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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

M’Baku and Erik have the pleasure of sharing a woman for one night. It turns into a regular routine of threesomes. She gets pregnant, and doesn’t know which one of them could be the father.

Warnings: Smut, pregnancy kink, threesome first time writing for M’Baku.

“I think you need to come to your senses,” M’Baku laughs loud and booming before approaching his friend, Erik, shoving the young man roughly against his left shoulder, “Zalika is mine, Erik, and I don’t like it when what’s mine is messed with.”

“Oh, so that’s a threat? Remember, she approached me first, way before she even knew we were friends,” Erik uses both of his hands to shove M’Baku back harder, “and DONT put your fucking hands on me unless you wanna die, brother,” Erik spoke snidely with a warning finger almost stabbing M’Baku in his face before readjusting his suit jacket, a mug set on his handsome, chiseled face.

“OH! So that is the excuse you give? So she approaches you...but plans a booty call with me?” M’Baku says with his strong and powerful African accent, “Who has the upper hand now, brother, hm? Looks like I will finally get to taste the cocoa beauty. I bet she tastes just like cacao beans to,” M’Baku’s thick, taffy colored tongue swipes across his full upper lip before his teeth lined with silver caps tugged sexily on his bottom lip.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. It looks like I’m fucking her from the texts she sent me...texting me pictures of that phat peace of pussy covered with lace panties between her thighs...telling a nigga to come over and suck up her pussy in my mouth...she say that to you? Baku?” Erik gives M’Baku a sly smirk.

“I’ll do you one better,” M’Baku pulls out his phone, “Last text she sent me was this,” M’Baku held up his phone towards Erik for him to see. M’Baku’s loud laugh almost rattled the walls when he looked at Erik’s stuck expression. Erik removes his gold-rimmed glass, eyes blinking with disbelief while his lips parted.

“Sheeeeesh,” Erik’s pouty bottom lip dragged between his teeth, “She ain’t send a nigga that...she got them big, suckable nipples…”

“Even through her wet T-shirt they look delicious...like they want to rip through, right?” M’Baku grunts deeply enough to vibrate your senses, “I plan on biting them with my teeth...leave a mark.”

Erik removes his suit jacket, hanging it up on a brass coat rack that stood at the entrance of his apartment door. He takes a seat next to M’Baku on a black suede sectional, leaning over in hopes of catching another sexy photo of Zalika. M’Baku quickly locks his phone before tucking it in the pocket of his slacks, standing from the couch.

“I showed you one photo, you don’t need to see the rest. It gets better and better... what is one photo to the amount that I have from her alone,” M’Baku spoke in a cocky manner.

“Let me see you match what I got. And just because I told you about one photo, that doesn’t mean it’s just one,” Erik pulls out his phone, “You see this?” Erik swipes his finger up and up to show all the sexy photos Zalika sent him. He looks from M’Baku to his phone, eyebrows raised in challenge, “That’s about a good 20 photos right there for me to bust a nut to so what’s up?”

“Says the man who will be in here for the rest of the evening while I go spend time with Zalika myself. Did I tell you how much she loves it when I speak Xhosa? She says it makes her pussy nice and wet for me.”

“Wow, that's it? Damn, she tells you how wet she is,” Erik strokes his chin, “While she shows me how wet she is…” Erik hummed, “And it gets wet...tastes good too-

“YOU FUCKED HER?” M’Baku damn near charged over to Erik, his 6’5, 250lbs body right above him while he sat back on the couch with a nonchalant expression.

“Nah, She just let me suck her fingers that’s all,” Erik spoke casually, knowing that it would piss M’Baku off, “She’s a creamer too, I can almost taste how sweet that pussy is,” Erik makes multiple slurping sounds with his mouth and tongue, laughing at how angry M’Baku looked at the moment. Erik was almost to tears while bending over with his hand clutching his abs.

M’Baku was seething, teeth flared, before walking away to pace back and forth, “I will see her today, we are going to talk about this. I don’t like being played with. She’s confused and if I have to make her come to a decision, I will, even if that means stuffing my dick down her throat.”

“She ain’t confused. It’s obvious, right? She wants two dicks instead of one. Like I said, she knows that me and you are cool. Let’s just give her little ass what she wants. It’s been a minute since we shared some pussy...remember Michelle from grad school? Remember how we tore that up?”

“Michelle...oh, yes...Michelle,” M’Baku gives a knowing smirk, “I wonder how she’s doing.”

“Shee old news, Baku, let’s focus on Zalika. You’re seeing her in class tonight...invite her over,” Erik says with a roguish grin.

“I told you, I don’t want to share her,” M’Baku spoke through clenched teeth, “Like it or not, Erik, she is mine. Don’t you have other options? You could have any other girl on your phone but instead you want Zalika? Let me have her...I want her so fucking bad I just might handle her after class myself.”

“Yeah, we’ll see...if she hits me up tonight with that wyd text I’m putting this steel on her,” He says with a subtle arch of his brow, “you don’t think I want a piece of that puss just as much as you?”

_________

Zalika walked into her evening class, an Xhosa language course. It’s an elective that was a new edition to UCLA. The sprinkling of thirteen students were listening attentively to Professor M’Baku fluently speak the Bantu language of South Africa. Zalika’s father is from Botswana and he moved to California for med school where he met Zalika’s mother, an Art History Major. She always wanted to learn how to speak Xhosa and when Professor M’Baku who is also her English professor told her about the evening course she added it to her already overwhelming schedule. The wedges on Zalika’s feet clattered against the polished tile floor all the way to her designated seat; seat number three, in the front row. The intense, masculine aroma that Zalika damn near memorized within her senses made her smile the minute she planted her round, dark chocolate ass down in her seat.

“U-Miss Zalika,” M’Baku says, stilling Zalika’s movements, “kuhlwile kwakhona?”

“....uhm...Intoni?” Zalika adjusts her black, cat-eyed frames lined with rhinestones.

“How long have you been coming to my class and all you can say to me is WHAT?” M’Baku squints at her.

“I’m sorry, I have other classes and...it’s becoming overwhelming, Sir, that’s all-

“No excuses,” M’Baku pushes up the sleeves to his navy blue dress shirt aggressively, “kufuneka sithatha.”

The clicks he made with his tongue whenever he spoke Xhosa has Zalika sucking the gloss off of her bottom lip and pressing her inner thighs together. She could understand him clearly but he didn’t need to know that. Just what did they need to talk about exactly? Everything seemed to be going smoothly between them. Zalika opens her designated notebook for the course, turning it sideways so that she could look over the Xhosa alphabet. Learning the click constants was their focus lately and Zalika found it hard to keep up, pulling extra time to study them whenever she had downtime like doing her laundry or cooking dinner.

For the remainder of the class, Zalika took notes and practiced Xhosa phrases and click constants with a classmate. Whenever she had a question, Zalika would call for M’Baku in Xhosa like he instructed his students to do for added practice. He would squeeze Zalika’s shoulder gently while leaning over her desk, helping her sound out the phrases and occasionally glancing at her. His eyes would travel from her glossy lips all the way down to smooth, dark chocolate cleavage. This thick, tall, beautiful African man with such a stern voice and obvious ruthless personality turned Zalika on heavily, so heavy that she wanted to make his face a seat while he growled into her folds.

After the class, all the students filled out except for Zalika who lingered behind acting as if she needed to ask Professor M’Baku a question. While he wiped down the white board, Zalika watched the door softly close shut leaving the both of them alone finally. As her eyes went back to M’Baku he gave her a cunning smile before strolling over to her. She held her ground but the more he approached, the more Zalika realized just how big, and intimidating this man is. 6’5 and 250 lbs stood before her. He crosses his thick, beefy arms across his chest, the outline of the tattoo on his arm teasing her eyes.

“You wanted to talk?” Zalika finally says.

“Let’s get straight to the point, yes? What are you doing with me, hm?” He asks with his profound voice ringing in her ears.

“Having fun...what else?” Zalika grabs M’Baku’s tie, twirling it around her finger, twisting it tightly, “You don’t want to have fun with me?”

“You call this fun? Toying with me? Let me tell you something, Zalika...I plan on handling you properly...tonight. Why are you talking to Erik? Who do you belong to?”

Every time Zalika tried to speak M’Baku would cut her breath short.

“Can I speak?” Zalika spoke defensively.

“...Yes,” M’Baku reluctantly says before leaning on the edge of his desk. Zalika’s eyes swept the classroom before they fell back on M’Baku.

“I’m feeling Erik too. I’m feeling both of you, actually.”

The muscles in M’Baku’s jaw popped out from grinding his teeth hard. His eyes narrowed at Zalika for a long time. He could taste the anger on his tongue from her words. Erik was right, Zalika wanted both of them to herself. Standing there in front of him with tight leggings, a very revealing top, and heels on her feet, M’Baku couldn’t be angry with her. She smelled like strawberries and her dark chocolate skin glistened. Whatever this woman wanted he would give her. Anything to have her; taste her. She gave M’Baku a kittenish smile while fluttering her lashes at him slowly.

“I know I should have told you that I was talking to him as well, I apologize for that. I just...I can’t help my feelings towards the both of you…” Zalika approaches M’Baku, standing between his legs and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, “Baku…” she whispered, “Please don’t be mad at me, daddy...I just want to see what it will be like if I had both of you to myself…”

“Fuck, Zalika,” M’Baku’s shoulders slumped with defeat, “Look at what you do to me girl.”

“Huh?” Zalika spoke breathlessly. M’Baku grabs one of her arms from around his neck, dropping it over his crotch. Her hand drags down, mouth widening and eyes falling to his lap.

“Daddy...this is all of you?”

“Not all of me,” M’Baku spoke dangerously, “You have played with me long enough, Zalika, it’s time you take care of your master...emadolweni akho.”

