Yes Sir

WARNING: This story is not for everyone!!!

 

THIS STORY DOES NOT CONTAIN RACE PLAY!!!

 

Author’s Note: It has come to my attention this story has gotten seriously downvoted due to the historical uneasiness of the subject matter (or presumption thereof) rather than the writing or storytelling itself.

 

I was inspired to write this story years ago for an older black bottom into white tops after he brought it to my attention it was far easier to come across tales of BBCs and white boys than it was stories that catered to his tastes and fantasies of BWCs and boys of color, especially those that delve into kinks and fetishes. As a nod to him being open with me about it, being a taboo subject (via intraracially or interracially), I took the creative liberty to craft the story and later got it published.

 

I say that to say this: If the subject matter triggers you (or you may feel it may trigger you in any way), please avoid reading it! I have a ton of stories for just about every taste as my aim as a writer is for people to live their fantasies right here on the pages than those that can be harmful to their (or anyone else’s) physical, mental, or emotional health in the 3D world.

“Stop all that goddamn yammering…like your old ass never had this big white dick before,” Curtis growls.

He is angry when he fucks my mouth open like this, calling it his pussy and me his black cunt. He tells me to keep my mouth open, but my head throbs tremendously from the blood rushing into it in this virgin position. He doesn’t care. He just wants me to take his big fat prick and gag on it. He wants to scrape the back of my throat with it. He isn’t happy until I can’t breathe around it or that snot is furiously bubbling out of my nose and mouth.

All he knows is that he worked too damn hard to get me this way. To make sure that my mouth perfectly aligns with his prick. Adjusting and readjusting the rope from the ceiling.

He has me suspending by a single leg from it, arms tied behind my back with my free leg cuffed behind my thigh with this thing.

“It’s to let the naked ass-crack breathe free from all those old man farts,” he quips.

The cool air rolling through its gorge is quite soothing in the cemented shed we are in. My jaw hurts immensely from its severe unhinging. Curtis is big that way. I sniffle and grovel for precious air, so I take care of him to the best of my ability. Curtis doesn’t allow that. He thinks it is a form of defiance. He thinks that I should be grateful that a hunk like him would even bother to waste his time with an old man like me. He is right. He reaches over and twists my ear hard to remind me of such an honor. I cry out, in both pain and gratitude. He doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. I am only there for his enjoyment. He rapes my mouth because he can. I take it because I have no other choice available. He screws my nipples for his sadistic rise. He crams his prick further down my throat to meet my masochist need.

He likes listening to the loss of life puffing out of my lungs, the gurgling and such. It makes him feel like an almighty god knowing he is the gatekeeper to my very existence. I snort more snot onto his hairy nards. He just does what he does, causing me to eventually blackout. I don’t know how long I am out. I am still conscious enough to feel him pull out of me and reawaken my soul with the acrid flow of urine that falls out of my mouth and over my face, blinding me with its warm sting.

Curtis stands back, looks, and laughs.

Five-eleven, two hundred and forty pounds he stands quite solid. He isn’t fat at all. He is muscular in the way of a rugby player. He is not cut but is handsomely beefy in a way that is enjoyably masculine, a throwback to the natural way of hardworking men before manufactured beach bodies.

He makes me weak trying to look at him in his leather chaps and black boots to match, his arrogant certainty, his youth, and his rugged redneck beauty compressed in all of his twenty-seven years.

I am sixty. I will not tell you that I don’t look anything like it. I have too much gray wool in my carpet to lie like that. I do have a nice body due to those hardcore workout videos on TV. I have a uniquely hairy face. Hoop earrings and tattoo sleeves to show it off with.

Still, I am a lonely man.

Too young to give up on life, and yet considered too old to be such a willing submissive.

Again, Curtis doesn’t care.

He only curses that he didn’t attach a funnel to my faggot mouth as he relieves himself across my face. “Good piss gone to waste,” he bemoans.

The yellow river of his creation stops. It runs across my hairy gray face through the top of my head down to a puddle on the hard floor beneath.

“But if I had,” he said for his forgotten funnel, “I couldn’t do this.”

