The Uncut free porn video

‘It'll Take Millions In Plastic Surgery To Make Me Black’


“Strong black characters?” exclaims the man. “Are you fucking serious? You fucking with me, right?”

“Well… no. I mean, I mean, look at Morpheus” Billy is taken aback a little by the man’s strong reaction, but decides to prove his point. “He is, like, kind of a leader there, right? And then there’s Niobe and, um, Dozer, and other black people…”

“Kids these days”, says the man, shaking his head in disbelief, his huge teeth like floodlights. “So you people listen to hip-hop here and there, you watch a ball game or two and wear T-shirts with Shaq’s face on them but you’re just as easily fooled with the token negro in your white cinema as your grandparents used to be. That’s nothing to be proud of, son, just so you are aware.”

He looks my way when he says that last part. I automatically nod in approval.

“Yes, sir.” Fuck, I am not arguing that point with someone to whom pointing a gun at me apparently brings deep spiritual pleasure. The man is fucked in the head. Most definitely fucked.

“But, sir”, protests Billy. He is either the braver of us two or just the thicker one. I am quite amazed he actually seems to be taking this debate seriously while I am shitting myself. “Morpheus might be the one of the strongest Afro-American characters in cinema history!”

And again he receives a pitiful smile in return.

“Son, how old you said you were, seventeen?”

“Yes… sir.” Billy is really sixteen, being four months younger than me, but he’ll be damned to admit it. He’s been acting tough all evening. That’s his usual way of dealing with the world.

“See, time was I didn’t have much patience for people not working their hardest not to be stupid. But I guess a lifetime of bitter disappointments had me grow out of it. Nowadays I expect someone your age to be actively maintaining their stupidity. So I am not going to slap you now. Despite what you might think, I am not that kind of a guy.” He smiles that broad smile of his that I still have to crack. Is it honest? Or fake? Just a guy having a good moment or a snake getting ready to devour its prey? Stuff might depend on it. My and Billy’s lives. And other stuff too.

“So, let me ask you: if Morpheus is such a hard ass character, a leader, as you described him, how come he’s saddled with this slave mentality straight out of Uncle Tom, eh? How come such a strong, well spoken, virile, self-assured black male basically spends most of his screen time drooling over a skinny white guy with a God-complex? Eh? You ever wondered about that?”

“Um… no, sir…” Billy is thrown off his balance it seems. The guy likes the sound of his voice, that much is obvious. And he has a gun on top of it.

“No, of course not, because in your patented brand of stupidity, endorsed by most of your pop-culture, it’s obvious that a black guy sporting a leather coat and a pair of ridiculous shades is a ‘strong character’.” The guy makes quotation marks with his hands. “To make him even stronger, hey, let’s, you know, give him a samurai sword in the sequel. That’s really going to emphasise the depth of his intelligence, the length of his leadership skills and the awesome width of his gentlemanly manners.”

I swear, this man is in love with himself. This is so fucking Reservoir Dogs it’s giving me the creeps. The muffled cries behind me contribute in a significant way. I dare not turn. Fuck…

“But you know, when compared to Neo, Morpheus is barely a shaved ape, really.”

Billy does the unthinkable and interrupts him. I swear, Billy has grown no brains since his mother dropped him from her womb. He used all the leftover material for his balls. From a certain standpoint, this is admirable, but I don’t want his combination of cranial void and testosterone overproduction to get us both seriously hurt or killed. Granted, the man hasn’t killed anyone yet tonight, but we have both witnessed him do harm.

“That’s just oversimplification”, says Billy as if he’s spotted a hole in the man’s argumentation. “Neo may be confused about his messianic role, but this is why Morpheus plays the part of an intelligent disciple and directs both their fates, as well as the fate of all the human race for the greater good.” The little fuck is actually smiling a smug smile to the man’s face. He thinks he has him beaten down.

“See, that’s what I am talking about”, exclaims the man in a triumphant voice. “All those shitty movie blogs you guys read and regurgitate like so many parrots make you think you actually understand shit about anything that’s going on there. The scary part is you do the same shit at school and once you are old enough to vote and make decisions that actually produce some effects in real life, you’ll be no better. In fact”, he says, looking at his gun. “Right now I am in two minds about whether I should go through the effort of explaining you how dumb you are or should I just take the easy way and blow your underdeveloped brains out.”

“Please, sir…” I say quickly. “Please, he doesn’t mean anything bad. We are just kids, sir.” Fuck this shit.

“Oh, I am quite aware of it, sonny”, he smiles right back at me. “That’s what makes you little shits not just damaging but actually evil. That you don’t actually mean bad. That you will perpetuate the way of life that you don’t see anything wrong about despite just needing to open your fucking eyes to see the big picture. You’re evil and lazy. Evil, because you’re so lazy.”

I am not arguing with him. He won’t do it. He won’t shoot Billy or me. Not yet. He actually wants to explain. He needs an audience. Just keep him talking.

“You see”, he continues. “All this crap about Neo as Jesus and Morpheus as St. John is the way for those fucks to get you to talk about their horrible shit of a movie on your Internet messageboards. Because suddenly it’s not about blowing cars on the highway and dressing in latex, but it’s about depth and metaphors, right?”

The latest is not just a rhetorical question. Both, Billy and me nod.

“Oh, right”, he says. “But when you take a look at the movie budget you’ll see the cash was spent on car chases and special effects that make the characters swim through bullets and jump from building to building. That’s what you get shown in trailers and that’s what you go out to see. All that supposed depth is not what’s giving you a hard-on when you see robots descend on that underground city they stole from Star Wars. It’s the technology that someone had to pay for.”

I can’t believe we are actually made to sit still through this. Just because Billy decided we should be stupid tonight. Billy is always stupid about his dick. And my dick listened, so I guess I am to blame as well.

“And, so, when you actually walk out of the theatre, do you say to yourself ‘Dude, this was an engaging religious metaphor placing age-old questions in postmodern context in which technology acts as our mirror rather than just a useful tool’? Well, do you? Did you text your friends to tell them about the many levels of intellectual and spiritual speculation in the Matrix when you finished watching the movie, Mr. Billy Internet-for-brains there? Or did you yell ‘Dude, did you see the CGI? And that babe in latex!! Way hot!!!’”

Billy makes a feeble attempt to protest but is shut up by an impatient gesture.

