Jamal stood by himself on the side of the road, looking at his feet and thinking about his plans for the weekend as he waited for his ride home. A little further down the road was the bus pickup location which was crowded as always. Jamal was glad to be seperate from it, even if he was aware it made him stand out more than he already did. As the only black kid in his school, Jamal didn’t really blend in with the crowd. Being alone or being in the middle of things made no difference, so Jamal chose to be alone. He didn’t like crowds, even though part of him did want to be involved. He looked over the mass of students, all of them either White or East Asian, and briefly considered going over to join them. Then he thought better of it and turned away, looking back his feet.

Jamal knew what his weaknesses were: social skills and physicality. He was a brain, he told himself. A straight A student who could compete with any of the other kids in class, but who completely sucked at anything involved with talking or sports. It was this that prevented him from making friends and had made him a target of bullies. That, and one other thing…

‘Hey, loser,’ came the voice of Jamal’s most frequent bully, Clyde.’ Waiting for your mom again?’

Jamal ignored him. Clyde was a pain in the ass but he was a coward too and had never touched Jamal. Clyde just liked to provoke and Jamal refused to let himself fall for it.

‘Since you’re so smart,’ Clyde continued. ‘I had a question’.

Jamal braced himself for whatever stupidity was about to be thrown his way.

‘Why is it your mom only dates White guys?’ Clyde asked.

Jamal was stunned for a moment. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, me and some of the guys just noticed it. We’ve seen your mom out a few times and she’s always with a White guy, never Black. Why’s that?’

Jamal didn’t want to answer that. He knew that Clyde was right and wasn’t making it up, and even knew why his mom only dated White guys, but it was a sore point for Jamal. That fact that Clyde knew about it and would undoubtedly spread it around school only made it worse.

‘Is it ‘cause white dicks taste better?’ Clyde laughed.

Jamal balled his fist, thinking of how easy it would be to smash that laughing prick in the middle of his face.

‘Or maybe she’s just really into slave roleplay? Oh, massa’ give me some cum to drink, please?’ Clyde burst into laughter.

That was too much for Jamal, he threw a fist at Clyde before the other boy could react and manage to hit him in the chest. The pain Jamal felt in his skinny wrist must have been worse than whatever Clyde felt because the other boy just absorbed it and ran off, laughing, while Jamal had to clutch his wrist until the pain subsided.

‘Fucker,’ Jamal muttered, shaking his wrist.

What Clyde had said was true. Jamal knew that his mom only dated White men, and had done so as long as he had been around. The reason why, which she had told him, was because she didn’t trust Black men after one of them, Jamal’s father, had abandoned her when she became pregnant. That, his mom said, was the last time she ever considered dating a Black man and had been strictly Whites Only for the last sixteen years. While intellectually Jamal knew that his mom’s dating preferences were none of his business and if she chose to exclude men of a certain race it was her right to do so. On an emotional level, however, it bothered him. It was a strange feeling and it annoyed him every time he thought about it, but he couldn’t deny that his feelings were at least a little hurt knowing that his own mother didn’t find him, a 100% Black young man, to be attractive. As if, if she wasn’t his mother, he wouldn’t stand a chance with her because she would rather date any of the other boys in his school. He was, in fact, going by her racial criterion, the only man in school she wouldn’t date. Jamal wasn’t sure what his mother’s thoughts of East Asians were, but he felt that if she had the choice between a Chinese man and a Black man, she’d choose the former. She had been very clear on that many times. Another thing that bothered Jamal, that he kept to himself, was that despite his mother singing the praises of her White dates, none of them seemed to stick around either.

Jamal’s thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of his mom’s black BMW pulling up in front of him. She was sitting in the driver’s seat, smiling broadly at him through the open window.

‘Hey, baby!’ she said.

‘Hi, mom,’ Jamal mumbled back, opening the car door and sliding into the passenger seat.

Before the car could move, someone appeared by Jamal’s window, looking in. He recognised them at once, Clyde. And he’d bought his friend, Eric, with him this time. They were both peering into the car, directly at his mom.

‘Hi, Miss Jackson,’ they said, smiling.

‘Hi, boys,’ Jamal’s mom said, smiling broadly and waving her hand at them.

