This is a work of erotic fiction. The events in this story and all of the characters in it are purely fictional. This story is not to be read by minors. It may include sexual acts between teenagers, and between teenager and adults. It may also contain racially offensive language. If this type of erotic fiction disturbs you, or if you find that you may be unduly influenced by it, please search for something else to read for your personal erotic fictional entertainment.
All publishing and reproduction rights are reserved by the author of this story.
From Part One: Jamar happened to stumble on a locker room scene where the star of the high school basketball team, and Jamar's best "homeboy" since elementary school -- a straight and proud black boy, was down on his knees licking a cute white teen boy's ass. It turns out that the white teen is the son of a scout for division one university basketball teams and Jamar suspects that his homeboy was trying to score points off the court to get an inside track to division one basketball. The two boys never found out that Jamar saw them in the locker room. Now Jamar has to decide whether or not he wants to try to get in on the action and get a shot at a division one school himself.
Before Jamar could approach Timothy, the son of a scout for division one university basketball teams, about boosting his chances of getting on a team he wanted to find out just how much "faggoty shit" the young white boy was likely to make him do. He'd have to confront Rashad about what he'd seen the white boy make him do in the locker room.
Jamar wandered around the back of the gym until Rashad finally emerged from the locker room.
"Yo, `Shad."
"Wassup, `Mar."
Jamar looked at the sidewalk, kicking little pebbles as the two boys walked along. "Well, it's like this. I knows that I be a damn good basketball player but still, I bees kinda worried about whether or not I gonna get into a division one university. You ever worry about anything like that?"
Rashad put up his usual front of false bravado, "Naw man, I don't worry about that shit. I knows all you gots to do is work hard and step up your game, muthafucka -- then you get in."
Now Jamar getting annoyed. Rashad was holding out on him and trying to make it seem like it was his own lack of a work ethic that made him nervous about his prospects for division one. He'd give his buddy another chance to come clean with him. "But aint you worried that skills might not be enough? Aint you worried that you might not get in?"
Rashad shrugged his shoulders indifferently, "Naw, man -- I aint worried."
Jamar frowned, "Why not?"
Rashad nearly bouncing with glee at the chance to talk himself up, "Cause I got skills. I got mad crazy skills. I'm a shoe-in for a division one university's team. If you got skills like I got you'd be a shoe-in too."
Now Jamar was simmering, "And them skills you be talking about, does them skills be basketball skills or dick-sucking, ass-licking skills?"
Rashad seemed unnerved by the boy's question, but he tried not to loose his cool and to play it off, "Nigga, what the fuck wrong with you? I don't know what the fuck you talkin' about. Don't come to me with that faggot shit."
Jamar pressed his body up against the boy in an intimidating fashion, "I seen you in the locker room the other day; you be licking that white boy -- Timothy's -- ass. You know damn well his ol' man is a scout for college basketball. I seen you two in there," Then Jamar added for embellishment, "I even made a video of that shit. I might even post it on the internet and make some money off of that shit."
Now Rashad was nearly whimpering, "You seen that shit?"
"Yeah I saw it," Jamar said bodly, "And I can't lie, watching you lick that white boy's ass got my own dick hard. You was lickin that white boy's asshole pretty good, like you enjoyed that shit. You wanna lick my ass too, just like you did his?"
Jamar mockingly turned around, bent over and lifted his oversized T-shirt, exposing his boxer shorts with his sagging trousers below his butt cheeks.
"Nigga, put that shit away before I shove my foot up in it."
"Oh, I see," Jamar said with a mocking grin, "You just do it for white boys, is that it?"
Rashad gave Jamar the cold, hard look of `realism', "Nigga I'm just doin' what I got to do to get noticed. A man's gotta handle his own affairs any way he knows how."
Jammar was tempted to mock his homeboy some more, but that wasn't why he started this conversation in the first place. He thought he better get back to the point, "Well, I kinda thinkin about doin' some of that myself -- to get a chance to be noticed just like you be doin'. What all do that white boy make you do?"
Rashad looked sheepishly at the sidewalk and mumbled, "I be lickin his ass sometime and sometime suckin the white boy dick."
A look of anxiety crossed Jamar's face, "He ever skeet in your mouth?"
Rashad nodded his head shamefully, "Yeah, sometime he skeet in my mouth."
Jamar looked more anxious, more nervous, but also started grabbing his crotch which was getting uncomfortably hard, "He make you swallow?"
Rashad looked dejectedly at the sidewalk and didn't notice his homeboy's hardening dick, "Yeah, sometime he make me swallow."
Jammar couldn't control himself any longer. He whooped with excited laugher, "So you got white boy skeet swimmin' all inside your body." He held on to his now fully erect cock in order to conceal it and started dancing around in front of Rashad. "You be a cum-suckin', ass-lickin', penis-smellin' hoe for that white boy, aint you?"
Rashad flushed with anger, "Nigga, step the fuck off. I'm just doin' what I gotta do in order to get paaaaid, muthafucka."
Jamar couldn't let it go, "I dunno, it look kinda embarrassin' to me, seein' a dude who supposed to be a hero an' a role model an' all that with his face buried in a skinny white dude's ass."
Rashad flashed his teeth, "Shut the fuck up. That don't mean nothin'. I'm still da man."
Jamar didn't seem to know when to quit. He grinned broadly in Rashad's face, "I'm just sayin' it don't look right when a big, strong black dude got his face covered with white boy cum, lookin' like vanilla frosting on chocolate cake, ya feel me?" Jamar tugged on his erect penis while he teased his friend.
Rashad wasn't amused, "You don't know what you talkin' `bout nigga. I got a man's responsibilities. This be the big leagues, not just some small time high school basketball games we talkin' bout here. I be on my way to the pros."
Jamar kept tugging at his hard cock, grinning and enjoying himself, "All I'm sayin' is it looked kinda funny seein' you down there on your knees with your tongue lickin the insides of that white boy's ass and eatin his shit like that."
Rashad stormed off, "Shut the fuck up, nigga. You just jealous it aint you goin' to the division one teams."
Jamar watched his homeboy disappear in the streets. He decided he better head home, thinking it's dangerous for a nigga to be alone in the hood with so many people looking for a chance to creep up on you from behind. He felt he was surrounded by backstabbing `niggas' who weren't going anywhere with their lives and he couldn't trust any of them. There was no safety, no security on the city streets.
As Jamar made his way home he began to think more seriously about what Rashad said. Maybe it was time for Jamar to take care of business too; just like Rashad was doing -- take advantage of the opportunity to try to get out of the ghetto by sucking that white boy's cock.
Why should Rashad be the only one who might be on his way to the big leagues? Maybe Rashad was right; maybe Jamar was only being jealous because it wasn't him who had an inside track to a division one team.
By the time Jamar reached the ground floor of the apartment building he stayed in he had made a decision. It was time to talk Timothy. It was time to see if he could get in on the action and cut a deal with the white boy like Rashad had done.
To be continued ...