Stiff Competition

Authors cautionary note: Some derogatory terms are going to be used in this; which many people are not going to appreciate and others are going to be offended by. So, if you happen to be one of those namby-pamby individuals in this country, who have developed super-sensitive thin skins over the last half century, you might want to pass on this story.

I'm also going to start employing some bench markers in my writing. ~ & ~ will stand for a passage of time. It'll be up to you to keep reading and figure out if this passage of time was only a few minutes, an hour, a day, a full week, an entire month, or even a couple of years.

Something like this ~ &@%# ~ will signal either the end of a chapter, or the end of the story itself. It's a four letter profanity and you can supply which profane epitaph best suits your mood at the moment.

*

There were three inner-city schools in our district; the Bulldogs, the Sharks, and the Panthers—my school. So, no matter which school was playing against which, it was always considered to be a bitter cross-town rivalry.

We, the Panthers, were playing the Bulldogs in the semi-final round of the city championship this particular Friday night and, since it's not an uncommon occurrence in predominately black schools, mine and the head cheerleader for the Bulldogs were the only non-black faces on the court. I didn't give much thought to this racial imbalance; that's just the way things were. Like it or not, the ethnic minorities in our school either allowed themselves to be assimilated into the school's culture, or life was made extremely unpleasant for them. Period. End of story.

Now, you can consider this to be reverse discrimination and, in the proper use of the word, you would be absolutely correct. But, no one ever said life was fair and balanced... regardless of which side of the color line you happen to be on at the time, or the particular circumstances thereof.

Anyway, cutting straight to the chase; we (the Panthers) finally won in double overtime by one point. Even though it had been a hard fought game, there hadn't been any out-and-out brawls out on the court; nothing more serious than one of our guys getting up in the face of a Bulldog, or vise-versa, showing them that they were "The Man" and the other guy was nothin' but a pussy Nigger. Basically, guys dissipating some of their pumped up testosterone with braggadocios trash talking, which was a lot better than sitting out the rest of the game in the locker room for clocking some guy just 'cause he called you a Nigger.

{ Nigger. Now, there's a word with an awful lot of convoluted connotations to it. In days of yore, it had to do mostly with a person's skin color; something a person has absolutely no control over. Now days, it can have a whole 'nother connotation; instead of complexion, it has a lot more to do with a person's attitude. Perception being everything in this modern world, if you come off to others in a niggardly fashion—in-your-face rude and arrogant—this is how you're going to be perceived by them, plain and simple. Therefore, you can have black Niggers and white Niggers, as well as brown and red Niggers. And, yes, even yellow-skinned Niggers.

Nor, is the application of this derogatory word (which I'm only going to use sparingly from here on) gender specific... just in case any of you women who may be reading this get the foolish idea that you're being left off the racial discrimination hook. We "ladies" can be far more discriminatory than any testosterone-overloaded male clique can even come close to, especially within our own sex... and I don't mean just racially.

However, everything I've just said is so much debatable bilge-water and has almost nothing to do with what I'm going to tell you. It was just me venting... in convoluted fashion. So, back to the story at hand... }

It was only after the game, while we Panther cheerleaders were impatiently waiting for our winning guys to come out of the locker room, that the real trouble began brewing. And, it had everything to do with my mouth... or, a serious lack of mouth, in one respect.

The head Bulldog cheerleader (her name was Naomi) had gotten up in my face gone off on our school in particular, and me personally; the intentionally inflammatory terms "Asian slut" and "chink whore" being liberally and repeatedly thrown in my face. The trouble was, I didn't have the ammunition to fire right back in her snarling face.

You see, even though I grew up surrounded by black culture, I had never mastered the intricate art of "doin' the Dozens". This was mainly my mother's fault... or, she's who I blamed it on, anyway. My mother was a teacher and, from the day I was old enough to speak coherently, she forbid me from using the rapid fire, hip-hop patois of the street. She had insisted (more like demanded) that I read, write and speak correct English. I wasn't going to get anywhere in life if all that came out of my mouth was a lazy-ass soliloquy of "dis" "dat" "dem" "dos" and "dees".