Zalika drops to her knees almost instantly, a voracious look in her eyes as she watches M’Baku pull his slacks down with his briefs. The beauty of his big black dick couldn’t be put into words. It is very very girthy. Damn...Zalika wanted to ride that dick. Ain’t nothing like a black man’s dick, she thought before grabbing him, wrapping her hand around him as best as she could. She could feel the power that he beholden from how much he pulsates in the palm of her hand. This would definitely hurt but she wouldn’t chicken out on the opportunity. There is a first for everything.

“Focus on all of me. There are too many parts untouched...unappreciated,” M’Baku unbuttons his dress shirt, his thick torso revealed to her, “you said you love sucking dick? Worship me then.”

Zalika stares at his thick, mammoth of a dick with bewildered eyes, “Baku...I don’t think I can.”

M’Baku fusses in Xhosa, “Open your mouth, girl.”

“And here I thought Erik’s dick was huge,” Zalika spoke under her breath.

“What was that?” M’Baku pulls on Zalika’s 4C fro to make her look up at him, “Did I hear you use Erik’s name with my dick in your hand? HUH? Who are you supposed to be focusing on at the moment!”

“You,” Zalika spoke quickly, bringing M’Baku’s dick to her mouth to slap her lips with it, eyes pleading, “You, daddy, you,” She opens wide, sinking him into her mouth with timid eyes. Her throat kept clenching up on her so Zalika had to pull him from her mouth, hawk spit on it a few times, before trying again. With the added moisture she was able to get about three inches of him inside.

“FUCK ZALIKA!” M’Baku hisses, “I finally got you, girl...I finally got my dick in your beautiful mouth. I would have done anything to get my dick in your mouth...now I need it in that sweet pussy, girl.”

“Mm-

“Take it easy, Zalika, you will take your time when sucking me, girl, I don’t like it when you rush.”

“EK!” Zalika gagged, “ghah, ghah, ghah,” she squeezes her eyes as her throat closes up.

“Mmm, Zalika,” M’Baku wipes her tears away, “sloppy and slow is exactly how I like it...keep going, girl.”

“I can’t, you’re so big in my mouth,” Zalika’s bottom lip quivered from being stretched, “Baku, I can’t it’s so much-

Zalika was silenced with M’Baku’a dick back in her mouth. She grabbed for his legs, squeezing his enormous calves each time his dick hit the back of her throat. She was going to have a sore throat after this.

“That’s it, girl, yesssssss, FUCK ZALIKA. Did you let Erik have this mouth too? You don’t have to talk, just nod your head...did he have this mouth before me?”

Zalika shakes her head no while M’Baku’s smooth, ebony dick barley slides in and out of her mouth.

“Very good,” M’Baku’s lips poked out and his eyes rolled back, “fuck ewe...fuck ewe...uziva ulungile,” M’Baku’s hips were off of the desk, one large hand on the back of her head to keep her in place while his vast dick released a plentiful amount of cum. No wonder, his balls are heavy and big. She could feel the cum that couldn’t fit down her throat fall to her cleavage.

“Look at me, Zalika,” he asked with a shallow breath escaping his mouth.

Zalika met his eyes while wiping his cum from her cheeks.

“If I find out that you fucked Erik, I will fuck the living shit out of you,” he spoke evenly with vengeful eyes, “I will not be gentle, entle, I will show you just how angry I am when I punish that sweet pussy, girl.”

That was a challenge for her. Rubbing her throat, Zalika nods, unable to properly speak since M’Baku abused her vocal cords.

___________

Erik was just stepping out of his shower when he heard M’Baku, his roommate and best friend enter the luxury apartment. It was way past the time for him to be home from his evening class and the thought of that alone has Erik squeezing the hell out of his bottle of body wash, spilling the contents to the bathroom floor. Frustrated, Erik takes a hand towel to clean it up, his other hand trying to keep the fluffy black towel around his waist together. Balling it up and tossing it in a linen wicker basket in the bathroom, Erik steps from the bathroom, M’Baku making his way down the hall with his work satchel in one hand, and his suit jacket in the other. M’Baku couldn’t fight the evil grin on his face when he noticed Erik’s irritation.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?”

M’Baku chuckles while opening his bedroom door, “Good night, brother.”

The humor laced in his voice made Erik’s blood boil and his water stricken skin gave his lean muscles more definition as they flexed with rage.

“Did she tell you about me?” Erik is standing in M’Baku’s doorway now with his towel hanging on for dear life around his tapered hips, “cuz last time I checked she still hitting my phone.”

“She did,” M’Baku removes his tie, “But after what I gave her tonight, you can forget everything. She knows who her real daddy is.”

“Nah, we’ll see about that,” Erik challenged M’Baku Before walking away and towards his bedroom. Once he is inside, Erik closes his door, grabbing his cell from the bed and automatically calls Zalika. She answers on the third ring, her sweet, airy voice making his dick twitch.

“Baby girl,” Erik spoke with a hushed tone, “You want me to come over there and beat that ass?”

“Hello to you too, Erik,” Zalika responds, “and why are you threatening to spank me?”

“M’Baku is back home...he told me that he gave you something tonight...you mind telling me what that something is?”

“Teh,” Zalika sassed, “It’s no concern of yours, E, all you need to worry about is me and you.”

“Zalika, I’m not playing with you...did he hit that puss?”

“...no,” Zalika finally says, “But I did suck his dick.”

“Hmm,” Erik hummed into the phone, the sound vibrating into Zalika’s ear, “You’re a nasty bitch, Zalika. Couldn’t control yourself, could you?”

“He made me...I liked it though...I haven’t had dick in my mouth for a long time…my throat is still pretty sore.”

“Fuck,” Erik pulls his towel from his waist, “If you’re such a slut it shouldn’t matter how sore that throat is...you’ll want more dick, right?”

“True...what? You got more for me?”

“Why don’t you come through...I’ll show you.”

“M’Baku is home,” Zalika says, “Wouldn’t he hear?”

“Girl, I don’t give a fuck about that. I pay the bills in this bitch too so what? He ain’t got control over this. You coming over or what?” Erik spoke with malice.

The aggression in both of them is one of the reasons why Zalika can’t leave both men alone. She first met Erik on campus as a substitute teacher for a physics course. He’s a Radiological Physicist. The chemistry between them both was undeniable and Zalika needed to see him outside of class. Since she wants to be an engineer herself, she would schedule tutoring time with Erik at the schools library and that’s when they exchanged numbers and started sexting.

“Yeah, I’ll come over, daddy,” Zalika says with a seductive voice, “Keep that dick nice and hard for me.”

“I’m getting some of that puss too, Zalika...you show up at my door I’m using both of your holes to empty my nut and think I’m playing,” Erik warns.

“Unh,” Zalika moans.

“Had me waiting way too long for you, ma...can’t wait to beat it up,” He spoke with a rough tone, “Hurry up.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Get off the phone,” Erik ordered and then soon after, the call ended.

The wait will finally be over, he was about to dive in that wet ass pussy he’d been longing for. She is freaky on the phone. She better be just as freaky in person. All of that stop, it’s too big, I can’t take it, all of that shit will not stop Erik from tearing her little ass up. Have her walking funny and feeling his fat ass dick in her pussy forever. M’Baku wasn’t a heavy sleeper so he will hear everything from her moans to her cheeks clapping and Erik didn’t give a fuck. He offered to share her since Zalika wanted them both but M’Baku wanted to be possessive of the girl. She wants BOTH OF THEM. One dick in her mouth, and one in her pussy.

Erik rubs his body down with some cocoa butter and puts on a pair of drawstring shorts to lounge around until Zalika finally shows up. Erik shot her a quick text letting her know what the apartment number was and not to park in a number spot. He only had to wait twenty minutes, the faint knocks on the door made Erik aware of that. Leaving his bedroom, Erik strolls to the door, opening it to find Zalika standing before him in a T-shirt dress, some sandals, and her kinky afro picked out and full. Her lips are painted a matte brown and when she smiles her white teeth almost blinded him. He could smell the coconut oil on her skin and she wasn’t even up under his nose yet.

“Don’t be shy,” Erik held the door open further, “I won’t bite unless you want me to.”

“We’ll see about that,” She steps inside, looking around the spacious luxury apartment before turning back to Erik for direction, “It’s nice...looks like a bachelor pad...where’s your room?”

“So damn eager...you don’t want anything to drink?” Erik leads the way further into the apartment, “We got water, apple juice, papaya juice, something stronger…”

“I’m good for now, I’m gonna need it after we...you know…” she giggles, looking down at her toes.

“Fuck. Yeah, you gon’ need that,” Erik grabs Zalika’s soft hand, “Let’s go, ma-

“Where is M’Baku?” She asked with a hushed tone.

“Shh,” Erik says with a finger to his mouth. He points to M’Baku’s bedroom with his thumb while they walked to his room, “He’s in there...you wanna say hi or something? You’re here for me, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just...he’ll hear us…” Zalika stood rooted to the spot in front of M’Baku’s door.

“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck about that shit. I told him we can make it a threesome thing but he wasn’t with it, that’s his loss,” Erik pulls on Zalika’s hand, making her move, “Nah, let’s go, you got some making up to do with all that teasing shit.”

“Threesome?” Zalika says with an elevated tone, “You would like that?”

“We’ve done it before, ain’t no problem with me.”

Erik pushes his bedroom door open with his shoulder, turning to grab both of Zalika’s hands. He finally had her in his bedroom. All of that freaky shit she said she could do he wanted to see it for himself. Zalika took a seat on Erik’s bed, her feet slipping out of her sandals before laying back against his bed. She placed her keys and her shoulder bag to the side, her eager eyes studying Erik’s bedroom.

“Get comfortable, you know, but ass naked,” Erik says while removing his own clothing, “and spread your thighs for me too...remember you told me how you like that puss licked?”