Jamal knew what they were doing: acting friendly and polite so they had a chance to leer at his mother. Jamal knew his mom was hot. One of the few benefits of a teen pregnancy was that despite having a sixteen year old son, his mom was still in her early 30s and looked good for her age. The boys at school never missed an opportunity to remind Jamal of that fact. Racists, Jamal thought, but not so racist they wouldn't lust after a Black woman. Assholes.

‘Mom, let’s go,’ Jamal said impatiently. Obviously, he had no desire to let Clyde or Eric perv on his mom.

‘Have a good weekend, boys,’ his mom said, waving at them as she gently pressed the gas and pulled away.

Jamal watched in the car’s side window as Clyde and Eric started talking to one another, knowing at once just what the topic of conversation was. It disgusted him. Worse, as a sixteen-year-old, he completely understood them. He knew what they were looking at because he saw it himself. His mom, Monique Jackson, was fucking gorgeous. Jamal knew in his heart that maybe if she hadn’t gotten pregnant with him at such a young age, his mom could have had a job modelling, or even acting. Her figure was the sort of thing R&B starlettes paid thousands for. The hips, the tits, the ass, the waist… She was the pinnacle of African-American beauty. Lighter skinned than Jamal, she had long, thick hair that had been bleached white halfway down, then dyed light pink. Her face was youthful, heart-shaped and smooth, with full lips that framed a wide, white smile.

‘So how was your day, sweetie?’ his mom asked after a few moments of quiet driving.

‘Fine,’ Jamal replied flatly. ‘Same shit, different day’.

Monique scowled slightly at her son’s language. ‘Yeah, well, it’ll get better,’ she said. ‘You got much homework?’

‘Did it already,’ Jamal said, watching the green lawns and colonial houses of his affluent and very White neighbourhood pass by.

Monique stroked the back of Jamal’s head affectionately. ‘That’s my boy’.

The black BMW made its way through the suburb while Jamal and Monique listened to whatever was playing on the local R&B and HipHop radio station. His mom sang along quietly, moving her seat and she danced to the rhythm of the music. Jamal sat still and imagined the comfort and peace of being at home. When the BMW turned off the main road that would take them home, Jamal noticed at once.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked, sitting up in his seat.

‘I got you something,’ Monique replied, smiling mysteriously.

‘What?’

‘You’ll see’.

A few minutes later they pulled into the parking space of the local park, just outside the basketball courts. The park was large and in summer it was one of the most happening places around. For that reason, Jamal didn’t come here often, but was relieved to see that it was quiet today.

Monique reached into the back seat and pulled out a basketball. Brand new, bright orange, Nike branded. She handed it to him, smiling broadly.

‘Here you go, baby,’ she said happily.

Jamal took it, a little confused. He watched basketball sometimes but had never given any hint he wanted to play. He held the ball, feeling the little bumps across its surface and wondered if he was meant to feel something more. Like, as a Black man, he was meant to feel some kind of automatic connection. Instead, all he felt was rubber.

‘I’m going to be busy for a few hours,’ his mom started. ‘So rather than just take you home and leave you in your room all day again, I thought you could do with some exercise. Fresh air, and that. You know?’

Jamal didn’t like the idea of being left alone in the park for a few hours to play by himself, but he couldn’t think of a good reason not to either.

‘You said you’ve already done all your homework,’ his mom said, as if preempting any complaint.

Jamal felt like he had no choice.

Monique pulled her BMW into the parking lot and was surprised to see her son still playing on the basketball court. He even had friends playing with him! A wide smile spread across her face. She was so glad to finally see him interacting with kids his own age. She pulled the car into a space on the far side from the court. It was in a shadowy space so she could sit and watch for a while. She knew Jamal would drop his game and rush over the moment he saw her, and she wanted him to have a bit more fun first. It would be good for him.

She switched off the engine and sat back in her seat, watching the game play out not far from her. While she was happy to see her son playing, she had to admit he wasn’t very good and the boys he was playing with weren’t going easy on him either. At least it would be a learning experience for him, she thought. She didn’t recognise the boys he was playing with as being from his school. She definitely would have remembered the taller one.