In the Asian culture, one does not dishonor one's family by disobeying one's mother. This is also known as self preservation. Native Americans can boast all they want about Indians being on the warpath. An Asian mother, who has vowed to count some very serious coup of her own, meaning it would be my scalp hanging on her lodge pole if I didn't toe the line academically... Trust me, this is not a threat to be taken lightly. Therefore, either I was going to amount to something, be someone important in this world, or one of us going to die in the attempt... and that "one" would be 我, not 母 親

{Written in correct English, instead of Mandarin calligraphy, that would read, "me, not Mother".}

Of course, mother was right—as always—and I thank her everyday for pushing and prodding and brow-beating me relentlessly to better myself by getting an education. I haven't reached a level of prominence where my name is recognizable to a large audience—few people ever attain that lofty a goal—but I am somebody. I'm a teacher, just like my mother, and this makes me damned influential to the most important audience in the world; my students.

But, back then, being known as some sort of brainiac was not exactly the "stand out" sort of person most girls want be. This did not mean I was unpopular, though. I was very popular, especially with the basketball team... and it wasn't just because my relentless, no-nonsense tutoring is what kept most of the guys eligible to play round ball.

So, anyway, there I was—all five foot nothing, 88 pounds of me, not holding my own (not even a little bit) against a 5' 7", 150 pound bitter rival. But then, the black cavalry rode to my rescue... in the form of the captain of our team (6' 6" 210 pound Tyrone) shoving both of us apart and demanding to know, "What the fuck's goin' on here?"

"Figures," Naomi had scornfully snorted to her side," big guns gotta be called in 'cause their slant-eyed bitch ain't got the mouth to back her skinny yellow ass up."

"I'll put Suzy's mouth up again' yours any day," Tyrone had retorted. Digging some bills out of his pocket, he shoved them in Naomi's face and demanded, "You got the money to back up yours, bitch!"

The statuesque blonde was caught flat-footed. She had run her mouth loud and abusively in front of her people, and mine, without expecting to be called on it. Now, Naomi was going to have to either put up, or shut up and slink off to their team bus with her tail between her legs.

My confidence in myself, on the other hand, had gotten a serious kick start. I might not be able to go toe to toe with this mouthy bitch verbally, but where the unspoken implication of Tyrone's challenge was concerned, I was standing on rock solid ground.

Naomi warily eyed the money in Tyrone's fist and fudged. "I don't have twenty-five dollars on me."

The captain of her team dubiously came to Naomi's rescue. "I do."

Naomi gulped. She and I... In fact, everyone in the ring around us knew that, while the challenge we would both be facing would most definitely be oral, it wasn't going to be even a little bit verbal.

"What's the matter," I challenged, "cat all of a sudden got hold of your caustic tongue, bitch?"

Naomi's eyes blazed. "Name the time and place, slant-eyes."

"Tonight. Right now... in the locker room."

Naomi had no choice. "You're on!"

"Who holds the stakes?" the opposing captain asked.

"The girls do," Tyrone answered.

Everyone—both basketball teams, the dozen cheerleaders, and the visiting team's bus driver—trooped into the locker room behind Naomi and I. Once all the doors were locked, the rules of engagement got laid down. Naomi and I were to hold the stakes, in both hands; this way it would be strictly an oral competition, no hands-on assistance. We were to be on our knees, our starting five players lined up in front of Naomi, their starting five lined up in front of me. First one to make all five of her hard black cocks bust a big nut would be the winner.

This was all agreed to by both captains; neither Naomi nor I had any say in it. Then, Tyrone threw in a real kicker; swallowing the individual loads one at a time was not an option. Either we both agreed that all five loads, once the fifth guy had finished shooting his load of spunk into our mouths, went down our throats in one gulp, or the one who wasn't up to it forfeited the bet.

Forfeit? With this added rule, there was no fucking way I could lose. "My guys cum a lot," I said with a big grin. "And I do mean a lot." I got right up in Naomi's face. "Your cocksucking mouth big enough to hold four huge loads of hot spunk, plus having a fifth big black cock fucking it till you make him shoot off... all at the same time?"