“From the back,” Zalika spoke breathlessly while lifting her T-shirt dress up and above her head. She then takes off her bra and panties, dropping those to the floor as well before laying back, titties spreading to the side from how heavy they are, smoothing her hands down her petite waistline before bringing her thighs up and out. The sound of her pussy lips spreading is what caught Erik’s attention first.

“That puss is just waiting for my tongue...it’s even prettier in person.”

“Let’s see what that tongue can do,” Zalika spreads her plump pussy lips for Erik to see, “Come and taste me, daddy.”

________________

M’Baku was in the middle of dozing off with his Beats headphones on and a Wakandan rap artist named SS1CASH’s music playing. Something, maybe a small voice inside of his head told him to wake up. M’Baku removes his headphones, placing them on his bed before stretching his large, thickset arms above his head, one hand coming down to scratch the tight, 4C coils on his head. He didn’t have anywhere to be the next day since it was a Saturday so M’Baku decides to pull an all-nighter to grade the English papers that are piled high on his desk.

Swinging his weighty legs over his king sized bed, M’Baku stands, grabbing his glasses before walking to his bedroom door. He felt parched and needed some papaya juice to hydrate himself. On his way out, M’Baku hears a soft, feminine moan from down the hall. Pausing, M’Baku waits for the lovely sound to grace his ears again. Please, don’t let it be who I think it is, he thought. As if reading his thoughts, the same, pleasure-filled sound fills the darkened hallway again and before M’Baku could stop himself he is walking towards Erik’s door.

Of course it has to be Zalika. That moan sounded too familiar and the way it has his almighty girthy dick stiff and compressed in his briefs it had to be his Zalika. What was he doing to her at this precise moment that has her gasping and moaning with such blissful surprise that she can’t believe her body is reacting the way it is? At Erik’s door, M’Baku’s large hand grabs the satin nickel door knob, twisting it quietly before pushing it open enough so he could peek inside. The sound of her moans intensified, M’Baku’s brown eyes widening when they fell upon the nasty sight before him.

Zalika is fully naked and riding Erik’s face on his bed, her wide ass bouncing, grinding her pussy on his open mouth. Each time Zalika’s cheeks would spread from her continuous ass popping her pink slit and puffy, chocolate outer lips would grace his eyes. Erik’s tongue was flat and thick, licking up and down her pussy while his hands rubbed the back of Zalika’s thighs and occasionally went up to give her generous cheeks a slap. Yes, yes, yes fell from Zalika’s mouth with her head towards the ceiling. She was loving that tongue, her body visibly shaking.

M’Baku’s dick was ready to fucking bust. Staring at it, his girthy dick was pointed straight out, the tip of his dick peeking through the opening of his briefs. He wanted to yank Erik’s vertebrae through his throat at first but the more he watched the more he concluded that seeing his best friend tongue fuck and slurp all over Zalika’s beautiful puss has him horny and ready to join. He wanted a taste of her now, especially that puckered ass hole. He dreamed of training her tight ass to fit his thickness knowing that it will be too much for her. It wasn’t M’Baku’s first time seeing Erik in his naked grandeur. Erik’s chiseled hips were pumping the air like there was a pussy situated over his dick for him to sink into.

“What a yummy, puffy pussy, ma,” Erik says with his voice much deeper, “Mmm I’d suck on this pussy all fucking day,” he goes back to devouring Zalika like pussy is his favorite meal. It’s M’Baku’s favorite meal too. All that cream just leaking on Erik’s tongue. Her pussy is nice and bald, plump, and juicy. What a beautiful picture of a beautiful body piece. M’Baku would love to put a lip lock on her and snatch.

“Unh, Erik right there, Unh, yes Erik right fucking there, daddy, fuck,” Zalika lets out ragged breaths, “daddy keep doing that I’m gonna cum.”

That’s what made M’Baku approach the both of them within long strides, grabbing a fist full of Zalika’s kinky afro, extending her he’d back so far her eyes widened with fear, she couldn’t see him correctly because of the position so her eyes looked towards her peripheral, that same strong, masculine scent crowding her like it always did in class. Erik notices the change in Zalika’s movements, lifting his face from between her legs to find M’Baku yoking her up by her hair, so close to her face with fury that Zalika was whimpering. Erik didn’t say anything, didn’t care to be honest. He simply takes three fingers, slipping them inside of Zalika’s pussy and starts finger popping her pussy.

“Baku...Unh shit, Erik...Baku, daddy,” M’Baku wasn’t sure who she was calling daddy at the moment since Erik was curling his fat fingers inside of her, “Baku, I’m sorry-

“It’s too late for that, girl...I already caught you riding my best friends tongue...no need to lie about how it felt...I know it felt good,” M’Baku glances over at Erik, locking eyes with his friend before both of them share identical sly smirks, “Keep going, Erik, dig deep and don’t let up until she’s cumming hard.”

“Erik-

“Since you’re here, bro, why don’t you fill that mouth up...she said her throat was sore let’s see if it’s still like that,” Erik spoke harshly, “ooookayyyy, that pussy got a nice grip,” Erik’s free hand comes down to slap her ass.

M’Baku pulls his briefs off, grabbing his chocolate dick in one hand, tapping Zalika’s lips with it, “You are amazingly talented, why don’t you show Erik how you suck dick, hmm?” M’Baku rubs his dick against Zalika’s lips, “come on, girl, suck your master.”

“Damn,” Erik strains his neck to watch Zalika take M’Baku in with difficulty, “She is trying her hardest to fit them big lips around your dick...too much dick, Zalika?”

“Damn it!!” M’Baku says through clenched teeth, “Fucking pro,” M’Baku grabs both sides of her head, “THATS it girl, you are special, love, so special.”

Hrgurrk!!!” She gags, trying her absolute best to fill her mouth up with M’Baku’s dick but there is no use, this man’s dick is inhuman. All that Wakandan strength he’s yielding in his dick...her throat is no match. Erik pulls his fingers out to rub Zalika’s clit, his eyes envious of M’Baku being slobbered on.

“Do that shit bitch! I need that shit right there,” Erik says while rubbing his drenched fingers all over her pussy, “she the real deal, Baku let me get some of that.”

“Here,” M’Baku pulls his dick out of Zalika’s mouth, watching her exhale, “Come fuck her throat up.”

Erik sucks Zalika’s mess from his fingers before trading places with M’Baku, eagerly grabbing his long and girthy dick up. M’Baku gets down on his knees behind Zalika, dick in one hand while the other one grabs one of her ass cheeks firmly, spreading her nice and wide so that he could rub his thick tongue from her pussy to her ass and back. The mess Erik created has M’Baku growling before he buries his face in her pussy. He couldn’t help but to leave a trail of sucks continuously.

Erik has Zalika’s hair in his hand, moving her head up and down his dick, “Damn, you dangerous with that tongue...that’s a bad bitch,” Erik drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “I love how she sucks dick, got my dick throbbing in her mouth.”

“The best, right?” M’Baku says between licks, “makes you want to abuse her little throat.”

Zalika’s lips slips off of Erik’s dick with a loud pop, “Umph!!! Baku oh my God,” She jerks Erik’s drool covered dick while looking back at M’Baku, “Daddy suck on my pussy like that, yessssss-

“Aye, pay attention,” Erik turns Zalika’s head around, “Nope, don’t touch my big dick with hands, ma. Mouth, tongue, and throat only, fuck is wrong with you.”

“Yes, daddy, Umph, fuck,” Zalika started sucking with no hands but stops again when M’Baku starts tongue-fucking her ass, “Ooooooo-

“Bitch, you got my dick in front of your face you better come suck this,” Erik orders while yanking her hair, “UH-HUH, fuck yeah,” Erik’s eyes were dark on her, “And don’t let my cum drip down my dick. You better clean up every single drop.”

“Mhm,” Zalika focused on the dick currently stretching her throat out while grinding her pussy on M’Baku’s tongue. He was right on her clit and each time he sucked Zalika’s body would clench up. She was getting closer and closer while Erik’s balls slapped her chin.

“I know you wanna cum, girl, cum on daddy’s tongue, baby,” M’Baku spoke into her pussy before wrapping his lips around her clit again.

“Damn, I’ma fuck you good, Zalika,” Erik could feel his balls growing tighter, a tingling sensation forming, “Ima make you cum all over this dick, ma, fuckkkkk!”

Erik’s hips began to move faster and faster and faster until he buried his dick down her throat, his thick, tasty cum filling her mouth up. Zalika locked eyes with him while swallowing his nut.

“That’s that nut you’ve been dying to taste, drink it up, ma,” Erik says while focusing on Zalika sucking his dick softly, “You tryna get more?”

Zalika pops her lips off of the tip of his dick, “yeah.”

“Ain’t no more right now you sucked a nigga dry...you plan on giving M’Baku some good suckie-suckie too?”

“Mhm,” Zalika says before bringing her lips down to suck on his balls.

“Damn. Never forget the balls baby,” Erik whispers while jerking his dick.

“Fuck!!!” Zalika shouts, her body shaking from cumming on M’Baku’s tongue, “YES DADDY YES!!”

Erik reaches behind her to slap her ass while M’Baku continues to suck all the cum out of her pussy. Erik couldn’t help but to walk around to see what M’Baku was doing. He has his lips on her clit, sucking slowly, savoring in her sweet taste. Erik leans over, spreading both of Zalika’s ass cheeks before spitting on her ass hole. He takes his finger, bringing it to her ass to rub it.

“Damn, I can tell you play in this ass girl…my type of woman...super thick and creamy,” Erik sticks his finger in her ass, “You gon’ let me dig in this ass real good?”

“She better,” M’Baku says, his face finally from between her legs and covered in her juices, “I’m fucking that ass too.”

“It’s your lucky day, baby girl, turn around,” Erik says, watching a weak Zalika flip over onto her back, “There you go, I’m getting in this pussy-

“Fuck!!!” Zalika tries to push at Erik, “Daddy it’s in my stomach that dick is so big!”

