Gay Interracial - Sex Stories

Gay Interracial

... sinking under their owners. The few lucky ones found refuge on a small Polynesian island before the boat gave out. Or people with bleeding feet walking on the ice across the Bering Strait. Not adventure, not a thirst for new places, but a need for safety, to find some faraway niche, away from the stronger ones that were always there just over the horizon when they looked behind. I must have looked troubled, because he said something else. "It may not have been all violence, all killing. Men fight but women . . . " -- he glanced at Michelle, I had the feeling she was listening, that she understood English better than she spoke it - "women . . . adapt." I looked at him, not understanding. "We . . . Anthropologists . . . call it 'Sexy Sons.' Men will fight other men for their women, but women want to mate with . . . sexy men. And the newer, stronger men were always more attractive. So even while the men fought, the women . . . desired the other men." Yes, I understood now. Yes, this was something I knew. "You see, it's called sexual selection. Women want strong, virile sons, so their genes live on." Yes, I knew. The men may have been driving across the desert, or hacking through a new jungle trying to get away, but their women were looking back -- with desire. I thought of the pictures in my hallway as I grew up. My mother's happiness when Dad held her. He was a young, strong fighter then. And then I though of what I had seen in their bedroom, the way she sounded with that ...

... black man on top of her, the strength of his muscles, the clench of his black ass as he took her. "You know this, no?" Claude was looking at me. "Your wife . . . Lori? . . . she had her sexy son." He smiled slightly. Michelle smiled too, she shifter closer to him. "Yes." It was all I could think to say. I was overwhelmed with what I learned. I knew more than he suspected. I knew from the inside how women felt, what they might see in men like Kyle and Ken. And soon Anthony. I decided to risk it. "Is it only women . . . " I started, not quite sure how to say it. ". . . Only women who . . . submit." "No." he spoke without hesitation, as if he was prepared for just that question. "You see men allow themselves to be taken too. See there are many way to survive. One way, the usual way in contest, is to fight and risk losing. That is to risk everything, though." He spoke like a scientist, the English was precise and crisp now. I don't think he realized that he was stroking Michelle's hair while he spoke "Nature is very subtle, though. There are many strategies for survival. You don't have to fight to the death. You can allow the stronger ones to use you, perhaps enslave you. Let them have your women. But when your master's back is turned, maybe when he's fighting someone else, you can sneak in and take their woman. Mix your seed with theirs, and one of your children may survive." "Like the African slaves." I said. We sat in silence for a while. We could hear the sounds of the African ...