“It doesn’t matter what you have to say, son, I can see the way your mind works from here and, let me tell you, if you mean to rely on it to earn you a living any time soon, you better start getting used to salvation army meals.” He casts a quick glance across my shoulder to make sure his primary object of interest is doing well. “You comfortable there, love? We’re not boring you with our little chat here, are we? We’ll be with you in a second, I promise. These kids just need to be taught some fundaments of truth first.”

Billy actually turns his head and looks. I don’t have the balls to do it. And seeing the look on his face scares me even more. Billy is still in arousal. Jesus fucking Christ.

“So, then, William, when you, as a moviegoer, watch those deep and engaging stories about blowing up cars and mid-air kung-fu, when you look at Morpheus and you look at Neo, what do you see? You see a black guy who can walk on walls and jump from building to building but you also see a skinny white guy who can fly. You see a black guy who can punch through a wall and slice through a speeding car, right? But then you see a white, skinny guy who can raise the dead, right? And the black guy worships the skinny white guy for that. And on top of that, you see the black guy deliver motivation speeches that somehow start spontaneous rave parties in a cave twenty miles below the surface of the Earth and a strong black woman who admires and worships him for it all, but the only guy landing some pussy in that movie is, whoa, who’d have thought, the skinny white guy!!”

He speaks with feverish devotion as the muffled cries and the sound of shuffling feet behind me strive for my attention. I don’t turn.

“And, another thing is of course, that sex scene is just another indication of how poor the imagination of those fuckers really is. I mean, son, do work with me here, outside of her uncomfortable fetish latex suit, would you find Trinity to be particularly attractive?”

He is addressing me, directly, so I have no choice but to answer.

“N-no, sir, not really. No.”

“But”, Billy cuts in again, impatiently, hurrying to drive his point home. “That’s the idea of the whole setting, that in the Matrix everyone can look the way they want, as opposed to the cards they’ve been dealt by the nature.”

“Ooh, mister I-left-my-brain-in-the-shitter-this-morning, aren’t we sharp today”, the man teases. “And, can you tell me, genius, how come then that her and Neo choose to have sex like two cave people, when they have all that technology at their disposal?”

I see where he’s going with this. And despite everything, despite myself, I feel like joining the discussion.

“I believe, sir, I believe that this is supposed to emphasise their need to feel human in moments of such intense emotional engagement. The primal emotion and primal sex… uh, sort of.”

“Man, you too are so deep, aren’t you?” says the man. “But let me ask you – when you surf your Internet for porn what do you see?”

“What… what do you mean sir?” I am not sure what he means.

“Well, brainiac, do you see a lot of porn where it’s just two people naked on the floor having sex, or do you see people in latex, people with make-up, people shaved, with plastic boobs and pierced genitals and tattooed skin, using all kinds of gadgets and contraptions for your viewing pleasure only?”

“Oh… Um… Yes, I understand.” I think I do.

“No, you don’t but you might. In a decade or two.” He turns towards Billy. Perhaps he instinctively feels that he is the slow one. “The point is, it doesn’t work that way. Those people have the technology that makes their imagination feel realer than reality. It makes them walk on walls and fly and it makes their hairstyles stay intact after ridiculously complex gunfights. They learn all fighting styles in a matter of seconds and drive combat helicopters like something out of a video game, but you’re trying to tell me that when it comes to sex they just get undressed and hit the floor? How does that work? For all we know, Trinity could use their fancy Matrix simulator and grow a clitoris on every square inch of her skin. Neo could have a seventeen inch cock stuffed down both legs of his leather pants. He could have Trinity whip and mutilate him if she feels like it, only to come out unscathed at the end of the day and come to play tomorrow again. Just think of the possibilities!! Legal kiddie sex!! Animals limited only by your imagination designed to satisfy all your sexual needs. Slaves that are there to fulfil your every wish and who genuinely love when you hurt them over and over!!!”

And as he speaks, he looks over both our heads. And points his finger as he grows silent. And now I have to turn around. I have to. This is the cue. The shit will hit the fan any time now.

“So, my dear, hope you too enjoyed this little cultural lesson we have been having here. The suburb kids are, I am afraid, just criminally uneducated when it comes to anything else but their comicbooks. We’ll see now if their sexual skills can be rated any better. For your sake, I hope they can. After all, when I was their age, I was much more interested in sticking my dick into something less familiar than my own fist than in becoming a lawyer.”

I look at the woman, at my neighbour. I look at her struggle to stay on her toes so that her breasts hurt less. They are tied together tightly with a piece of rope. The man did a very professional job, by the looks of it, making sure the rope doesn’t slip away even in moments of extreme tension. He then pulled the rope up and over the door and attached the other end to the door handle at the other side, making sure it’s just the desired length. What I mean is, he made it short enough so that Mrs. Evans has to stay on her toes all the time as to prevent her tits being ripped off her torso by her own weight. Then we sat down and had a long discussion about the reactionary nature of modern Hollywood production.

I look at Mrs. Evans as she sways on her toes, losing balance and gaining it again. Her arms are behind her back, tied cruelly by the same rope. Her legs shiver visibly from the effort. There is a big red ball gag in her mouth, attached at the back of her head. This is what ensured she wouldn’t be interrupting our discussion with anything else but quiet, muffled cries of pain and pleas for release. There’s some saliva trickling down her chin.

She is covered in sweat. She’s been like this for quite some time now. I am amazed she’s actually still standing as one wouldn’t think she had this kind of endurance in her. She is not a young girl. She’s a wife and a mother. Then again, one wouldn’t think she’d allow herself to be in this position at all. There’s more to Mrs. Evans than meets the eye, that much is for sure.

I look at her breasts. The cruel bondage disrupts the normal blood stream, so now they look larger and are coloured dark-blue from all the blood trapped inside. Also, her nipples are very stiff, which, I presume is another effect of all that accumulated blood rather than an indication of her arousal.

She returns my look. A bewildered, animalistic plea for help, for release. She knows I can not be of any help to her, but her eyes don’t. She prays to me, silently, as she tries to keep the precious balance on her toes.

Shit… It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up that I want to vomit. But my cock is interested in this proposition. I hang out with Billy too much. Stupidity, unlike beauty, seems to be contagious.



