Black Woman in a White Bikini

'C'mon, Shonice. Give me some. You've been teasing me for weeks," he said. "I needs to fuck you. I needs to stick my dick in you."

She made a face as if he had just insulted her.

"Uhh-huh. The last thing that I want is having to chase my man to buy me some Pampers and pay to have my nails and hair done," she said checking her manicure before touching her hair again.

Tyrone looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Don't be such a virgin, Shonice. I knows you've given it up before," said Tyrone. "I ain't about to beg no woman, not even you, for some."

Seemingly meant for one another, she was just as stubborn as he was. The only thing she had to hold him was to deny him sex. With him accustomed to taking whatever he wanted from whichever woman he desired, her kitty instantly became more valuable when she withheld it from him. She returned his look of sexual frustration with her look of anger.

"Uh-uh," she said waving her finger again. "My pussy is off limits to you. You ain't dipping your black dick in my black champagne until you put some blink on my finger and until after we're married."

She turned to give him a fish-eyed stare before she reconciled herself to give him a loving look. Obviously, she was thinking more about walking down the aisle with him than she was thinking about going to bed with him. Obviously, Shonice thought that he was the man for her. Obviously, she thought that she was the woman who could stop him from selling drugs and pimping women.

"Married? Say what? Married is a word that ain't in my vocabulary, sister," said Tyrone laughing. "C'mon Shonice, don't be like that," said Tyrone. "Don't you worry yourself about bling. I'll buy you all the sparkles you wants."

If she didn't love him, she would have already been out the motel door. Instead, hopefully hard for him to refuse, she made him an offer that she thought that he may take. In the way that he did before, she did again. She pulled up her short skirt and pulled down her pink panties.

"You can fuck my ass if you want but not my pussy. Better you fuck that hole than this one," she said moving face down on the bed again with her naked ass poised in the air waiting for him to lube her, insert himself inside her, and hump her before fucking her. "I ain't about to be your baby Mama until we're standing in church and you say, I do."

As if she had a fatal disease, the matrimonial disease, he backed away from her as if she was contagious. As if she was a She-devil and he was a sinner, he knew better than to cross Shonice when she was angry. With him having the scars to prove it, she had a quick hand with a frying pan and a good aim with a bottle. Fortunately for him, there weren't any frying pans and bottles in their motel room but there was a lamp that she could use as a weapon when in a pinch.

"I ain't got time for all that, girl," he said straightening his posture as if he was an important business man or an elected official. "I gots to takes care of bus'ness for me not to be another broke ass nigga," he said staring at Shonice's round, naked, black ass with lust. "Suck my cock then and makes it fast. I needs you to gets me off before I go," he said. "I don't wants to leave here horny enough to be samplin' my own merchandise, if you get my meanin'. You feel me?"

Shonice stood, pulled up her panties, and fluffed down her short skirt. She checked the back of her head to see if her weave was okay. Then, she double checked herself in the mirror. She removed a tube of lipstick from her purse to ready her lips to suck her boyfriend's dick again.

"You better not be sticking your dick in another woman while you're with me," warned Shonice through her reflection in the mirror.

She unbuttoned her blouse and removed her big tits from her bra. Then, assuming the position again, she moved to her knees and took Tyrone in her hand before taking him in her mouth. Stroking him with her manicured fingered hand, she sucked him deep and hard.

"Yeah, that's it, Baby. Don't stop. Suck my cock. Blow me. I needs to cum in your beautiful, black mouth," he said while feeling her big tits and fingering her erect, black nipples. "I needs to cum all over your pretty face, across your naked breasts, and in your hair."

Shonice removed his prick from her mouth just before he was about to ejaculate.

"Don't you be cumming in my hair," she said with a look of anger. "You can cum in my mouth and/or even on my titties but don't you be cumming in my hair," she said looking up at him with something else on her mind. "I'll continue sucking you if you promise not to cum in my hair. I'll continue sucking you until you cum if you promise to take me somewhere nice this summer," she said.

He rolled his eyes and made a face.

