Jamacican’s ponderous black belly slapped hard against her pale white freckled FUPA. Sweating, he gazed into Jana’s blue eyes, seeing, straining, trying to bust his nut. He grunted and gasped through his thick boot lips, grasping her short pink hair.

Gasping, he rose from his somnambulant fantasy.

His turgid black rod split thin, used-up cum on his fetid sheets.

“Jana,” Jamacican half-whispered.

He rubbed his ass in the fresh cum, calling forth that one time when she sucked his flamboyantly gay nigger dick.

Still muttering to himself, “Make me cum, white bitch,” he pumped his five incher manually while grasping at his gynecomastia puffed up chest. He rubbed himself up there, down there, everywhere: over his extra folds, hands scratching over Brillo curly Qs. In his mind, Jamacican imagined Jana’s five foot one heavy plump frame from behind.

Yes, yes, Jana, baby girl. You look like a little white guy from behind. But from the front, you got those tits, I can show you off. You and your double Ds to all those white folks. Those fucking hypocritical white bastards, those rich slaving think-they’re-better-than-your-ape-ass white people thinking they better than me with their small dicks and flat asses. I be doing you from behind putting my coal black baby batter in that cunt. Fucking bitch, fucking dumb fat whiny insecure bitch. Tease me, suck my dick because you liked my pretty long hair.

Soft eyed and dewy, Jamacican watched himself in the mirror as he climaxed and a puddle gathered under his balls. Then memories came to him.

It was then he saw the clock: 2:14 pm.

Fuck, I’ve gotta get to work.


A fight broke out on the bus on his way to work.

These niggers be uncivilized!

Jamacican was late.

As he snuck in the back of McDonald’s, his supervisor, Markus, caught him.

“Yo, Jamacican, boy!” Markus drug out the last word.

All of five foot eight to Jamacican’s six foot two, Markus punked him every shift.

“You know what I says to myself today? Jamacican. I says, ‘Maybe that punk bitch Jamacican may, MAY be coming in on time for once.’ Because where would I be without my best fry cook? But you know what, I just knew business as usual.”

Markus cocked an eye at Jamacican, adding a final note, “Come to my office on your first break, aight?”

Jamacican got to his station, Shalonda giving him the stink-eye.

Chickenhead bitch, giving me disrespect. I’d like to buttfuck and choke her at the same time. Just because she is that nigger Markus’ side bitch…

Thoughts of choking and sodomizing Shalonda’s skinny negress ass kept him entertained as he dropped and salted fries until his first break.

First break, show time, Jamacican thought.

He undid his belt once out of view on the way to the back office.

Jamacican knocked. He silently cursed. His cheap belt got hung up.

“Yo! Who is it?”

“It’s Jamacican, boss,” he lisped.

“Yeah, come in, boy.”

Jamacican shut the door and locked it, undoing his belt and popping his pants’ button.

Markus looked at him. “Sheeeit, boy. I ain’t feeling that today.”

“Oh, sorry, boss, I assumed.”

“Do your knickers up. It’s dat pussy mouth I want today. Bitch nigger who comes in late every shift don’t deserve my hot dick in his fat bitch ass.”

Markus undid his belt now and dropped trou. He slapped his rubbery eight-inch cock against his hand while pondering what to do. “I think you need to gargle muh balls.”

Jamacican hit his knees and licked his lips, lisping, “Sure, big daddy, show me who’s boss.”

Two seconds after Jamacican’s knees hit the linoleum, his mouth became an eager receptacle for Markus’ hairy balls.

Pubes and goatee hair mixed and rubbed together.

Markus slapped his dong against Jamacican’s forehead. “Can you believe that dumb bitch Shalonda got herself pregnant. Bitch better not be sayin’ I’m da baby daddy. Suck those balls harder.”

Markus mumbled on until, in a rush, he reached inside Jamacican’ shirt. Grabbing a moob, he stuffed his dick down Jamacican’s shirt and unloaded.

“Dat’s a good bitch. I may’s promote you,” he said and patted Jamacican’s chest.

For the rest of the shift, the drying cum on his undershirt irritated Jamacican.


In the evening after his shift, Jamacican drank a bottle of wine. He huffed a popper and showered. Jamacican rubbed his chest as the dried cum rehydrated and slid off his moobs with the water slicking over his now turgid cock.