He rams his prick back into my gaping mouth still drowning in his piss. It forever surprises me with its mammoth girth. It isn’t naturally expected of a white boy his size, his age. I seem to enjoy it endlessly just the same as it finds its joy in humiliating me so.

He has me gagging on it again in no time.

He doesn’t know the meaning of the word slow. He only knows the adjectives of fast and hard, fucking me like it is a sleeve. “It’s my motherfucking pussy, always and forever, old man!” He reminds me to watch my teeth, to keep them tucked behind my thick lips. He cusses and moans, and I slobber and groan for more of the precious air he denies me. He thrusts more violently. I hear him grunt and grunt again. His prick swells enormous in my tightened mouth and then twitches as if it is possessed.

“Oh, God! Aw, shit! Aw, fuck! Yeah!”

He shoots a gallon of hot fire cum into my mouth that is just as abundant as his piss.

I try to impress him by swallowing it all the best I can. It is showing my respect, my honor to take care of him. He doesn’t care. His thick fingers find my dry butthole as he pants.

He didn’t mean to bust his nutt, he groans. He wanted to save that initial load for my ass.

I ignore him for once.

The fun he is having with my hole and knowing his drive, I know he’ll be ready to go again in no time.

I lick his nards, lapping up my sweet mucus on them and taking him back in my mouth to clean him up.

Even as it goes soft, he is still incredibly hung as ever.

He has a hook and a big pair of nards that swing midway down his bulging thighs.

My eyes maybe on this, but my head is on my tender hole.

He threatens to take care of it for me, for him, fingering it roughly.

He pulls his prick out of my mouth and pulls away, going somewhere out of sight.

I hear his feet moving around on the raw cement floor to the corner. I hear the clacking of a footstool come near me. He sets it up behind me along with a stack of crates.

I am anxious.

My head hurts. My mouth is in influx. I feel my arms are getting tired behind my back, though. My leg hanging from the ceiling is in excruciating pain. My other leg bent double is cramping.

I have no time to cry behind all of this. He is ready.

He climbs the stepladder and slaps my ass hard. He pries open my ass cheeks and spits a wad on the parched hole. He fingers it some more, only going deeper with his unforgiving will. I grovel again, begging him to stop. It hurts. It allhurts—like hell! I am afraid he is out to fuck me without lube, and I know it will hurt even more. I know how to take him this way. But with all my bodily fluids rushing to the top of my head and being stripped of my natural wetness for him, I know I can’t this time. I just can’t. I can’t!

He grabs my testicles and yanks them.

I cry out.

Again, he grabs my testicles and yanks them even harder.

And again, I cry out.

“Stop your whining, bitch,” he growls. Curtis says some other stuff, but its sum total of that is he doesn’t want to be disrespected ever again.

I feel the head of his prick nudge my opening. I brace my body for the unkind slaughter for him to simply thump his pride hard against my ass crack.

“Aw, fuck!”

Curtis throws his leg over mine onto the crate and nudges his way right in. I wince and I groan and I moan and I struggle to get upright, making a futile attempt to tear free of my restrains. He laughs at my efforts, dipping enough of his flared tip into my puckered abyss to show he is serious in fucking me. That he is in control. It burns terribly. He then pulls out once he feels that I get the point that he is in charge, the only one in charge, and squirts something quite relieving in my crease. He can be a merciful god sometimes, I remember. I can feel it by its diluted consistency that he must be using his favorite jack off brew of baby oil and baby oil gel on me. He points down to my hole and slides into home with no breaks.

“Oh, God! Aw, shit! Aw, fuck!”

“Shut up bitch,” Curtis growls.

“Yes, Sir!”

“Say it again, cunt!”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Good…bitch!”

Curtis sinks his prick in even deeper, pass the second ring, pass the mysterious third. He holds it there inside of me as he pulls my roped ankle along for the ride. He wants me to get use to the enormous girth of him berthing inside of me. He lets me know that his pig prick is in there for the long haul. But, right now, even with his many bodily places so tender, it feels so good with his hairy nards resting quietly on my hole. It feels like home. Yes, yes, Sir! He gradually pulls back. I feel my stretched walls close around him as he pulls back up. He keeps the head in and pushes back down.