"Okay, okay. I promise not to cum in your hair and I promise to takes you somewhere nice this summer," said Tyrone. "I'll takes you to Point Pelee if you gives me your pussy. I'll get a us a suite at Harbour Square for the week," he said laughing. "I'll takes you to church girl and makes you sing. Then, I'll puts some bling on your finger to makes you give me some and to makes you give up your pussy to me."

# # # # #

Switching summertime boyfriends and girlfriends with the regularity of changing their underwear, Heather, Aubrey, Blair, Courtney, Elizabeth, and Zara took turns having sex with Wyatt, Sebastian, Sawyer, Preston, Miles, and Blake. If their family monikers weren't enough to prove to the ill-informed that they were rich, they all looked as spoiled and as rich as their black counterparts in Detroit looked as desperate and as poor. Regulars on their exclusive, private beach in the Hamptons, needing a scorecard to keep track of who was fucking, licking, and sucking who, when one wasn't dating this one, the other was dating that one.

Not an uncommon thing to do when on their private beach with men who have already seen them naked and had sex with their naked bodies, proud of their newly implanted breasts, all six women laid out on the warm sand topless. In the way that they paraded around the beach with little clothes, not shy or embarrassed, they gave little concern to their morals or modesty. With them all enjoying being the center of attention, no longer debutants but emulating Paris Hilton instead, they demonstrated to everyone watching them that they weren't innocent virgins but experienced whores.

Looking as if they were sextuplets or clones grown in test tubes, interchangeable in weight, height, and size, they all had dyed, blonde hair, blue eyes, and surgically enhanced, C cup breasts. Other than their names, hard to discern one from the other, especially from a distance, none of them stood out from the other. As if they were Californian, Valley Girls, they all thought alike, walked alike, and talked the same.

'Boring.'

Having sex with one after having sex with the other was akin to drinking different brands of water. Even though they all may have different names, they were all still spring water and all tasted the same. Basically, with the women all Fords or Chevys, apart from their private educations, forget about any of them being a Ferrari or a Rolls Royce, there wasn't even a Cadillac or a Lincoln in the bunch. In the way that none of them had any decency or respect for themselves or for anyone, with all of them obviously feeling privileged and rich, they were all so forgettable. Even though they all lived lives of wealth that afforded them such privileges, there was nothing special about any of them. Unlike the women of Detroit, with all of them having experiences that molded their personalities and attitudes, the rich women in the Hamptons had no clue about the realities of life and having to do without. If the shoe was on the other foot and if the poor, black women from Detroit ever found themselves rich, the spoiled, privileged white girls from the Hamptons would be no match for them. If Shonice was ever disrespected by a rich, white girl, she'd revert to how she was on the street.

"Say what? You talking to me? What did you say? What did you call me?"

Grabbing Heather, Aubrey, Blair, Courtney, Elizabeth, or Zara by her blonde ponytail, Shonice would have no problem dragging her phony breasts all the way down the beach before kicking her unconscious body in the water.

"Take that as my retort to your disrespectful comment, bitch."

# # # # #

With them all having traveled abroad since they could walk and talk, they were all fluent in Italian, French, and Spanish. Rudely falling in and out of different languages, especially when they didn't want someone to know what they were discussing, they came across as being intelligent women, even though they were all basically rude, ignorant, clueless, and dumb. The women studied marketing, fashion design, interior design, or art appreciation. The men studied international banking, business management, investments, or law.

With their focus on how to keep the money they would soon inherit and how to get more money with investments, there wasn't a creative mind in the group. With their parents giving them everything, they didn't have to be intelligent, witty, funny, or creative to succeed. They had money to pay someone to be intelligent, witty, funny, and/or creative for them. They all had money, lots of money. They were all rich, very rich. They'd never be poor and would never have to do without whatever it was they wanted. They could do anything, buy anything, and go anywhere at any time.

'Doing anything, buying anything, and going anywhere at any time is what the definition of being rich is.'

Yet, they were all so boringly uninspired. Talking to one was like talking to the other. With their lives already laid out before them, planned well in advance, since the day they were born, educated at the best, private, boarding schools from nursery school, they didn't have to worry, want, or need for anything. Free to do whatever they wanted to do, they didn't have to hope for, strive for, or work for anything. Everything they wanted or needed was given to them by Daddy, Mommy, or handed to them by a member of the household staff.