“Dis boy’s a good bitch nigger!” Jamacican cried out as he sang.

He sucked down another gulp of wine.

“I’m not gay! I want a woman to love me. For me, me, me!”

He slapped his chub, he slapped his dick. “Bad benis, bad!”

He checked his Grindr.

Four white boys had messaged him.

“Hey, big guy, gimme summa that chocolate cock.”

“Ram that BBC down my throat, daddy.”

“Pull my ears and violate my pretty white boi bussy.”

His hand was already massaging his balls. “I’ll pull your ears baby,” he answered, giving his address.


He jammed his dick into that bussy. Pounding away, he grabbed ears and hair, dick still hard from another popper inhalation.

Jamacican’s gut slapped against the white boi’s bony ass.

The sphincter was raw and oozing blood.

The moaning of the bottom bitch crescendoed. “Go harder, you nigger! Get those reparations!”

But. He. Still. Could. Not. Cum.

His hips are slender, not good for childbearing. No healthy fat for nurturing my black babies. I get the sterile sex of a degenerate white man. I get the ass in my face!

In a rage, he flipped the bottom bitch over.

Reinserting his cock, Jamacican throttled the bitch.

His white boy turned purple like the head of his penis squirting on and bouncing off Jamacican’s hairy belly.

The white kid thrashed and bucked. Jamacican bore down harder as the dying man’s spasms shuddered through his body.

It was the final cataclysmic anal clenching that caused Jamacican to empty his balls.

Orgasming, Jamacican didn’t notice white boy was dead until the slackened rectal muscles released a massive dollop of cum and shit onto Jamacican’s bed.


Jamacican took the dollop of cummy shit and worked it into a pâté. He fished into his clogged toilet for more.

Once he had a good palette going, he thought, I’m a fucking artist, amazing and sexy!

On the wall, he spread his homemade finger-paints. Letting his gay negro passion take over, he drew, spreading the shit into the figure of a Madonna. Using carefully-manicured fingernails, he scraped away flecks and grooves into features until he had a good resemblance of Jana.


Throwing on pants and a top, no underwear, he checked himself in his full-length mirror, noting with satisfaction how his gyno nips popped and sniffed another popper.

He looked down at the white man’s corpse. “Yeah, boi! I’m a sexy beast. See you later.”


Barefoot, Jamacican sashayed down the sidewalk, popping his butt and titties out. A group of bikers were in front of a bar, drinking and smoking, not paying attention when Jamacican walked up.

“Oh, hey, guys!”

Five sets of eyes set in heavy-lined white faces were on Jamacican in an instant.

Jamacican batted his eyes. “Which one of you boys has the biggest dick?”

Pissed, the bikers held their tongues. Hard looks poured out. Arms crossed, they faced him down, still silent.

“Come on, big boys, show me some buck-breaking tools?” Jamacican said, hopping on the balls of his feet and looking them over.

A big bear of a man, 50, six foot four, 300 pounds, bald, and tattooed stepped forward and spoke through gritted teeth, “Why don’t you get your sissy fuck ass out of here?”

Jamacican noted with satisfaction the man’s massive bulge. He twerked his ass, smirking at the bear.

“Or what? Wachoo white bois gonna do?”

The bear lunged forward and grabbed Jamacican by his hair extensions.

“Or this, bitch nigger!”

The bear ripped down Jamacican’s pants, exposing his flabby, cellulite-riddled, spotted ass-cheeks.

Hand around his gargantuan white hard cock, the bear rammed it up Jamacican’s ass.

Like a hoochie mama, Jamacican let out “oohs” and “aaahs” with the occasional “daddy bear” thrown in.

Meanwhile, an unending torrent of racist verbiage fell from the bear’s lips, sometimes quiet soft mutters in Jamacican’s ears, other times loud enough to echo down the block.

“Filthy tar baby shitskin baboon-assed abortion monkey queer nigger bitch boy fecal freak gorilla mother fucking murdering moon-cricket rectal ranger ANIMAL!”

Jamacican clenched his butt-cheeks together and pressed his hips against the bear’s balls.


But before the bear could finish in Jamacican’s asshole, three black Chevy Suburbans rolled up, blue lights flashing. Twelve men in 5.11 tactical pants, tactical boots, tactical battle rattle, tactical condoms, and COVID face masks sprung out aiming tactical AR-15 LEO rifles tactically shouting tactical orders and commands.

