It's been over a week since I last heard from Him. A week since he deposited His thick, creamy load down my throat and bruised my vocal chords with his thick, ebony cock. I can still remember, still taste, His heavy cock and still feel His cum shooting down my throat, coating my face and mouth with His sweet nectar.

Despite doing as He told me - keeping His cum on my face like a shining trophy all the way home - He hasn't replied to a single message. I've messaged Him at least twice a day for the last week and still nothing. I literally cannot get through a minute without thinking about Him and His magnificent cock, what is wrong with me? I blow this guy once and I'm addicted, is that how it works? I get face fucked by a black god, swallow His seed and suddenly I'm His prisoner? This is where I'm at right now. Spending every waking minute thinking about how I can see Him again, why He isn't responding to my messages and when I can take that beautiful big black cock in my ass like a good slut.

I'm on the train home again. Packed into the carriage just like the first time I met Him. I scan the carriage in vain - no Marcus. I still have his business card in my pocket, I take it everywhere with me now in the hope that it might bring Him to me. Like maybe it's a test and He's waiting to catch me unawares and demand I show him the card and without it He wouldn't treat me to his cum again. At least that's what I thought for the first few days... but now, after a week and a half, I hold on to it more as a memory than anything else. Where did He go?

The train pulls into Euston and a crowd of people get on. One guy in particular catches my eye. About six foot, broad and very handsome. He has short blonde hair with a rugged beard and a cheeky grin - the kind of guy that knows he's attractive and isn't afraid to show it. He is also wearing very tight trousers that clearly show a very large bulge. Out of sheer desperation and sexual lust I unashamedly ogle his crotch. He must notice my slutty behaviour because he gives me a smile that says 'thanks for appreciating me, but I'm not gay' and turns away. Funny thing really because if he thinks that by hiding his crotch from me, and showing me his perfect bubble butt  instead is going to make me stare any less, then he's mistaken. I look some more and imagine diving into that ass with my tongue and rimming him deeply. He'd have a slightly sweaty crack, gym fresh, with little to no hair. A perfect, pink rose bud ass hole and he'd go wild when I danced around his hole with my tongue - so many straight guys love that! My mind begins to wander even further when suddenly a guy to my left falls into me as the train goes round a bend. He clutches onto me, losing his balance and nearly falling to the floor. People around us move out of the way, too scared to try and help and risk falling themselves. I panic, but manage to grab the pole overhead and stay upright as this guy - early 30s, balding and totally plain looking - clutches onto my jacket. As he straightens himself up he leans into me and whispers, 'He has been watching you. You'll hear from Him tonight. Be ready'.

My heart skips a beat. The guy, dusting himself off now, pats me on the shoulder and moves further down into the carriage leaving me stunned. Does he know Marcus? Did Marcus send him to give me this message? Has he been watching me? How and for how long? So many questions rush through my mind that I don't even notice the hot guy get off the train and when I realise he's not there I feel a pang of missed opportunity, but also of guilt for having looked at another man. Marcus is coming for me, I think. He hasn't forgotten me! I'm going to see Him tonight!


I get home in a daze. Scenery passes by me and before I know it I'm on my bed, phone in hand, waiting for Him to call. My mind races, turns over the events of the last hour: the crazy guy on the tube, the message, Marcus watching me. My heart is literally beating out my chest as I think about seeing him again and, more than that, my mouth and, even more than that my ass. I want Him inside me! I want His big thick cock in my ass so bad that I literally can think of nothing else. He promised it to me last time, I remember that. He said that next time my ass would be his. 

I strip down to my tight jock strap (that I've been wearing all week in the hope I'd see Him again) and begin playing gently with my ass. Just a gentle finger or two on the rim, feeling the pressure and enjoying the sensation of lightly fingering myself. I think about His huge dick, the one that I've already had down my throat, pushing its way into my tight ass hole and I ache inside with anticipation. I squirt some lube onto my hand and slide my fingers a little further into my pussy, past my knuckles this time and begin to slowly fuck myself with two and then three fingers. I lean back, close my eyes and imagine Him above me, bearing down with His glorious muscular body and huge cock. I imagine Him penetrating me and feeding me His thick tool. I continue to finger myself when suddenly my phone rings. 

