
Message-ID: <55687asstr$1177305003@assm.asstr.org>
From: WannabeWhitman <wannabewhitman07@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} A Thug's First Photo Shoot - Part 3 (MM, interr, ds, reluc)
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Date: Mon, 23 Apr 2007 01:10:03 -0400
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===================

  
       
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Ahhh...imagining that irresistible "new car" smell?
 Check outnew cars at Yahoo! Autos.
<1st attachment, "A Thug's First Photo Shoot - Part 3.doc" begin>

A Thug's First Photo Shoot (Part 3) 

By WannabeWhitman (MM, interr, ds, reluc)

NOTE TO READERS: The following is a fairly detailed account of my
most recent encounter with Kevin, the young black thug from "A
Thug's First Photo Shoot" (<a
href="http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/interracial/thugs-first
-photo-shoot/">http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/interracial/th
ugs-first-photo-shoot/</a>). The story is 100% TRUE. If you're
offended by stories depicting interracial gay sex and
"prostitution," DO NOT READ!

Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would love to hear
advice on how my writing might improve, scenes or themes you
particularly enjoy, stories and fantasies of your own, and
anything else you might want to share. E-mail me at <a
href="mailto:WannabeWhitman07@yahoo.com">WannabeWhitman07@yahoo.c
om</a>. 

If you share my obsession with the beauty and sexuality of black
males, check out my Google group! Explore your TABOO erotic
fantasies about black males: slavery, domination/submission,
economic bribery, prison scenes, youth themes, gangbangs, and
more. Discuss your forbidden fantasies, share photos, and post
erotic stories. Join me in looking at interracial desire in a way
that most are too timid to talk about!  This is NOT your average
interracial group. Stay away if easily offended! 

<a
href="http://groups.google.com/group/black-boy-addiction/">http:/
/groups.google.com/group/black-boy-addiction/</a>


Lately I've been wrestling with some serious moral questions
about the fine line between fantasy and reality. At what point,
I've been asking myself, do the stories I write and the fantasies
I entertain begin to affect my life and relationships in negative
ways? Am I capable of turning my darkest fantasies into
realities, and will doing so risk psychological and emotional
harm to others and myself? 

All of this was very much on my mind as I anticipated another
"session" with Kevin, scheduled for this past Saturday afternoon.
I knew I had considerably more cash available than Kevin's usual
fee, so my horny imagination went wild as I thought about the
countless "bonuses" I could negotiate with my favorite young
thug. 

More than anything, I was curious to explore some domination
fantasies that I'd never been bold enough to pursue in any of my
"free" hook-ups and dating relationships with black men. 

In our past encounters, Kevin has tended to complain and resist a
lot. He whines about my jagged fingernails as I finger-fuck him,
and insists that I "slow the fuck down" when my dick first shoves
past the defensively tightened ring of his asshole. Even when he
eventually submits to the violation, it's always in complete
silence or with reluctant gasps and grunts. 

For once, I wanted Kevin to surrender his body COMPLETELY to my
will, without restrictions and resistance. I wanted to grab his
nappy hair as I fuck his face, and literally choke him with my
cock. I wanted to throw his body across the edge of the bed and
aggressively spank his ass-cheeks, branding them with
purple-black splotches where my hands strike against his smooth,
deep-caramel skin. I wanted to shove as many fingers as possible
up his asshole, and thrust them in and out with total disregard
for his gasps of pain. 

But more than anything, I wanted to hear Kevin's sexy masculine
voice beg for more. I wanted to hear him moaning and pleading for
my dick in his mouth and ass. Of course the whole thing would be
nothing more than a resentful performance on his part, but
knowing it was only an act would make it all the more arousing. I
wanted to witness his begrudging transformation from macho,
female-loving thug into a white man's humiliated, submissive
bitch. 

But real life is a hell of a lot more messy and complex than
fantasy. The moment Kevin showed up in his dirt-stained
hoody-sweatshirt and comically sagging jeans, flashing his
"grill" in a bright, beaming smile, I knew I couldn't go through
with it. I was no longer dealing with "Kevin," the stereotypical,
objectified "thug" of my fantasies, but KEVIN, the funny,
talkative human being with all the hopes, dreams, insecurities,
and immaturity of every 20-year-old kid. 