‘All You Need Is Love Was Not True’



It all started out of boredom. Just how many tragedies start the same way, we may never know. Sometimes I get all philosophical and wonder, with all the stupid, idiotic things we will do, how come our parents don’t keep us under lock and key all the time... Drugs, shoplifting, teenage pregnancy, AIDS, streetfights, drunk driving… You name it, I’ll name someone from my school who you can pin it on. We’re just stupid kids, damnit and we’re bored. No fucking amount of movie trailers and Playstation games changes that. It’s a fact of life. Boredom is the disease you catch as a teenager and the cure can sometimes kill you. But you still crave it.

So, you know, when Billy suggested we go and stalk Mrs. Evan’s place, I didn’t actually say ‘Dude, I don’t think this is the best of all possible ideas. Why not just go and hang out at the mall or something?’ Of course this is what I will claim in court. Let the retard take more of the blame if possible. It was his fucking idea after all.

But I didn’t really say it. What I said was more along the lines of ‘You think she’ll put on another show for us tonight? You’re an optimistic bitch.’

Billy is not really optimistic. The concept is a little too advanced for him. He is more, like, determined. Singleminded. Stubborn.

You see, Billy was the one who discovered that Mrs. Evans, our neighbour, would occasionally use the opportunity of her husband and sons not being home to let out some steam, so to put it.

And let me tell you about Mrs. Evans. She’s one of those well-preserved middle-aged suburban moms who have not only done a splendid job of being a model wife and an understanding parent but who also managed to stay very desirable even in her forties. I am not some granny fetishist here, and there’s plenty girls my age around me who I’d like to drill, but Mrs. Evans has been responsible for quite a few hard-ons in my tender teenage years. That I am still in. And she is still one sexy slut.

Not that she ever acted like one, quite the contrary, part of what made her such an enduring fantasy for me and rest of the kids from the neighbourhood was that, in addition to her good looks and mild nature, she always had these… manners. You know how you love your mom but sometimes you wish she’d just shut up and stop embarrassing herself with either jokes that make you blush or talking about shit she doesn’t know anything about and cheerfully so. Well, you’d never catch Mrs. Evans doing that. The woman has manners, this noble aura about her that somehow makes her stand out in a crowd of soccer moms that our neighbourhood consists of.

So, of course, the natural direction for your fantasies about her to go is gutter. I think I started masturbating when I was twelve and Mrs. Evans was one of the choice targets of my mind’s attention during these sessions ever since. The woman has been fucked in all holes in my mind, many times. The woman sucked my cock and swallowed my cum and told me all about my insane sex skills while I called her names that aroused her even more. If I had a dime for every time I came in a tissue, lying in my bed at night, whispering ‘Susan, you’re such a dirty whore’ or some similar, inspired one-liner, I’d have one huge fucking pile of dimes now, that much is sure.

The usual stuff, then.

But THEN one night Billy’s ID came up on my phone and when I answered the call what I heard was a croaky whisper. What the fuck?

“I said, get your ass over here, moron. You’re missing the show of your fucking life!!”

Of course, at first I though Billy was putting me on. The guy has a somewhat less than subtle sense of humour. That wouldn’t be entirely unlike him. But just the thought. Just the thought made my cock go stiff.

“I’m going to fucking choke you on your own teeth, bitch. You better not be playing any games with me. I’m going to punch your jaws in.”

But Billy just went on in that awkward combination of excited whispering and screaming, telling me that I am a moron for wasting any time arguing with him. That it was so typical of me to respond to his kindness with mistrust and abuse. OK, he didn’t use that many words.

So I did, I went there. It was still fairly early in the night and I needed to cross just a couple of streets to get to the Evans’ house. Mindful to remain unseen I made my way to the back. There he was. Billy was hiding in the shadow and gesturing at me to keep it quiet. As I approached I noticed he wasn’t lying. Would his cock have been out of his jeans if he was?

Billy pointed at the window, still keeping his finger on his lips, making sure I don’t create any loud noises. But he didn’t need to. I wasn’t going to. No, Jesus, fuck, shit, I wasn’t going to. Billy wasn’t lying to me and this was indeed a once in a lifetime opportunity.

My cock wasn’t just ‘stiff’ any more. My cock was so hard I could crack coconuts and cat skulls with it. Under normal circumstances, I would have never taken it out. Yes, we did discuss masturbation quite a lot, as boys always do and we certainly talked about our genitals a lot, but you have to draw a line somewhere. And in my mind, group masturbation sessions are somewhat south of the line I have personally drawn and written the word ‘gay’ under. In big fucking red letters. So, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have taken my rock-hard cock out and started peeling the foreskin back in front of my non-gay friend Billy just like that. But, this was not normal and it’s not like Billy was interested to look my way anyway.

Because, frankly, I wasn’t looking his way either. Because, the window gave us something far more interesting to lay our eyes on.

Billy wasn’t lying.

There she was, there was out neighbour, Mrs. Evans, Susan, the respectable wife, mother, the model citizen of our cosy suburbia, the slut of my dreams, there she was, all alone in the room. The light was not particularly bright, most of it seemed to be coming from a huge computer monitor on her desk. But there was quite enough of it for us to see what we needed.

So, we could see that she was, after all, really a slut that our imagination painted so vividly over all those years.

Mrs. Evans, our respected, well-mannered neighbour and mother of our friends was masturbating using a battery-operated vibrator. I have no idea what was on the screen that she was looking at. It could have been a movie clip, a story, a series of photos, but there is no doubt it was pornography. It wasn’t a sex-chat, that much was sure, because her both hands were busy between her thighs.

Just thinking back about it gives me the shivers. It’s a wonder I didn’t come within seconds. The woman I dreamed about for such a long time was right there in front of me, stroking herself with a vibrator, her face a grimace of sinful pleasure, her hips rocking back and forth in unison with her hands’ movements. The window was closed but we could still hear her moans, albeit soft and distant. By the looks of it, she was being loud and vocal. I was happy, happy as fuck to see she was, after all, such a hot slut. A dirty fucking whore.

She had most of her clothes on for the occasion. Hell, I didn’t even get to see her tits, she just rolled her dress up and her panties down. They were still around her ankles. She was barefoot and so sexy. And when she got on her back, got her legs up in the air and came pushing the vibrator in, came with a series of guttural scrams that seemed to be rocking the windows, so did I. I struggled to suppress my own voice as I sprayed the wall of Susan’s house with my steaming teenage semen. I don’t know about Billy, I wasn’t looking, maybe he didn’t even make it to that point, but we both came that evening, watching our neighbour masturbate.