Other than what they saw on the news or read in the papers, they had no idea how the other 99% of the population lived. They had a better idea of how life was like in London, Paris, Milan, Tokyo, or Dubai than they did on the crime riddled streets of Detroit. If anything, not thinking of themselves as lazy and privileged, they thought of those on welfare, Social Security, unemployment, or disability as lazy and entitled. Thinking it was plenty enough that their families gave to charities, bitter and rude to everyone else, they didn't like anyone who wasn't like them, blue-blooded Republicans instead of blue-collared Democrats.

Even though they didn't work for a living and would never have to work for anything, worry about their next meal, or wonder how they'd pay their rent, as entrenched members of the upper class, they were the chosen ones. High society, they were the ruling class and the rest of us, much like cattle on their way to slaughter, were the uninformed, the lemmings, and the blindly loyal and obedient followers. If there was royalty in the United States in the way that there is in England, part of the King's entourage, they'd be the ones who were regularly invited to the castle.

They were the ones with not only all the money but also all the power and influence. They were the ones who everyone catered to while hoping to get their business and their respect, even when they respected nothing and no one but wealth, power, and influence. In the way that their parents were, they'd soon be the people behind the politicians who make our laws. Keeping everything the way it is, the rich versus the poor and the black versus the white, they'd soon be the ones anointed to maintain the status quo by making their political donations and hiring lobbyists to push their personal agendas.

'What chance do the rest of us have?'

# # # # #

"Suck my cock, Heather. Blow me," said Wyatt sliding a slow finger across her red, cosmetically altered, plumb lips. "I need to cum." He touched, felt, and fondled Heather's naked, C cup implants of her former A cup breasts. "I want to cum in your pretty mouth, while playing with your big breasts, and fingering your erect nipples."

As if he had just insulted her by taking away her glass of Christoff champagne or spit in her Beluga caviar, she looked at her new boyfriend as if he was nuts. If her looks could speak, she'd say, how dare he ask me to blow him? Who do you think you are? Reading between the lines, in the way she looked at him with outrage, no doubt she thought, I don't have to date him, I could date anyone. I don't have to blow him, I could blow anyone.

"I beg your pardon? Sorry, but did I hear you correctly? You want me to do what? You want me to blow you?" Not even wrinkling her Botox injected forehead, she looked at him as if she was something the tide deposited on the beach instead of looking at him as if he was the son of a wealthy family and her new boyfriend. "You expect me to suck your cock? You want to cum in my mouth? How dare you? How do you think you are?"

Heather made a face as if she had just eaten a forkful of bad Bluefin Tuna while Wyatt looked at her, rolled his eyes, and made a face as if she had said something disparaging about his Porsche. Obviously, neither of them were on the same page. In the way that Shonice willingly submitted her mouth to Tyrone, Heather would never bow to Wyatt's will by blowing him, at least not without a self-righteous argument to show him that she wasn't a whore, even though she was.

Sucking his cock would have to be her idea. In the way that Shonice wanted some bling on her finger and a summer vacation, Heather's price for a blowjob was much higher than that. In the way that Tyrone was accustomed to getting whatever he wanted from black women, both Heather and Wyatt were accustomed to getting whatever they wanted and when they wanted it from everyone, even from their peers.

"What's the big deal, Heather? It's just a blowjob. It isn't as if you haven't sucked cock before. Quit acting like such a virgin and blow me," he said putting a hand behind her blonde, pretty head while pushing her head forward.

Obviously, Wyatt treated women on a beach in the Hamptons no better than Tyrone, his counterpart, treated women on the streets of Detroit. In the way that Shonice pulled away from Tyrone, Heather pulled away from Wyatt. As if she was a horse, an Arabian stallion, in the way that Shonice checked her weave, Heather tossed her head to flip her hair back in place.

"I'm not that type of girl, Wyatt," said Heather fluffing back her five-hundred-dollar, dyed, blonde hairdo with a practiced hand and another toss of her pretty head. "I didn't suck Blake's cock until our second date," she said with pride. "He showed more respect for me than to expect me to blow him on our first date."

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders while looking down the beach at Sebastian to see if he was having any luck with Aubrey.

