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From: Webster Dazell <webdazell@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 29 Aug 2003 15:16:51 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} Fulfilling The Fantasy {Web Dazell) {M/M 1st Interr Oral}
Date: Sat, 30 Aug 2003 05:10:06 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Fulfilling The Fantasy.txt" begin>

Title: Fulfilling The Fantasy, A Response Story
Author:  Web Dazell
Part: 1 of 1
Keywords: Oral, Interracial, Male Homosexual
Redistribution: Not without author's permission

Welcome to the latest in my line of divertissements, The Response
Stories.  These little tales fall somewhere between the real-life
autobiography of my Arrangement series and the pure fiction of my
Adventure series.

As an author, every once in a awhile a reader's email will strike
a spark in me. No, not that kind of a spark. The type that sets
my mind to whirling and forces my my fingers to begin tapping on
the keyboard. Sometimes these peter off (so to speak) but
sometimes they result in a short story which I then share with my
correspondent. This has happened a half-dozen times or so in the
last year.

One of the recipients of a Response Story suggested I share these
stories with my other readers and I figured "why not." Each story
will begin with the original email. The names and other
identifying information in this story have been changed to cover
up for the reader who inspired it.

All of the usual warnings and cautions apply to this story. Do
not read this if you are a minor or if it is unlawful in your
area as it contains vivid descriptions on interracial, homosexual
activities.

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all
rights (including reproduction or reposting) reserved by its
author, Web Dazell, unless explicitly otherwise indicated.

FULFILLING THE FANTASY
By Web Dazell

Cougar wrote:

Hi Web, Man, I've got to tell you I've enjoyed all your stories
especially the ones where you get to suck black cock.

I've never had the pleasure of tasting a delicious big black
cock. It's always been my no.1 fantasy. Hopefully one of these
nights if I can get up the nerve.

I probably owe you a dozen blowjobs from all the times I've cum
over your stories. Please keep me and your stories cumming.

Cougar


I wrote back:

Cougar:

Thanks for your kind words.

I don't know where you live but any large metropolitan area with
an adult movie arcade will usually have an ample number of black
cocks whose owners would be more than happy to help you fulfill
your fantasy.  Just picture it in your mind:

It's early Saturday evening, a little after twilight has begun,
the deepening shadows of night leap across the road in front of
you, yet go unnoticed. You have no eye for the scenery. It takes
all your concentration to simply steer the car toward your
destination.

Just a week ago you decided you'd lived through the experiences
of others long enough.  You had to find out what it would be like
to have a black man's cock in your mouth.

So, you visited the sex listings section on the
www.cruisingforsex.com website to find the perfect bookstore for
your initiation; one close enough to be drivable but far enough
away the odds are no one would know you. To help make sure your
fantasy came true you even posted an email on their message
board.

"HELP ME SATISFY MY DARK DESIRES," you typed, "White mouth
hungers for black cock. I'm an interracial virgin who wants his
oral cherry busted. Will you be the one to feed me my first ebony
pole?  I'll be at the ____ bookstore on _____ street in ______ at
9:30 PM next Saturday. I'll be wearing khaki pants and the blue
cotton sweater. Please coat my tongue with your strong masculine
seed. Believe me,
this cat will make you yowl."

For a week you checked your email account for replies like a
nervous bride waiting for the RSVPs to role in from her wedding
invitations. Only two responses but anticipating thick black
manmeat to suck on kept you hard for days.

You park off the street in the lot behind the bookstore, the
gravel of the lot crunching under your tires as you slide your
car among the dozen or so already there.  The darkness has
increased, granting you cover as the flickering light from a
40-watt bulb guides your way to the entryway.  Stepping inside,
you wait for a moment trying to get your bearings.

You're at the far end of the store. To your left is a room marked
"Men," to your right a heavy black curtain covers the entryway to
the peep show booths. Pinned to the curtain is a crudely scrawled
sign, "You must buy five dollars worth of tokens from cashier to
enter this area!!!"  You go left down the hall and buy double the
minimum from a fat middle-aged man, his balding head glistening
with sweat. After a hour and a half's drive, you need more than a
few minutes of relief.

As you turn to go back to the booths, you notice four men
standing in the magazine area behind you.  Three of the four are
black. One, the one whose skin is almost the sooty black color of
an eggplant, gives you a slow inspection, his eyes moving from
your toes to the crown of your head and back again.

Catching your gaze for a moment he smiles at you, then places the
magazine he was holding back in the rack nudging the older,
mocha-toned man next to him.

Pants tenting out, your sight goes fuzzy and, for just a moment,
you feel a light tingle of dizziness. Somehow you put one foot in
front of the other and make your way back toward the curtain,
gently shivering as you walk.