And then again, later, in bed. And then again, later still, around four in the morning in the toilet. I was so hard that night that I thought I’d be sick. I literally felt pain in my cock from all the blood that decided to make a fucking rush hour party in there.

Needless to say, seeing a woman like Susan do stuff like that changes one’s view of the world. Permanently. More importantly, it completely changes the way you see the person in question. In my mind Susan stopped being a respectable woman with slut potential. She became a slut proper, her respectable front being just an elaborate disguise. My fantasies about her became wilder than before.

Of course, seeing Mrs. Evans in the street was never going to be the same. I was smart enough to never make any kind of ambiguous comments in front of her sons and, amazingly, so was Billy. But just seeing her in the street or in the mall, every time it felt like being hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer. I knew. I knew her secret. I saw her most intimate moment. I saw it, consumed it, exploited it, flipped it in my head many times since. And she didn’t know.

Neither me nor Billy have girlfriends. OK, this is not something I am bragging about. It’s just a fact. Call us freaks or geeks or whatever name people with girlfriends like to throw at us, you probably won’t make it any worse for us. It’s just like that. I have the slight advantage over Billy though, as I have actually had sexual intercourse in my life whereas he can only boast a handjob performed by a drunken fat girl he met at a party in the mountains. If you think being a teenager is easy then your memory is very selective. And fuck you.

So, we discussed this a lot. Mrs. Evans became somewhat of a returning topic of our conversation. We never told anyone else about it – you could say it’s either because we wanted it to be our secret that will makes us feel smug in front of our peers or because we don’t really have any friends. Either way, it was a well kept secret. But we talked about it a lot. Well, yes, those were embarrassing conversations most of the time, but we did compare our impressions, memories, theories. And the number of times we could come thinking about Mrs. Evans within one day.

And we started stalking the house. Frequently. Hope that we will stumble upon another occasion to see some of the paradise on Earth was strong enough to make us forget about TV, mall, drinking, smoking joints or porn surprisingly often.

And, I am happy to report it paid once again.

The second time could not be like the first time, of course. But in some ways it was better. The first time it was Billy’s insane boredom and retardedness that made him stumble upon the goldmine. The second time was the result of perseverance and devotion and belief.

And we watched her as she sat in front of her computer again. We watched her roll down her panties. This time they came off completely. And what she did then almost made me cum right there before the action even started for real. She rolled the panties into a little ball and then used them to rub her pussy dry. Apparently, she was already very wet and didn’t want to mess up the place before time was due, so she used her panties to wipe her pussy of its juices. And then, oh, fuck, God, shit, then she brought the panties to her face and closed her eyes as she was losing herself in the scent. I so wished I was there, to have a sniff myself. And when she extended her tongue and touched the wet fabric of the panties with its tip, Billy moaned aloud.

“Dude…”

“Shut the fuck up, retard!!!” My whisper was probably louder than his voice but I was so mad at him for potentially blowing our cover. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if Susan or anyone really learned about our little voyeuristic celebration here. The shit would come raining down so hard and thick from all sides that having an umbrella wasn’t even an option.

This time around, she was taking her time (or we just managed to get to the show early). She was reading something off the screen, that was also obvious, as she was spreading her thighs, her bare feet touching the floor only with toes. She was touching her pussy gently, running her fingers slowly up and down, then playing with her clit without hurry. Her other hand, while not on the mouse, disappeared under her blouse. I could see her squeeze her tits and pinch her nipples just as I could also see the expressions on her face change from focus on what was on the screen to being lost in pleasure that her fingers were bringing her. She looked so hot. She looked like such a slut.

Billy and I masturbated in unison, wet, sticky noises made by our hands jerking our foreskins, as our pretty neighbour worked herself into a state of proper sexual frenzy. She stopped caring about the screen after a while and kicked back in her chair, her fingers now very busy between her thighs. She was literally fucking herself with three fingers of one hand, while the other one had other duties to attend to. First it was just fingers on the clit, but then she reached for the desk and brought her vibrator up.

I don’t know whether she felt more adventurous this time around or what but what she did was so deliciously dirty I almost fainted on the spot. First, she grabbed her panties again and rubbed them all over her pussy, collecting all the juices along the way and moaning like a true whore. When she assessed that they were wet enough, she started polishing the length of the vibrator with them. And then, when it was all shiny from her juices, she put the vibrator into her mouth. Shit, I still get goosebumps just remembering the scene. She was sucking on that plastic little thing, moaning all the time, her eyes closed.

“Fuck, man, fuck man, fuck, man…” Billy was repeating his mantra in a religious whisper, the rhythm punctuated by the steady work his right arm was undertaking.

I was actually afraid I’d come before the show is over. My cock felt like it would explode and I had to break my stroking routine from time to time to prevent premature ejaculation. After all, I wanted to see the vibrator switched on and placed where God ultimately intended it to be.

And God smiled upon us as Susan obviously couldn’t take it any more herself. She turned the thing on and started rubbing her clit, fucking herself with three fingers all along. She was also loud and I mean loud. We could hear her moan and scream as she was nearing her orgasm. But then, as if knowing she had an audience already familiar with her antics, she provided another extra number to the show. She actually got up and turned her back to us. Then, kneeling on the chair, she pushed the vibrator into her pussy from the rear and started rocking her hips.

I could hear her say words, dirty words as she fucked herself from the back. I couldn’t repeat any of them now, though. I think my blood pressure was so high that moment that I was almost insane. I just prayed to God for her to come soon as I knew I couldn’t take much more. I could have died right there if this was to take any more time.

But it didn’t. Susan fucked herself faster and faster and faster and came screaming. Screaming so loud that I felt as if I was in there with her, not out here, squeezing my dick and shooting my cum into her wall. Both Billy and me came simultaneously, demonstrating amazing levels of discipline. Susan made us ejaculate as if on command. Just as we packed up as if on command and retreated across the lawns and sidewalks in complete silence.

It was only several streets away that we actually started punching each other’s arm in amazement.

“Dude!!!”

“Unbelievable!!!”

“Man, what a slut!!!”