I yelp. I yammer.

He pumps me like this for awhile, testing me and my vulnerable reaction. Testing me and my ceiling restraint ever so often, throwing all his incredible mass onto me. He outweighs me by a hundred pounds. I sometimes think my leg is going to snap off, and I’m just going to fall and bust my head on the floor. But that never happens.

He breathes intensely, immensely.

He tells me my hole is sweet and tight, and that he just can’t get enough of it.

I can’t get enough of him either. His way is everything dear to me. The way he walks. The way he talks. The way he moves his sexy body about. And, of course, I am remiss to leave his prick out. It isn’t so much its staggering size that gets me. It is that he knows how to work it as well as he does. It is the satisfaction of knowing when he is done. He is done. Leaving me exhausted and spent with a sore back hole that feels as if it takes forever to get right again.

“Aw, fuck! Shit!”

My rectum stretches and pulls.

“Shut that shit up!”

“Yes, Sir.”

He begins to pound. I begin to whimper.

“Stop all that crying, you hear, old man. Acting like your old black ass never had it tended to by this big white dick before.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I shudder because he is absolutely right. He just doesn’t understand it feels like the very first time every single time he enters me with that fat thing.

“Take this dick.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Take it!”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Take my dick, cunt!”

“Oh. God. Yes, Sir!”

“There you go.”

“Thank you, Sir!”

“Grip my dick, bitch!”

“Aw! Aww! Aww! Aww!”

“Grip it!”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Grip it!”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Grip it!”

“Yes, Sir!!!”

“Put your ass into it, cunt.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“There you go. That’s my sweet black cunt. Good sweet black cunt.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Hungry old cunt hurts for this dick, doesn’t it old motherfucker?”

“Aw! It hurts! It hurts for your dick!”

“That ‘cause it suppose to.”

Curtis leans forward again. He pumps like a freakish mad man on top of me straining my leg. He calls me his bitch, my hole his everything. His cunt. His pussy. His ass. His twat. His snatch. His snapper. His beaver. His joy. And I am left in suspension, pitiful and in pain, hung there to take it all like a man.

“You like me roaming your guts, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m going to fill your old black cunt with these white babies, you hear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Your old black ass is going to give me some pretty half-breeds aren’t ya?”

“Oh…yes…Sir! Yes!”

My muscles relax into euphoria at the thought of this, the thought of him dumping his milky white babies into my black hole. Pregnancy, I bask. Then my body trembles at the sinister thought of him taking his belt to my ass forcing me to fart out every one of them.

“The beautiful births!” I cry. “Oh, Sir, yes! Yes, Sir. Pretty pretty babies, Sir.”

“You love dick, don’t you?”

“I love your dick, Sir.”

“Your hungry ass always loved dick, huh?”

“Yes, Sir. Oh, yes!”

“Even when your black-ass momma was taking it from your black-ass daddy, huh? Shoving that big ol’ pimp pipe in her womb while you were sleeping in it, huh?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You probably turned your baby back to it just so that you could get a piece of it, huh?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I bet your faggot ass used to ride it out back in the locker rooms in high school, huh?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You probably were a big ol’ slut back then just like you are now. Just letting any ol dirty fucking somebody run a train on that sweet black ass! Players, coaches, teachers, you name it!”

“Yes, Sir! Oh, God! Yes, Sir!” My body shook violently.

For a moment there, I was thrust back onto a bed in my youth where my arms were pinned behind my back by a pair of strong hands and another big white dick was replaced by another riding my sweet hole.

“I bet my pappy and his pappy saw it in his day, too, huh? They probably wanted to rip you a new one for shaking that sweet black ass all around town, thinking your shit didn’t stink!”

 

Shit, Sir, yes, I wanted to scream. The night I was remembering they were there on the bed with me, too! Pinning my arms back and tagging in the next fellow to take a crack at it. Your pappy and his pappy and even his old long-bearded pappy, too! They saw me as a delicacy. The son of a black bull giving it up to them like their ruined wives and mistresses gave it up my daddy.

“They raped this pussy good, huh? Thought this pussy was good, too. I bet they passed it around town. Let the married men get at your wet snatch, huh?”