At the door you pause, asking yourself if you really want to do
this, cross the color line, take that dark dick in your mouth?
You could just turn to the left, get back in the car and go home.
All you'd be out is $10 plus gas plus a few hours of your time.

As you debate the issue you look up and see a circular mirror
affixed where the wall and ceiling join. The mirror reflects
what's going on behind you.

A trio follows you now, the first two you exchanged glances with
and a third black man from the magazine area; a young,
hardbodied, homeboy, with baseball cap on backwards, a yellow
muscle shirt, jeans, tattoos and piercing, the whole ghetto
ambiance.

Like you, they are looking in the mirror.  You watch them, they
watch you, a moment frozen in time. Then Homeboy rubs his crotch
and grins, his parting lips revealing a gold tooth with a diamond
inset.  Eggplant winks while Mocha just nods. Your mind made up,
you part the curtain and step in.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, a moment
during which a hand brushes against your crotch.  It's Mocha's
hand. When you don't push him away his movements become bolder.
He takes your hand, places it against his thickening tool and
whispers in your ear "Give it a squeeze Cougar." You do. It feels
good against your palm, throbbing with the promise of juicy
rewards to come.

Homeboy comes up to you. "Straight up, cracker, you be Cougar?
You be the dude wanting some licorice stick to swing on, cuz if
you is, we can hep you out." The other two wait for your answer.

"Yeah, I'm Cougar," you answer as the blood in your veins grows
warm. "Who are you."

"Sheeit man, don't matter who I be. What I be, muthafuck, is your
next dinner, knowumsayin?"

You try to swallow before you reply, your mouth as dry as Lot's
wife. One last chance to back out, to run back to the safety of
your home.  The challenging tone in Homeboy's query makes your
decision for you. It's time to satisfy your hunger, live out your
fantasy, feel a black bone slide between your lips and receive
the cocksucker's reward.

Without speaking you reach out to the zipper of Homeboy's jeans,
take the tab between your fingers and, looking him right in the
eye, begin to unzip his pants.  Homeboy's smile becomes wider,
the gold and diamond reflecting the yellow tinge of the exit
sign.

Before you can complete your task, Eggplant grabs your arm.  "Not
out here Cougar," he says in a soft cultured voice at odds with
Homeboy's center city slang.  "They're fairly tolerant here but
they do draw the line at blowjobs in the hallway."

He heads off to the side of the arcade, holding the door open on
a "Buddy Booth." You file in, followed by Mocha. Eggplant lets
the door close softly behind him but doesn't lock it. Homeboy is
still outside.

You look around the "booth," actually a small room. There are two
TV screens on the wall with a small sofa facing them.  The sofa
has seen better days.  On the left side of the booth there's a
raised plywood bench, almost like a massage table. A box of
facial tissue sits on the wooden surface. Hanging from the wall
at the end of the table is a vending machine with three
selections of condoms: unlubricated, extra large-ridged and
strawberry flavored.

There are two wastebaskets in the room, a used condom hangs
limply over the side of the one closest to you, glistening in the
pale blueish-white of the television screens.  The booth smells
of old smoke, stale sex and cheap disinfectant but you don't
care. You're not there to smell the flowers.

Your attention turns from the room to Mocha who is the process of
taking his pants off.  Underneath his clothes his body is far
from perfect. It's soft, spindly and sags but you don't care.
Because the meat between his legs isn't sagging. It's standing
almost straight out from the triangle of curly hair that
surrounds it, his balls hanging loosely down beneath.

Now nude, Mocha hops up on the bench, spreading his legs with his
ass hanging off the table's edge.  A single drop of fluid slips
from his piss slot to mingle on the floor with the stains and
secretions of men who came before him.

Still, you wait before approaching Mocha. All of the invitees to
the party haven't arrived. Eggplant hasn't even begun to undress.
Homeboy is still outside and you want to get a look at all your
options before you
decide who first christens your mouth with their water of life.

A quick rap echoes through the booth followed by some muffled
words through the wood.  Eggplant swings the door open just long
enough for Homeboy to squeeze in. But Homeboy isn't alone, he's
brought a friend.

The newcomer is short, stocky with a shaven head and a small
neatly trimmed goatee.  Although the ambient light is too
unnatural to make out his skin tone, it spills its lambent bounty
over him, giving him the look of glowing black marble.

His chest, framed by an open shirt, is broad with well-defined
muscles, firm pecs and erect little nipples. A trail of dark hair
trails down his stomach to disappear below the waistband of his
pants.  An aroused John Thomas juts from the open fly of his
pants like a promontory into the sea.