Naomi gulped again and held a hand out to her captain. "Gimme the money." Both fists clenching the bills, she spun around and dropped to her knees. "Come on, slant-eyes, let's get this over with, so you can hand over yours, too."

I had been on my knees in front of black guys with their pants down around their ankles before, for all the members of my own team. This was the other reason I was so popular with the basketball team. The only difference this time was that I was facing five strange black cocks. Size wise, the opposing team's members pretty much measured up to my team's cocks, which meant I would have to suck off over a yard of black cock and, if they all came like my guys did, I would already have close to half a cup, maybe more, of slimy jizz in my mouth before the fifth guy blew his load.

The night we made to the semi-finals, I had sucked off the entire team; swallowing all twelve of their loads in two gulps, six loads in each gulp. So, holding four loads in my mouth until the fifth guy added his would be nothing more than a tantalizing warm up for the yummy rewards I would be getting from our guys later that night when I was sucking all of them off in celebration of the Panthers making it to the final pairing.

"Piece of cake," I scoffed, looking right into the peehole of the black cock in my face. Naomi had blindly walked into a setup and now she was going to pay for sashaying her arrogant white ass onto my turf. And pay big time... and it wasn't going to be just monetarily.

I didn't even give my opponent the courtesy of a 1,2,3 start. "Sweeet Shit!" the first guy hissed through the gap in his front teeth when I went all the way down on his hard 7 inches in one swallow. Sucking hard and swallowing constantly to massage the stalk of this initial Black cock even more as I bobbed my head back and forth in his black groin, I brought the first guy in under a minute.

One load of cum in my mouth, I was going down on the second black cock when I heard the Bulldog's captain worried voice. "Naomi, you got your work cut out for you if you're gonna equal this slant-eyes fucking mouth."

Getting a second load of cum in my mouth didn't take much longer and I was moving onto my third. Naomi was still working on her second cock. Three loads of cum soon pooled in my mouth, I had already taken the forth cock all the way to his balls and Naomi was just moving onto her third.

Four warm loads of cum in my mouth, from four depleted pairs of balls, I swooped down on the Bulldogs captain's waiting cock. Her blue eyes big and round, Naomi was just finishing off her third. The Bulldogs captain's cock was bigger than any of the others—9 inches at least—so deepthroating it wasn't quite as easy, but I managed to do it and, since his balls were also bigger, he shot the biggest wad of spunk into my full mouth.

Always a helpful Asian slut, I slid over alongside Naomi and gargled, "Let me help you," before going down on Tyrone's big black cock.

Naomi and I both had our heads back, gulping down our respective mouths full of cum a couple of minutes later. But, since I was gulping down six loads to her measly four, I was declared the clear winner... bar none.

All Naomi could say was, "Damn, gurl!" as she slapped two tens and a five into my outstretched hand.

Just to show that there were no hard feelings, I grabbed Naomi's blonde hair and glued my mouth to hers, slipping her a lot of cum-flavored tongue. "That'll teach you," I commented when I broke off our impromptu French kiss. "Next time, I'd advise you to check out your opponent's skills before impulsively deciding to take them on."

Naomi bowed her head. "Next time I will... Suzy."

I tried to give Tyrone back his twenty-five dollars, but he told me to keep it. I had more than earned every penny of it. So, with five more loads of cum than I expected to have warming my tummy before the night was over, I proudly walked out of the locker room the winner... and with four neatly folded twenties and two fives tucked into my bra.

~ & ~

Now, I wouldn't say I was an openly acknowledged hero around school the following week, but the word definitely got around; that mouthy Bulldog cheerleader had gotten her trashy mouth severely slapped shut, by none other than the accomplished mouth of the Panther's very own pint-sized Suzy Chow.

I never got the exact figures, but, from the various accounts I heard being bandied about, anywhere from $500.00 to $1,000.00 in side bets grudgingly exchanged hands after I had tongue kissed Naomi.

That Friday night was another hard fought game against the Sharks; this one going into triple overtime before Tyrone put up heart-stopping three pointer from mid-court, right at the buzzer, giving us the win by two points. The Panthers were bringing home the city wide trophy.

It was at the after-game blowout—thrown in Tyrone's spacious basement—when the cocksucking gauntlet was once again thrown at my feet.

