This is a fictional story, any similarities between the characters and anyone living or dead is totally coincidental. Furthermore, this story is not intended for minors. The following story contains hardcore unprotected sexual acts between men, the use of racial slurs, and the sexual coercion of an 18 year old male. If such content is offensive to you, please do not read. I welcome comments, critiques, suggestions, and feedback of all types, please email me at TopOfNewYork1989@aol.com.
Nimrod waited until De'Quarious had shot his load before he spoke, deciding not to intervene beforehand both because the scene was turning him on and also because he felt compelled to at least let De'Quarious finish fucking that girl, as it would be the last girl he would fuck in a long time. De'Quarious pulled himself out of Vanessa and sat at the foot of the bed, awaiting his punishment, but determined to take whatever punishment Nimrod decided to dole out as a man. It was previous cowardice that had led to his sexual humiliation the night before; this time the teenager decided that he was going to be brave.
"Was it good?" Nimrod asked De'Quarious, who sat on the bed naked except for his gray socks, his hands covering his dick and balls. Nimrod was eyeing the adolescent's hard young body, his sleek ebony skin glistening from sweat, his nostrils flaring as he breathed rapidly. Nimrod's hand absently went to his crotch as he remembered the sight that he had walked in on, De'Quarious fucking Vanessa doggy-style, his fat, muscular, bubble butt clenching and unclenching as he drove his project dick deep in Vanessa's wet pussy. In his boxers, Nimrod's dick became half-hard.
"My bad Nimrod." De'Quarious mumbled.
"Nimrod, baby, I--" Vanessa started, but a glare from Nimrod shut her mouth.
Nimrod walked into the room and stood before De'Quarious, his crotch level with De'Quarious' face. The black teen blushed and looked away. "Your bad?" Nimrod asked softly. De'Quarious had never heard the elder man raise his voice. Even when he was stomping out some foe, ordering someone's finger to be amputated, or demanding that a rival's house be burned to the ground with his entire family inside, Nimrod never raised his voice; it maintained a velvety softness that most women found sexy. To his mortification, De'Quarious realized that he found Nimrod's voice slightly arousing himself, and beneath his hands his dark chocolate Mandingo manhood began to stir. "Your bad?" The elder man repeated. "You damn right it's your bad. There's rules to this shit nigga, I thought you knew that? Never get high on your own supply, never sell our shit on credit, never sell the shit where you live at, never talk to police...and never fuck your boss' woman."
"It just happened, some spur of the moment shit." De'Quarious said. He looked down at himself and realized that he was still naked. "Can I get my clothes?" He asked Nimrod.
Nimrod scoffed. "Your clothes? Nigga please, you weren't worried about clothes when you threw them all over my fucking living room." Nimrod paced the room. "See, in all actuality, I'm not even pissed. I mean, I understand. You a young nigga, you got needs, we all do. It's in our nature, our inheritance from Africa, that primal animal need to get our rocks off. Under the right circumstances, a nigga'll fuck anything to satisfy that urge. And Vanessa here, she's a fine ass bitch. I understand."
De'Quarious sighed in relief, thinking that this meant there was to be no punishment. Nimrod understood what it was like when a young nigga went into heat; his dick rock hard and dripping, his judgment clouded, that sensitive feeling all over, the urge to grind that raging hard-on into anything. De'Quarious got that urge even before he started fucking, back when he was a nappy headed little project nigga grinding his hard boy cock into his mattress and pillows until he achieved the euphoric feeling of a dry orgasm.
Once when he was twelve and spent the night at his aunt's house, sleeping in the same room as his younger cousin Antoine, he woke up with that feeling, which always turned him into a different being. Consumed with lust, the young black boy became an animal, grunting and groaning. Without an outlet, he walked across the room to the bed where nine year old Antoine was sleeping and slipped his raging boy boner into his cousin's mouth, fucking the boy's mouth until he awoke crying out in protest, gagging on his older cousin's hard-on. De'Quarious fucked the boy's throat cruelly, until he shuddered with pleasure from what had been--until Scott raped his ass the night before--the greatest orgasm of his life.
