Sweet Black Cock

I was getting as far away from the train station as I possibly could when my seething temper boiled into uncontrollable sobs. I’d felt the utter pain of where he’d been no sooner than when he entered. But it wasn’t until I was right there in the crosswalk that I even began to feel the real agony of his unspeakable drilling with every new footstep I took. I’d take a step and there he was stretching my hole again and again and now leaking out of it into my once-new favorite pair of jeans. Rip-roaring wasn’t even close to the kind of mad I was. My head spinning at whirlwind speed right there in the middle of the street with the curb seeming like an infinite hike of two lanes and a turning lane before me.

I was torn and mortified; mortified that I was torn. Between liking what he did to me and not liking what he did to me and letting the thought cross my mind of liking what he did to me even a little bit. I cursed myself for opening up to him, to make it easier on myself; opening my channel for his despicable will to be carried out and to garner pleasure of any kind from it. Why didn’t I read the warning signs earlier? He knew he was going to fuck me the minute he pulled up in his car in front of me. I was probably one of a bevy of sweet-tailed bottom boys he wanted to get his hands on. Unlike most, I was just too stupid to move on. Silently refused his pursuit just by taking a few steps from that place and let it rest as a question in my mind as I made my way home. I was lured by the uniform and the man in it. Well, if you want to make it up to me you can keep my company while I do a station patrol. What police officer ever needs a citizen to help him with his job? Patrol of a station where he just stepped out of sucking off another man? Play it cool, man. He’ll never know you just gobbled some cock. The bastard must’ve thought I was begging for it following him around like a little puppy and opening up about my life. Who knows if there was any cum crusted anywhere on my person? There was plenty of residue to be had with Cecil alone, right? Not all of it must’ve gotten on my shirt? Even if that dried up, flaked off from my hair and skin, that was still an even fresher batter of cum left there by Teddy? I must’ve certainly had both of them seared on my breath unless one potent brand knocked out the next if they couldn’t mix to create a pungent print. Of course! I was begging for it after orally servicing these two guys! And I honestly can’t say that I wasn’t. What was a third or fourth after so many already? A few or several more at that? Who walks around with a lubed asshole? There’s a chance I might get fucked. Might as well be prepared! I cleaned out back there and lubed it for one man in mind, thinking that if a blowjob didn’t suffice after this long wait, I was thoroughly prepared to walk home with a limp in my step. Oh, the fucking irony! The only bastard in history to be prepared for my rapist!

I should’ve hauled ass when I had the chance. When Teddy didn’t show up, I should’ve marched down those stairs from whence I came from. It wasn’t the first time I was disappointed that black cock didn’t come my way. I had years of practice of it! But nooo, I paid a train fare. I needed to get my $2.50 worth. I didn’t have the patience to sit around for one man, so I hopped on a train and sucked off a new guy only to circle back around to suck off the first dude I was there to suck off to being with, only for Big Brother to put me in this bind.

 

What happened to being so fucking horny you could suck off Teddy in front of a live transit audience?

 

Shut the fuck up!

I meant I would suck him off in front of an audience of people that might catch us and turn away in shock, not a memory to be sent up to The Cloud and held forever.

I had the chance to walk away a second time. I didn’t. Teddy was late. I was sated with my first black cock. He had deal breakers for me, about not being in position when he came up those stairs. I should’ve laid out mine, too. Yeah, I want that sweet black cock. I’m not so hard for it though that I’ll wait be a lap dog for it!

I hooted at this, making it along the side street home. My life would now be forever broken into Before and After. Before, I would’ve been a faithful lap dog waiting forever for it. After, not so much, seeing what was on the other end of falling back. But no, like a slut, before, I needed another hard cock stuffed in my cheeks, seeds planted on my tongue so I could feel empowered that I took a man’s weakness and made it my strength! I should’ve been happy with one man, then two. Got up and taken my sweet ass home. My evening could have been capped perfectly by jacking off to the smooth aggressions of Cutler X on my tablet with Eddie Diaz snug up my poop chute through his splendid dildo. But nooo, you couldn’t cross the street home because this officer crosses your path and happens to swing back behind you! You remember you never had a police officer before—much less a black police officer. A couple of rounds with a couple black cocks and you feel like using a three-word chant like that guy on that bus that had that Extreme Home Makeover Show: One more cock! One more cock! One more cock! One more cock, slut! Your reason kicks in. It’s too late. It’s too late, tonight? You’re off from work tomorrow. Tomorrow, you say to yourself. Then you remember your luck. If you happen to stop by tomorrow night around this time more than likely black daddy police officer will have someone else filling his place. Knowing your luck, some bitch of a police officer that wants to exert her authority and run you from that place. Officer Goodbar goes bye-bye because you were too lazy to fall back for a second. It doesn’t hurt for you to put your feelers out—for tomorrow—tomorrow. You already had two in your mouth. It’s that insatiable itch behind your scrotum that reminds you that something hadn’t been scratched. And after you’ve had your way with the officer tomorrow night then that call to Cecil or Teddy may not have been necessary. If he was great at what he did, it would be a matter of coming down here at night when he was working and come up with some kind of unending arrangement. You proudly spot him out of the corner of your eye, approaching. Interested. You’re more than a little thirsty for a third prospect tonight, but you shelf a suck and fuck for tomorrow night because your jaw is tired and so spent from the last two guys it wouldn’t be fair not to bring this uniformed officer the best you can be. Your jaw wasn’t so tired to lick some boots, now, was it? I’d been a man long enough to know that men don’t like to be teased and told to wait to dump their heavy loads, especially one so clearly aroused after watching me suck off another man. Once the gig was up, I should’ve sighed and muscled through it. Shucked down my pants, bent over on the table and let him show his transit authority over my sweet, candied ass.