“SIR! Release the underprivileged BIPOC and step back!” the lead agent of the FBI’s GNPSSP (Gay N-word Protection Service Special Patrols) ordered the bear and his friends.

The bear yanked his dick out; the resulting vacuum resulted in Jamacican farting in a very loud “whoosh!” sound.

The bear hit his knees clutching his throat and gagging at the smell.

The other bikers retched and puked all over the sidewalk.

Jamacican pulled his pants up from his ankles. “Oh, it’s okay, officers, I was enjoying it. Perfectly consenssul.”

The lead agent addressed Jamacican. “Sir, are you sure it was consensual?”

“Oh sure. I enjoyed it. Can I go?”

“Let me see your ID in case we need to follow up.”

Jamacican produced his ID and the lead agent scanned it. “Okay, Mr. Jamacican Queenie Sambo, you may go, have a good night.”

The bikers slipped on the vomit-covered sidewalk as they rose from the ground.

“Hold it, assholes!” the agent shouted. His fellow agent flipped the selector levers of their AR15s to rock ‘n’ roll. “There is still matter of the use of abusive racist language, indecent exposure, coercion, and accessory to ethnic intimidation that our drones recorded.”

A groan went up from the bikers. The bear whispered, “Don’t say shit.”

The rancid fart smell still clung in the air as Jamacican skipped off into the night saying to the bikers, “Toodles.”


Sneaky-like, Jamacican walked up to Jana’s apartment, his steps hindered by his erection pulling his skinny slacks tighter against his hips. On tiptoes, he hoped to avoid her mean-ass brindled pit bull named Fraser.

That fuck Fraser hated Jamacican anytime he visited, growled, barked, and snapped at his big coal black coon ass.

No Fraser barking.

He could see soft candlelight coming from the window of her ground-level apartment. As he got closer, he could hear soft neo soul rock muffled by the glass pane.

Closer, he crept to the window, a spook in the shadows.

Still no Fraser barking, no neighbors peeking.

All was quiet on this young urbanite street.

Licking his lips and massaging the atomic bulge in his pants, he huffed a popper.

Inside, he saw Jana buck naked down on all fours. Her pink hair offset her glistening fish-white fat rolls. She grunted and wiggled her hips, her delicious phat ass, massive breasts swinging.

Jamacican’s eyes bugged when he saw her partner.

From behind, Fraser mounted her, pumping his doggie pelvis against Jana’s rippling lard ass.

Jamacican tore himself away from the scene and rushed to her door.

Pounding at her door, he yelled, “Jana, it’s me, Jamacican!”

“Oh! Hold on a second!”

A faint rustling and the door opened a space.

Jana appeared at the door in a white bathrobe and said, “This is a surprise. What do you want?”

He was a bundle of nerves twitching in rage and jealousy.

In the darkness of the doorstep, only the whites of his bug eyes and the gleam of his teeth could be seen.

“I-I-ummmm…a, yes! I know: muh dik! Gimme dat white pussy, I needs it!” he shouted, shoving the door open.

Jana backed up, mouth agape at the King Kong-sized asshole with pre-cum leaking through his fly.

He grabbed her pixie cut and dragged her over the couch.

Fraser let loose savage barks.

Her bathrobe flew open; she tried to pull it back together as Jamacican pulled his chubby loose of his fly.

“Cave bitch gonna get some!”

Then a sudden pressure gripped his ass.

Jamacican shrieked like a little girl.

Fraser tore a massive piece of black ass off. Then seized a larger chuck and wrenched it.

Jamacican fell to the floor; his erect nigger cock broke with an audible “pop.”


Fraser liberated another piece of ass.

Jamacican rolled over, cupping his crotch.

Until Fraser seized it.

Fingers gave way, bones snapping, then Fraser munched down on Jamacican’s sausage and eggs.

Blood spurted and pooled around his hips.

Fraser buried his muzzle deeper, going for the bladder.

Jamacican wailed in despair for the mulattos who would never be born, for the white men who would never be shamed.

He gasped his last when his blood volume exited onto Jana’s hardwood floors.

Down into eternal darkness he sank, soul and all.

Fraser remounted Jana for a victory second go-around.