M’Baku is walking to stand by Zalika’s face, jerking his dick, “It’s okay, entle, suck my dick.”

“Unh,” Zalika grabs M’Baku’s dick, “This is going inside of my pussy too daddy? This big ass dick?”

“Where ever you want it, I’ll put it, baby,” M’Baku hisses when Her juicy lips wrapped around his girth, “Fuck, mmmm.”

Erik has Zalika’s legs thrown over his shoulders, his hips expertly snapping into hers while grinding them. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Zalika’s pussy creaming all over him. Her fat pussy fit snugly around him and the more he digs deep the more he wants to fill her pussy up with his cum. That pussy is gripping his dick something serious making his eyes roll.

“Pussy good, girl,” Erik says between breaths, “got me digging deep baby, so deep...uhmmmm, this pussy is so wet,” Erik pulls his dick out all the way to the tip, “nasty bitch, suck that dick while I fuck this pretty pussy.”

“Dig deeper,” M’Baku says while grabbing her legs, pulling them back, “That’s better, see? She’s opened up a lot more now, fuck her hard, brother.”

“Like this,” Erik leans over her body into a push up position, giving it to Zalika so hard and with long strokes that she takes M’Baku’s dick out of her mouth, hand barely able to grasp it, while staring at Erik with a crease in her brow and low eyes. He kept that same stroke, hips snapping into her and his dick hitting the back of her pussy.

“Fuck,” she says softly, unable to control the tears that fell from her eyes and rolled into her hairline, “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Look at that yummy pussy taking that dick,” M’Baku was fascinated, “Uhmm, make her pussy cum.”

“Ima make this pussy cum,” Erik repeated.

“Fuck my pussy good, daddy, please, oh my god,” Zalika was in a trance staring at M’Baku’s vast dick in her face and Erik’s dick that is just as whopping digging deep in her pussy. He was aiming for her to feel it push up against her cervix. Her toes curled back so hard it hurt and she would surely have cramps in her toes by tomorrow.

“Daddy get this pussy, Baku,” Zalika wiggles her tongue, “Slap that fat ass dick on my tongue.”

“Nasty little bitch,” M’Baku bends his knees a little because of his height to slap Zalika’s tongue with his dick.

Zalika slurps on M’baku’s tip while watching Erik have a blast in her pussy, “Pussy good? Is she good, daddy? Huh? Make your pussy cum.”

Zalika was on fire, talking shit while taking dick. Her pussy has a mad grip on Erik’s dick.

“Love to hear a girl talk nasty when I beat it up,” Erik says while rubbing her clit while stroking her pussy.

“Mmmm I wanna fuck her so bad...she’s taking that dick so good,” M’Baku was longing to split Zalika’s pussy in half.

“I can’t wait to fill this ass up,” Erik spoke with a hushed tone. Sweat poured from his body and it smelled just like the cocoa butter he applied to his skin after he showered.

“Look at your face, that’s all you need, Zalika, dick all the time,” M’Baku strokes her hair while she sucked the tip of his dick.

“I’d love that,” She says before gasping, “Ima squirt on your dick Erik,” She could hear her pussy making even louder wet sounds now, “it’s coming, daddy, Ima squirt on your dick!”

While Erik was killing her pussy, Zalika acted like the hype man pumping his head up and spewing nasty talk after nasty talk to make her squirt. Erik watched with rapid attention while colorless fluid splashed from Zalika’s pussy while he continued to fuck her. The grip she had on him almost made him cum. Erik pulls out, slapping his dick on her pussy before trading places with M’Baku.

“Let me,” M’Baku says, being a gentleman and lifting Zalika up to straddle him. With one bulky arm around her waist to lock her down, M’Baku uses his other hand to line his dick up with her pussy.

“Shit, Baku,” Zalika clenched up when she felt M’Baku trying to get the tip of his dick in, “this big black dick,” Zalika hisses, “oooooo, fuck that’s a big dick, baby...ouch-ouch...daddyyyy.”

“I know I’m too thick...it will fit, girl, you just gotta let me in,” M’Baku whispers to her, “Why don’t you suck your mess off of Erik while I work this pussy on my dick, hmm?”

“Okay,” Zalika grabs Erik’s creamy dick, going straight to sucking her cum off while keeping eye contact with him. Her taste and Erik’s sexy eyes did distract her enough to let M’Baku slip his dick in. She froze with a mouth full of dick, her hips suspended in the air.

“Nah, get some more of that dick,” Erik says, slapping her ass, “come on, girl throw that pussy back.”

“Fuck,” Zalika tries to but she was so wide open it was too much, “Daddy’s dick is so big in my little pussy.”

“Remember how you said you would take me? Show me how you would take me…” M’Baku has both of his hands on her hips, “It’s just my dick, girl...imagine if Erik was in your ass? You would really be crying then.”

“I’m about to get in that ass now,” Erik says while reaching behind Zalika to stick his finger in her ass again, “Ima put my dick balls deep in this tight ass.”

“Erik, no,” Zalika looks at him with puppy dog eyes, “Daddy not my ass.”

“I like how you play like you don’t want it,” Erik positions himself behind Zalika, crouching down so he could line his dick up with her ass, “remember you said you wanted me to make this ass a gaping, cum-filled hole?”

“Yes,” She says with a weak voice. Erik could see her ass hole clenching and it made him smile.

“Hurry up, Erik, I’m ready to fuck her,” M’Baku says impatiently. Erik leans over Zalika’s body with all of his strength keeping him up before grabbing his dick in one hand, pushing it inside of her ass slowly. Zalika’s face was priceless. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. He pushed in and her ass hole sucked him inside so swiftly she didn't see it coming. Erik felt good in her ass. Tight, thick, and smooth. When he pulled out to thrust back in, Zalika moaned, looking back at Erik, silently telling him to do that again.

“That thick ass dick,” Zalika’s eyes rolled shut. She was just getting used to Erik’s dick in her ass but M’Baku thrusting upward into her pussy has her feeling full. She turned around to look at him with wide eyes, moans stuck in her throat while this giant of a man started thrusting his hips upward. His dick went in and out, in and out, stretching her pussy to his girth. She could hear her pussy making noises around his dick, she could see the longing in M’Baku’s eyes.

“Oh my goodness, Baku,” Zalika grabs his shoulders, “Baku it’s so big… ooooo, Erik,” Zalika couldn’t forget the way Erik was tearing her ass up, “Daddy,” She says to Erik, “Daddy,” she says to M’Baku. She was being double penetrated and it felt so damn good.

“Ass is gripping the fuck out of my dick, FUCK,” Erik rubs his hands up Zalika’s spine, “I love this tight ass.”

Erik slips out of her ass, spreading her cheeks so he could see how wide open she is. The cum on his dick from fucking her pussy helped to lubricate his dick so he could fuck her ass. He went right back inside while watching M’Baku pull her down over his dick.

“BAKU! ERIK! YES!!” She shouts, “Make me cum!! I want to cum!!”

Zalika never had an anal orgasm before but she could feel herself ready to explode through both openings. She could feel the same tingling each time Erik fucked her ass. M’Baku was all up in her pussy with so much excitement his balls would slap her ass.

“Give me that pussy, girl,” He would say, “Daddy will make you cum on this dick,” He growled, “I’m stretching your little pussy out, baby.”

“Yes, I’m cumming!!!”

Zalika was trapped between two men so no matter how powerful her orgasm is she couldn’t move or run away. Tears burst from her eyes and she felt her ass growing tighter around Erik’s dick just like her pussy around M’Baku’s dick.

“AHHH SHIT!!!!!” Erik says, pumping a few more times before erupting deeply inside of her ass. He came harder than ever from anal and she was begging for more.

M’Baku hooks his arms under her knees, lifting Zalika up and down his dick. This man was bringing her body up in the air and slamming her down on his dick.

“Yeah, Baku, give her that dick, fuck her up,” Erik says while stroking his dick. He could feel it growing harder and harder in his hand, “Damn, bro, you got her pussy creaming heavy.”

“Fuck, Baku Ima cum, mmmm, Baku yes!!!!”

Zalika was cumming all over M’Baku and he didn’t stop fucking her until she stopped cumming. When she was drained, M’Baku pulled her into a kiss before lifting her off of him, trading places with Erik while he fucked her ass. Thanks to Erik, Zalika is nice and stretched, giving M’Baku easier access. M’Baku lifts from the bed, grabbing some lube from Erik’s dresser, applying some to his dick before putting it back, kneeling behind Zalika. Erik has Zalika sucking his dick like it was her favorite thing in the whole wide world.

“BAKU!!!!!” Zalika almost pushes away from him but he holds her hips down firmly while he fits his dick inside of her. He cursed in Xhosa with more and more of himself sinking inside of her.

“Tight ass butt, give her that dick, bro, make her feel that shit.” Erik encourages M’Baku while Zalika sucks his dick.

M’Baku was ready to cum already but he held it in as best as he could. Zalika was throwing her ass back on M’Baku and he was meeting her thrust for thrust.

“Yes, girl, that’s daddy’s little slut, this ass is tight on you, fuck,” M’Baku grunts, “Mmmm, yes, get this hole filled all the time, girl.”

“All the time,” Erik moans when Zalika strokes his balls with her hand while sucking on the tip of his dick, “You taste yourself on my dick? Taste good?”

“Mhm,” Zalika says while slurping on Erik’s dick.

“She is well trained,” M’Baku says while digging in her ass, “this is how I told you I would use you, entle, destroy your asshole without mercy...pound you until you cum then pound you again.”

In between Zalika’s vicious sucks Erik grabs her hair to fuck her face. Already he could feel himself getting ready to explode, “Goddamn, Zalika, Ima bust in that mouth again.”

“I’m about to cum in her ass,” M’Baku slaps her ass, “Mmmm, DAMN!!!!!” He felt that cum shoot out hard, “DAMN!! DAMN!!!”

