White Boy Comes In Out of the Rain
This story is a work of erotic fiction strictly for entertainment purposes and is not intended to be read by inappropriate audiences. Anyone offended by racially loaded same-sex erotic fiction based on teenage memories should find other entertainment. Please send all feedback to Evan Williams, classic14rider@gmail.com.
Calvin sat by the window in the coffee shop in the early evening of a late autumn day. The skies were getting dark, and there was a drizzling rain outside. The pale blue glow from his laptop illuminated Calvin's dark face. He was absorbed by the incessant demands of email messages from his college professors and classmates.
There were endless accusatory questions. Why did he miss his lab work this morning? Where was he during his group project review this afternoon? Why hadn't he submitted his written assignment this evening? There was one question after another. Who could have known the first year of college would be so demanding? College was turning out to be much different from high school. A few months ago, he couldn't have imagined he would miss having his mother wake him in the morning so he would be on time for school. Now, everything was different.
His mouth felt dry, and his palms were clammy. He couldn't tell if this was due to pressure from his professors or if these were the effects of the coffee he was drinking. He chewed on the tip of his ink pen as he hammered his responses into the computer, all of them lies to conceal his negligence.
It was at that moment that a young white boy who looked like he could have been in his final year in middle school or a freshman in high school hurried into the coffee shop and plopped down in a wooden chair beside Calvin. The boy reached over to plug in his cell phone and stared impatiently at the screen until the dead phone came back to life.
Calvin's heart skipped a beat as he glanced at the boy's soft white fingers that held his phone. He gazed at the boy's dark brown hair, matted with rainwater. Once again, his heart skipped a beat. He wanted to hold this tender specimen of youthful white manhood in his arms, dry him off, and make him warm. He wanted to protect the boy and serve him. These were foolish and embarrassing thoughts.
Calvin quickly turned back to his computer screen, disgusted with himself for such ideas. This was a guy, after all, and where Calvin grew up, guys are not supposed to show one another affection. Not like the kind he was daydreaming about. On top of that, this was a kid. A college student should not be interested in young boys in middle or high school. What was wrong with Calivn that he would even think about that? And the kid was white. Black boys aren't supposed to comfort white boys; if anything, white boys are supposed to admire black boys' superior athletic prowess. Everything was wrong with what Calvin was thinking. It must have been the pressure of all of his schoolwork.
He tried to ignore the white boy sitting next to him and focus on his computer screen, but Calvin's eyes drifted in the white boy's direction. He tried to see the boy's face. He studied the parts of the boy he could see. He studied his porcelain white fingers as the boy held his phone. He studied his matted dark hair as it rested against the boy's face and neck. He studied the soft white skin of the boy's neckline where his camouflage t-shirt concealed the rest of his soft white body. Calvin's heart started to beat rapidly. He felt himself getting an erection. This was totally unacceptable.
He saw that the boy was anxious about his phone. Hunched over his slowly-charging phone, there were probably a million other things on the boy's mind, weighing him down. Calvin wanted to hold the boy and reassure him everything would be all right. He wanted to make all of the boy's problems instantly disappear. He stole a peek at the boy's soft, rosy white cheek. His cheek was hairless, tender, and beautiful. If only Calvin could stoke that boy's cheek and comfort him, Calvin's life would have meaning. He was born to serve a white boy like this. He shook himself. He had to snap out of these ridiculous and demeaning thoughts. He had to stop staring at the boy, or the boy would notice. This is not a world where a black boy could stare at a younger white boy without causing alarm and concern. This kind of reckless, romantic thinking would have to stop.
But still, Calvin's eyes and heart drifted back to the white boy. He could see the emerging manliness in the boy's fingers. He felt a euphoric rush as he imagined holding the manly boy in his arms. He wanted him close to his dark body. He wondered what the boy's cock would taste like. Oh, what a terrible thought to enter his mind unexpectedly. How could he think such a thing? Where did such a disgusting idea come from? The idea of sticking this cute white boy's manly, young cock in his black mouth was abhorrent to him. This thought couldn't have come from him, the black boy reasoned; it must have come from somewhere else. Calvin frowned in disgust. Suddenly, the white boy lifted his head.
Calvin found himself staring the boy in his face. Their eyes met. He was an angel. The boy's mouth and nose seemed chiseled with precision, like that of a young god. His wet, matted brown hair covered his forehead. His thin, tender red lips seemed like an intoxicating vintage wine. Calvin was overcome by the urge to suck the white boy's cock until he surrendered to orgasmic pleasure in the black boy's mouth. That would be heaven, to use his mouth to bring this godly young white boy to orgasmic relief. Calvin could die happy after that.
The boy's brown eyes grew wide with fear. Now, he knew the black boy had been staring at him. What did the black boy want? He shuttered in alarm. Whatever he wanted, it couldn't be good. When someone looks at you with unrestrained lust, it is difficult to tell if they mean you good or ill. The look of unbridled lust on the black boy's face was not very different from a look of malice and aggression. The white boy felt a chill and quivered. He sat straight up in his chair, trying to be calm and alert. He tried not to look directly at his black observer, but he didn't want to let the boy out of his sight. He had to keep an eye on him.
Overwhelmed by the white boy's beauty and horrified that he had been caught admiring him, Calvin hurriedly turned back to his computer, pretending to be absorbed in his work. Still, the white boy watched him with caution. Calvin's heart sank. If only the boy knew what Calvin was really thinking. If he only knew Calvin would give up everything to bring that white boy pleasure. If he only knew that the one thing that would make Calvin happy would be the experience of making this white boy feel more pleasure than he had felt in his entire life. He wanted to be rewarded by drinking the white boy's cum that flowed from his horny young body. Far from having malevolent thoughts toward him, Calvin wanted to worship the young white boy and be his servant. In the eyes of that black boy, the white boy was beauty, goodness, and truth. Calvin shook himself; he was embarrassed by such thoughts. Still, his dick throbbed in his pants.
The white boy looked at his cell phone. Apparently, it was sufficiently charged. He stuffed the phone into a pocket of his camouflaged pants and hastily retreated for the door. Calvin's eyes followed him. He tried to be discrete. He did not want the white boy or the other customers to notice his gaze. He saw the boy through the window, lumbering across the black asphalt parking lot until he disappeared into the rain. Calvin sighed and returned to his laptop. "Where are you? Stop jerking off! Why aren't you responding to our emails about the group assignment we're supposed to be working on together?" Calvin gazed in the direction where the white boy had been sitting. The thought crossed his mind: we can be next to each other, but we will never really know each other. Slowly, reluctantly, he stuck his pen in his mouth and responded to his email.