Note: Inspiration from Arlo Guthrie’s (1972) City of New Orleans. Hobo’s Lullaby, Reprise Records. Lenny Waronker, producer. Steve Goodman, songwriter.
* * *
Waterloo, Iowa.
The Midwest city is known for meatpacking, rail transportation, and racial unrest. Bisected by the Cedar River, it resides at a cultural crossroad. Over time invasive White Europeans eradicate Indigenous Peoples, and are subsequently displaced by African Americans.
Wars, slavery, railroads, and westward expansion play major roles. A steady influx of non-WASPs results in discord and prejudicial practices in housing, education, and employment. Marginalized, segregation is institutionalized in laws and regulations.
The Cedar partitions eastside Catholics & Blacks from westside Protestant Whites.
Deplorable & detestable at arm’s length from respectable stock.
Eventually the Supreme Court overrules Plessy v. Ferguson with Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas, and orders public school desegregation. Contentious implementation leads to confrontations, riots, and violence requiring National Guard intervention.
Waterluvians struggle through tumultuous racial and social upheaval. Divided and distrustful, enclaved residents have antithetical heritages. Acculturation, assimilation, and integration prove Sisyphean. A bridge too far, Waterloo remains Iowa’s most segregated city.
And ranks nationwide as the 10th worst for people of color.
* * *
A full moon illuminates the Waterloo freight yard.
Rusted rail, rolling stock, and old black men.
In a decaying maintenance building adjacent to the roundhouse, an alabaster-skinned Irish boy performs community service. Surrounded by an expectant assemblage of mechanics, engineers, and brakemen, the high school senior dutifully takes position on indurate knees.
Captivated by the quiddity of masculinity, craving communion, the salivating cockaholic has been seduced by the transformative power of submission and servitude.
Guthrie’s City of New Orleans plays as railmen stoke black cocks down the experienced throat. Building momentum, chugging like steam locomotives pulling boxcars and hoppers, they aggressively feed him delicious dark decadence. And the boy dines incessantly till dawn.
“Good morning, America, how are you? Said don’t you know me? I’m your native son. I’m an eastside Waterloo Jack of Spades, I’ll suck a dozen cocks when the day is done.”
* * * Flashback * * *
Waterloo East High School is known for having a large diverse student body. Progeny of misery and misfortune: immigrants, refugees, asylum seekers, and ancestral slaves. Percentages of Black, Hispanic, Bosnian, Indigenous, and multiracial kids consistently far exceed state averages.
New paradigms spark conversations about race relations.
Repentance, reconciliation, and reparations.
Promoting progressive programs, a multicultural learning center is constructed adjacent to the school’s cafeteria with Iowa and NAACP grants. The expansive state-of-the-art facility is appointed with aesthetics reflecting enlightened, non-European sensibilities.
Pictures, paintings, and placards of prominent politicians, prognosticators, prophets, and provocateurs pepper the place. Inspirational role models for disenfranchised youth.
Embracing critical race theory, the school’s feminist Black Superintendent and neoteric School Board institute sweeping Afrocentric pedagogy. Literature, history, imperialism, and the global African diaspora are re-interpreted from enslaved and exploited peoples’ perspectives.
Privileged pink penises, polarizing pillars of pride, prove particularly problematic.
A healthy dose of humility is required to deflate them.
A syllabus fostering servitude is created. Classroom coursework, laboratory applications, and community service result in a Jack of Spades vocational diploma. First in the state, government officials monitor the progressive program for export to other racially challenged school districts.
The initiative is presented at a PTA School Board meeting.
A démarche riven with factional fighting ensues.
“But it’s beneficial for everyone,” responds the Superintendent. “With attenuated toxicity white boys are more employable. Woke corporations desperately need socially aware, collaborative workers focused on rendering service. And black boys gain confidence, self-esteem, and eudaimonia.”
Muffled grousing from the agitated audience.
“Additionally, the program provides a safe environment for expending excess energy. Unchecked teenage phallate demands result in pregnancies and fatherless mulatto children. Who wants that? Unencumbered, your daughters can finally break the chains of sexual slavery and achieve economic equality.”
A sea of grudgingly nodding heads.
Everyone understands the real issue: black boys’ hyper-sexualization.
It’s the unanticipated result of morally reprehensible genetic manipulation via two-hundred years of selective plantation breeding. With magnificent muscular bodies and potent outsized genitalia, the envy of white males and imaginings of white women, they require regular relief.
Prolific pollinators, the need to seed is in their DNA.
The announcement of a substantial state subsidy sways support for the program. Experiencing high unemployment, struggling families have few options. And with religious dogma precluding planned parenthood propositions, protecting ovulating daughters is of paramount concern.