Monique was fully aware of her preference for White boys and didn’t feel bad about it at all. Ever since she’d switched to exclusively dating White guys, she’d always been treated better. Even the ones who didn’t treat her great still met a higher standard than she expected from Black men. Watching the boys on the court now, her support was obviously behind her son, but the tallest of the boys definitely had her eye. Tall, blonde, slim, and obviously sporty, if he was a few years older she’d consider being a bit of a cougar.

I should get his name, Monique thought. Maybe he's got a hot single dad looking for a little bit of chocolate vanilla swirl.

She giggled to herself at the thought. It had been a few months since she had last gotten laid and it was obvious she was in need of some loving. She quickly ran through the list of names in her head of men she could rely on in a pinch and which one would be able to hit that sweet spot she felt growing now at the sight of that blonde boy. She would definitely need something white and pink to suck on soon...

Monique’s thoughts quickly snapped back to the present when she saw her son take another tumble on the court. The White boys surrounded him but none of them helped him to his feet. Monique read the body language quickly and realised that things weren’t going well. She was out of her car and moving towards the court in a moment
*
Jamal clutched his ribs as hot pain seared through him. Fuck, he thought. This fucking hurts!
He knew at once that something was broken. A cracked rib, most likely. These fucking punks had broken one of his ribs. He could take them to court for this, assuming they let him out of there alive. Jamal didn’t like the chances of that happening.

‘I guess that means we win,’ said Jake, standing over Jamal triumphantly. ‘So you and your black ass aren’t welcome here anymore’.

Jamal was about to scurry away as fast as he could, leaving behind his ball. If it meant getting away from these three assholes, he didn’t care about the ball. He wanted to be home, in his room, where he always wanted to be.

‘Hey! What’s all this?’ a voice announced from nearby.

Jamal looked over to see his mom standing on the edge of the court. Her hands were resting on her wide hips and she was glaring at the boys who were surrounding him. Jamal felt two things at once: immense relief that his salvation had arrived, and the same feeling of embarrassment he always felt when his mom drew attention to herself. It didn’t help that she was dressed so provocatively; tight, white leggings and a pink sports top that proudly showed off her impressive cleavage. Jamal was used to her in such outfits, but he always cringed internally when she wore them in public. He knew how many eyes were on her, just like he knew three pairs of eyes were on her right now.

‘Who are you?’ Jake asked, looking Monique up and down.

‘I’m his damn mother,’ Monique shot back at him.

Jake reared up to his full height in response. He easily matched Monique in height and the look on his face was completely absent of any kind of fear.

‘Well your son came onto our court,’ Jake replied with the same condescending sneering he’d given Jamal earlier.

‘It ain’t yours,’ Monique replied.
Jamal quickly got to his feet and grabbed his mom’s arm, pulling her back towards the car. ‘Mom, let’s just go’.

Monique shook him off. ‘No, Jamal. We ain’t leaving until I’ve had a word with these boys’.

‘We aren’t interested in talking,’ Jake said.

Jamal could see the agitated look in the boy’s eyes and the way he kept glancing at Monique’s tits. The energy on the court had changed. Jamal felt that animal instinct inside him again. These boys weren’t boys, they were predators. Jamal could see that now. It was in their movements. He had been the prey just a moment earlier, a weakling easily trimmed from the herd, but then his mom had arrived. Now she was their focus and far more succulent meal.

‘Well, I want an explanation,’ Monique demanded.

‘Mom, let’s just go. I don’t care,’ Jamal said again, almost pleading.

‘Go to the car, Jamal,’ Monique snapped.

Jamal slinked off obediently towards the car while his mom continued to stare down the bullies. Jamal realised what his mom had apparently missed. She was focused on Jake, the tall one, while Steve and Mark had moved around to behind her. She was surrounded now. Jamal froze in place, realising the predicament his mom had just put herself into.

Turn around, Jamal told himself. Go save her. Drag her back to the car and get the fuck out of there.

