2027 - Senior Year of Dante Davis

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———

The shortening of days, the falling of leaves, the blowing of brown curls in the autumn winds; all signs of summer’s end, and the start of something new. The new girl’s hair was a messy ball of curled thread, bobbing around the playground as she relentlessly hounded her new classmates, clearly failing in her attempts to make friends. The girls teased her and called her a tomboy, while the boys just seemed frightened by her eagerness. And yet, she didn’t seem to take the hint, much to Dante’s amusement and confusion.

“She’s just annoying everyone. Is she doing it on purpose?” Dante asked.

“I don’t know. She’s your neighbor. Why don’t you ask her?” Oliver said, eyes still glued to his book.

“You sound like my mom. She’s obsessed with the fact there’s finally another black latino family on our street. Wants me to be best friends with her.”

“Would that be so bad?” Oliver asked, looking up from his seat on the bench.

Dante, still leaning against the tree nearby, simply rolled his eyes at his best friend. Before he could form any kind of verbal retort, however, Oliver’s voice called out toward the rest of the playground: “Hey, new girl! Come over here a sec.”

“Dude!” Dante said. “Why would you do that?”

“You can’t stop staring at her. Might as well talk to her,” Oliver continued to wave the girl over to the bench. “Besides, you’re interrupting my studying.”

“You’re interrupting my studying,” Dante mocked back at his friend.

“Hi!” the new girl’s voice cut through, surprising Dante with how quickly she’d reached them. “I didn’t see you two over here earlier.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda hidden by the tree. That’s why I like it,” Oliver said, pointing to his friend. “Dante still bothers me though.”

“Ignore him. He only acts like a loner cause he thinks it makes him cooler,” Dante said.

The girl’s eyes shifted over to Dante. Recognition appeared on her face instantly. “Neighbor boy!”

Dante did not look pleased by the exclamation, shrinking against the tree.

“You’re the one in the greenish house right by mine,” she said.

Dante nodded, “Yeah… that’s me.”

“My name’s Diana. Diana Crespo. But if you become my friend, I’ll let you call me D,” the new girl said.

Oliver giggled to himself. Diana turned back toward him immediately, curious to know what was so funny about her name.

“Sorry, we can be friends, but the nickname’s a no. D is already what we call him,” Oliver said, pointing toward Dante.

“Hey, don’t tell her we can be—” Dante said, before being cut off.

“You mean it?” Diana asked, her voice bouncing with excitement, clearly having already moved on from being denied her nickname, and more focused on the offer of friendship.

Oliver nodded, before looking over at his friend and smiling. Dante rolled his eyes at the gesture, but whatever words of rejection had been forming in his throat died as soon as he locked eyes with Diana. Half her face looked ready to jump with joy and the other half ready to break into tears. Whatever the emotion itself was… it was damn pretty.

Dante collected himself, hiding the blush that now filled his cheeks, before he said, “Sure, why not. Name’s Dante.”

Oliver introduced himself as well, eyes still glued to his book, which quickly became the next topic of conversation, as Diana asked endless questions about what he was reading and why. Dante struggled to follow along with the conversation however, his friends’ voices getting drowned out by a rather loud… moaning?

———

Dante caught himself right as he nearly fell out of bed. Clearly he’d somehow managed to roll his entire upper body over the edge during his dream. The dream itself already begun to fade from Dante’s mind. What had it even been about? Middle school?

ahh… ahhh… mmhh-AAAH “Oh yes gringo! Please! More! Please!” the moaning of Dante’s mother echoed from downstairs. The moans themselves a stark reminder that while it was indeed the end of summer, it was not the summer of 2019 like in his dream.

Dante looked over at the clock on his desk. It read 6:46 a.m. He didn’t reach over to silence any alarm though. There hadn’t been much need to even turn that feature on the past few years, considering his mother’s morning moans had served that purpose rather easily, ever since the 33rd Amendment’s passing.

Dante used to complain about it often, begging his mother to keep it down in the mornings. She never listened though, instead teasing her son by purposefully making her moans even louder and more embarrassing. Perhaps it had been a good thing, since it only made Dante numb to it all even sooner.

ahh… oohh… AAH the moaning continued.