Kevin looked happy to see me, and not just because he was about
to make a lot of money. A cool dynamic has developed between us
recently. A kind of mutual comfort with one another, a respect
and affection and connection despite the vastly different
environments we leave (and in some sense, BETRAY) to know one
another through these discreet encounters. I can't call it
FRIENDSHIP exactly, and it's certainly not romance, and yet it
frequently feels like both of those things. 

Kevin tells me that the way I listen and talk to him is unlike
any white man he's ever known. It's been such a joy to watch him
slowly let down his guard and put aside all the stereotypes and
suspicion most urban black males his age (justifiably) feel
toward white men. Deep down, I know Kevin would feel only
disappointment and disillusionment if I gave in to my guiltier
impulses by asking to abuse and degrade him. Forcing him to
endure such a thing would probably spoil our unique dynamic,
further alienate him from white men, and forever pollute his
assumptions about the way he's viewed by gay white men in
particular, and white society in general. Was I willing to risk
all of that, simply to fulfill a taboo fantasy?

I led Kevin to the back bedroom of the condo where I was house
sitting for the weekend. Kevin stretched out lazily on the bed
and rested his hands beneath his head in a way that pulled his
sweatshirt slightly up to expose his sexy belly-button and the
prominent bulge beneath his boxers, only half-covered by his
sagging jeans. The afternoon sun streaked across his lithe,
tempting body.  

I sat cross-legged at his side, and gently rubbed the insides of
his thighs as I began our "negotiations." His eyes lit up when I
told him how much extra I was willing to pay, and I immediately
knew he'd agree to do whatever it took to leave with his pockets
stuffed with the maximum possible cash. 

Barely had our bartering begun when we both realized we had a
problem. Because I was housesitting for the weekend, I didn't
have access to my normal stash of lube and condoms, and Kevin
swore he hadn't received my message asking him to bring some with
him. Clearly worried he might have to leave with LESS cash than
expected, Kevin started asking about nearby stores that might
sell condoms. 

But of course my horny, selfish mind immediately jumped to a
better option. Blushing and stuttering, I asked Kevin if he'd be
willing to let me fuck him without a condom. 

His eyes squeezed shut and he didn't answer right away, but I
could tell he was considering my offer. 

I told him I knew it required an enormous amount of trust (and
risk) on his part, but I couldn't deny that the idea of fucking
him bareback (something I've never done with anyone) was
extremely enticing. He sighed heavily, clearly torn over the
sudden and unexpected decision confronting him. 

My dick sprung to a full erection as I pictured myself greasing
Kevin's asshole with nothing but spit and Vaseline, and then
plunging my naked dick directly into his asshole. His ass felt
warm and tight enough when I wore a condom -- I couldn't even
BEGIN to imagine how good it would feel to fuck his ass in all
its raw and natural glory. 

But even though I know with about 99.999% certainty that I'm
disease-free, I felt guilty for putting Kevin in such an
uncomfortable and unfair position. I retracted my offer, and told
him that even though the idea was extremely tempting, I just
wouldn't feel right about it. 

Since I wasn't going to fuck him, I proposed to pay my normal fee
for our regular activities (sucking dick, eating ass, etc.), plus
the privilege of "nutting" in his mouth. We tried this last year,
but Kevin had yanked his mouth away at the last minute and ended
up with my cum all over his disgusted face instead (which was
nearly just as hot, if not hotter). 

This time, Kevin refused outright at first. He swore that he
NEVER takes "nut" in his mouth, and that the smell alone makes
him want to throw up. 

I argued that fucking him was a huge part of our usual
arrangement, and since that was no longer an option, he needed to
give me my money's worth in some other significant way. 

He went on and on about how disgusting and degrading the whole
thing was; how he didn't understand what enjoyment I could
possibly get from it. I teased him about making me feel like some
kind of freak, and pointed out that guys do it to women all the
time in straight porn. I don't think it made him feel any better
to picture himself as one of the degraded, cum-drenched bitches
in porn videos. But after a lot of melodramatic objections, Kevin
FINALLY agreed to let me cum in his mouth. 

Now it was time to negotiate the "extras." I insisted that Kevin
propose some ideas, eager to hear what he might come up with. 

His first suggestion was lame, but at the same time cute and
endearing: "If you wants, we can mess around in the shower. You
know, all the shit we do on the bed, just in the shower?" I
didn't think that was worth anything extra, but I thanked him for
the attempt. 

I know his second suggestion was a tough one for him to make: For
an extra $50, he'd actually SWALLOW my nut. I didn't really think
that was worth any extra either, but it was still hot as hell to
hear him suggest it on his own. 