Throughout history, in order to protect girls from rape, impregnation, and bastard children, pragmatic parents proffered prepubescent sons to invading armies. Sodomized, castrated, and kept as slaves, it was a necessary sacrifice to safeguard vaginal vaults and racial purity.
“The Spades Program is the perfect solution!”
A murmur of reluctant realization.
The age of Euro-American hegemony is ending. It’s the dawn of a new world order. Dominated for millennia, ascending races are shrugging off the oppressive yoke of westernization. Substantially higher birth rates are rapidly transforming humanity into a melanistic forward species.
“Riding on the City of Waterloo, Iowa Central, Monday morning rail. Fifteen cars of restless students, forty-five teachers, twenty-five sacks of mail.”
* * *
Michael Finnerty.
The alabaster-skinned boy enters the Multicultural Learning Center for Wednesday’s 4th period class. Forty-five minutes of exploration and experimentation. Supervised by Mr. Jefferson, the lab reinforces lessons learned in An Introduction to Multicultural Masculinity.
A pungent musk permeates the air. Intense. Rich in nuance. At once familiar and yet curiosity piquing. A beguiling amalgamation of volatilized chemicals: the sweaty stench of stewing meats… ripe & ready, colognes, and pheromones signaling excitement, arousal, and fear.
A dichotomy of teenage males.
Ecstatic alphas; embarrassed omegas.
Two dozen superior males radiate seductive sexual energy. Breathtaking chocolate, cinnamon, caramel, and cognac bodies shimmer with ink, brands, and cicatrix. Proud urban foot soldiers tagged with coded iconography… letters, numbers, and symbols with profound ramifications.
In contradistinction, a handful of nervous White boys with panicky pink, peach, and ginger flushed faces struggle to corral their courage. Surveying surroundings, they’re simultaneously amazed and terrified by the room’s palpable salacity and brutal masculine energy.
Black boys outline their junk unnecessarily.
Everyone knows what’s on the menu.
Derisively known as the school cafeteria annex, the Center is where aspiring Jacks practice skills and take nourishment. Fall semester freshman must consume a minimum of four healthy portions per day (more for extra credit) … working up to over a dozen loads by senior year to earn certification.
Delicious, nutritious, highly addictive smoothies for growing white boys.
“All along the southbound odyssey sucking boys are on their knees, rolling past houses, farms, and fields. Passing towns that have no names and prisons full of young black men, with no tomorrow waitin’ round the bend”
* * *
“Here’s today’s team assignments,” announces Mr. Jefferson. Projecting a list of lab partners, cheers and groans emanate respectively from rapturous alphas and resigned Jacks-in-training. “No trading, choking, throat fucking, or knocking out lights!” looking sternly at Saddiq and Tarik.
Last week an overabundance of exuberance proved problematic.
Jacks are still learning their way around big black cocks.
Growing up, curious white boys compare bodies with buddies. Discovering the wonders of jerking and sucking, it’s always fun to try something new. Older neighborhood kids provide essential education and encouragement. And who hasn’t benefited from the tutelage of an experienced teen?
Black cocks, however, are fundamentally different. Massively powerful 760-hp dark Lamborghinis… not pathetic 125-hp white AMC Pacers. Divinely crafted, radiating immense energy, commanding attention and veneration, they’re the pinnacle of masculine perfection.
Physically and psychologically, Jacks must explore submissive concepts, corona contours, and uncut configurations with hesitant minds, lips, and tongues.
Canned-fruit since birth, Finnerty was introduced to masculinity in the Boy Scouts. Initiated by the troop’s Green Bars and older boys, he was stripped, played with, and taught how to suck cock. A life altering adventure, scouting sparked a profound yearning for continued exploration.
Four smirking alphas converge around him.
Jaylen, Malik, Lamar, and Tyronn.
Cocky members of the varsity football team. Waterloo East High School has the unique distinction of holding the Iowa state record for both the longest winning streak (55 games from 1965 to 1971) and the longest losing streak (62 games from 1999 to 2006).
Physically intimidating, they’re monuments to motivated training and superior breeding. Magnificent masterpieces of mesmerizing masculinity with mesomorphic musculature. Broad shoulders, powerful pectorals, toned torsos, prodigious packages, thunderous thighs, and corded calves.
The beauty of the world… the paragon of animals.
Taking control, they shepherd Finnerty into a group study cubical. Inside are strategically positioned chairs, floor cushions, and a table. A computer with web camera captures curriculum compliance… streaming directly to the Superintendent’s office for pedagogical observation.