Dante had already climbed out of bed, doing his best to remake it so his mom didn’t yell at him later. September was almost over, and hopefully the heat along with it, so Dante rifled through his wardrobe and grabbed at a long-sleeve shirt and some pants appropriate for school.

Most of Dante’s non-white peers rarely cared much about their own appearances, considering how sexually invisible they were to women no matter how they looked. Dante, however, had a girlfriend, and even if he’d never be allowed in bed with her, he still wanted to look good for her. He moisturized his dark skin and curly hair, before doing his best to style said hair in a respectable way.

mmh… aah-AAAH the moaning continued, as Dante took one last look at himself in the tiny mirror on his desk. He thought he looked respectable, good even.

He grabbed his toothbrush and made his way down the short steps of the house, briefly pondering what white man would be responsible for his mother’s moaning today. Dante had kinda made a game of it the past year. He’d, unintentionally, gotten surprisingly good at differentiating how his mother sounded with different partners. For example, he knew it couldn’t be their neighbor Mr. Moulton today, since he rarely actually fucked Dante’s mom, instead preferring to make her choke on his morning wood until he came down her throat. It couldn’t be his former upperclassman Edward Tischer either, since he preferred fucking her right against Dante’s bedroom door, sometimes even right over his bedside.

“Mr. Saling,” Dante guessed to himself, before turning the corner at the bottom of the steps.

“I really should visit more often, Odell, you have a lovely home,” a man’s voice said, before plunging again into Dante’s mom. “And an even lovelier wife.”

“I keep telling you so, and yet you keep visiting Mr. Hojo’s wife instead,” Dante’s father said.

The white guest chuckled at the remark, smacking Dante’s father on the shoulder as he said, “Come on. Can you really blame me? Mr. Hojo and I go way back, and his wife can make my cock literally disappear between her tits. It’s truly a ridiculous sight to see.”

It seemed that Dante’s guessing skills were as accurate as ever. At the kitchen table sat his father, casually drinking his morning coffee and conversing with one of his bosses from work, Tim Saling. Mr. Saling kept Dante’s mom bent over the table, mere inches from where her husband sat, as he pounded into her continuously, much to her obvious enjoyment. Dante’s mom wore nothing besides her cooking apron, and Mr. Saling was likewise entirely nude below the waist.

“Not that you don’t also have a gorgeous set yourself, Mrs. Davis,” Mr. Saling said, reaching forward to raise and grope her tits as he talked about them.

mmhh… ahh Dante’s mother’s enjoyment of Mr. Saling’s grip was audible, though soon interrupted as she noticed her son’s entrance.

“Oh, good morning, mijo,” she smiled warmly at her son. “Are you hungry? I made some rancheros and beans.”

“Good morning,” Dante said. “Is Olivia still in the bathroom? I need to brush my teeth.”

His father nodded. “Yep, don’t know what takes that girl so long nowadays.”

aahh… mmh the moaning continued as Mr. Saling plunged into her once again. “Oh you boys, so ignorant of women’s minds. My little mija is growing up. She’s got white boys to impress, and beauty like that takes time.”

Dante rolled his eyes at the statement, unable to imagine his brat of a sister ever managing to attract a man of any kind. Nonetheless, he grabbed a plate from the counter and loaded it with enough rancheros and beans to power through the day, before taking his seat at the table. Dante tried his best to eat through it all quickly, though the constant shaking of the table didn’t make it any easier.

“Mr. Saling, do you think you could have sex with my mom against something besides our kitchen table? It’s just kinda hard to eat when it’s shaking like this,” Dante asked.

Mr. Saling stopped his thrusts for a moment, looking like he might actually move as requested.

“Oh don’t mind him, Mr. Saling. My mijo just gets embarrassed easily. Especially when he sees his momma all happy and horny,” Dante’s mom reached across the table to pull on her son’s cheeks. “Isn’t that right, mijo?”

