim groaned as he came, and then collapsed on top of me. I smiled and relaxed, enjoying the feel of my husband Karim's hard, masculine body of me. I turned around and kissed Karim, and then winked at Lois, who smiled at me. The three of us lay like this for a long time, basking in the warm afterglow of a good fuck. Good times, folks. Good times.

An hour later, Lois Rosenthal left the Adeluyi household, with my thanks and those of my husband Karim. My hubby and I waved Lois goodbye as she drove her Mazda out of our driveway, and then we shared a passionate kiss. Hand in hand, my beloved husband Karim and I returned to the bedroom. Passionately we made love, then fell asleep in each other's arms. Just another night in the lives of a modern Black Muslim couple living in the City of Ottawa. We're the Muslims you see every day but don't know exist. The freaky ones. Peace.