De'Quarious forgot about that night with Antoine until Nimrod brought up that primal sexual urge that black men inherited from their African ancestors, and De'Quarious remembered how much he needed to fuck something that night, anything, even his boy cousin's mouth. The thought filled him with shame, the fact that he was able to receive that much pleasure from another male's mouth. He wondered what it would be like to have Antoine suck his dick now. At fifteen Antoine was a handsome light skinned boy with dark brown eyes, light brown hair, and a body toned from being his high school's basketball star. De'Quarious sat there imagining his masculine cousin taking his dick in his mouth and sucking him until he unleashed his scalding young cum down the boy's throat. The thought made De'Quarious' dick hard, and he used his hands to push his erection down and hide it from Nimrod.
Nimrod continued, "And believe me, if it was just me, you, and her up in here, I'd let it go. A bitch is a dime a dozen, and I'm rich out the ass up in this hood, I can have any ho I want, even your moms and your fine ass sisters." De'Quarious glared at the elder man. "But see, I got niggas out there, niggas that saw your clothes strewn all over my fucking living room, your dirty ass project Timberlands soiling my carpet, they saw that. And trust me; niggas are worse gossips than bitches. Soon the whole hood'll know that you fucked my girl, and if I don't avenge that then I'ma look like a bitch. And no one makes Nimrod look like a bitch, feel me?" De'Quarious said nothing. "Get the fuck up." Nimrod commanded.
"What you gonna do to me?" De'Quarious asked.
"Don't worry about that, just get the fuck up." De'Quarious sighed and stood, not wanting to appear afraid in front of Vanessa. He stood up to his full six feet, hands still covering his privates, and followed Nimrod out of the room.
It was one of the spare rooms of the six bedroom two story apartment that Nimrod had, empty except for a folding chair, and it was here that Nimrod and three of his henchmen brought De'Quarious. The last guy in closed the door and bolted it. De'Quarious noticed that the walls were covered in something that looked like egg cartons, he assumed to keep it soundproof. That only made him more worried, what the fuck were they going to do to him in there? They hadn't brought anything other than their guns; surely Nimrod wouldn't kill him simply for fucking some bitch? Perhaps they were just trying to scare him.
Nimrod was the oldest man in the room. The three guys he brought with him weren't the two burly men that watched the door, but were younger and smaller guys, dealers like De'Quarious, niggas that he knew from the hood. All three of their guns were pointed at De'Quarious, standing in the corner of the room, still naked, his hands still covering his crotch, the fear and uncertainty that he was experiencing having shrunk his manhood to a size that it hadn't been since he was thirteen. He suddenly felt the urge to piss and he applied pressure to his crotch, trying to prevent the urine from flowing.
Nimrod sat down in the chair, legs spread, arms across his muscular chest. "You ever been to jail?" Nimrod asked, although he wasn't looking at De'Quarious and the boy wasn't sure who he was talking to.
"No." De'Quarious answered, when Nimrod finally looked at him. "I ain't never been to jail."
"The criminal justice system of the United States of America is the most dehumanizing machine ever invented." Nimrod said. "You enter--in most instances--a man. However, over the course of your sentence, they turn you into a piece of property, their property, either state or federal property. They strip you of your humanity, and they do it that very day that you get off the bus." Nimrod nodded to one of his boys, a handsome light brown skinned boy of about twenty, tall and slender, hair cut short and covered with shiny waves. He grabbed De'Quarious' arms and yanked them to his sides, revealing his crotch, nappy bush, and swinging uncut meat. When De'Quarious moved to cover his crotch again Nimrod snapped, "Keep your hands to your side nigga! We playing prison up in this motherfucker. Search him Tariq, full cavity search."