An embarrassed blush briefly covered the boy’s face, before he recovered himself and said, “Yeah… sorry, Mr. Saling, don’t mind me.”

Dante’s mom smiled and let go of her son’s cheeks, giving him one last teasing pinch, before returning her attention to their guest’s morning wood.

With his parents both caught up in conversation with Mr. Saling, Dante pulled out his phone and made a few quick texts.

“Is that Diana?” a voice asked from behind Dante.

Dante’s sister Olivia made her way into the dining room, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and tiny shorts with “Stop Staring Brown Boys” written across the back of them.

“Has Diana finally come to her senses and broken up with you?” Olivia asked, before sitting down at the table to enjoy her rancheros and ogle Mr. Saling’s morning wood.

“Olivia, be nice to your brother. Just because you have no interest in non-white boys doesn’t mean other girls don’t like the idea of having a non-white cuck as a partner, waiting for them at home,” Dante’s mom said.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah. I’m just saying, isn’t she turning eighteen soon? She should at least consider some alternatives.”

Dante would usually sling insults right back at his sister, but the topic of Diana’s age shut him up quick. Diana’s birthday wasn’t coming up; it had already passed. Two days ago, in fact. Of course, Dante’s family was unaware of that, and he hoped to keep them and the rest of the town oblivious to it as long as possible.

Having finished his plate, and with Mr. Saling now flipping and laying his mom onto the table for some missionary, Dante stood from his seat without further comment. He cleaned his plate in the sink, brushed his teeth, and grabbed his bag.

Standing by the door and ready to head out, Dante asked, “I can take the car? You don’t have anything to do today, right?”

Dante’s mother, laid across the table on her back as Mr. Saling held her legs apart, said, “Yeah, you’re good, mijo. I’ll go shopping early tomorrow instead.”

Dante nodded, grabbing the keys off the hook.

oohh… aah Dante’s mom said in between her own moans, “And don’t forget to wish Oliver a happy 18th today. Tell him I’ll show him a wonderful time whenever he’d like. My home and my body are always open to that sweet boy.” AHHH

Not daring to let the mental image of his best friend fucking his mom linger in his mind, Dante waved goodbye and rushed out the front door.

“Boo!” a voice shouted as Dante stepped out.

Dante didn’t budge however, his face unamused as he closed the door behind him, and said, “If you do that every day, it’s not gonna suddenly start working on me, Diana.”

“But eventually you’ll learn to expect it so much that you’ll be terrified when it suddenly doesn’t,” Diana said, smirking at her own perceived cleverness.

Dante feigned terror at the thought, pleasing Diana. He then looked down at her hands, nodding when he saw that she’d brought the gift, before turning toward the driveway ahead.

“Mr. Saling today, huh?” Diana asked, already walking with Dante toward the car.

“Yeah, it was,” Dante said, surprised that Diana could hear the noise from outside. “Could you tell from the slow inconsistent thrusts?”

“What? No, I just saw his truck was parked outside,” Diana said, her eyebrows raised. “Are you able to tell white men apart based just on how fast they thrust into your mom?”

Dante gulped inwardly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment as he explained, “Yeah… something like that. When you have a mom as popular as mine, you learn to differentiate certain things. Even if you weren’t trying to at first.”

Diana seemed to ponder that information for a while, hopping into the passenger seat of Dante’s car as he got into the driver’s seat. Like most things that catch Diana’s curiosity however, she didn’t have to ponder it for long.

With big curious eyes, “That’s so cool, D!” she said. “How many can you tell just by sound alone? Is it based mostly on what sounds the guy makes or the ones your mom is making? And is there any kind of smell component to this?”

It wasn’t exactly the talk he’d been hoping for today, but it was rarely up to him what they talked about anyway. Once Diana was interested in something, all other thoughts left her mind. She’d always been that way, and perhaps it was why she and Dante had ended up together. She, with her intense focus on singular goals, and Dante, with his lack of any true goals at all: a perfect match. And besides, how could Dante possibly deny Diana’s curiosity when she gave him those ridiculous puppy eyes of hers? He started up the car and began to explain his system.