The Black man versus the White man

My name is James Sermord. At eighteen, I already possess everything most men won't even dare to dream of in an entire lifetime.

I am white, with a beauty that some describe as insolent, and my bank account is as vast as my contempt for those who lack my status. To me, the world is a buffet and I am the only guest of honor. My obsession is simple: conquest.

I am currently stretched out on the silk sheets of my king-size bed, letting pleasure wash over me. At my side, a young Indian woman whose name I never remember takes care of me with an almost religious devotion. She slides over me, her matte skin contrasting with the whiteness of my sheets, before moving down to suck my cock with a fervor that proves she wants nothing else but to please me.

Suddenly, the door opens. It is my butler, an Indian man with an austere look. I know he is helplessly in love with the girl currently serving me, and the look of silent suffering on his face as he watches us amuses me to no end.

He approaches and places a folder on the bed. "Your father has chosen Senegal for your next stay, Master James."

I let out a sigh of satisfaction and open the folder. My eyes land on the photos of women that I don’t see here: Black women. Their ebony skin was magnificent, but it was especially their breasts and big butts that immediately caught my attention—it’s incredible!

At this sight, I clap my hand onto the Indian woman’s head and ejaculate in her mouth while I stare at the photos. I feel like I’m going to have a feast over there...

JAMAL ARMI (18 years old)

In the mall, I was walking alone through the narrow aisles of the magic wand shop, my heart beating a bit too fast. It was my first important purchase since being admitted to the MJO, the Magical Justice Organization, and I felt tiny in the middle of all these artifacts vibrating with invisible energy.

Shy as always, I kept my eyes down. I tried to focus on the wands—oak wood, dragon heartstring, phoenix feather—but my mind wandered. I had never been comfortable with choices, even less so with people.

That’s when I saw him. A white man, tall, with an assurance that filled the space around him like a shadow. He was standing near a shelf of potions, but his eyes were fixed on a Black woman leaning over to pick up a box. Her tight pants perfectly hugged the curve of her bouncy buttocks.

The man didn't hesitate to check out the ass of this woman, with a discreet but hungry smile. An obvious bulge was in his jeans: he was hard as hell.

I froze, my cheeks burning. I thought about the whispers I'd heard—how men of his status viewed women of my race as exotic prizes to be claimed, relishing the idea of taking what they wanted while guys like me were left with nothing.

I thought about myself: 18 years old, invisible, and never having slept with a woman. My physique was normal—Black, not ugly, just ordinary—but girls of my race had never looked at me twice. It gnawed at me.

I **** myself to move forward, clutching a practice wand in my sweaty hand. Then, at the turn of an aisle, I bumped into Lina, a Black woman my age. She was there, examining a slender ebony wand, her soft smile lighting up her face. Lina—with her sexy curves that had been making me look away ever since we met in class a month ago. Her tight pants emphasized her firm, rounded hips, and her generous bust slightly strained against her top. She was kind, always ready to help, with a warm voice that made me melt.

"Jamal? Hey, it's you!" she said, her eyes sparkling. "Did you come for your wand too? I’m hesitating between this one and one in rosewood. What do you think?"

I stammered an "Y-yes, me too. Uh, the ebony looks... solid."

My heart was thumping, but she laughed softly, placing a friendly hand on my arm. "Come on, let's look together. It's more fun as a pair."

We started walking side by side. Lina talked with animation, and I found myself truly listening to her, forgetting my shyness a little.

"I can’t wait to master healing spells," she said. "My aunt is a nurse; she always told me that magic could change lives. What about you, Jamal? Do you have a specialty in mind?"

"Not really," I admitted, flushing. "Maybe potions. It’s quiet, not too... exposed."

She nodded understandingly. "You’re reserved, huh? That’s cute. I like people like you—no fuss."

We were heading toward the exit when a guy blocked our path. Tall, white, with chiseled features and a suit that screamed wealth. He smiled at us politely, as if he already owned the place.

"Hello," he said in a suave voice. "My name is James. James Sermord."

Sermord. The name snapped in my head like a hex. A powerful family within the MJO—influential donors with connections everywhere. Lina’s eyes widened for a split second, but she quickly composed herself.

"Oh, wow. Lina," she replied, reaching out her hand. "And this is Jamal."

James shook my hand first—a crushing grip, as if he wanted to grind my bones. I winced internally but said nothing. Shy, reserved, as always.