Tariq, the tall light brown skinned guy, started feeling De'Quarious' body, starting with his neck, and moving his calloused hands down the boy's chest, stomach, sides, and grabbed his dick, lifting it and his balls. De'Quarious felt humiliated, being felt up like that in front of Nimrod and the two other guys in the room. However, what felt worse was the fact that he was actually enjoying it, the feel of Tariq's strong masculine hands on his body, the contrast of Tariq's light brown skin--the color of black coffee with a drop of milk--against his own ebony skin. "Spread them legs nigga." Tariq commanded in a husky voice that sent a shiver down De'Quarious' spine. His dick began to harden and he tried to think of something to keep his dick from becoming erect, anything other than that sexy masculine man that was molesting his body. Tariq stood up. "Turn around." He told De'Quarious. De'Quarious hesitated, saw the two guns pointed at him, and turned around with a sigh.
Tariq grunted when he saw De'Quarious' fat muscular ass. Like all black men, Tariq had an appreciation for a nice ass, and despite belonging to a male, De'Quarious' ass was phenomenal. He didn't even waste time on the boy's shoulders and back, he plunged straight into the ass, using his hands to spread De'Quarious' rotund ass cheeks, and running his long, slender fingers up and down the youth's ass crack. De'Quarious flinched at the finger on his crack, having flashbacks to the night before when Scott's fingers had roughly prepped him for his dick. The memory and Tariq's fingers caused the boy to spring an erection, and he wasn't the only one. His juicy ass had caused Tariq's dick to harden in his drawers.
The sight of Tariq exploring De'Quarious' hard muscular body was turning Nimrod on as well, and he wondered how De'Quarious would react to the next level of his game. "Get a finger up in there Tariq; make sure this nigga ain't hiding no contraband up his ass." He said.
Both boys turned to look at Nimrod in surprise. "Nimrod, chill." De'Quarious said, his voice trembling with fear. "I've learned my lesson man, just let me go."
"Fuck that, you ain't learned a lesson until I've said so. Tariq, put your finger up that nigga's ass."
"Boss...no disrespect, but that sounds kinda homo." Tariq said, his husky voice once more making De'Quarious hot.
"What's wrong Tariq? You scared that putting your finger up his ass is gonna make you a faggot? That's pretty tame, if something like that makes you a fag then perhaps you were a fag all along. Them fucking CO's in jail do it all the time, they aren't all fags now are they? I'm sick of all this fucking insubordination today, you wanna trade places with De'Quarious?" Tariq shook his head violently. "Then do what the fuck I tell you and quit with all the fucking questions and comments. When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you."
Both Tariq and De'Quarious sighed and De'Quarious slowly bent over, his mind on those guns still pointed at him, believing that he could feel the heat of their stare on his back. Tariq put his index finger on De'Quarious' tight black hole and slowly pushed it in. De'Quarious grunted and bit his lip as Tariq slid his finger all the way in and wiggled it around. "It's clear Boss." He said, slightly ashamed at the fact that his dick was rock hard in his drawers.
"Put another finger in there, just to be sure." De'Quarious let out a whimper as Tariq put his middle finger to the boy's hole and pushed it in also, making no effort to be gentle. De'Quarious' ass naturally worked to expel the fingers, but Tariq kept them buried deep. "Still clear?" Nimrod asked, his dick rock hard.
"Yeah Boss, still clear."
"Alright, get back to your position." De'Quarious gasped and grunted when Tariq roughly removed his fingers and walked back to where he'd been standing before, his baggy jeans hiding the massive erection that molesting De'Quarious had produced. "Turn around." Nimrod told De'Quarious, whose dick had sprung to its full eight and a half inches while his hole was being fingered. De'Quarious hesitated, not wanting to expose the hard-on that he had, but the click of one of the guns caused him to turn around quickly, his hard coon cock bobbing as he did so. All present snickered at it, realizing that De'Quarious had enjoyed the cavity search. De'Quarious glanced at Tariq, who gave him a slight smile, and then looked away ashamed.