But he didn’t. He kept walking towards the car. He looked over his shoulder one more time to see Steve, the fat kid, standing directly behind Monique. Jamal watched helplessly as the fat kid grabbed the waistband of Monique’s leggings and yanked them down to her ankles, underwear and all, in one quick movement. Monique reflexively went to yank them up but only managed to grab her underwear, a black thong, and pull it back up, which did practically nothing to hide her huge ass. As Monique struggled to cover herself, Jake lunged forward, almost as planned, and grabbed her top, lifting it up so her boobs spilled out, exposing the large, pink areolas that centred each breast.

‘What the fuck?!’ Monique cried out, trying to hide her breasts with her arm as she struggled to pull up her leggings.

Jake moved forward, grabbing Monique and pulling her to the floor. Jake and Mark helped him, dragging Monique down and yanking at her clothes until they ripped. Jamal watched in stunned shock as he watched his mother pinned to the floor by the pack of boys who sent her expensive clothes flying in tattered rags. She was kicking at them, but they easily overpowered her and held her face-down on the basketball court as they laughed. Jamal could only watch in utter disbelief at what he was seeing. Surely it was all some nightmare…

Steve raised a chubby hand and spanked Monique’s ass so hard the sound of it snapped Jamal out of his freeze. Monique’s fleshy ass jiggled and rippled so much, Steve spanked it again to show the others. Jamal broke into a run, sprinting at Steve. Jake saw him coming and moved faster than Jamal could anticipate, intercepting the skinny boy and slamming him in the gut with a tight fist. Jamal keeled over and fell into a heap not far from where his mom was being pinned down. The pain now racked his body made him unable to move, just watch helplessly as his mom fought off the boys that were attacking her like hungry wolves.

Steve squeezed and spanked Monique’s ass several more times, then pulled her thong down her legs and spread apart her ass. Jake kept Monique’s arms behind her back and her naked torso held to the floor while Mark moved around to join Steve. Both of them held her ass cheeks apart and laughed at her tight, pink anus, poking it roughly.

‘Steve,’ Jake said, ‘Eat it. Eat this bitch’s ass. I bet she’d love it’.

Steve nodded and laughed, then stuck his tongue out and dived between the separated cheeks. Monique squealed and writhed under Jake’s strength, but came no closer to freedom as Steve’s tongue explored her exposed asshole.

‘You like that, slut?’ Jake asked her, leaning down to say it directly into her ear. ‘You like having White boys eat your black ass?’

Monique squealed in reply and tried to fight him, but it was useless. Jamal watched as Steve spat onto Monique’s asshole and started to finger her roughly.

‘Her cunt’s already wet,’ Mark snickered.

‘You know what that means?’ Jake asked, half to his friends and half to Monique. ‘It means this bitch wants to get fucked’.

Steve and Mark laughed, then jumped to their feet and started to drag Monique off the basketball court and into the shadowy cover of the trees. Jamal tried to get his feet but another bolt of pain kept him tied to the floor. He watched his mother fighting the boys, but the combined strength of the three was more than enough to keep her controlled as they dragged her into the darkness and out of sight.

Jamal forced himself to ignore the pain, to fight it with every ounce of power he had in him, and get to his feet. He managed to get as far as his knees, then started to crawl towards the shadows. He had to reach her. He had to save her. As he got closer, he could hear the sounds of the boys’ assault. The slapping of flesh, the grunts, the muffled screams, the sound of resistance. He knew his mom was fighting, and he knew she was losing.

Crawling the underbrush, Jamal found the small clearing where the boys had dragged his mom. In the gloom, he could see them clearly. White bodies surrounding his dark mother. His mother was completely naked except for her white socks, now stained and muddy. The boys had all dropped their pants to their ankles and brought their cocks to bear against Monique. Jamal stared for a moment at the thick, fleshy rods growing from the boys. All three of them were massive, dense, and throbbing. Jamal felt shame at seeing them, knowing they dwarfed his own but also that such crude things were being used on his mother.

They had her on her knees, with Jake and Mark standing in front of her while Steve stood behind her, holding both her arms back and keeping his foot pressed between her shoulder blades so she couldn’t pull away or defend herself from what Jake and Mark were doing. Mark presently had Monique’s head in his hands and was holding her steady while he thrust his cock in and out of her mouth, pushing it so deep down her throat Jamal could see her gag and retch. Jake pushed Mark aside and replaced the cock choking Monique with his own. They were fighting over her, each taking turns abusing her face and throat before they were pushed aside and replaced. Jake slapped his cock against Monique’s lips as she gasped for air, then smeared his heavy balls across her wet and messy face.