Turning around, I found myself face into impressive chest with the Shark's head cheerleader. "Heard how you bitch-slapped the hell outta Naomi," Latisha, a stunning six foot black girl with menacing yellow cat eyes, said. "Gotta give it to you, gurl, that trashy white bitch suppose to have one mean mouth on her when it comes to sucking off hard black cocks." She nodded at her entourage—the rest of her cheerleading squad, plus the Shark's starting five—arrayed behind her. "You up to a real challenge this time?"

The basement went deathly silent and, from across the room, I clearly heard Tyrone say, "Up to you, Suzy."

I didn't even have to think about it. My hand went inside my blouse, dug into my bra and I was smiling just as menacingly when I waved my previous week's winnings under Latisha's nose. "Up to laying my own money down on the outcome this time."

Do I really need to go into the salacious details concerning that outcome? Okay, but only briefly.

Latisha's mouth came off her first hard black cock a couple of seconds before mine did. Mine came off the second one just before hers did the same. There wasn't a cunt-hair's difference in time for us both to be going down on our third black cock and it was a virtual dead heat when our mouths came off the forth and dove onto the fifth. I managed to gulp down my ungodly mouth full of cum before Latisha did. End of competition.

It was Latisha who put the outcome in proper perspective. With a resigned shake of her head, she quipped, "Looks like the Panthers got braggin' rights for the next year in two categories." Slapping her fifty bucks into my palm she smiled. "So, does this vanquished one also get her mouth tongue-fucked by the city-wide champ-peein' cocksucker?"

I smiled back at her. "You get the whole fucking sheeeebang, Latisha." And the Shark's vanquished head cheerleader and the city-wide cocksucking champion proceeded to go lesbian hog-wild right there on the floor.

I also got an exact accounting of the side bets this time. $2,100.00 was handed over to the Panther bettors, right before a full-blown black cock orgy broke out in Tyrone's basement.

I graduated with honors that year; valedictorian, no less... as well as a hundred hard-earned bucks to the good; thanks to the non-verbal use of my champ-peein' cocksucking mouth.

I also graduated with my hymen fully intact. The rest of the cheerleading squad fucked as well as sucked our guys. I only sucked off their big black cocks, because, swallowing their cum loads meant I wasn't going stand any chance of dishonoring my family, thereby incurring the unmerciful wrath of my mother, by getting knocked up.

I'm getting married next weekend to a well-off Caucasian lawyer. Cocksucking rivals can become the best of friends, so Naomi and Latisha are going to be two of my bride's maids.

After everyone else had left my bachelorette party last night, Naomi and Latisha (with conspiratorial winks directed at each other) stayed behind. Not twenty minutes later, those conspiratorial winks became abundantly clear as twenty of the twenty-two black guys I had sucked off my senior year—eleven Panthers and nine yummy tasting rivals—began trickling into the hotel room.

The three of us had a rousing suck-a-thon, all three of us merrily snowballing mouths full of slimy cum drained from black cocks back and forth, or me sucking the copious loads cum out of their pussies until the sun came up.

I suppose some of you are wondering, Will I remain faithful to my husband? In the most important aspect of being faithful to one's spouse, vaginally, this is a no-brainer. Divorce, merely on the grounds of marital infidelity, is simply not an acceptable part of traditional Asian culture.

Orally, since you can't get knocked up swallowing cum, therefore, no irrefutable evidence of cheating, this might be an entirely a different matter. What I mean by this is, unlike with heroin, there is no methadone-like substitute for the addictive taste of hard, throbbing black cock in your mouth.

~ &#%@ ~

Okay, there's another short story for you. Hopefully, this one will do better than my latest submission did. All I can do is apologize for that dismal attempt at off-the-cuff writing and beg your forgiveness.

Another full-length saga is in the works, but don't go holding your collective breaths, because it's not going to be submitted until it's completely finished, has been spell checked numerous times, and then proof read several more times after that. I get more than enough feedback grief for having four unfinished sagas on the books right now; I damned sure don't need to be worrying about completing a filth.

As always: Love, Luck, and Lust

JL