“They did! They did! Most of them got this pussy when Aunt Flo came to—!”

He rammed me hard. “Even between visits, too, huh, cunt?”

“Yes, Sir. Oh! Aw! Aww! Aww! Yes, Sir!!!”

“You probably were getting double-fucked weren’t you, cunt? Had two big… white…dicks…up…in…that…hole! Back when it was tight and wet. We probably could’ve won ‘Nam if the soldiers and Vietcong weren’t tearing for a piece of you.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Robbing you of your cunt, cunt.”

“Yes, Sir. You’re absolutely right, Sir!”

“Making it easy for everybody with a dick to slide on in the way you get wet for it.”

“Awwww! Fuck! Christ!”

After this wave of pleasure hits me, my body aches terribly from these restraints, the blood rushing to my head, and his heavy weight on top of me. I think this is too much. I am on the verge of passing out again. I am floored when I find this is just the beginning when he happens to just fall onto me, literally. His body topples mine upside down. He amazes me that his smooth chest is against mine. I think he wants to kiss me, but quickly remembers all that he has done to my face. The piss, the cum, straight into my mouth. He looks at me because he can’t hump me in this way. He stays like this for a few seconds. It feels like forever looking into his eyes, as he swings up.

“Gimme that black ass, black boy,” Curtis fucks me again with my legs across his shoulder.

The former race man in me should be offended by the word boy, but I’m not. I convince myself in the moment that he is too young to be so conscious of old matters like this.

“Where’s my ‘Yes, Sir,’ cunt!”

“Yes…Sir,” I heave my submission.

Even though I am hurting because of it, Curtis doesn’t give any more regards to the restrain suspending me from the ceiling as it has proven it can hold up quite well. He begins to fuck me without the balances of the stepladder to the crate and just uses me for everything. Each and every thrust he delivers pull at my leg even more. It feels as if it’s coming out of the socket at the hip, out of place just like the rest of my sixty-year-old body. I labor in breath trying to shield the pain. He continues to fuck me as if we have the comfort of a bed there.

I scream. I scream. I scream!

I am not sure how long I can take this, his weight on top of me like this. I feel these giant beads of sweat roll over me like rotisserie chicken. For how long, I am not certain. All I know for sure is that he is sweating profusely, and it pours off him onto me. I feel it cut through mine, making its way down to my eyes that I can’t wipe. I am soon blind from it all.

“Give it to me.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Gimme that black ass, boy!”

“Yes, Sir!”

He pumps and pumps and pumps. He cusses and pumps. He moans and pumps. He cusses and moans and pumps and cusses some more. He finds his stride on me like this, thrusting more violently to the point that the rope is rocking the rafters. I thrash my head, whipping it from side to side attempting to get the sweat out of my eyes. I hear him grunt and grunt some more. His prick swells enormously big in my now well-used ass, and then twitches again like he is turning the knob on a stove. Click! Click! Click!

“Oh, God! Aw, shit! Aw, fuck! Yeah, fuck! Yeah, shit! Oh, God! Damn!”

Curtis quickly falls onto me again, just in time to shoot his warm-hot baby milk straight up into my old ass. It burns just like my hole but feels good when he is done. But it proved not to be my end as I feel my own dick twitch.

“Oh, fuck! Motherfucker! Fuck! Yeah! Uh!!!”

I cried when I felt my body expels its own microscopic wormy babies in this continuous white ribbon that barrels over my head towards the floor.

Curtis and I share a special moment looking into each other’s eyes. And then, he flips off me.

He leaves me there to hang there for an hour more. He comes back to undo me, but not without another heavy spray of piss over my chest.

“Good piss gone to waste,” he bemoans as it comes down in a thin sheet over my neck and head and puddles back onto the floor.

I am more than spent. Exhausted and tired. And still, I find the strength to offer to pay for his schooling in the fall. He refuses. I try to sneak him some extra money from my pension, so he doesn’t forget to come by more often. He doesn’t accept. He says he never will. He says that I’m a family tradition and that I’m the only one in the world that gives a young man like him the respect he deserves, and to that I say, “Yes, Sir.”