Erik was right behind him, cumming down Zalika’s throat for the second time that evening.

________________

How often was Zalika fucking Erik and M’Baku? Practically every damn day. It’s been three weeks and now they were taking turns making a cream pie in her pussy. Zalika swore she was protected with birth control. The risk of letting both of her Daddy’s cum in her pussy felt so dangerous and delicious at the same time. Just last night Erik and M’Baku fucked her in the shower, picking her up and giving it to her deep in both holes. M’Baku was in her ass first while Erik was in her pussy and then they would switch places, aiming to make her cum.

“Big fucking dicks!” Zalika screamed to the ceiling.

“Daddy, yes, cum in my pussy,” she would say while Erik was pounding her pussy from the back while sucking M’Baku’s dick.

“Fuck, M’Baku, it’s so much dick in my pussy,” She would say to M’Baku while riding him reverse cowgirl.

Erik loved fucking Zalika doggy style or with her legs thrown over his shoulders. M’Baku enjoyed making her ride his dick and he especially loved fucking her in the ass. She would suck both of their dicks at the same time no matter what they were doing. They could be on the couch watching a game and Zalika would be on her knees, moving from one dick to the other. You know it’s big when you have to use both hands. She sucked both M’Baku and Erik’s dick with both hands even though Erik preferred for her to use her mouth only. M’Baku didn’t fuss too much because he knew how wide and girthy he was so he let her use whatever resources she needed.

Zalika had plans to go see M’Baku and Erik but she was feeling funny for the past few days. She felt nauseated and fatigued and that had her taking time off from school to rest up and get some energy. She didn’t want to worry M’Baku and Erik with her problems so she told them that she would have to see them that weekend. They were both disappointed but they understood that she needed some time off. Zalika made herself some chicken noodle soup. She played with it, no appetite at all. The nausea became more and more difficult so Zalika placed her bowl on her dresser, speeding to the bathroom. The second she lifted the toilet seat up Zalika vomits in the toilet.

She knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time. In that moment it came to her that she missed her period. She was so used to having irregular periods with taking birth control but it always came towards the end of the month. It’s been a week into the new month and she didn’t come on her cycle yet. She did feel bloated, cranky, cramps, and light spotting but it was on and off. Now, she was vomiting. Zalika flushed the toilet, walking to the sink to brush her teeth. As she scrubbed her tongue she looked at her reflection, unable to shake the uneasy feeling in her belly. Zalika knew what she had to do, there was no reason to avoid it. After brushing her teeth and using mouthwash, Zalika walked back to her bedroom to put on some sweats and a pair of sneakers.

She grabs her keys and wallet, grabbing her keys to leave. There is a CVS about a mile up the road in a shopping center. In her car, Zalika’s conscious kept telling her that she couldn’t be pregnant, not with birth control. The closer she got to CVS, the more she couldn’t accept it. Sure, having M’Baku or Erik as a baby father is wonderful when you think about it but she was still in school, no career, and what if one of them didn’t want the baby? What if they cut ties with her and she was left on her own to take care of a child? If she is pregnant, Zalika will keep the baby, there is doubt about that. But it will be hard.

Zalika grabs two tests from the shelf, deciding to do self-checkout instead since there was such a long line. Zalika was out the door in under five minutes. On her way back home so she could get it over with and face the inevitable. Back at home, she undressed, standing in her bathroom with her phone on the sink for a timer. She could see two texts from Erik and M’Baku on her lock screen.

Daddy Erik: Awww, I can’t see my baby today, now I gotta take care of myself.

Daddy M’Baku: I hope everything is alright. This dick will miss you girl.

Zalika opens the first test. She pees on the test, sitting it down on the sink before wiping and flushing. While washing her hands, Zalika waits the amount of time needed before grabbing the test quickly, anxious to see what it says.

Positive

“No fucking way,” Zalika says with a shake of her head before grabbing up the second test, “Let’s be sure….”

______________

“Zalika,” Erik says with a lopsided grin on his face. He’s wearing an Under Armor top with some drawstring shorts and socks on his feet, “I thought you weren’t coming to see us today? What changed your mind, gorgeous?”

“We have to talk,” Zalika says with a solemn expression.

“Aight...come in,” Erik gave Zalika a weird look before closing the door behind her, “Are you cutting ties with me?”

“I need to talk with you and M’Baku, Erik,” she says, “where is he?”

“Kitchen making something to eat, Baku!” Erik calls for him, his eyes never leaving Zalika’s, “Is it bad? You look like you wanna cry.”

“What’s going on,” M’Baku’s deep voice startled her. He softened when he saw Zalika, his little slut, “Ah, so she comes back for more,” M’Baku walks up to her, kissing her lips, “Are you hungry? I’m making oxtail stew, Erik’s recipe.”

“Not right now...we really need to talk...all three of us.”

“Shit,” M’Baku says before sharing a look with Erik, “Well, let’s sit on the balcony.”

M’Baku leads the way towards the balcony, turning on the light so they wouldn’t be sitting in darkness. There is a long patio chair with two small ones and a few Aloe Vera plants. Zalika takes a seat between Erik and M’Baku, both of them watching her attentively. Zalika began fidgeting, looking down into her lap.

“Zalika, baby, what’s wrong?” Erik says, scooting closer, “You got me and Baku over here worried.”

“If it's something we did, you can tell us both,” M’Baku says while gently squeezing her shoulder.

“Okay,” Zalika exhales, “Uhm...I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated.

Both men looked at each other again. Erik looked at nothing in particular while M’Baku’s expression hardened.

“When did you find out?” Erik asks.

“Today...I missed my period and I’ve been feeling sick, weak,” Zalika glances at M’Baku, “I took two tests, they were both positive.”

“Zalika...this is serious...what will you do?” M’Baku grabs for her hand, “I’m with you in whatever decision you make.”

“I want to keep the baby...but I don’t know which one of you could be the father,” She spoke timidly, “You both came inside of me…”

“That’s the dilemma,” M’Baku sighs, “Well, if it is my child, I will take care of it...take care of you.”

Zalika shudders when M’Baku’s hand pressed into her belly.

“I hope that it is mine,” He spoke with a whisper. That alone made Zalika’s nipples erect. They were a little sore as well but she couldn’t help feeling so turned on by M’Baku’s words.

“It could be mine,” Erik says, “and I’ll make sure my baby is provided for just like her mama,” Erik leans in, kissing Zalika’s cheek. His soft, plump lips against her cheek made her gasp. Erik’s hand joined M’Baku’s on her belly, both men sharing a look, before staring at Zalika.

“M’Baku...what if it’s Erik’s...how would you feel?”

M’Baku’s jaw clenched. He wanted to believe that it was his seed growing inside of her womb. If Erik’s cum made that happen he would be happy for his best friend but at the same time it could have been his.

“I would support my friend...but I won’t lie...I want the baby to be mine.”

“Hmm,” Erik hums, a brow raised at his friend, “You sure you won’t go full gorilla mode on me?”

M’Baku gave Erik a challenging look. He knows that the Jabari courses through M’Baku’s veins. Very possessive. He practically imprinted on Zalika.

“Then how would you feel if my baby is what’s making her hips spread and breasts leak milk?”

Erik licks his lips, one of his eyes twitching faintly.

“Ah, So we have a challenge,” M’Baku grabs Zalika’s chin, “We will see in nine months.”

“...okay,” Zalika stares at M’Baku’s lips.

“3 months, right? Until we find out about the sex of the baby?” Erik asks.

“Yeah, about 14 weeks.”

“I’ll be right there by your side, baby girl,” Erik kisses her neck, “Right by your side the entire time.

“And I will be by your bedside whenever you need me,” M’Baku says, taking charge and kissing her lips.

“Come stay with us, Zalika,” Erik takes it up a notch, trailing his hands up to grope her breast, “That way, you’ll be with us the entire time.”

“The lease will be up on my apartment in another few weeks,” Zalika bites her lip when Erik’s thumb tweaks her nipple, “I could do that...are you guys sure?”

“Of course,” M’Baku reassures her, “You are most welcome.”

Zalika was in heaven. She thought up so many different scenarios of how this would play out. Erik and M’Baku would argue, M’Baku would get upset at her for sleeping with Erik, Erik getting upset with her for sleeping with M’Baku, or both men calling her delusional, telling her to leave. None of those things happened. They were both comforting and accepting of what was happening between the three of them. The only problem would be the competition but that could be dealt with. M’Baku and Erik are now taking turns kissing Zalika, pulling on her clothes. This will be an everyday thing. They will want her pregnant pussy and she will give it to them.

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#killmonger smut #m'baku #black panther killmonger #killmonger x reader #m'baku fanfiction #nahimjustfeelingit writes

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adambstingus · 7 years

Text

The age of banter

The long read: It used to be just a word now it is a way of life. But is it time to get off the banter bus?

Its the most fucking ridiculous story, isnt it? We went to watch fucking dolphins, and we ended up in fucking Syria. Last summer in the Mediterranean party resort of Ayia Napa, Lewis Ellis was working as a club rep. I mean, it was fucking 8am, he told an Australian website soon afterwards, and the last fucking club had closed, and we thought, We can still go dolphin watching. Well blag our way on to a fucking boat and go dolphin watching.

But when the boat sailed so far that Cyprus disappeared from view, Ellis explained, they started to worry. Why are we so far from land? they asked the crew. Were fucking miles away and weve got no fucking wifi. Something, Ellis said, had been lost in translation; his exuberant season as a shepherd for the resorts party pilgrims had gone terribly awry. The crew wasnt taking them to watch dolphins: they were going to a Russian naval base in the city of Tartus, on Syrias Mediterranean coast. Yeah, it is a little ridiculous.

