Warning:Β My story holds themes not everyone will enjoy or appreciate, such as interracial love between a white man and a black woman, forced love/scenes, dubious consent, and non-consent scenes. I've a taste for interracial love I love reading stories of black women being used roughly by white men, and unfortunately there are far too few of them - far too many of the interracial stories involve black men with white women. If this is something that you are not interested in and do not enjoy reading, there are other stories out there you may like. Once again, everyone else, please enjoy and thank you. If the grammatical errors are too much, stop reading and do something else. It would be best if you did not burn your brain cells. The others that enjoy my story, please let me know how you feel. Thank you
Shout to Kenji Sato for editing
Vanessa and Dakota were standing in the den, getting ready for her all-girl camping trip. Vanessa is a math teacher at Worthington High School, down in rural Florida. She has a fetching figure which was stem-thick, long blonde hair, and blue eyes. She thought having this trip would be an excellent going-away present that would be memorable, cheap, and friendly. A lot of the kids were from poor rural communities.
"Can you believe they have never been camping?"
Vanessa said with joy, as she was packing a few essentials and trinkets for the camping trip.
"I mean, some of your kids are ghetto, it's like them still going into their backyard." Dakota chuckled to himself. "I don't think some of your students would know what to do, unless it was a street fight."
Vanessa rolled her eyes. "You're disgusting, to be this dumb; and just when I was going to thank you for being a chaperone," Vanessa spoke with the venom. "Why do you have to be like that?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She hated him at times; but, he was helping.
Dakota was Vanessa's younger brother, a 24-year-old divorcΓ©. You would have thought they weren't related because he had hazel-brown eyes, and brownish, reddish hair. Dakota used to get picked on a lot by the kids, that is, until high school. He joined the NFL and was signed to the Dallas Cowboys; but blew his knee out two years later. Dakota went back to school to be an architect. He dated his, now ex-wife, Diana; who had him hanging out with the YWRC (Young Wright Republican Club.)
Vanessa's parents didn't accept Dakota's ideologies and lifestyle because that's not how they were raised.
Everyone lost touch. If it wasn't for Vanessa's husband, she doubted anyone would have spoken to him from her family.
"Tyrone would have done it," she huffed. "But, he has that deal with roc nation for this new strain, and I wasn't going to mess that deal up," Vanessa said, while moving a few sleeping bags. "I could hear Ty Ma in his ear, right now. You trying to take of that white woman and her little white child. What about your ma who raise you, boy," she continued, trying to mimic Tyrone's mother; clearly, in a visible rant with herself.
"Umm, are you okay? Over there?" Dakota said, clearing his throat.
"Great, some days better than others, but great."
Vanessa replied, as she plastered on a fake smile.
"Anyways, how many seniors are going to be, umm, here, again?" Dakota asked. He felt bad for his sister. Dakota appreciated being her last choice; but, it upset him that some parents didn't sign up. He figured that since they were trying to rekindle that brother-sister love they once had; that helping her with this, would move them in the right direction. But, he hated the idea of strangers, significantly of the non-lighter side, in his home.
"Why, couldn't we use your place? I have a lot of expensive stuff, and I don't want my shit to go missing," Dakota gruffed out.
"There are only three, plus you said we could use your RV; it is here, and your house is bigger than mine. So, that's why. Quit acting rude; your house isn't that nice," Vanessa said in a harsh tone.
"The attitude isn't needed, Nessa," Dakota said with a sharp eye. "Plus, I want to make it clear, that a bunch of girls with emotional backgrounds is not my thing, but I'm glad I can help. What time will most of them be here?" Dakota rubbed his temple, and let out a huge sigh. He knew Vanessa was ignoring him.
"What time is it?"
"It's 10:00pm, why?" Dakota hastily replied.
"Maybe I should text in the chat to see what everyone's ETA is."
"Do you think it's ethical for you to have your students' numbers?" he asked, while he lit a blunt that he had pulled from his pocket.
Vanessa propped her hands on her hips and gave Dakota a look that screamed she would hurt him if he didn't put it away.
"Relax. Shit, you act as if it is meth. Plus, this is my house. If I wanna smoke I can." Vanessa was still fixated on him. He could feel the murder was a tent in her stare.
Dakota decided to put the blunt away and smoke it later.
"Fine. I'm not going to smoke it now," he said, folding his arms.
"Good." Vanessa smiled.
Dakota hated, even after all these years, that he was still scared of his big sister; she still had this effect on him, ever since they were kids. Smiling at the victory, Vanessa continued packing.
"I don't understand what the big deal is with me smoking in my house. You own a dispensary, so don't act like a martyr and have texted those ghetto kids."
"Ty owns it, not me; and they are adults!" Vanessa bellowed.
"Please, you both own it. Ty got good weed and those damn girls are not adults." Dakota spoke while pulling a vape pen from his pocket, blowing smoke in Vanessa's directions. Raising his brow, he asked, "Can they drink, Nessa?"
"No, but they're young adults," Vanessa replied