No. Not me.

I thought he was cute, and I wanted to show him I was interested. Take care of him like I did his other black brothers in the struggle. I knew better than anyone I couldn’t deliver the blowjob he deserved. In a strange twist of fate, that notion became clear by the size of the cock he rammed into me.

It would’ve hurt even more if I didn’t open up. Did it have to feel so good after opening up? That my body betrayed me like that? That my body was still betraying me, as my riotous prostate gland burst open again in a shuddering wave of leg-locking, hop scotching, gotta go pee bliss.

I understood Stockholm syndrome now. I could barely walk writhe in this throe and yearn I felt echoing from back there and for a mere careless second I thought about returning tomorrow night.

That grin! That fucking grin flashing in my head again ‘Come back again sometime. I’ll give you something to really grunt about!’

I was three blocks up from the train station when I stopped blaming myself for what happened and rightfully placed the blame back onto him. Even if I’d sucked off the nation and lubed up to take on a college football team, it didn’t give him the right to mount me like that, even if I did permit my tongue to slobber his boots. I’d only agreed to that after his personal camera caught me sucking off Teddy and his looming threat to turn me in. Why didn’t I see a camera? Thirty minutes early to scanned the place? Why I didn’t see that fucking camera? Maybe it was one of those spy camera things? My mouth was genuinely tired after sucking off two big black cocks. How could I set myself up to service a bullpen of them in jail? I’d heard stories—or watched enough porn—of the lone white boy made to be the communal cumdump. Even after roughly taking one lone cock up the rear, it was made perfectly clear that I wasn’t built for taking two tops at once or being the star bottom in a sling swing gang bang.

Five blocks deep, I made peace with my attacker. It didn’t mean I forgave the rotten bastard in anyway. I just made peace with what happened and accepted it did happen. I wasn’t going to let him take away my incredible night up to that point. I was more than delighted to suck off one guy that came like a faucet and another that came like a broken dam. The first one came so hard I had to change shirts! The skills I have! The balls they had! Heck, even after I sucked one and two off, fantasizing which one of the two I was going to let cork me, I licked a pair of boots to cleanse my pallet like coffee beans are offered at fragrant stores to give me clear perspective. Teddy was awesome, but Cecil made my night. If all I took from tonight was my time with Cecil, everything else appeared rather insignificant. Though, it was inevitable that in order to replace the touch and the feel of that dirty cop as the first black cock to break into my private precinct, I had to call Cecil up sooner rather than later.

After I recover. After I recovered.

 

If you could’ve only waited until tomorrow, Romy! It could’ve been the land of milk and honey!

By block six, three more away from home, none of those thoughts crossed my mind anymore. After a brief upright walk, my body became an inferno of unabashed lust. I was fucked, getting fucked, and wanting to get fucked all at once, all in my head with every step. It was like my sweet rosebud went from not being able to take it anymore, the pain, to not being able to get enough of it, the pleasure, with my mouth slavering over thoughts of cocks roaming inside of it. Ever new step I took, the feeling grew stronger. My squishy sludge hole availed itself even more. I tried to clench it tight, but its seminal contents and its amplified looseness let me know that it being closed for now was a fallacy, as if it never intended to go back to the way it was—puckered and poised.

I continued to walk up the sidewalk away from the plentiful streetlamps looming just above my head into the poorly sporadic light of telephone poles rubbing my sore ass through my jeans. It was the only relief I could think to give it. Soon enough it wasn’t enough. The upsurges of whatever this was all consuming. My hand slipped behind my waistline and skivvies and freely felt around where he ruined me. Through this slight twinge of spasm at its gap with my fingertips sodden in lube and cum, I found I could bury three digits knuckle deep without the clasp of my walls ever touching them. I had to move fingers over to feel myself, or what was left of myself.

 

What kind of monster cock was he working with?

Leaning against this nearby mailbox, I started to play with this unbolted hole even more. I was scared. Not from being caught by some late-night straggler in the shadows of the dark between two distant streetlamps as I was over what wasn’t there anymore, like a clenched exhaust pipe. Yet, with it being uncorked and slack it felt fucking fantastic fishing back there, feeling the sensitivity of my fingerprints.

I could’ve leaned there forever in the quiet of that street imagining it was someone else back there who pried me open like that other than that rotten bastard.

The bearded guy, I settled with from earlier. Not wanting to taint the image of either Teddy or Cecil prior to the officer to some invented threshold of a fuck. Yeah, the bearded guy, him. I bet he’s got a sadistic streak in him and a big thick dick to do this kind of damage.

So, there I was, two and a half blocks away from home, leaning against a mailbox coasting through another anal convulsion desperate to call it a night when I was suddenly startled out of my bliss by the creaks of a rocking chair. I snapped my head looking for its obscure origins throughout the vacant porches within sight, only to be welcomed by an obscure hearty snicker and a rural guttural drawl asking, “What’re you doing over there, white boy?”