“What a whore!!! Holy fuck, I wonder what’s wrong with her husband!!!”

“Man, I’d blow a hole in her with my cock!!!”

And so on.

You could say that stalking Susan’s house became a sort of our permanent occasional hobby. Whenever we had a hint of the possibility that her sons would be out we came stalking in the night, hoping to catch her masturbating or even fucking her husband. We didn’t have any more luck.

Until tonight. If you want to call it luck.

“You think she’ll put on another show for us tonight? You’re an optimistic bitch.”

“Man, the hubby is out and the sons are both out, I heard that from Rob.” Rob hangs out with Susan’s sons. “They’ll be out at the movies. Man. Can you imagine what the slut will be up to, eh, can you?”

I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t have anything to base my assumptions on, but because what then happened was so beyond any fucking thing either of us could imagine in any of our dreams or nightmares that we were both completely taken by surprise.



‘I Eat Pussy For Breakfast’



All nu-metal songs seem to be made following the same formula. It’s almost like having a piece of computer software that churns out these angsty, irritated pieces of music that have interchangeable vocals, drums, lyrics and so on. Why do I listen to it you ask? Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do with my life. And also, there is certain power to it after all. I am smart enough to see most of this music for the industrial waste it is but then I am stupid enough to like it.

Most of these songs will pound on your head for a couple of minutes or so just to have a comparatively quieter passage where emotions start to flow with the ease impossible only seconds ago. And then, when you start mellowing out, then it just cuts and the pounding starts with twice as much force as before. The vocalist goes into seizures. In videos, there’s usually fire and sparks flying. And that, no matter how predictable and formulaic, always gets you headbanging and stomping and screaming like a motherfucker. The surge of power. The primitive force. You know it will come and yet you always let it wash over you and take you away.

This is a bit how I felt coming to Susan’s house this evening. We knew what to expect. We knew what she’d be doing. We knew the ways she might use to pleasure herself. And yet, just getting to see it would be ten times as strong as thinking about it. No word of description, no image of reminiscence could measure to the pure electrifying shock of seeing this pretty, slutty, dirty woman do her evil magic. My heart started beating fast in anticipation.

But, you know, for all the sparks and controlled fires in those videos, you sometimes wonder how it’d feel if the explosion was, you know, really real. If the sparks were not just fireworks, if the screams were not just stylized way of singing. If the burst was actually so strong to have your head explode along with everything else.

This is what happened to us.

I think I saw the expression on Billy’s face first. Then came his whisper.

“Dude…”

I saw it. I saw it too. I was pulling my pants down and taking my cock out and I saw it too. And for a second I thought that we were luckier than we ever thought we could be.

“Dude…”

Billy’s voice was weak. He must have been overcome with emotion. Probably the same emotion that was electrifying my spine and grinding my guts. Plus, Billy was masturbating furiously.

I started jerking off too. You would have started as well, if you were there, I know you would. There was no preparation for this, there was no introduction, foreplay or announcement.

We came and we saw. And we saw Susan fuck.

“Dude…”

“Fuck… Dude… This is…”

“Quiet, retard! They’ll hear us!”

“No way, dude, no way… Dude, who is this guy?”

None of us knew.

“Dude, she’s fucking a black guy!! Dude, nigga cock!! She’s taking nigga cock from behind!!!”

Most of our blood moved to our nether regions for obvious reasons. This probably accounts for us being a little slow in observing the situation carefully and drawing the right set of conclusions.

The black guy, then. He was big. He had most of his clothes on, his penis just pulled out of the zipper of his expensive looking trousers. His big, black balls were hitting Susan’s ass because he was pounding her from behind. And I mean pounding. This was not just ‘fucking’. This was brutal, animalistic sex with a hint of bloodthirst to it.

They were on the sofa, Susan’s face buried in it, her ass up in the air and this black guy on top of her, fucking her from behind like a bitch.

Yes, bitch, because that’s what he was saying.

“You like it, eh? You like it, bitch? You like to be fucked like a whore, don’t you? You like this black cock deep in you, don’t you?”

I looked at Billy, just to check if he is as red in the face as me. Well, he was.

“Dude, I don’t believe this”, he whispered almost religiously. Or so I thought.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

Do?

Do?

What the fuck was he on about? We didn’t come here to do anything, except masturbate like motherfuckers. What was he on about?

I returned my gaze to the window. I was ready to fucking blow my cum all over that wall. There will be strange plants in Mrs. Evans’ garden come spring. The black guy was still steadily fucking Susan from behind, calling her a dirty whore with obvious pleasure. It then occurred to me that Mrs. Evans always used to be so loud while masturbating. But now I couldn’t hear a thing coming from her.

Then I noticed she had some of her clothes on. Not as in ‘been undressing in a hurry’. More like ‘clothes ripped off her’ type of look. She had her blouse on, but it was torn and I could see her breasts for the first time in my life.

And that’s when I figured it out. I figured out what Billy was on about. I call him the slow one, but he got it immediately. Maybe he just saw the rope straight away.

Mrs. Evans’ arms were tied firmly on her back with a piece of rope. Mrs. Evans was restrained quite cruelly by what I could see in the not-so-perfect light of the room. She was tied down and fucked from behind. And the reason she was not as loud as one would expect her to be was, and I saw that when her partner (?) grabbed her hair and pulled her head up from the sofa, the reason was the big red ball gag in her mouth.

That’s when my eyesight improved dramatically it seems. I could see her makeup, smeared across her face, I could see the trail of tears across the smeared makeup. I could see the bruise.

“Is this how you like it, slut? Eh? Is this how you need it? Does hubby ever fuck you like this, eh? You ever told him you like it this way, like a bitch?”

The guy pulled her head back violently and put his head on her shoulder as he positioned his hips to keep penetrating her in this position. Susan was struggling, but the effect was probably more amusing to him than distracting.

The insane thing about this is that I never for a second stopped pumping my cock. All these long, fucked up seconds as the realisation was dawning on me that I am witnessing something completely different than what I was prepared for, all these seconds I kept squeezing my cock. It felt good, it did. Fuck. And I looked at Billy as the horror washed over me. Billy was squeezing his balls with one hand and jerking off with the other.

“Dude, fuck, dude… What the fuck is this, dude?”