When it came to Lina, he hesitated. "In my country, we hug to say hello. You don't mind, do you?"

She laughed, a bit surprised but friendly. "Uh, okay, why not?"

They stepped closer, and I saw his hand slide onto her hip, right where her camisole didn't cover her skin. A shiver of frustration shot through me. It was too intimate, too possessive, but Lina didn't react—maybe out of politeness.

James stepped back, still smiling. "Are you new to the MJO? I just arrived myself. Tell me more about yourselves. Jamal, what are you studying?"

We exchanged a few words—me, stammering short answers; Lina, more talkative, speaking of her dreams. "I hope to specialize in protective enchantments," she said. "With everything going on in the magical world, we need them."

Suddenly, Lina excused herself. "Sorry, I have to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back!"As she walked away, James’s face changed. He was staring at Lina's bouncy buttocks swaying with the speed of her steps.

"I can't wait to destroy her ass," he whispered with a smile.

"What?" I stammered, shocked.

He turned an arrogant look toward me. "This bitch has a good body; I can't wait to fuck her. Coming to this country was a really good idea."

Lina came back, lightly fixing her hair. James immediately recomposed himself, his face becoming polite again.

"There you are!" he exclaimed in a warm voice. "We were just talking about you. Jamal was telling me you were gifted in enchantments."

Lina laughed softly, flattered despite herself. "He's exaggerating. I'm starting out like everyone else. But I do like it, yes. And you, James? Do you have a specialty yet or are you still in exploration mode?"

He shrugged with that arrogant nonchalance that I had already begun to hate. "A bit of everything. But I like things... concrete. Results you can see right away."

His eyes slid for a fraction of a second to Lina's chest, then moved back up as if it were nothing. "Listen, I have my car parked nearby. If you want, I can drive you home. It'll save you the bus or walking in this heat."

Lina hesitated, glancing toward me. "Uh... that's nice, but Jamal and I were going to head back together."

"No problem. He can come!" James looked at me as if I were an incidental detail.

I felt my throat tighten. Saying no would have been logical, but Lina nodded, a bit embarrassed, a bit curious. "Well... okay. Thanks, that's nice. Jamal, is that okay with you?"

I mumbled a "Yeah... sure," my voice stuck. I didn't want to leave her alone with him. Not after what he had said.

We reached his car—a gleaming black sedan with tinted windows. James opened the passenger door for Lina. She leaned in to sit down, her ass tightening in the form-fitting fabric.

James gave her a little slap on the buttocks. Lina stood up with a start, her gaze dark.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

James raised both hands, looking falsely innocent. "Oops. Sorry, reflex from my country. Where I’m from, it’s a way of saying 'welcome aboard.' I promise you, never again."

She stared at him, her lips pursed. "You better."

The drive was tense. James sat at the wheel, occasionally throwing glances at Lina's chest. When we arrived at her place, Lina opened the door quickly.

"Thanks for the ride," she said. "See ya, Jamal."

James leaned toward her before she was fully out. "If you need a driver, a guide, or... something else, call me." He handed her a black and gold card. "Anytime."

She took it, hesitant, then walked away. James watched her go with an arrogant smile. "Fuck, that ass," he whispered. Then he looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Did you see that, Jamal? She didn't really say no. That's already a good start."

He drove off without waiting for my answer. A few minutes later, alone on the sidewalk after he dropped me off, my phone vibrated. Unknown number.

I picked up, my voice trembling. "Hello?" A warm, deep, familiar voice answered me. "Jamal... it's Bya. Your godmother. I just got back to town. Your parents had asked me to look after you if they... well. I'm here now."

Bya. The woman I had always considered the most beautiful, the most inaccessible. The one I had fantasized about in secret since I was a teenager. Black, tall, with breathtaking curves, buttocks so round they seemed to defy gravity, a heavy chest that always strained her clothes. And that voice that made me melt just by saying my name. She must be 44 years old today.

"Are... are you okay?" I whispered, my throat tight. "I am. And you? I heard about the MJO. I'm proud of you, you know."

I closed my eyes, the memory of James giving his number to Lina still burning in my head. "Yeah... I'm okay."

A silence.

Then she laughed softly. "You don't sound convinced. Come see me tomorrow night. I have things to tell you. And... I want to hold you in my arms. It's been too long."

I swallowed. An erection seized me instantly.

"Okay!" I replied.

I was so hard.