It was, nonetheless, a story that had legs. Hungover lads boat trip boob lands them in Syria, wahey-ed the Mirror; British holidaymakers board party boat in Ayia Napa and end up in war-torn SYRIA, guffawed the Express. If you saw these headlines at the time, you may dimly remember the rest. A stubborn trawler captain, chugging doggedly onwards to Tartus, where he turfed the friends out upon landing; interrogation at the hands of Russian intelligence officers; mutual hilarity as the Russians realised what had happened; and, after a hot meal, a quick tour of the area, and a good nights sleep, spots on the next fishing vessel headed back to Cyprus. It was never made clear why the captain had let them on the boat in the first place, but whatever. Everyone lapped it up.

Reflecting on the whole thing five months later, Ellis, a 26-year-old with a business degree and a marketing masters, couldnt totally wrap his head around it. I think I found 35 stories about us, he told me. I read about myself in the Hawaiian Express, do you know what I mean? (Notwithstanding that there doesnt appear to be any such newspaper, yes, I definitely do.)

What made it really weird to see the media pile in with such unstinting enthusiasm was that the story was total cobblers. I could not believe how gullible they were, Ellis said, a top note of glee still in his voice. We were just having a laugh! It was banter!

Lads: this is the age of banter. Its long been somewhat about the banter, but over the last few years, it has come to seem that its all about the banter an unabashedly bumptious attitude that took up a position on the outskirts of the culture in the early 90s and has been larging its way towards the centre ever since. There are hundreds of banter groups on Facebook, from Banter Britain (no memes insinuating child abuse/dead babies!!!) to Wanker Banter 18+ (Have a laugh and keep it sick) to the Premier League Banter Page (The only rule: keep it banter). You can buy an I banter mug on Amazon for 9, or an Archbishop of Banterbury T-shirt for 9.99.

There are now four branches of a restaurant called Scoff & Banter. When things were going badly at Chelsea FC under Jos Mourinho, it was reported the team had banned all banter in an attempt to focus their minds, and that terminology appeared in the newspapers, as if you would know exactly what it meant. Someone has created a banter map of London using a keyword search on the flatshare website SpareRoom, showing exactly where people are looking for a roommate with good banter (Clapham tends to feature prominently). When a 26-year-old man from Leeds posed for a selfie with a bemused aeroplane hijacker, Vice declared it the high-water mark of banter.

Lewis Ellis (left) and friends in Ayia Napa, pretending to be in Syria. Photograph: Lewis Ellis

If you are younger than about 35, you are likely to hear the term all the time. Either you have banter (if you are funny and can take a joke) or you dont (if you arent and cannot). The mainstream, in summary, is now drunk and asleep on the sofa, and banter is delightedly drawing a penis on its forehead.

As banter has risen, it has expanded. Long a word used to describe submerged expressions of fraternal love, it is now also a word used to excuse uninhibited displays of masculine bravado. Today, it is segregated by class, seized on by brands, picked over by psychologists, and deplored by cultural critics; it is dominant, hotly contested and only hazily understood.

And so, whether he intends it to or not, Ellis use of the term raises some questions. Is he throwing his lot in with the most pervasive branch of the blokeish mainstream, a sanitised and benevolent hilarity that stretches from lad-dad panel shows to your mates zinger about your terrible haircut? Or is he lining up with the misogynist imitators of the Bullingdon club, a sprinkling of racists, and, as we shall see, an actual murderer purveyors of a malicious and insidious masculinity that insists on its indivisible authority and calls you a slut if you object?

Ellis isnt preoccupied by these questions, but for what its worth, he does say that he and his friends never had the slightest intention of going to Syria. We werent really trying to fool anyone, he told me, although Im not sure thats entirely consistent with the facts. We were out for a stroll, and we came across this area that looked really run down, we thought it looked like Syria. So we put it on the club reps [Facebook] page that thats where we were. And everyone started liking it. And then one of the people who contacted us was from LADBible which is like the Bible, but for LADS so we said, well have a mess around here. Well tell a completely ridiculous story, see if the media believes it. See if we can become LADBible famous.

It did, they could. Eventually, the truth came out, not thanks to any especially determined investigative journalism, but because Ellis cheerily admitted on Facebook that his tale of magnificent idiocy was a fiction. Hahaha what a prank, he wrote, with some justification.

The confession only brought another cycle of attention. Publications that had picked up the story in the first place resurfaced it with new headlines to reflect the audacity of the invention; social media users adduced it as evidence for their views of young men, or the media, or both. The Russian embassys Twitter account called it a telling example of how many Syria (and Russia) stories are made up by UK papers, which was great geopolitical banter. The attention entertained Ellis, but he says it wasnt the point. We just thought it was funny, he said. People are too serious. I keep being told to grow up, but I still want to have a good time. Ive had the jobs, Ive got the education. But when Im off work, I want to escape.

Ellis is an enthusiast and an optimist. He is, he told me late last year, desperate to take every opportunity, just to say yes to everything I can. We were on a night out in Manchester with his friends Tyson, John and Chris. In the course of the evening, the following things found their way into my beer: fingers; salt; vinegar; mayonnaise; a chip; saliva; a 10 note; and, I hazily remember being told after the fact, at least two shots of vodka.

Everyones got a thing in the group, Ellis said, as we walked from one bar to the next. One guy, hes not even that ugly, we say he looks like a Peperami. Tysons got this mole on his face, its like a Coco Pop, so youve got a Coco Pop on your face. I looked like Harry Potter when I was a kid, so they call me Potter, thats my nickname. Every single one of us has something. So you youve got Chinese eyes. Youre Chinese.

For the record, I didnt think this was OK, but coming after such a harmless litany, it didnt seem malicious enough to confront. Of course, tacit endorsement is what makes such offensive epithets a commonplace, and so it troubles me that it made me feel mysteriously welcome, just as it had when John punched me lightly in the balls when I arrived. There was no doubting Elliss sincerity: as he spoke, the sheer daft beauty of male friendship seemed to amaze him, almost to the point of physical pain. We just take the piss out of each other, and thats how we show our love, he said. So many group chats on the phone, and you just take the piss until they cry. And its like, when youre really killing them, you go, Ill stop if you want, because you know they cant say yes, so you just keep going. Then we arrived at the next bar, where I was made to drink something called a Zombie.

Early in the evening, before any of this had undermined my ability to take useful notes, Ellis broke off from talking as we walked down the street and sidled into a window display at Next Home, where he Tracey Emined a carefully made bed by climbing into it and rolling around. Everyone cracked up. Give the world a laugh, Ellis tends to think, and the world will smile back at you. Jump on a boat, and youll end up somewhere great; make the boat up, and youll get there faster. Its all about having fun, its all about the banter, he said, after hed rejoined us outside. Banter is about making the world a more exciting place.

If nobody can agree on what banter is, thats hardly a new problem. The first usage of the word recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary comes from noted Restoration lad Thomas dUrfey, also known for his hit song The Fart, in a satirical 1677 play called Madam Fickle. Banter him, banter him, Toby, a character called Zechiel urges, which may be the first time that someone called Toby was so instructed, but certainly wasnt the last.

The OED also notes early attempts at a definition by Jonathan Swift and Samuel Johnson. (Swift mentions a banter upon transubstantiation, in which a cork is turned into a horse, and fair enough, turning a cork into a horse would be classic banter.) Both are a little disgusted by the word, and neither unearths much of an origin story: by their accounts, banter is so coarse that it emerged, fully formed and without antecedent, out of the mouths of oafs.

As it turns out, though, the OED is not at present fully able to handle the banter. According to Eleanor Maier, an associate editor on the dictionary, a search of earlier English texts reveals that a number of previous examples are missing from the dictionarys definition, which was first drafted in 1885 including a quote from a 1657 translation of Don Quixote. (After examining the history, Maier told me that she would be adding banter to the list of entries that are up for review.)

dougie stew (@DougieStew)

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February 26, 2017

In recent years, banter has barged into our lives at a remarkable clip. Googles Ngram Viewer, a tool that assesses (with some limitations) the frequency with which a term appears in a large database of written sources, finds that banter popped up about twice as often in 2008, the most recent year covered, as it did in 1980.

But banter plugged away for a long time before it became an overnight success. In the 19th century, it often denoted a kind of formal sparring. Even as the term evolved over the 20th, it continued to seem a little prim. In the House of Commons in 1936, Ramsay MacDonald, the former Labour prime minister who had returned in a new seat after losing his old one, was subjected to a good deal of banter Dear old Granny MacDonald!, among other witticisms.In 1981, a Guardian report that chess champion Anatoly Karpov and his handlers had successfully protested at his challenger Viktor Korchnois constant cross-board talk ran under the unlikely headline: Chess banter banned.

Such stories do little to prepare us for what banter has become. Consider the viral video that became known as #bagelgate earlier this year. In the recording, a minor scuffle broke out on the 00.54 train from Kings Cross to Huntingdon, and then for no obviously related reason a woman who had a large bag of bagels decided to put one on the head of the guy sitting in front of her, and then another after he took it off and threw it out of the window, and another and another, and then everyone in the carriage started chanting hes got a bagel on his head, and eventually the slightly spoddy victim who is me when I was 13 and someone filled my pencil case with Mr Kipling apple pies (squashed, oozing) because I was fat lost it and screamed Get the fuck out of my face!, and then another fight broke out on the platform, and then the police got on to the train, and every single person fell into not-me-guv silence: this is not Granny MacDonalds banter any more.

If it is hard to understand how these activities can fall under the same umbrella, it should be noted that a phenomenon may predate our choice of term to describe it its just that the act of definition makes it more visible, and perhaps more likely to be imitated. At some point, though, banter became the name for what British men already regarded as their natural tone of voice. There is a very deeply embedded folk culture in the UK of public ribaldry, extreme sarcasm, facetiousness in other words, of laddishness, says Tony Thorne, a linguist and cultural historian. What you might think of as banter now is rooted in that tradition.