As I brainstormed other ideas, Kevin hesitatingly admitted that
he was still thinking about letting me fuck him bareback. He
insisted that if he DID agree to let me fuck him, I had to
promise to pull out before cumming. He said he trusts me when I
tell him I'm safe, but that he didn't know what kind of fee to
charge for such a bonus. "That's like puttin' a price on my
LIFE," he explained, and insisted that I go ahead and make an
offer. 

Of course I couldn't bring myself to "put a price on his life,"
as he put it, even though it pained me to refuse such an enticing
offer. But there is no doubt in my mind that for another $100 or
less, Kevin would have let me fuck him bareback. 

My emotions are still conflicted about this. 

On the one hand, it's cool to know that Kevin likes and trusts me
enough to put his life in my hands. And of course the thought of
entering his asshole RAW is arousing beyond belief. 

But at the same time, it scares and saddens me to think that
Kevin would be so reckless and foolish about something so serious
and potentially deadly. It breaks my heart to think that at some
point down the road, Kevin might find himself in a similar
situation with a white man less scrupulous than me, someone who
wouldn't think twice about infecting some anonymous street-thug
"nigger" if there was a hot orgasm in it for him. 

I finally worked up the nerve to tell Kevin about my domination
fantasies. I apologetically stuttered my way through the entire
thing. I explained that I wanted to spank him, slap him, spit on
him, fuck his face, grab his hair, and finger-fuck him with full
force. I insisted that he could show no resistance whatsoever AND
that he had to pretend that he actually enjoyed it and wanted
more. I nervously explained that I didn't want him to end up
hating me afterward, that it was simply a side of my sexuality I
was curious to explore. 

Kevin didn't seem fazed one bit. He grinned and without
hesitation said we could explore it together. "I ain't done no
shit like that neither, but there's a first time for everything!"


I could hardly believe my ears. The fact that Kevin agreed so
quickly and casually made me wonder if he might actually be a
little turned on by the idea. But of course he played it off like
he was just eager for the cash: "You'se the one payin'," he
explained. "What you do's up to you." 

The afternoon turned out quite differently than anticipated,
however. 

For one thing, we ended up lying in one another's arms, kissing
and talking, for nearly two hours before doing anything sexual.
Kevin was the most talkative I'd ever seen him. He reminded me of
a 7-year-old black boy I frequently baby-sit, rambling eagerly on
and on about anything and everything going on in his life. He was
nearly out of breath from talking so much and so fast, almost
like he feared he'd explode if he didn't release all his thoughts
and feelings before our time together was up. 

If you've never witnessed a thug's tender, talkative side, let me
just tell you: It's a beautiful thing to behold. It's as if my
age, race, and the privacy of our encounters gives Kevin a chance
to drop all his macho posturing for a few hours, the cocky
swagger and Ebonics-thick grunts and
I-don't-give-a-fuck-about-anything attitude, without worrying
about rejection or mockery from his "niggas." Kevin even admitted
as much, joking about how shocked I'd be if I ran into him on the
street. "What you see when we together ain't how I be most of the
time," he explained. 

Kevin talked excitedly about all the different states he's
visited, mostly as a result of playing football in high school.
He told me that his dream is to visit Europe one day. When I
asked him where in Europe, he said "that city with the big tower"
(meaning Paris). He said he also wants to visit Egypt and Mecca,
but confessed he didn't know where Mecca was exactly. 

He also told me that he hadn't been able to work up the nerve to
ask his friend about my offer (see Part 2). He said he was too
afraid it would fuck up their friendship, that every time they
hung out he'd be thinking, "Ewwww, we DID IT together!" 

But Kevin went on to say that sometimes he thinks ALL his
"homeboys" mess around "on the low," but are too scared to let
the others know. He told me that just the other day, one of his
homeboys "accidentally" brushed his hand against Kevin's ass. 

"I was like........WHAT THE FUCK?!?" Kevin recalled. "No he
DIDN'T just touch my ASS!" 

Another "homeboy" did the same thing to Kevin's dick a couple
days later. And another of his "niggas" is always making jokes
about Kevin's "phat ass" and "sexy lips," begging for Kevin to
suck his dick "with them sexy-ass lips of his." Of course Kevin
always pretends to get angry, saying he "ain't into that gay
shit," but of course it makes him suspicious (and curious). 