Jacks must master course core competencies, demonstrate oral proficiency, and complete 200 hours of community service per year to earn certification and a coveted spades diploma.
Designed to instill humility, servitude, and cultural appreciation, it’s a mutually beneficial immersive educational experience fostering understanding, respect, and acceptance between the races.
“And the sons of Pullman porters, and the sons of engineers ride their fathers’ magic carpets made of steel. Boys with cocks embedded balls deep are rockin’ to the thrusting beat, and the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.”
* * *
Finnerty descends to his knees.
White pride and self-esteem eminently expendable.
Protruding packages positioned at eye level seductively beckon like thanksgiving dinner from the Waterloo community food bank. Mouthwatering meats and treats marinating in savory sauces. And the gormandizer’s eyes expand wide in wonder.
Thank you Lord, for these Thy gifts, for which I’m about to receive.
Requesting and receiving permission, Finnerty unties the drawstring on Malik’s black Nike sweatpants. Just do it, right? Pulling them off hips and down muscular thighs, he’s confronted with insurmountable opportunity - a taut Bike ® jockstrap immuring a behemoth cock.
A high school P.E. staple, the classic No.10 white athletic supporter has protected boys’ vital zones since 1949. The minimalist design - a three-inch-wide elastic waistband with signature red & blue tracer stripes and classic logo - pays homage to the brand’s military founding.
Ads in Boy’s Life magazine claim all active boys need a Bike.
The BSA Handbook instructs new scouts to solicit help from scoutmasters in selecting an appropriate supporter for camping and hiking. Fit is critical. Experienced outdoorsmen must closely inspect waist and leg straps to ensure the pouch securely cradles precious cargo.
As a tenderfoot Finnerty tried on five different Bikes until the scoutmaster was fully satisfied. Learning the fitting process, sporting grins and erections, the troop’s Senior Patrol Leader and two Star scouts helped him into and out of the straps… properly positioning his gear inside the pouch.
Similarly equipped, there’s no reason for modesty in a scout troop.
‘We’re all men here,’ the Scoutmaster constantly preaches.
Older scouts eagerly take younger boys under wing - showing them the ropes. No homo… just boys being boys. Essential explorations and adventures on masculinity’s developmental highway. Normal. Healthy. Learning essential lessons, inquisitive boys consume every sight and delight.
Strong aromas assault senses.
Malik’s moisture-wicking stretch mesh pouch has absorbed fragrant hormone laced sweat, the acidic perfume of stale piss, and musky sebaceous secretions. Leaning forward, Finnerty inhales the soiled supporter… savoring the saporous soakings like a seasoned sommelier.
An intoxicating vintage stimulating carnal desires.
“Get to work, cracker,” demands Malik.
Sliding fingers along the elasticated waistband, reaching inside, he struggles to release the constricted cock from captivity. Unfurling as corpora cavernosa fill with blood, the pendulous piece of uncut dark decadence smacks his stunned freckled face. Easily eight inches; probably more.
Powerful pulsing perfection designed by the triadic Master Chocolatier. The curvaceous cockhead, stout shaft, and large lolling cream-filled eggs ensconced inside a silky black purse are a sumptuous visual feast. Unlike anything previously encountered in scouting.
An empyrean endowed ebony edifice of ecstasy.
Longing for the extraordinary, propelled by unseen forces, Finnerty descends into the depths of desire. Running hands compulsively up-and-down the girthy shaft, pumping it to preposterous proportions, he accentuates sinuous veins coursing down its length.
He’s gravitationally bound to the glistening glans.
Having never tasted a black cock before, accommodating desires unrepented, exploring endless fantasies, he commences a transformative journey. Retracting the redundant prepuce, his inquisitive tongue licks the exposed head… consuming opalescent pearls of perfection.
Intense umami flavors resonate. The tongue teasing titillating dipping sauce is scrumptious and savory. Stepping into a purifying fire, breaking free of parental infused prejudicial preconceptions and Catholic constraints, a universal truth is suddenly revealed: black cocks are insanely delicious!
Enlightened, he greedily consumes African essence. Intoxicated, he probes the urethral meatus, swirls around the coronal sulcus, and tickles the frenulum.
“Stop playin’ with ya food. Eat it!”
Only ten minutes are allocated per cock. No time to waste.
Quenching the biological imperative to expel seed, Jacks provide undeniable reprieve from the daily ritual of self-gratification. Nothing better than readily available, school-provided cock suckers to alleviate uncontrollable daytime urges. And who doesn’t need to bust a nut in school?