Our voices were funny as all hell. Trying to whisper when we felt like screaming, all shaky and punctuated by rhythmic jerking of our entire bodies.

“Dude, I don’t know… Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Dude, I don’t know… He’s… He’s…”

“He’s raping her dude!!!”

The word was out then.

We were witnessing rape. Our neighbour was tied down and raped by a big black guy, right in front of our eyes.

And our cocks were practically exploding with arousal.

“No, dude, no… No… They’re… They’re… They’re roleplaying. This is what it is… They’re roleplaying, man, OK?”

The relative safety of this assumption was cruelly undermined only seconds later. The man pulled out of Mrs. Evans, his hard, black cock glistening cheerfully in the dim light. I am not sure if I even thought at that moment that, if she’s wet, this might not be rape after all but anyway, some minutes later I’d see an open tube of KY lying on the floor which would successfully destroy this comforting thought.

He pulled out and got down from the sofa. He grabbed Susan’s hair and, as carelessly as humanly possible, pulled her off the sofa and down to her knees. Then he slapped her, hard.

“You like that?”

He slapped her again, her head snapping violently to the opposite side. She tried to pull back from him, but he grabbed her hair and pulled her up, brutally. And slapped her again.

“How’s that feel, eh? Does it feel good? Are you enjoying this, love?”

He backhanded her, hard, knocking her down to the floor. I looked at Billy. He was staring through the window, transfixed, his hand steadily tugging at his cock.

And so was mine.

“Dude… What the fuck do we do?”

I saw Susan trying to crawl away from her rapist, using her legs only but he was on her in a second.

“Where the fuck are you going eh? You think you can just get up and walk out on me again? Not this time, bitch. Not this time, you fucking whore.”

He turned her around, like a ragdoll and got her ass up again.

“Not this time, you fucking slut. This time you get fucked properly.”

I thought I was dying. I had the front row seat watching his big black cock penetrate Mrs. Evans’ pussy from behind. I saw it all, it was all in front of me, better than Hi-Def TV. Better than fucking Blu-Ray DVDs.

I saw the woman squirm and struggle. I heard the man laugh. I saw him push and push and push until his large cock split her pussy lips and penetrated her. I heard her bellow into her plastic gag. I saw him grab her tied arms and pull her onto his cock. I saw him push into her, all the way down, until his balls were glued to her ass. Then he pulled out and pushed again and again and again.

I was going to come. This was wrong. This was the ultimate in wrong. I couldn’t imagine anything more wrong than this and yet, both me and Billy, despite being sickened, well, we just continued watching and masturbating.

Because it was so arousing, God help me. I have never seen anything so hot and arousing as this woman, this helpless woman being restrained, held down and raped from behind.

“You bitch! You bitch! You bitch!”

The man was repeating the name in synch with the stabs of his pelvis and to my horror, I realised my head was nodding in the same rhythm. I followed every move he was making. I tried to synchronise my pace with his. I didn’t want to come before he does.

But then he did come, sticking his cock into her all the way down to his balls, making her produce a scream that even I could hear. He groaned and his ass vibrated funny. I understood he was filling her vagina with his cum.

“You feel that, Susan? You feel that? That’s nigga cum, inside your pussy. That’s nigga sperm knocking at your womb’s door!!”

He pulled her head up again, forced her to turn back and look into his eyes.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!!”

He slapped her again.

“You could have had it the easy way, whore. But you chose to act like a bitch and this is what you get for screwing around with me.”

Susan was crying, big, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. She was trying to shake her head. I guess this was just a reaction to his harsh words. It wasn’t real resistance because she was not in a position to give any.

He pushed her to the floor, violently and got up. He adjusted his suit, his big, black cock dangling from his zipper. He looked around the room. I realised neither me nor Billy have come yet.

“Alright, Susan, that was the appetiser. Frankly, you’re a lousy fuck, but that’s something I plan to work on.”

He adjusted his hair.

“I’m going for a piss and I’m gonna wash my cock a little, make sure I don’t catch a nasty disease or two from you. I know how you whores are.”

He looked around the room again.

“Don’t go anywhere, love. I’ll be back in a minute to teach you some more about lovin’, OK?”

With these words, he opened the door and left the room.

Me and Billy stood in silence for a couple of seconds, both of us still holding our rock-hard cocks in our sweaty fists.

“Dude…” I said. “Dude… Let’s get the fuck out of here. Let’s get the fuck out of here, dude.”

I realised I was shivering. I still needed to cum, badly, but I realised I was shivering not only with arousal. I was shivering with fear and disgust.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, dude.”

“Dude, we have to do something.”

We?

Have to do something?

We have to do something?

“Dude, give me your phone, dude, my brother took mine, dude, let me have yours.”

“Billy, dude, fuck that, man, let’s get the fuck out of here, dude.”

“Dude”, Billy was insisting. “Just give me the damn phone, dude, I can call the cops, dude.”

Call the cops?

“Wait, man, wait, let’s get out of here, dude. We’ll call the cops, just let’s get out of here, man.”

“Dude, what’s wrong with you? Give me the phone, man! I’ll call the cops!!”

We argued in angry, scared whispers.

“Man, I’m telling you, let’s get the fuck out of here first. We’re not supposed to be here, man. I am not supposed to be out of my room, man, I am grounded for fuck’s sake!!!”

I was. I really was. And I was stupid enough to listen to Billy talk with his dick this evening.

“What the fuck man, just give me the phone, we make the call and get away from here. Come ON, damnit, the guy will be back any second!!!”

I should have started walking. I should have started walking towards the street and then making my way to my house. I should have started walking and what was Billy going to do? He would have been forced to follow me. He had no phone on him and anyway, I was the elder one, the smarter one, he would have followed.

Instead we argued.

“I don’t believe you’re such a fucking retard!!! Let’s just fucking GO, damnit!!!”

We argued with our cocks out. Must have looked comical. But neither of us was laughing.

“No, it’s you who’s the retard here, man, what the FUCK is wrong with you?”

Then the rich, deep voice cut through the darkness.

“Gentleman, may I have your attention, please?”

I knew that voice. For a short time, sure, but I knew it. I followed the voice to its source, turning my head slowly. I was greeted with a barrel of a handgun pointed at my face.

Now, technically, Billy could have made it. He was further away from the man and the gun was pointed at me. He could have made it, if he just went for it, running into darkness, climbing over hedges and fences. He could have made it.