Kevin also told me a hot story about the young teenage cousin of
one of his friends. A couple years back, Kevin and a bunch of his
boys (including the younger cousin) were hanging out, drinking
and smoking weed. The kid got so fucked up that he had to stay at
Kevin's after everyone else left. Somehow they both ended up in
bed together, talking with their backs toward one another. 

"A friend of mine told me you gay," the kid said. "That true,
man? You gay?" 

Kevin denied it at first, but was so high that when the kid asked
him if he'd ever sucked dick before, he accidentally blurted out
"yeah." He didn't even realize what he'd said until the kid
turned around with a shocked look on his face. Kevin said he
about had a heart attack, certain that the kid was going to ruin
his life by telling everybody his secret. 

But instead, the kid unzipped his jeans, pulled out his dick
(Kevin said it was huge), and motioned for Kevin to start sucking
on it. In their intoxicated stupor, they both ended up sucking
each other's dicks and fucking each other, although Kevin said
both of them were too tight for each other's large dicks, so the
fucking didn't get much further than the initial penetration. 

Listening to Kevin ramble on about all the "homeboys" he suspects
of messing around, I was struck by two thoughts. The first is
that the longer I live and the more black guys I talk to, the
more I'm convinced that at least 80% of black guys get down with
other men "on the low." I know Keith Boykin (author of BEYOND THE
DOWN LOW) and several other black scholars and activists
criticize the "down low" phenomenon as yet another example of
racist hype manufactured by the media to perpetuate stereotypes
of black men as hyper-sexual animals threatening mainstream
society. 

Maybe that's partly true. But I swear the media's only scratched
the SURFACE of all the secret sexual activity taking place among
boys and men in the black community, ESPECIALLY in poor urban
areas. Which is ironic, considering the hyper-masculinity and
rampant homophobia within the black community. 

My second thought was that not only is it ironic, but also sad
and pathetic, even tragic. So many black men living scared,
secret lives, worrying themselves sick over maintaining macho
thug personas, all so they can avoid the judgment and rejection
of their "niggas," many of who are engaged in the very same
duplicity! The lies and hyper-masculinity they believe are
necessary for social acceptance only end up alienating them from
the intimacy they crave, intimacy that in many cases is right at
their fingertips. 

But then the complication for me as a white man is that the
arrogance and aggression and machismo I criticize are the very
same qualities that draw me to young black men in the first
place! If all black men were "out of the closet" and fully in
touch with their emotional sides, living lawful, mainstream
lives, would I still find them sexually appealing???

After listening to Kevin ramble on and on for close to two hours,
I no longer felt even the slightest urge to degrade or dominate
him. Instead, I felt an overwhelming love and compassion for him.


I think a lot of white people look at someone like Kevin   the
way he dresses, the way he carries himself, the way he talks  
and mistakenly conclude that he's "stupid" or "angry" or
"unmotivated." In fact, just the opposite is true. When you look
past the sagging jeans and Ebonics, there's actually an extremely
sharp mind, infectious energy, and boundless ambition. 

Which makes it all the more heartbreaking when I think that
statistically speaking, Kevin is a lot more likely to end up dead
or in jail within the next five years than he is to graduate
college (he tells me he wants to become a judge) or visit "that
city with the big tower." Hell, he already spent six months in
prison last year, and recently told me there's a warrant out for
his arrest on other charges. 

When I think about this, I feel so helpless and furious at a
society that leaves black boys like Kevin few choices beyond
drugs, jail, rap, or sports. It sickens me to think of all the
cards stacked against young black men in America, especially
those raised in the ghetto: the rotting, failing schools that
stereotype and marginalize and give up on them long before they
ever make it to high school; the poverty that drives many of them
to lives of crime, or wears them down into apathetic, emasculated
shells of men whose only escapes are through weed and sex; biased
cops and a discriminatory justice system that plucks them off the
street and herds them off to jail in tragic numbers; and a
political bureaucracy that ultimately doesn't give a fuck what
happens to them. 

Guys like Kevin already know all of this. It's white folks who
don't have a clue (or DO have a clue, but don't give a damn). I
get the sense that even when Kevin shares his goals and dreams
with me, he knows deep down that they're nothing but delusions.
Maybe that's why he routinely sells his body to an older white
man. And maybe that's why he was so quick to give me permission
to fuck him bareback. 