"Spread your legs beautiful," said Sebastian to Aubrey after encouraging her to remove her bikini bottom. "I want to have sex on the beach. I want to make love to you before fucking you hard and fast right here on the beach. I want to cum in your pussy, Aubrey. I want to ejaculate in your cunt," he said throwing his leg over her to mount her.

Aubrey looked at her new boyfriend as if he was drunk. She looked at him as if he was a homeless man on the street. As if he was a commoner and she was a princess, she pushed her hand against his forehead when he moved closer.

"I should say not, especially when you're being so vulgar. I'm not that kind of girl, Sebastian. I didn't fuck Wyatt until our second date and he used a condom," she said making a face, rolling her eyes, and sighing as if she was at another one of her parents' cocktail parties and was bored. Obviously, the last thing she wanted to do was to jeopardize her trust fund by having an abortion or worse, having a baby out of wedlock.

"C'mon, Aubrey, I promise to pull out before I cum. Besides, you told me you were on the pill," said Sebastian.

As if he was a financial adviser trying to fuck her by selling her a Ponzi scheme, she stiff armed him when he tried to mount her again.

"You need to slow down. You need to treat me like the lady that I am instead of the whore that you think I am. Just because I had sex with Wyatt, Sawyer, Preston, Miles, and Blake, and just because your family is rich doesn't mean that I'm your whore. My family is rich too," she said. "With my family wealthier than your family, if anyone is a bitch in this relationship, you're my bitch, Bitch."

Sebastian made a sly face after asking Aubrey to fuck him in the way that Wyatt made a sly face after asking Heather to blow him. Obviously, with neither man getting what they wanted, seemingly neither man was getting lucky today. Both men needed to show the women more respect instead of treating them like the rich and spoiled whores that they obviously were. As if pawns in a game of sex, none of the men respected any of the women. In the way that their household staff were solicitous to the men, as if these women were there to sexually serve them too, they treated their girlfriends the same.

"Consider this our second date, then," said Sebastian mounting Aubrey and sticking his prick where Wyatt, Sawyer, Preston, Miles, and Blake had already stuck their pricks in her before.

Bending her rule about him not wearing a condom, with her on birth control anyway, she allowed him to make love to her. From making love to fucking her, much like Tyrone in Detroit, Sebastian wasted little time with foreplay with Aubrey in the Hamptons. He humped her and continued humping her until she wrapped her legs around his back and returned his hard humps with her hard humps. Humping one another faster and harder, before fucking one another as if they were alone in a Four Seasons hotel room suite, they had sex on the beach.

Reconsidering her decision not to blow Wyatt, Heather took his cock in her hand to stroke him before taking him in her mouth to suck him. She stared up at Wyatt with her big, blue eyes while stroking him and sucking him. Away from the stares of tourists, with Aubrey and Heather on the remote end of their private beach, they were free to have sex with their boyfriends. In the way that Sebastian ejaculated his cum in Aubrey's pussy, Wyatt ejaculated his cum in Heather's mouth.

# # # # #

As much as going from being very rich to being very poor or vice versa, culture shock was an understatement. Now that we've had a glimpse of the rich living the good life, the story switches back from the rich, one-percent, upper-class whites living in the Hamptons to the poor, underprivileged blacks living in Detroit. The differences between their lives couldn't be any more different than yes and no, day and night, or white and black.

A defining moment, one percent have most of the wealth in this country and, comparatively, the rest of us have nothing, sometimes not even a vote, and most times, not even a voice. The rest of us are collateral damage. Whether buying things from them, working for them, voting for them, or taking orders from them, we're all here to serve them. The rest of us are pawns to be played and abused in their game of abuses from the excesses of their fortunately privileged and lucky lives.

Just as most of us don't even have a chance to even play the game, few of us have any hope of winning something when we aren't even privy to the rules. With the cards stacked against us from birth and the odds never in our favor, our game of life is rigged with catastrophic pitfalls while their game of life is continually rewarding. It's by no mistake or act of luck that the rich continue to get richer while the poor continue to get poorer. With the middle class submerged neck deep in tuition debt, credit card debt, automobile and home ownership debt, and mired deep in poverty, the United States is quickly becoming a third world country.