note: There are instances in this story where the N****r and N*gro are used, mostly by a black character ironically, and once by a white character derogatorily. Proceed only if you feel comfortable.
Jasmin hated everything about Mark. But she especially hated his casual racism and sexism. It was unfortunate enough that most of her lectures were shared with him, but now she was paired with him for an assignment.
Neither of them wanted to work with each other and had even spoken to their professor about it. Not directly, however. He had recently broken his legs and said that he could not leave his room and is ready to work on his own. She said that it would not be fair on her to be paired with some who couldn't leave their room. The professor couldn't care less and suggested that they work on it together in his room.
That's how Jasmin, a short busty black woman, ended up in Mark's, a white racist's, room in the student halls.
Mark wasn't really a social person and Jasmin barely spoke to him, but in what little they had interacted and the things she had overheard, he had said some highly ignorant things. Not only about black people, but just about anyone who wasn't a straight white male.
Mark sat on his chair by the desk and rested his injured leg on the bed. He didn't offer a seat to Jasmin when she arrived, so she sat on the bed, as far away from his leg. The lack of the second chair wasn't surprising in the cramped solo room, but Jasmine was sure that Mark wouldn't have offered her a chair even if there was space.
The assignment started off as well as it could have. No small talk, just business. 30 minutes in, a pen slipped out of Mark's hand and fell under the bed. He tried to bend and pick it up, but it was too far. He looked at Jasmine and she rolled her eyes. She set aside her laptop and got down on the floor on her knees. She bent down and reached under the bed to retrieve the pen.
As she was fishing for the pen in the darkness, she heard Mark mumble something under his breath. She left the pen where it was and sat upright, looking up at him.
"What the fuck did you just say?" asked Jasmin, pissed.
"What did I say?" Mark was confused.
"'You people look good in that position.' What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I didn't say that."
"You think black people look good on their knees because they remind you of the good ole' days?"
"That's not--"
"Or is it women you like on their knees working for you?"
"I was talking about your... ass," said Mark, almost blushing.
"Oh yeah? Of course, when you say something racist, you must be complimenting me."
"Look, I'm not good at talking to you people."
"Stop fucking referring to me as 'you people.'"
"Sorry. I'm not good at talking to anyone."
"That must probably because you don't know how to be anything but a bigot," retorted Jasmin.
Mark rolled his eyes. This pissed Jasmine off. If there was one thing she hated more than interacting with racists was the said racists pretending that they were right. She wanted to punch I'm in the face. Instead, she placed her hand on his thigh.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled a quote: "The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend." Well, Jasmine was gonna destroy this enemy by fucking him and making sure that he enjoys it.
She slid her hand over the sports shorts caressed his dick. Despite the clear discomfort on his face, his cock was growing harder. Jasmin shifted closer to Mark and pulled down his shorts enough to pull out his completely erect white cock.
"What are you doing? Don't do that. Stop," protested Mark.
Jasmin didn't stop. She spat on the cock and stroked it with her hand.