You are immediately attracted to him. His body, his bearing all
radiate not only sex but power beyond his young years.  Here is
the man who will be the first black you worship, whose liquid
offering you will accept and absorb.

As Eggplant locks the door you speak, surprised at how little
quiver there is in your voice.  "Please all of you. Take off your
clothes and sit on the table."

"Sure Cougar," says Eggplant. "But maybe you should put some
money in the coin slots. Get the movies rolling before the
attendant knocks on the door. Like I said, they're tolerant here
but this is intended to be a for-profit business."

The light in the room grows brighter, more multi-colored as the
movies begin to play. Eggplant sits at the end of the table
closest to the door, Mocha next to him, Homeboy to Mocha's left
and Newcomer on the end closest to you.

As you return to the bench, Newcomer speaks, his voice higher
pitched than you would have expected..

"I'm not wearin no fuckin jimmy hat."

Seeing your confusion Eggplant translates.  "He means no condom.
He won't wear a condom. He wants to go bareback."  You nod your
acceptance as you approach the nude quartet, all thought of
disease and death banished by your raw desire.

They are waiting for you now, waiting for you to begin, to
fulfill the promise in your message, It's
time for Cougar to make them yowl.

You start with Eggplant, your hands grasping his fully erect
cock, squeezing and pressing, sliding up and down its length. It
just feels so right in your grasp.

Then it's on to Mocha, the outer softness of his rod hiding the
steel within. Again your hands fly up and down until the older
man begins to breath faster and the tip of his dick is awash in
precum.

Homeboy gets his turn too but not as long or as thorough as the
other two. You're too distracted by the thought of taking
Newcomer's manhood between your lips to do Homeboy justice. But
you know you'll make it up to him later.

Your mouth descends, not to Newcomer's cock, there will be time
to explore that treasure soon, but to his chest. You lick and
suck his pebbly nips, your tongue teasing them with feathery
swipes until they are as hard as his cock in your hand.  Careful
to maintain contact, you slide your mouth down his rippled
abdomen, your tongue leaving behind a trail of saliva like a
snail,

Finally you reach his dick, his fat, heavy, black as Siberian
midnight dick.  Rocking back on your
heels, you take it in your hand, stare at it like a vampire would
a young virgin's throat, filled with the
same lust and need to suck as the Count himself.

Your hands let go of his prick. For a second it bounces up and
down before pointing skyward. You move your arms under the back
of his legs. In a movement akin to doing the breast stroke, you
brush aside his legs, spreading his crotch wider. Quickly you
wiggle forward then side to side until your body is behind
his legs,  his thighs resting on your back.

Craning upwards, stretching your neck until it hurts, you begin
to teabag his nutsack, sucking and licking his walnut-sized balls
until Newcomers moans.  In the background you can hear the sound
of heavy breathing and fists slowly beating against dicks, as the
remaining men respond to your performance.

Backing off and rising up a little, you balance yourself on your
heels. Newcomer's cockhead is just inches from your mouth, a ripe
shiny plum waiting to be devoured.

As you take your first black dick into your mouth,saliva spills
from the corners of your lips, a sign of the deluge to come. 
It's so good, so warm, so natural you want to nurse forever.

But Newcomer won't give you forever. He's read your posting,
knows he's sliding in and out of a virgin mouth and a white one
at that.  That knowledge has made him hot, hotter than even your
sweet sucking mouth could alone.

He grabs your head between his strong hands and squeezes to hold
you in place.  Now you're not blowing him, he's fucking you,
fucking your mouth hard and fast and you love it. You love his
mastery of you.

You feel him begin to come, his cock swelling, the sperm you've
wanted for so long rushing though his fleshy tube to shoot
against the back of your throat. Pure ambrosia.

Without warning, Newcomer pulls his rod out of your mouth, jism
still spurting from its tip. A baker
frosting a cake, he decorates your face with lines of his hot
spunk, warm white liquid splashing everywhere, the last heavy
drop falling like syrup onto your lower lip before rolling back
into your mouth.

Fire hydrant to his dog, you wait until Newcomer has finished
marking you. Then you stand, still fully clothed, and carefully
use your hand to shepherd the remains of his gift to you into
your mouth; eight eyes watching as you lick and swallow the last
of Newcomer's spendings from your palm.

"Thank you," you say your head bowed in reverence. Then, your
lust still unabated your turn to the
remaining three and ask:

"Who's next?"

Hope you liked the story Cougar and I hope you get the chance to
live out your fantasy.  Let me know how it goes (or cums).

Web
<1st attachment end>


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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
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