But even with my sensitivity to the historical and social forces
stacked against him, it still frustrates me to watch Kevin give
in to a lifestyle that will only lead to failure. Sometimes I
want to grab him by his shoulders and shake some sense into him,
showing him that the violence and ego and materialism of hip-hop
culture is ultimately empty and self-destructive; that night
after night of smoking weed, selling drugs, and fucking girls is
such a waste of his intellect and creativity and potential; and
that his sagging jeans and Ebonics project an image incompatible
with his dream of becoming a judge, or anything else successful
in mainstream America. 

But again I find myself confronted with a moral dilemma not
unlike that facing James in my "Stampley Plantation" series (<a
href="http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/historical/adventures-o
f-stampley-plantation/">http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/histo
rical/adventures-of-stampley-plantation/</a>). 

Kevin's poverty, lack of education, and thug-lifestyle keep him
trapped in a kind of social and economic slavery that make him,
and other black boys like him, particularly vulnerable to the
sexual advances and economic exploitation by white men like
myself. Just as James's "better angels" tell him to free his
slaves, my more idealistic/progressive/compassionate self wants
to combat things like poverty and racism, to totally dismantle
the economic and political systems that create and perpetuate the
chasm between rich and poor, white and black in this country. 

But James can't bring himself to free his slaves because he knows
that doing so would mean the surrender of his sexual power over
the beautiful black bodies on his plantation. In the same way, I
have a vested erotic interest in preserving the status quo that
gives white men like me enormous social, economic, and political
power, while keeping black boys like Kevin locked in a cycle of
ignorance and economic desperation. I know that in a utopian
society where all things are equal, a black boy like Kevin would
almost certainly never give an older white guy like myself the
time of day. 

But how could I explain all of this to Kevin? All I could do was
suggest that maybe we try out the "domination thing" another
time, but today I just wasn't in the mood. I simply wanted to
enjoy a quiet, laid-back time with him. He smiled and seemed to
understand exactly what I was trying to say. 

And what followed turned out to be the most sensual, erotic,
intimate encounter I've ever had with Kevin. 

Kevin was the most tender, affectionate, and uninhibited I've
ever seen him (I'm sure the large amount of vodka he was drinking
helped out with that), and my own mixture of lust, compassion,
guilt, and love infused the encounter with a palpable emotional
charge. 

We kissed for what seemed like hours. Even with guys I've been
involved with romantically, I don't think I've ever experienced
kissing as intense and passionate as that afternoon. It was like
we were expressing all the things we wanted to say to one
another, but knew had to stay unspoken, through our lips and
tongues instead of uttered words. 

Kevin voluntarily darted his tongue around the inside of my
mouth, sensually exploring my teeth and lips and gums. He nestled
his face against my neck, tickling my skin with the warmth of his
breath as he sucked on my Adam's apple and nibbled on my ears. 

For the first time in all our encounters, Kevin seemed just as
breathless and aroused from our intimacy as I was. Instead of the
robotic dutifulness of previous sessions, there was an eagerness,
a kind of sincere affection in his touch, in the way his body
grinded sensually against mine as we kissed. 

Kevin sucked almost greedily on my nipples, and slowly kissed his
way down my chest and stomach. Then he moved back up and put his
face close to mine. 

"What should we do now?" he asked with a boyish, enthusiastic
grin. Thinking back on it, I think that was his way of telling me
he was ready (maybe even EAGER?) to suck my dick. 

I lay on my back and Kevin kneeled between my legs, leaning to
take my throbbing red dick into his mouth. 

Now Kevin's not an expert cocksucker by any stretch of the
imagination, but in a way his reluctance and clumsiness makes the
experience all the more exciting for me. His preferred method is
always to circle the bulk of my cock with his fist and then bob
crazily up and down on the top two or three inches. He looks so
cute in that position, his eyes squeezed shut while slurping
speedily on my dick like a rooster pecking at seeds. 

When the heat and suction of his sexy thick lips grew almost
unbearably intense, I ordered him to lick up and down the length
of my dick, or slurp on my hairy balls. There's no hotter sight
than that of a masculine black boy's lips wrapped around a
rock-hard Caucasian cock. 

Making the image even sexier was the fact that Kevin's hair,
usually done up in neat little dreds, sprouted out in a wild
mini-Afro (he planned on getting it styled later that day). It
even had a few specks of dirt and leaves in it, making it look
like the hair of a dirty disheveled slave-boy, much like I've
imagined Elijah or Jacob's hair to look in my "Stampley" series
(<a
href="http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/historical/adventures-o
f-stampley-plantation/">http://nifty.nisusnet.com/nifty/gay/histo
rical/adventures-of-stampley-plantation/</a>). 