Nimrod stood. "On your knees." He told De'Quarious, fear knotting the youth's stomach, who slowly did as he was told. "After you get searched they make you shower." He said, and then nodded to another boy behind him, a golden brown boy about De'Quarious' age named Warren with shoulder length dreadlocks. Without warning, the boy whipped his dick out and started to piss on De'Quarious, covering the kneeling dark chocolate colored boy in a strong stream of fragrant yellow piss. De'Quarious turned his head to keep the piss from getting in his face, but Warren lifted his dick so that De'Quarious' face and mouth got covered as well as his chiseled chocolate body. "Rub that shit in nigga, you're taking a shower." Nimrod commanded, and De'Quarious reluctantly rubbed the youth's acrid yellow urine into his body, disgusted at the fact that he was covered in piss, humiliated but at the same time strongly aroused. Meanwhile, Nimrod slowly removed his shirt and the tight wifebeater t-shirt he wore underneath it. He kicked off his shoes and undid his belt. De'Quarious eyed him with horror, not believing that Nimrod was undressing before him, afraid that the older man was going to try and do something sexual to him. Nimrod nodded at Tariq, who walked over, pulled his dick out, and also started to piss on De'Quarious. "Well, you know what happens to niggas in the prison showers, right?" Nimrod asked, pulling his boxers down.
De'Quarious flinched when he saw Nimrod's dick, which, flaccid, was the same length as his was erect. Like De'Quarious, Nimrod was uncut, but with less foreskin that--as his dick hardened at the sight of Tariq and the third guy, a dark skinned boy with short hair named Paul both covering De'Quarious in their piss--receded to reveal a fat beige head. When fully erect, Nimrod's dick was an unbelievable eleven and a half inches long and seven and a half inches thick, a true monster dick with plum sized balls. De'Quarious couldn't help it, the urge to piss that he'd had when he first came into the room hadn't left, and at the sight of Nimrod's huge dick, the young nigger pissed himself, piss shooting from his hard dick and all over his own chest and stomach. Nimrod smiled. "All you niggas strip." He commanded the three clothed boys, who took off their clothes and revealed their bodies. Tariq, at six two, was the tallest, his body was a lean one hundred and sixty-eight pounds, his arms and chest were covered in tattoos and his stomach was flat with a natural six-pack. His pubic hair wasn't nappy but was somewhat straight, and his flaccid cut dick was six and a half inches and along with his low hanging golf-ball sized nuts swung in between his smooth skinny legs as he removed his sneakers, jeans, and boxers.
Warren was about De'Quarious' height, and weighed about a hundred and seventy pounds, his body was muscular and he also had a six pack. His chest was covered in nappy hair, with a trail to the nappy bush above his uncut dick, which hung four inches in its flaccid state with walnut sized balls. His arms and legs were also hairy. Paul was about five ten, weighed about a hundred and forty-five pounds, and had a smooth body. His stomach was flat though he had no pronounced abs and his hips were slender. Unlike the others, the boy had no pubic hair, having shaved his crotch so that it was completely smooth. It seemed to make the five and a half inches of his flaccid cut Negro meat even bigger, and his smooth black balls hung between his smooth chocolate legs like turtle's eggs.
De'Quarious looked around at the four hot black studs, eyeing their sexy bodies, looking at the different shades of their skin and their dicks, all different sizes, and his own dick got even harder. Precum started to drip from his long foreskin. He was completely covered in piss from his braids to his toes, some still dripping down his chest and face, the smell of the urine of the three young guys, made strong by the Kool-Aid and 40 ounces the boys drank all day, seemed to be imprinted in De'Quarious' large nostrils. He couldn't believe that they were all naked in front of him; he couldn't believe that his dick was so hard staring at them, and he was terrified of what might happen next.