That tradition first lashed itself to banters mast in the early 1990s, and controversy soon followed. In June 1992, a Guardian story headlined Police fire sex banter officer, about the dismissal of a sergeant for sexual harassment, recorded an early skirmish in the modern banter wars, and an important new layer to its meaning in the wild: The move is seen as part of the Metropolitan polices desire to reassure women officers that what has previously been tolerated as banter is no longer acceptable. Two years later, the lads mags arrived.

The first edition of Loaded magazine appeared in May 1994, with a picture of Gary Oldman on the front smoking a dog-end, under a banner that declared him a super lad. What fresh lunacy is this? the editors note read. Loaded is a new magazine dedicated to life, liberty and the pursuit of sex, drink, football and less serious matters Loaded is for the man who believes he can do anything, if only he wasnt hungover.

If banter dismays you, James Brown, the magazines first editor, is quite an easy bogeyman. As he acknowledges himself, he created a title that defined a genre. Loaded was swiftly recognised as a foundational text for a resurgent and ebullient masculinity that had been searching for public expression. While it was always overtly horny, the magazine was initially more interested in a forlorn, slackjawed and self-ironising appreciation of A-listers (one reversible poster had Cindy Crawford on one side and a steam train on the other) than the grot-plus-football formula that successors and imitators like Maxim, Zoo and Nuts milked to destruction. But it also flirted with something murkier.

To its critics, Loaded and its imitators aimed to sanitise a certain hooliganistic worldview with a strategic disclaimer. Banter emerges as this relentless gloss of irony over everything, said Bethan Benwell, senior lecturer in language and linguistics at the University of Stirling and the author of several papers on mens magazines. The constant excusing of sexist or homophobic sentiments with this wink that says you dont really mean it. Benwell pointed to Loadeds emblematic strapline: For men who should know better.

Brown denies that his magazine invented banter. Instead, he says, it captured a zeitgeist that the media had previously failed to acknowledge; the folk culture that Tony Thorne refers to, brought out into the open. Before Browns intervention, GQ had run John Major and Michael Heseltine as cover stars, for Gods sake. I took the interests and the outlook of the young men that I knew, and I put them in a magazine, Brown said. Im not responsible for the tone of the later entrants to the market. We were criticised because we fancied women, not because we belittled them.

The thing about Loaded was that the way we wrote reflected the way we were with our mates, he went on. Theres definitely a thing that exists in the male outlook: you take the piss out of the people you like, and you ignore the people you dont.

Accept this as your starting point, and objections become exhausting to sustain: what youre objecting to is an act of affection. Of course, this is what makes it insidious. Because Browns account rests on the intention behind the magazine, and Benwells on the effect it had, they are impossible to reconcile. Its a very difficult thing to resist or challenge without looking like the stereotypical humourless feminist, said Benwell. But by laughing, you become complicit.

Loaded gave this new kind of banter escape velocity, and it began to colonise other worlds. On BBC2, for example, David Baddiel and Frank Skinner were staking out their own territory with Fantasy Football League, a mixture of sketches and celebrity chat that managed to be enthusiastic and satirical at the same time, and reached its peak when the pair became national icons, thanks to their Euro 96 anthem, Three Lions. While a long-running joke about the Nottingham Forest striker Jason Lees pineapple haircut seems flatly racist in retrospect Baddiel did an impression of him in blackface by and large, the tone was milder and more conventional than the magazines were: this was the sensibility of the university graduate slumming it before embarking on grown-up life.

Baddiel implied that laddism could easily occupy a spectrum from ogling to literature, drawing a line to Nick Hornbys memoir of life as an Arsenal fan, Fever Pitch. Hornby once said to me that all this stuff you know, fantasy football and his book is men talking about things that they like and for a while in the mid-80s they werent allowed to, he said in 1995. Ive always liked football and Ive always liked naked women, and its easier to talk about that now than it was eight years ago. Those comments reflect a kind of sneer at its critics that you could often detect in Fantasy Football League, even as its hosts protested that they were just having a laugh though Baddiel himself denies that view. Twenty years on, he, like Brown, is at pains to draw a line between the approach that he and Skinner popularised, and the forms that came later. I guess me and Frank did specialise in banter, he said in an email. In a time before it was known as bantz.

Over the next 10 years, two things happened that ushered in the age of banter. (You might call it mature banter, except that its also the opposite.) First, instead of just being a thing that happened, it became a thing that people talked about. Then, as it became a more tangible cultural product, everyone started trying to make money out of it. The watershed moment, the forms equivalent to Dylan going electric, was the invention of Dave.

Like most good ideas, it looks simple enough in retrospect. Before Dave was Dave, it was UKTV Gold 2. The predecessor channels audience share was 0.761%, and no one could tell who on earth it was supposed to be for. But we had the content, says Steve North, the channels brand manager in 2007 and content of a particular kind that the existing name did very little to communicate: Have I Got News for You, They Think Its All Over, Top Gear. Viewers said they loved the repartee, the humour. It reminded them of spending time with their funniest friends.

The first issue of Loaded magazine, from May 1994

The target audience was highly specific. It was men married or in relationships, maybe with young children, not going to the pub as much as they used to, says Andy Bryant, managing director of Red Bee, the agency brought in to work on the rebrand. And they missed that camaraderie.

Their purpose thus fixed, North started to run brainstorming sessions at which people would shout out suggestions for the name. One of the ones we collected was Dave, he says. We thought, great, but we cant call it that. But then we thought, Its a surrogate friend. If the audience really sees it as that, if they see it as genuinely providing the banter, maybe we can really give it a name.

They put their hunch through its paces. The market research company YouGov was commissioned to test Dave alongside a bunch of other names (Matthew and Kevin were also on the shortlist), but nothing else had the same everyman resonance. For us, Dave is a sensibility, a place, an emotion, a feeling, said North, his tone thoughtful, almost gnomic. Everyone has their own sense of who Dave is, thats the important thing. Its hard to find anyone who doesnt know someone called Dave.

Now the channel had a brand, it needed a slogan. Lots of people claim they played a part in the naming, says Bryant. But it was just as important to encapsulate what the channel was all about. And at some point someone, I dont know who, wrote it on a board: The home of witty banter. The rebrand added 8m new viewers in six months; Dave saw a 71% increase in its target audience of affluent young men.

Conceived by the first generation of senior professionals to have grown up with banter as an unremarkable part of their demographics cultural mix, the channel crystallised a change, and accelerated it. In 2006, The Ricky Gervais Show, in which Gervais and Stephen Merchant relentlessly poked fun at their in-house idiot savant Karl Pilkington, became the most popular podcast of all time. In 2007, the year of Daves rebrand, Top Gears ratings shot from below 5m to a record high of 8m. The following year, QI moved from BBC4 to BBC2. (A tie-in book published the same year, QI: Advanced Banter, sold more than 125,000 copies.)

North saw the kind of fraternal teasing that was being monetised by his channel, and the panel shows that were its lifeblood, as fundamentally benign. The key thing is that its two-way, he said. Its about two people riffing off each other.

But like his 20th-century forebears, he can see that something ugly has evolved, and he wants to keep his brand well away from it. Bants, he said with distaste. That thing of cover for dubious behaviour we hate and despise it massively. When we launched, it was about fun, being light-hearted, maybe pushing each other without being disrespectful. When people talk about Ive had a go at that person, great banter no, thats just nasty.

By the turn of the decade,as other branding agencies mimicked the success of Dave, banter was everywhere, a folk tradition that had acquired a peculiar sort of respectability. The men who celebrated it werent just lads in the pub any more: they had spending power and establishment allies on their side. But they were, by the same token, more visible to critics. Aggression from an underdog can be overlooked; aggression from the establishment is serious enough to become a matter of public concern.

Take Richard Keys and Andy Gray, Sky Sports brand-defining football presenters, who got themselves up to their necks in some extremely bad banter in 2011. Keys blamed dark forces, but everyone else blamed him and Gray for being misogynists. We knew this because there was footage.

The firestorm, as Keys called it, centred on claims that the two men had said and done heinously sexist things off-air. Most memorable, at least for its phrase-making, was the clip in which Keys eagerly asked his fellow pundit Jamie Redknapp if hed smashed it it being a woman and asserted that he could often be found hanging out the back of it.

Gray went quickly. In the days before he followed, Keys burned hot with injustice in a series of mea-sorta-culpas, particularly focused on the tape in which he expressed his derision at the idea that a woman, Sian Massey-Ellis, could be an assistant referee in the Premier League.

It was just banter, he said. Or, more exactly, just a bit of banter, as he said Massey-Ellis had assured him she understood in a later telephone conversation in which, he added, much banter passed between us. She and I enjoyed some banter, he protested. It was lads-mag banter, he insisted. It was stone-age banter, he admitted. We liked to have banter, he explained. Richard Keys was sorry if you were offended, but also, it wasnt his fault if you didnt get it. It was just banter, for goodness sake!

Up to their necks in some extremely bad banter Andy Gray and Richard Keys in 2011. Photograph: Richard Saker/Rex

Keys insistence that his mistake was simply a failure to move with the times was nothing new: banter has always seemed to carry a longing for the past, for an imagined era before male friendship was so cramped by the tiresome obligations of feminist scrutiny. But while his underlying views were painfully dated, his conception of banter was entirely modern: a sly expansion of the words meaning, and a self-conscious contention that it provided an impregnable defence.

The Keys variation understood banter, first, as a catch-all means of denying responsibility if anyone was hurt; and, second, as a means of reinforcing a bond between two people by being cruel about a third. The comparison wouldnt please a couple of alphas like Keys and Gray, but both strategies brought it closer to a style of communication with classically feminine associations: gossip. Deborah Cameron, the Rupert Murdoch (lol) Professor in Language and Communication at Oxford University, argues that the two modes of interaction follow basically the same structure. People gossip as a trust game, she said. You tell someone your unsayable private secret, and it bonds you closer together. Theyre supposed to reciprocate with a confidence of their own. Well, banter works in the same way now. You say something outrageous, and you see if the other person dares to top your remark.

