Beto heard a knock at the door. It must be Larry Sinclair with Friday’s delivery. He licked his lips in anticipation. Larry was his favorite plug. He didn’t need to pay for any of the crack or meth he loved so much. They had an arrangement. Larry was fond of a Mandingo named Obama. A few hours on Friday nights with him and Beto had his weekly supply. This was his favorite night of the week, too. He answered the door and there was Larry.

“Hell yeah!” Beto started off. “Let’s get this night started!”

Larry slapped him on the shoulder. “I can’t wait to buck-break some negroes.” They both loved that term. One of the rowdy slaves came up with it. James was his Christian name, but this one would insist on being called Tariq, Tariq Nasheed, whenever he was alone with the other slaves.

Beto made him wear a diaper the last few days. He didn’t change it, either. He knew Tariq loved to sit in his own filth. He liked being a dirty boy. The two men stopped at the hot box on the way to the slave quarters to check on Tariq.

They opened the door to the hot box and Tariq looked up. He was laying on the ground in just his diaper, his thighs were soaked with his own piss, and there were shit stains all around him on the ground from where the crap was leaking out. Beto and Larry laughed as they undid their flies and pulled out their members. They let two hot streams of piss fly down into the hot box. Tariq was getting a golden shower. He opened his mouth up and let the streams of piss fall into it. He was so grateful to be given a drink.

“Tha…tha…thank you, Massa,” he barely sputtered out between gulps. “I’ve been such a bad slave, I’m not ready to be changed yet, Massa.”

Beto worked up some spittle in his mouth and launched it at Tariq, hitting him right in the eye, then he shut the door to the hot box. “Let’s go have some real fun,” he said to Larry, slapping his ass. The men went into the quarters where the slaves lived. It was empty except for two big, black bulls. Everyone knew the drill now. Obama was there, and next to him was Beto’s favorite bull, a big ole’ buck named Andrew Gillum. Beto and Larry had these two so hooked on meth and crack that they had sucked each other off just waiting for the night’s activities to start.

Larry pulled out some baggies of powder, some pipes, and some lighters, and the four men began smoking and performing fellation on each other. There was no thinking about what was going on. They’ve done this dance for years now and all four of them moved in perfect unison. The slaves knew their duty was to take care of their masters and Beto and Larry could never ignore such bulbous black cocks. They had to take them in their mouths. Sucking and fucking and smoking until they were sucking and fucking in the astral realm.

There was a level of sex-induced hysteria they had to reach each night before the real fucking began. As soon as they hit that, Obama and Andrew Gillum bent over one of the bottom bunks and presented their assholes to their master and his friend. Beto and Larry grabbed the hips of their respective bulls and thrust their cocks into the sphincters of the slaves with the force of a stallion. Beto heard Andrew’s asshole tear and this filled him with a sadistic pleasure. Leaving the two biggest bucks on the plantation bleeding and leaking the white man’s seed kept all the other slaves in line. Both men came close to climax at the same time. They flooded these black asses, painting them white. The men passed another crack pipe around before they exited the slaves. Obama and Andrew had been completely broken. They wouldn’t leave the bunk they’re lying on. When they came down from all the crack and meth they’d smoked, they’d crash where they are. They knew they weren’t allowed to get up even if they wanted to. It was always the same routine. After the first round of the night, Beto and Larry liked to relieve themselves on whatever slave was in the hot box that week and then come back for another round of buttsex before bringing the fun to an end.

“Two drinks in one night, Massa? I don’t deserve it.”

Beto kicked some dirt over Tariq and it stuck to all the piss covering his body.

The two men walked back to the quarters to finish the night. The meth and crack pipes were lit up. They passed them around as they fucked the asses of their bucks again. Obama and Gillum felt the warmth of jism fill their intestines. They knew the fucking was over. After one more round of smoking, Beto and Larry left. They said their goodbyes to each other and laughed about pissing on Tariq so many times.

“Until next Friday,” Beto said.

“Until next Friday,” Larry agreed, and then he was on his way, feeling fully satisfied.