“Playing feeding games with Jacks on knees. So many cocks, only Mr. Jackson keepin’ score. Pass the white cock sucker ‘round the room, and all the black boys waitin’ to get more.”
* * *
Anticipation. Concentration. Measured breaths.
Opening wide, shielding teeth, Finnerty struggles to accommodate a circumference far too large for his diminutive mouth. An experienced feeder, Malik knows better. Lending assistance, aggressively holding the boy’s head, manually stretching the mouth open, he forces his way inside.
Focused determination yields incremental progress.
Suddenly, almost unexpectedly, the cockhead bursts through… pushing the pebbly tongue aside. Lips immediately snap shut around the shaft’s neck with an audible pop. Locked inside, debarkation will be impossible until load delivery, deflation, and decompression.
There’s a special relationship between authoritative alphas and obeisant omegas. An immediacy and intimacy transcending corporeal mundanity. A sacred reciprocity - a responsibility, an inviolable obligation to duty, destiny, and divinity.
The cock is wedged between tongue and upper palate.
Almost impossible to suck.
Displaying commendable school spirit, Finnerty tries his best. Talented tongue improvisations advance the science, elevate the art. Sucking, slurping, swallowing seeping sweet and savory sauces, it’s a riveting submissive performance for an appreciative audience.
Jaylen, Lamar, and Tyronn thrust hands down pants and stroke expanding erections. With derisive glares they provide blow-by-blow color commentary like ESPN sportscasters. A steady stream of sexual and scatological profanities. Descriptive, disparaging, and derogatory.
An enchanting melody emanates from other cubicles. The oscillating rhythm of domination and subjugation, debasement, and encouragement. Entertaining and compelling.
Malik enjoys the exhilarating power of supremacy.
Smirking, salacious eyes shimmer with superiority’s satisfaction. Persistently pushing inside the packed mouth, despite Mr. Jefferson’s warning, he feels the need to feed the cracker progressively larger portions. Tilting Finnerty’s head back, he corrects alignment, attaining a straightforward pathway.
There’s something immensely appealing about dominating a White boy… extracting a small measure of retribution for the enslavement and treatment of his African ancestors. Rampantly hard, stuffing the mouth, instinctively burrowing deeper, he compresses the kid’s tonsils and uvula.
An impossible fit, the swollen glans hermetically seals the throat’s entrance.
Malik has a more pressing, immediate problem. Rapidly scaling the pinnacle of ecstasy his cock hijacks control. Sweet torture and torment. Stiffening, suddenly unleashing a torrent of potent seed, he dies a deathless death of indescribable delight.
“Swallow my load, cock sucker!”
Five, six voluminous volleys of creamy goodness.
Taking communion, Finnerty swigs the substantial sacred seed.
Breathing slowly, milking the deflating cock, he savors the amazingly addictive meal. Cadherin, a protein involved in learning, changes his brain’s architecture. Neural reward circuits are strengthened as new synaptic connections are generated. And he’s hooked on Black cock for life!
Taken to church, descending the climatic high, Malik withdraws and severs the connection. Stepping aside without a glance or any acknowledgement, he makes way for the next feeding.
“Open up cock sucker,” demands Jaylen.
And he quickly stuffs the salivating mouth.
* * *
“Fill out your evaluation sheets,” reminds Mr. Jefferson.
Submissive servitude, racial veneration, and technical mastery of requisite skills are judged on a 10-point scale. From world-class to woefully deficient. Customer provided performance feedback helps identify technical deficiencies and areas requiring additional attention.
Practice makes perfect.
And Finnerty approaches the goal… deep throating demanding clientage.
* * * Return To The Present * * *
The Spades Program is an unqualified success.
A bonanza for East High and the community.
Augmenting the tight school budget, the Superintendent secretly sells recorded content to streaming services: Blacks on Boys, High School Jacks, and BBC Addiction. She also coordinates after school community service schedules… plying benignant business boosters with boys.
Taxpayers appreciate her creative entrepreneurial efforts to reduce their burden. Everyone knows school sports programs are expensive. Fortunately, the Spades Program enjoys enthusiastic support within the Black community… and Jacks are in great demand.
Finnerty is successfully transformed.
Completing curriculum requirements, the Waterluvian is awarded a Jack of Spades vocational high school diploma with honors. Marking the occasion, the school’s nurse applies a tattoo on his wrist… a black spade with a white J in the middle, and a small gold honor society star.
A certified cock sucker, he’s devoted to dark decadence for life.
“Good night, America, how are you? Said don’t you know me? I’m your native son. I’m a certified Waterloo Jack of Spades, I’ll swallow a dozen loads when the day is done.”