But unlike a lot of other black boys I've been with, Kevin's hair
wasn't crispy or kinky or greasy in any way. In fact, it was the
softest, cleanest, sexiest black-boy hair I've ever touched. I
can't even begin to describe the pleasure it gave me to sink my
fingers into the thick, tiny curls of Kevin's Afro as he slurped
away on my cock, grabbing handfuls of its clean, wooly softness
and inhaling its intoxicating Negro aroma. 

As good as it felt to plunge my cock in and out of Kevin's warm,
spit-slick mouth, I couldn't wait for my favorite part: feasting
on his tight, sweaty, strict-top asshole. 

Eager to taste the most private and protected part of my cocky
thug's body, I rolled Kevin onto his stomach and dove my face
between the smooth muscular hills of his buttocks (check out my
Google group's home-page for a confirmation of their irresistible
perfection!). 

My tongue poked hungrily against his tiny clenched asshole,
lapping across the nappy dark curls surrounding it. I licked and
sucked and nibbled every fold and contour of the wrinkled little
circle, smiling with pleasure as it tightened defensively against
my tongue's intrusive probing. 

My fellow thug-lovers know that there's nothing in the world like
the smell and taste of a masculine black boy's sweaty asshole.
It's almost impossible to describe: sharp but sweet at the same
time, sweaty but somehow clean, musky but not funky, and
absolutely, hopelessly addicting. 

I devoured Kevin's flawless asshole for what felt like hours.
Adding a new erotic twist to the experience was the fact that
mirrors covered the closet doors to the side of the bed, which
meant that Kevin could turn his head and watch as I buried my
face in his firm round booty. We both got a good laugh out of it
at first, because the sight of my skinny white face diving
between his butt-cheeks was quite comical. But it was also sort
of arousing, like watching ourselves in a porn-video. 

I marveled out loud at how flawless his ass was. He shrugged with
dismissive modesty, and said he'd always thought his ass was
flat. I laughed in protest, and directed him to look at the
reflection of his left buttock's perfect semi-circle in the
mirror.

As soon as I'd thoroughly soaked Kevin's asshole in my saliva, I
pushed my index finger against the fiercely clenched circle. Once
Kevin realized what was happening, he immediately turned his face
away from the mirror in frustration and embarrassment. Watching a
white man tongue-worship his ass was one thing; watching the same
white man shove fingers up his shit-hole was apparently another
thing altogether. 

Kevin buried his face in a pillow and tensed against the pain of
my index finger's assault. I swear his asshole gets TIGHTER every
time I'm with him. It strangled the tip of my finger so violently
that I nearly gave up hope of pushing any deeper than my knuckle.
Impatient to feel the strange, silky texture of his fiercely
guarded insides, I forced my finger forward until it finally
slipped all the way in. 

Kevin gasped and his ass-muscles tightened to rise almost two
inches in height. He inhaled sharply and said in a stern but
humorous tone of voice, "You said we ain't doin' the domination
thing, so you best SLOOOOOOOOW the fuck down!" 

I wiggled my finger excitedly around Kevin's forbidden insides. 

"What kind of pleasure you get out of this?" he winced. 

I chuckled and clumsily attempted to explain about it being a
kind of foreplay, a way of exploring the deepest, most intimate
part of his body. Of course I refrained from adding that it also
had everything to do with the fact that he hated having it done,
that his "strict-top" status made the violation all the more
appealing, that his PAIN was actually a huge part of my PLEASURE.
But how could I ever explain that to him, when I still only
barely understand it myself? 

Fingering Kevin's asshole only tempted me to throw caution and
conscience to the wind and FUCK him, so I stopped abruptly and
moved on to the climactic moment that I'd been craving and Kevin
had been dreading: Dumping my hot sticky load in Kevin's
disgusted mouth. I hadn't jerked off for two or three days, and I
couldn't wait to spew stream after stream of slimy cum into the
back of Kevin's throat. 

Kevin laughed nervously, and said he just wanted to get it over
with. 

"I gotta drink to get ready for this," he insisted, and proceeded
to down a tall glass of straight vodka. 

For a second, I feared he might actually throw up before I had a
chance to stuff his mouth with my dick! But he shook off the
bitter taste of the alcohol, drunkenly collapsed on his back, and
said he preferred for me to fuck his face from above. 