But Billy didn’t even try to run. You’ll hear me say a lot of shit about Billy. But he is my best friend.

The black man grinned.

“Thanks. I believe you had fun here in the garden. What say you join us in the house for some more quality time, eh?”

I stuttered.

“Please, sir, we... w-we…”

“I wasn’t technically asking, foureyes. Move, now!”

He was still grinning. He was grinning as he pushed the cold metal of his gun into my face, pressing it against my skin, pressing it against my bone.

The feeling is very hard to describe. The feeling of being utterly owned. Utterly helpless. One soft press of the finger away from being completely erased from this existence.

My cock, my stupid cock was still hard.



‘Sometimes I Thank God I Can't Sing Because Then No One Can Blame Me for Anything’


Don’t ask me how it turned the way it did. I still can’t get my head around it.

The guy marched us into the house and into the room that was the focus of our attention for such a long time.

“Well, well, well, Susan, I see you have some admirers here. A couple of snotty kids I caught jerking off outside your window. Not bad for an old slut, not bad at all.”

Mrs. Evans looked up from the floor and I saw the purest, deepest horror on her face as she focused on us and realised who we were. She knew us. She might not have known our full names and all, but she knew us. Two kids from the neighbourhood, two kids that she passed in the street every couple of days or so. Two kids who knew her sons.

Two kids who saw her being raped and humiliated. Two witnesses of her deepest, dirtiest shame.

Two kids mortally terrified, trying to suppress tears as the man motioned us to sit on the sofa.

What followed was as absurd as it was scary.

The man took away my phone first. There was no argument about that. As soon as he asked I gave it away. Billy explained that he didn’t have one on him, but the man was having none of it. It took pointing a gun to his face, quick body search and me bursting into tears before the man was satisfied.

“Foureyes, you’re one big pussy. How old are you, brats anyway?”

We told him. He laughed. He asked for how long we have been watching.

Both at the same time we started explaining that we’d just arrived and that we didn’t see anything. It was comical, pathetic and annoying. He laughed and told us to shut up.

“Have you done this before?”

Billy and me looked at each other. Susan was still on the floor, her arms still restrained, right in front of us.

“Boys, I asked a simple question!!! Perhaps you’ll think quicker if I shoot your knees.”

“No, sir, please, sir!!” I yelled. “We have done this before! Two times!”

This wasn’t the time for secrets after all.

“Two times?”

“Y-yes, sir”

“Two times?”

The guy looked at me expecting an answer.

“I… I don’t understand, sir…”

“Look, kid”, he said, taking a deep, irritated breath. “I suppose your parents have more patience with you because presumably one day they’ll have to rely on you wiping their asses and spoonfeeding them. But I am not your parents. I am going to pistol whip you the minute I think you’re playing stupid with me and I am going to shoot you the minute I think you’re lying.”

I felt my bowels melt.

“Please, sir, I…”

“Two times WHAT, kid? You did WHAT two times?”

“Please, sir, we… We watched Mrs. Evans masturbate two times, that’s all sir.”

I swallowed. My throat was so dry I thought I’d choke. I didn’t even dare look Billy’s way.

“Oohh, ain’t that cute? Aint’ that just cute, eh?”

He turned towards Susan and addressed her directly.

“You hear that, bitch? You hear that? You provided these kids with some top quality homemade porn, slut. Knowing you, it wouldn’t really surprise me to learn you actually knew about it all along.”

Then he turned to me again.

“So, how often do you come around? Come on, foureyes, entertain my curiosity here. You live here?”

“Yes, sir, we do, we are both from the neighbourhood… We… we…” I looked Billy’s way. I couldn’t really. I couldn’t really say it.

“We come here every time we know her family is out”, offered Billy helpfully.

The man grinned again.

“Oh, we have a couple of little perverts here, don’t we?” He rubbed the tip of his nose with the barrel of his gun. “Now, you guys have bitten off more than you can possibly swallow this evening. You are aware of that, I hope.”

That last was a question. And both me and Billy started speaking at the same time. We were not very convincing, I am afraid. We tried persuading the man that we won’t tell anyone. We tried explaining that we’d keep this our secret until the very last days of our miserable lives. We pleaded and cried. He was still grinning and rubbing the tip of his nose.

“OK, just shut up now, both of you, before I shoot your guts out and force you to walk home carrying each other’s dinner in your pockets.”

He looked at Susan, still lying at the floor. Billy sobbed softly. I couldn’t suppress tears.

“You know, guys, normally, I’d consider you two a significant problem in the overall scheme of my enterprise this evening.” He looked at us and smiled that overblown smile of his. “But I’m starting to see the way to turn it all to my advantage.” His smile broadened. “Get your clothes off, now.”

We stared at him in frozen disbelief. He stared back.

“Excuse me? What’s the matter, you got shit in your ears? I said GET NAKED, YOU LITTLE SHITS, before I shoot your asses full of lead!!!”

He pointed his gun towards us to underline his words. So we complied. We practically tore our clothes off, throwing them as far away from ourselves as we could. I was shivering with fear and shame, trying to cover my genitals with my hands.

“Oh, foureyes, don’t be so pathetically gay”, said the man. “It’s not like we didn’t see it before. And, frankly, it’s nothing one would notice if he were to pass it in the street.”

He pointed with his gun.

“Now get down on the floor, there.”

We sat on the floor.

“Right. I want you guys to sit there and contemplate the importance of being in the right place at the wrong time. I’ll join you in a second. I just have a slut to wrap up.”

The next several minutes I looked straight ahead. Billy was the braver one, he actually turned a couple of times. I didn’t have the balls. I just listened to the sounds. The tearing of fabric. The giggle in that strong, deep voice. The muffled screams of the unfortunate woman. More screams, screams of terrible pain and terror as he was… Well, I didn’t exactly know what he was doing. It took another fifteen or twenty minutes of superbly surrealistic conversation for me to actually turn around and see Susan cruelly bound and tortured in her impossible position near the door.

But before that, we talked.



‘Fear Of A Gay Planet’



The man burst into such healthy laughter that I thought I must be dreaming. This couldn’t possibly be real.

“A gangsta? A gangsta? Excuse me, do I hear well? You think I am a ‘gangsta’, son? With an ‘a’ at the end, right?”