The trust game in banter was traditionally supposed to be: do you trust me when I say were friends in spite of the mean things Im saying about you? But now theres a second version of the game: do I trust you not to tell anyone the mean things Im saying about other people? I think originally it was a harmless thing, said Cameron, whose analysis is rooted in an archive of male group conversation, mostly recorded by her students, that goes back to the 1980s. But then it started to be used as an excuse when men were caught out engaging in forms of it that werent so harmless.

It comes down to context and intent, says the comedian Bridget Christie. The gentler form of banter is still knocking around, she suggested, but now it exists alongside something darker: I found The Inbetweeners adolescent banter hilarious, because it was equal and unthreatening. But there is obviously a world of difference between a group of teenage boys benignly taking the piss out of each other, and a bigot being racist or misogynist and trying to pass it off as a joke.

Trace the rise of banter, and you will find that it corresponds to the rise of political correctness or, anyway, to the backlash against political correctness gone mad. That phrase and just banter mirror each other perfectly: one denoting a priggish culture that is deemed to have overreached, the other a laid-back culture that is deemed to have been unfairly reined in. Ironically enough, just banter does exactly what it accuses political correctness of, seeking to close down discussion by telling you that meaning is settled by category rather than content. Political correctness asserts that a racist joke is primarily racist, whereas banter asserts that a racist joke is primarily a joke. In the past, the men who used it rarely had to define it, or to explain themselves to anybody else. Today, in contrast, it is named all the time. The biggest change isnt the banter itself, says Bethan Benwell. Its the explicit use of the word as a disclaimer.

By sheer repetition and by its use as an unanswerable defence, banter has turned from an abstraction into a vast and calcified description of actions as well as words: gone from a way of talking to a way of life, a style that accidentally became a worldview. He bantered you, people sometimes say: you always used to banter with your mates, but now it often sounds like something you do to them. Once it was directionless, inconclusive chatter with wit as the engine that drove it, said the comedian Russell Kane. Now, if I trip you up, thats banter.

You might think the humiliation suffered by Keys and Gray would have made banter less appealing as a get-out, but not a bit of it. Banter, increasingly, seems like the first refuge of the inexcusable. In 2014, Malky Mackay, who had been fired as manager of Cardiff City Football Club a year earlier, was caught having sent texts that referred to Chinese people eating dogs, black people being criminals, Jewish people being avaricious, and gay people being snakes all of which were initially optimistically defended by the League Managers Association as letting off steam to a friend during some friendly text message banter. The comedian Dapper Laughs, whose real name is Daniel OReilly, established himself as banters rat king, with his very own ITV2 show, and then lost it after he suggested that an audience member at one of his gigs was gagging for a rape. A man was convicted of murder after he crushed his friend against a wall with a Jeep Cherokee after an argument over badger-baiting, a course of action that he said had been intended as banter. Another slashed the throat of someone he had met in a pub and described the incident as a moment of banter after 14 or 15 pints. Both are now in prison.

By any sane measure,banter was falling into disrepute, as often a disguise for malice as a word for the ribaldry of lads on the lash. Still it did not go away: instead, the worst of it has mutated again, asserting its authority in public and saving its creepiest tendencies for the shadows or, at least, for the company of five, or 10, or 20 of your closest mates.

At the London School of Economics, it started with a leaflet. Each year at the universitys freshers fair, LSE Rugby Football Club distributed a banterous primer on rugby culture. In October 2014, says the then-president of the student union, Nona Buckley-Irvine, a student came to her in tears with a copy in her hand. The leaflet talked about trollops, slags, crumpet, mingers, and the desirability of misogyny; there were passing references to the horrors of homosexual humiliation and outright homosexual debauchery. Anyone charmed by all this was invited to sign up for the club and join the banter list, entitling them to participate in the exchange of chappish email conversation.

To anyone with a passing knowledge of university laddism, it was hard to imagine a more ordinary iteration. Still, after the unreconstructed chappishness of the leaflet came to light, the club knew it had a problem. It issued a collective apology acknowledging that we have a lot to learn about the pernicious effects of banter, and promised to organise a workshop. But there was reason to be sceptical about the depth of that commitment.

When Buckley-Irvine and her colleagues published a report on the incident, they noted a string of others, including an antisemitic assault on a university ski trip to Val dIsere in 2011. And there were other indiscretions it didnt mention. According to two people who were present, one club dinner at an Indian restaurant on Brick Lane ended with a stripper having bottles thrown at her when, already intimidated, she refused to take her clothes off. She hid in the toilet, and had to be escorted out by a member of staff as the team vandalised the restaurant.

Photograph: Alamy

According to five people who were either members of the rugby club or closely associated with it, one notorious senior member was widely thought to be responsible for the leaflet. (He did not respond to requests for comment.) But when they came to defend themselves to the student union, members of the club fell back on one of the most revered pillars of laddism: all for one, one for all. Theyd clearly worked out a line, says Nona Buckley-Irvine. No one individual was responsible. They were sorry. It was just banter. Thats what they all said.

The accountancy firm KPMG, which sponsored the universitys wider Athletics Union, decided that banter was not an especially helpful brand association, and withdrew funding worth 22,000. The students union decided to disband the club for the academic year. The decision moved some observers to disgust. It was a gross overreaction, a former team member told me. We were the best-behaved team when it came to actually playing rugby but they banned that bit and they couldnt ban any of the rest.

Others took a less measured tone. I had old members emailing me and calling me a fascist, says Buckley-Irvine. Asking me if I didnt understand that it was just banter. Rugby players chanted abuse at her on nights out, she told me. They shoulder-barged her, and called her a cunt.

These kinds of interactions would tend to take place on Wednesdays, also known as sports night, at a bar in Leicester Square. Sports night was the apotheosis of the rugby clubs bleak solidarity. In deference to what you might call the wingers-before-mingers code, for instance, members of the club who were expected to dress in suits werent allowed to speak to women before 9pm. So they would just shout abuse instead, one female former student, who Ill call Anna, remembered. One chant, she said, went, Nine nos and a yes is a yes. At the time, Anna thought that it was all a joke. People would say, Its just banter all the time. After everything. Absolutely everything, she said, sitting in a cafe in south London. If you were meeting someone new, saying they had good banter, that was a pretty high compliment. Whereas if you dont go along with that stuff, its seen as, you cant take the chat, you cant take the banter. And its not seen as having a stance against it. Its seen as not being able to keep up.

After the rugby club was disbanded, nothing much changed in sports night social life. Many members of the club still went on the same nights out; they just colonised other teams. They still addressed girls as Sarah 2 or Sarah 8 depending on how attractive they considered them out of 10; they still had shouted conversations about their sex lives in front of the women they had slept with but refused to acknowledge.

That culture was not confined to Wednesday nights. Anna remembers a guy who took her picture as she slept, naked, in the bed they were sharing, and circulated it to another non-university sports team via WhatsApp. She wasnt meant to see it on his phone.

Ask anyone well-informed where banter resides now, and theyll give the same answer: WhatsApp groups and email threads, the safe spaces of the lad class. What youd get out of those WhatsApp threads, its another world of drama, one former member of the football club said. The details of girls bodies that youd read, a few funny jibes, that was the limit for me. But when it moved on to, like, really, really bad stuff, always about sex it was too much. Those threads are the source of everything.

If the threads were an outlet, they were by no means the limit. Banter, by common consent, wasnt confined to mocking each other: it was about action. If you dressed up for a night out, one female student remembered, it was just kind of status quo that you could have your arse grabbed. It was just like, Oh, that was kind of weird, but OK, thatll happen. Like everyone else willing to speak about it, her view of that culture was perplexingly nuanced, sometimes contradictory. It sounds scary, she said, but that being said, some of my best nights were there, and like it was fun. But then she said: What was defined as serious just got so pushed. I think for someone to lodge a complaint they would have to be actually hurt.

Anna remembers lots of sketchy incidents. She recalls nights when her choices faded into a blur, and she wondered if she had really been in control. But at the time, I would never call it out, she said. And then, youre all living in halls together, and the next day, its like: What did you do last night? Thats hilarious. Thats banter.

When Anna thinks about the behaviour of some of the men she knew at university, she finds it hard to pin down exactly what she thinks of them. Theres one in particular who sticks in her mind. On a Wednesday night, he was a banter guy, she said. He was a Wednesday animal. But the rest of the time, he was my friend.

Controversial though all this was at the time, no one seems to think that it will have cost the perpetrators much. Ive tried so hard to leave all that behind, said the former member of the football team. But those guys theyre all going on to run banks, or the country, or whatever. The senior rugby man who many held responsible, by the way, has landed on his feet. Today, he has a job at KPMG.

In 2017, every new instance of banter is immediately spotted and put through the journalistic wringer. (Vices Joel Golby, who wrote the definitive text on the bagel thing, has made a career from his exquisite close readings of the form.) But when each new absolute legend emerges, we dont usually have the context to make the essential judgment: do the proponents tend towards the harmless warmth of Ellis and his mates, or the frank hostility of the LSE rugby boys? Is their love of irony straightforward, or a mask for something else?

As Richard Keys and Dapper Laughs and their cohorts have polluted the idea of banter, the commercial entities that endorsed its rise have become uneasy with the label. They wanted it to go viral; they hadnt expected it to go postal. Dave, for example, has dropped the home of witty banter slogan. Its not about classic male humour any more, its a little bit smarter, says UKTVs Steve North. We definitely say it less than we used to.

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The age of banter

The long read: It used to be just a word now it is a way of life. But is it time to get off the banter bus?

Lewis Ellis (left) and friends in Ayia Napa, pretending to be in Syria. Photograph: Lewis Ellis

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The first issue of Loaded magazine, from May 1994

Up to their necks in some extremely bad banter Andy Gray and Richard Keys in 2011. Photograph: Richard Saker/Rex

Photograph: Alamy

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