‘Please… please…’ Monique gasped.

‘She’s asking for more,’ Mark snickered.

‘Then we’ll give her some more,’ Jake replied, casually.

Jamal watched as the boys shifted position so that now Mark lay on the floor with Monique positioned over him, sitting on his face. Steve kept her arms controlled while Jake now took full control of her head, forcing his cock deep down her throat until she coughed up thick globs of saliva. Jamal forced himself to his feet and directed all his rage towards Jake. He threw himself out of the shadows, catching the taller boy by surprise, knocking him away from his mother. Jamal and Jake hit the dirt, but whatever advantage Jamal had he soon lost. Jake was on top of him in an instant, pummeling him with blows until Jamal lost all will to fight and went limp.

In the distance, Jamal could hear his mother calling to him, telling him to run, that she would be ok, that he needed to get home. Jamal knew there was nothing he could do to save her. She was gone. Lost to him. She was the boys’ toy now…

Jamal rolled onto his stomach, his head spinning and his body filled with pain. He remembered his mother’s words. That was all he could think of. Get home. She would be ok. Get home. Jamal crawled away, somehow getting to his feet and pushing his way through the foliage that concealed the place where his mother was being used. As Jamal emerged onto the basketball court, he took one last look back. The boys had forgotten about him, it seemed. Their attention was entirely on Monique. They’d moved her again, putting her on her back. Jamal could see she’d given up the fight now. Mark and Steven were holding her thighs open but his mom offered no resistance. He could hear her moaning and see her hands clutching at the ground. The last thing Jamal saw before he broke into a run, was Jake’s lean body laying down between Monique’s legs, thrusting into her with speed and force.
*
The first thing Jamal did upon arriving home was to pass out on the floor. The exhaustion of his run home coupled with the physical emotional turmoil of what had unfolded in the park was all too much for him to manage. He was finally awoken hours later by the sound of his mom returning home. Using what little strength he had left, he rushed to meet her.

To his horror, Jamal found her standing by the front door, still naked. She was filthy. Dirt covered her body. Her makeup was a messy smudge across her dazed face. She looked barely awake and wouldn’t even be standing if it weren’t for the two people either side of her, supporting her. Jamal didn’t believe it. Mark and Steve were there, holding her up. Jamal backed up in disbelief. This couldn’t be real.

Jake walked in behind them. He glared at Jamal, smirking as he did so.

‘We’re not done with her yet,’ he said.

‘Go to your room, baby,’ Monique murmured, sounding stoned. ‘I’ll be ok’.

Jamal stayed frozen to the spot, utterly unable to think or move.

‘Where’s the bedroom, slut?’ Jake asked Monique.

‘This way, baby’ Monique mumbled, pointing her hand limply.

Steve and Mark carried her away. As they moved her towards the bedroom, Jamal saw the hand marks on her round ass, as well as the slime that oozed from her holes. Jake followed behind them, turning at the last moment to face Jamal.

‘You can have her back later. We’ll try to leave her in one piece,’ he said, then stepped into the bedroom and closed the door.

That was the last Jamal saw of them. For the rest of the night he was in a daze of utter confusion, lost somewhere between reality and a nightmare world. He saw nothing that went on inside the room, but heard everything. The laughter, the moans, the screams, the spanking and beating of meat on meat. He heard the boys call his mother every foul word they knew and his mother going along with every order she was given. Degrading herself for their entertainment, humiliating Jamal and his entire race while the boys laughed and fought over whatever hole they’d taken an interest in ramming their cocks into.

At some point they left. Jamal didn’t see or hear them leave. He never saw or heard from those boys again. He never mentioned them. His mom never mentioned them. That weekend simply vanished for both of them, but Jamal knew what he had seen and heard. He remembered it every time he saw his mother’s face. He saw the drool spilling out of her lips and the hard, White cocks being shoved into her. He saw her naked and dirty body being passed around like a toy. The more he remembered it, the more he wanted to see it again...