For some reason he thought this was extremely funny. Billy was at a loss for words. He didn’t expect this kind of a reaction.

“Is it really possible that you guys are so dumb, eh? Or are you just pulling this old man by the nose, eh? That’s nasty, yeah, that’s right damn nasty, I tell you!”

He wiped the tears from his eyes and turned back to Billy. Behind me, Susan was moaning into her gag.

“So, let me ask you son, in your world, every African-American person in possession of a firearm must be a … ‘gangsta’? Right? Am I right? Am I interpreting your thoughts correctly?”

“N-n-no, sir, I didn’t mean to…” Billy was shivering. At least he was talking. I couldn’t even talk yet.

“Oh, you did, you did.” The man nodded with a serious expression on is face, to add gravity to his words. “After all, what could a nigga with a gun, raping a white bitch ever be, but a member of organized crime, right? You probably think this suit was bought for crack money, right?”

“No, sir... No…”

“Oh, don’t bullshit me, Billy, don’t bullshit me son. Your ignorance is rivalled by your stupidity only. At least Ray here has the dignity to shut up when he doesn’t have anything intelligent to say.”

He gave me a fatherly pat on the head.

“And, the truth is, I am trained to see when people bullshit me. You wanna know why? Eh? You wanna know why?”

Billy played along.

“Yes, um, yes, sir.”

“Because I am, get this, I am a lawyer.”

He made this announcement with such a ridiculously solemn expression on his face that Billy started laughing. I felt my spine freeze. This is it. We’re getting shot. Billy is laughing into his face.

But the man started laughing too.

“Yeah, hahaha, get this, bitch, eh? The nigga standing here is a goddamn lawyer, son!! A goddamn nigga lawyer. Gun packing, asskicking lawyer sonofabitch!”

Billy laughed. The man laughed. I sat and watched in horror.

“You wanna know something else? Eh?”

Billy kept laughing but I nodded.

“I never played basketball!! I was on a baseball team at school!!! I am not a Muslim, I am not circumcised!!! And I play a violin!!!”

This was such an absurd string of information that I couldn’t. I couldn’t figure out what to do or say. I started giggling a bit. Then I started laughing.

“See? See? Clichés are funny when you have a gun!!!”

So there we were, a black lawyer with a gun in his hand, two skinny white teenagers sitting butt-naked on the floor, laughing like mad, while the woman behind us was practically hanging on her tits.



‘Don’t say motherfucker, motherfucker’



“Now I know this looks a little harsh, but what was a guy to do? Do I let this white bitch here fuck me like my brain was bought at a garage sale? Hell, no!! The bitch was to fucking pay. And it’s collection day, niggas!!!”

In shame, I tried to conceal the fact that I got erection. The tale that the man told us, well, it got me hard. And I was ashamed.

Apparently, our neighbour, respectable Mrs. Evans posted an ad at some personals website. Apparently, our neighbour, the elegant, quiet Mrs. Evans asked guys to contact her. She was looking for ‘hot email’ and ‘erotic chat’ and ‘possibly more’. She asked for guys to contact her if they’re looking for a ‘slutty soccer mom’. She needed someone ‘to tell her how much of a slut she is’. She encouraged ‘very well equipped’ guys to drop her one, especially if they were black. ‘You could have your own white slave bitch!’ exclaimed her ad.

So, our man got in touch with her. And apparently, our neighbour responded enthusiastically.

“Let me tell you, in print, this bitch was the hottest piece of pussy I’ve seen in a long time. She was craving for cock like a motherfucker!”

So far so good.

So after some email exchange and some hot chat, they made a deal to meet in person.

“It wasn’t easy persuading her, let me tell you. She kept insisting her husband must never suspect and that she’d die of shame if her sons ever learned about it.”

And they met in a restaurant outside of town.

And apparently, it was a nervous, exciting encounter.

And apparently, they agreed to wait with the coitus until the next time.

“It was fine by me. I didn’t want to scare this nice piece of ass away by acting like some impatient teenager. No offence meant, guys. I wasn’t ready to wine and dine her until the end of my mortal days on this planet but getting to fuck her on the next date was perfectly OK with me.”

But then the things took an unexpected turn in the car. The man was giving Mrs. Evans a ride back to town and, more joking than being serious, he put her hand on his crotch while he was driving. To his surprise, she grabbed his cock with obvious enthusiasm. And kept squeezing, feeling the thing grow in size.

So, he pulled over and minutes later she had her mouth full of his meat.

“She was all over that cock, kids. You never saw something like that, She was practically dying to show me how much she loves black meat.”

Now, someone else would have reminded her of the agreement they have just reached, but apparently, our man was ready to forget about it. So he just provided further encouragement by pushing her head down, so she could get more of his penis into her mouth and by calling her a dirty slut and a whore.

That, apparently only got her to suck him with more eagerness. She salivated all over his cock and balls, swallowed as much of his length as she could. He grabbed her hair and forced her head down, at the same time pushing his hips upwards. His cock penetrated her throat and, as she was gagging, that’s where he shot his cum.

“She wasn’t a brilliant swallower, I have to say that. But I thought there will be plenty opportunities to teach her to be a good whore. I thought this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

So, he wasn’t mad at her for letting his cum drip from her mouth, down her chin, down on his balls and the fabric of his pants.

However, to his surprise, this is where Susan actually got up and opened the door. And walked out of the car.

“Hey baby!”

Or something like that.

She only turned around after he called three times. And that only to tell him she changed her mind. To tell him not to call, not to write, not to plan to see her again.

“’I made a mistake.’ Can you believe that? She made a mistake!!” The man looked at us, his eyes big, white and surprised like he himself was hearing the story for the first time.

Now, calling a man ‘mistake’, right after you have blown him, that’s probably not the best possible way to appeal to his good side.

But our man has a good side. If he may say so himself.

So he let her go. Let her find the way back to town herself. He waited a full week before he texted her. Then another two days before he wrote an email. Then another three days before he called.

“She was downright hostile. Like I was stalking her or something. Like I was threatening her or something!!! The bitch was getting psycho all over my ass. And I don’t really like that. I don’t really appreciate being treated like a piece of dirt just because mommy suddenly remembered she had a family and a husband. So I ask her to for another meeting. Not for a date or anything. I just want her to sit in front of me