Trembling with anticipation, I kneeled over Kevin's face and slid
my throbbing dick past his saliva-slippery lips. 

The alcohol made his mouth feel warmer, wetter, and more relaxed
than ever before. Gripping the bed's headboard, I bucked my cock
in and out of Kevin's slobbery mouth with wild abandon, just as
if it was ass or pussy. 

Kevin attempted to soften the assault by grabbing the base of my
dick with his fist, but I pushed his hands aside and plunged deep
into the back of his throat. 

Kevin gagged and sputtered, but my rapidly pumping shaft impaled
his head against the pillow. I buried my cock so deep that my
pubic hair pressed against his nose. 

I looked down in a frenzy of lust and power, watching eagerly as
my blotchy-red cock brutally pummeled Kevin's face. Occasionally
I shifted position just enough so I could see my dick stab
against the insides of his cheeks.  I savored the sight of his
eyes shut tightly, his face bunched up in a kind of willful
endurance, and couldn't believe this beautiful cocky thug was in
complete submission to the demands of my white dick. 

The psychological thrill and physical pleasure of the moment soon
overpowered me, and I knew I couldn't hold off any longer. "I'm
about to nut," I exclaimed breathlessly. 

As soon as I felt the first load of cum explode inside Kevin's
mouth, I grabbed the back of his head and buried my cock in the
depths of his throat. 

The instant he felt my hot cum flooding his mouth, Kevin grunted
with a desperate panic and disgust I'd never heard from him
before. I barely had a chance to shoot a second and third stream
of cum in his mouth before he yanked his head violently off my
dick and moved quickly to spit out my "nut." 

He stopped himself, though, and grunted up at me with a desperate
begging expression as he opened his mouth to show the puddle of
steamy cum swishing around his teeth and tongue. 

I couldn't help but laugh. Even in the midst of his extreme
disgust, Kevin was thinking about the money. As badly as he
wanted to spit out my cum, he didn't dare do so before making
sure I was satisfied enough to pay him for the service. 

I smiled sympathetically and nodded for him to spit in the empty
glass from which he'd guzzled the vodka several minutes earlier.
For the next five minutes, I laughed and teased him as he spat
into the glass over and over again with melodramatic disgust. 

To my great relief, Kevin took the whole ordeal with a sense of
humor, laughing at himself even as he complained about how
"nasty" what he'd just done was. 

Kevin is usually quick to pull away from me when the sex is over,
rushing to the shower or throwing on his clothes. But on this
particular occasion, he remained in bed with me for a good ten or
fifteen minutes, stroking my hair and kissing me and laughing
about what we'd just experienced. In a way, he reminded me of a
giddy, slaphappy little boy. I'm sure this was largely because he
was sloppy-drunk by that point, but it was still funny and
thrilling to experience. If it's true what they say about alcohol
exposing a person's true feelings, then I can happily conclude
that Kevin cares about me in a way that goes well beyond the
mercenary. 

He even joked that one of these days, he's going to pay ME so
that he can do to me all the things I usually do to him. 

"I'm going to fuck you," he slurred in a silly voice. "And you're
going to suck MY dick, and I'm going to nut in YOUR mouth!"

I just laughed and mumbled something stupid and sentimental about
how much I'll miss our encounters if and when they stop. "Not
only are you hot as hell," I explained, "but you're a cool person
too." 

Kevin smiled warmly, and kissed me on the lips. "You is too," he
replied. "You is too." 

*****************************************************************
*****
 
Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would love to hear
advice on how my writing might improve, scenes or themes you
particularly enjoy, stories and fantasies of your own, and
anything else you might want to share. E-mail me at <a
href="mailto:WannabeWhitman07@yahoo.com">WannabeWhitman07@yahoo.c
om</a>. 

If you share my obsession with the beauty and sexuality of black
males, check out my Google group! Explore your TABOO erotic
fantasies about black males: slavery, domination/submission,
economic bribery, prison scenes, youth themes, gangbangs, and
more. Discuss your forbidden fantasies, share photos, and post
erotic stories. Join me in looking at interracial desire in a way
that most are too timid to talk about!  This is NOT your average
interracial group. Stay away if easily offended! 

<a
href="http://groups.google.com/group/black-boy-addiction/">http:/
/groups.google.com/group/black-boy-addiction/</a>

 




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