Instantly I know it's Him. Sure enough His name - Marcus - shows up on the screen. Keeping two fingers inside me, I use my spare hand to answer the call.

'Hello?' I say, nervously. 

'Hello, boy'. He replies. That voice! That deep, masculine, powerful voice!

'I've missed you so much!' I blurt out, instantly embarrassed and ashamed. 

He laughs dryly and then, after a pause says, keep fingering your pussy, boy'.

My heart stops. Can he see me? My instinct tells me to stop immediately, to be freaked out, to run away. But I don't. I start to speed up. I fit a fourth finger inside me and moan for him.

'Good boy. I'm enjoying this.' He says. I lie back a little more and spread my legs wider, pushing my fingers further inside.

'I want your dick,' I moan.

'You will have it, slut. But I don't like impatient boys. Don't ask me that again, you hear me?' He says this with force, like He's scolding me. I don't know why, but this turns me on even more and I lose myself further as I speed up fucking myself with my fingers and clutching the phone against my cheek.

'I want you to keep fingering your cute little cunt until I tell you to stop,' He commands, 'and then I'm going to send a car to pick you up.' His beautiful, deep voice, continues to send shivers down my spine as I imagine Him inside me. 'I want you to get into the car exactly how you are now. In your cute little jock strap and nothing else.'

'Ok, Sir' I mumble, feeling nervous but more excited than ever before.

'Good boy.' He says, and hangs up. The line goes dead. I open my eyes, slide my fingers from my ass and breathe heavily. He's coming for me! I smile a broad, girlish grin at the thought of seeing Him again. I stretch out on the bed and think about where He's going to take me, how many times He'll fuck me and what it will feel like to finally have him inside me. A car beeping cuts my train of thought short and my heart starts racing again - this must be my ride! I leap from my bed, grab my phone and rush towards the door. As I leave my room I notice for the first time a small webcam attached to the top of my wardrobe.


A shiny black Lexus sits outside on the kerb waiting patiently. I peer through my front door, in nothing but my jock strap and scan the street nervously. Will anyone notice me leaving my house like this? Will my neighbours think I've gone mad? I consider this for another second then open my door and run towards the car. With nothing but a tiny slip of fabric covering my dick I run to the car, open the back door and jump straight in. The car smells masculine - of leather and smoke. The driver, dressed in a suit and dark glasses, nods at me in the rear view mirror, then starts the car. His voice comes through the intercom, 'There's a dildo on the seat next to you. He wants it inside you when you arrive.' He says, then the intercom clicks off. I look over to the seat next to me and sure enough a big shiny black dildo sits erect on the seat. It's about 7 inches long, thick and inviting. Like a good slut I lift my legs up, grab the dildo and slowly ease it into myself. Slowly, my pussy envelops every inch of the dildo and I sit back, proud of myself for doing as I'm told. 

After 10 minutes of driving the car pulls over at a row of terraced houses. I haven't been paying attention to where we've been going, but judging from the houses we're in a nice part of town. The driver gets out of the car and walks around to let me out. I cower slightly, in my jock strap, with a dildo in my ass, as he grabs my arm and pulls me out of the car. I stumble onto the pavement, the dildo beginning to slide out of me, as the driver shuts the door and says, 'He will want that to stay inside you'. I panic and grab the dildo and push it back inside me. 'He's number 12, straight up there. Just hit the buzzer.' I look up, still slightly panicked by fear and feeling humiliated by standing here in public with a dildo in my ass, that it takes me a few moments to move. The driver gets back in the car and pulls away. Slowly I walk towards number 12, still holding the dildo inside me and feeling it fuck me with every step I take. I reach the door and hit the buzzer. 

'Good evening, slut' comes His voice from the intercom. I shove the dildo all the way in at the sound of his voice. Then, after what feels like an eternity, the doors opens and there, totally naked with a raging hard on stands Marcus. Over six feet of pure black muscle, a dick so large it makes my eyes water and a menacing grin that says, 'I'm going to ruin you boy'. I step into the house and immediately fall to my knees. 




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