Black Boyz

This is a work of erotic fiction.  It is not to be read by minors.  It includes sexuality involving teenagers and older men. If this type of erotic fiction disturbs you, or if you find that you may be unduly influenced by it, please search for something else to read for your personal erotic fictional entertainment. 

All publishing and reproduction rights are reserved by the author of this story.

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It was not an unpleasant problem to have, but it was a problem nonetheless. Bob found that spending an hour or two in the late afternoon, unwinding at a table outside of a neighborhood coffee shop, never gave him the uninterrupted quiet time he needed to work on his accounting ledgers before wrapping up the day and going home. There were too many distractions – too many teenage boys getting off from school, strutting around with their shirts off in the late summer heat at the end of August, unintentionally parading their smooth, lean youthful bodies in front of all casual observers.

Some of them zipped by on skateboards. Some whipped down the streets on bicycles. Others fitfully roughhoused, inadvertently tugging at each other’s shirts and trousers – exposing hairless abs and a generous portion of smooth young buttocks, much to the enjoyment of aroused teenage girls who were always standing nearby.

But the girls were not the only ones who appreciated masculine beauty at its teen stage of development; Bob found himself aroused, sporting a throbbing woody that was visible beneath his khaki trousers, as boys from high school partially disrobed one another in front of him on the sidewalk. Young and energetic, they liked it rough. Tenderness was for sissies and babies.

Bob always suspected that had it not been for the fact that the boys were obsessed with their heterosexual identity they would have raped each other right there on the spot.

One of Bob’s favorites was a black boy who rode by after school on his bicycle. The boy, usually alone, secured his bike to the pole of a parking meter before going into the coffee shop to order a strawberry smoothie. Bob watched as the boy’s luscious red lips were slowly coated with the strawberry cream as he slurped the smoothie down. 

When he was finally ready to leave, the boy rolled his right pant leg up above the calf so that his denim trousers wouldn’t get caught in the chain rings of his bike. Bob was aroused by the hair on the boy’s calves. It seemed to hint at the thick bush of pubic hair the boy must be sporting in his trousers, under his boxer shorts. 

Surely the boy must have a fairly developed sexual drive, judging from all of the testosterone pumping through his body. It was obvious from the defined muscle tone in the lad’s arms when he grabbed the handlebars. The kid was all-male and Bob figured that his raging hormones must be driving the boy crazy at night.

The contrast between the boy’s smooth brown face, chest, arms and torso, and the hairiness of his calves fascinated Bob. The kid was no doubt man enough to have a big black cock, yet too boyish to be subtle about it.

The kid acted innocently enough. He acted as though his mind was filled with pure and wholesome of thoughts, but as far as Bob was concerned the kid wasn’t fooling anyone. He was a typical horny teenager, with a horny teenager’s thoughts and needs. 

Bob could see it. It was obvious. 

It showed in the frequent, spontaneous bulges the kid would get in his pants – sometimes triggered by a passing girl, sometimes for no apparent reason. Judging by the size of his bulge, the boy had nothing to be ashamed of when he showered with the other teenagers in the locker room at school. When the kid’s spontaneous erections occurred, which was quite frequent, Bob just shook his head, “You can’t stop a boy from being a boy.”

He could well imagine that when the kid was alone in bed at night he wanted to fuck everything in sight. He probably got plenty of practice fucking his mattress and his pillow. There were no doubt yellow cum stains all over the boy’s bed sheets. His mother was probably frustrated always having to bleach his linens to try to keep them white. She was fighting a losing battle. She would never be able to keep up with a horny teenager’s sexual drives.

Bob thought about what an uncontrollable humping fuck beast the boy must be, especially after a long workout on the basketball court, which got the boy’s blood and testosterone really stirred up. Bob could only imagine the sexual frustration that the boy must constantly be subjected to as a result of the demands of his thick black cock. He allowed his imagination to take over as he fantasized about getting inside of the teenager’s pants. 

Imagination turned to strategy when he saw the boy sneak off one day with a group of other boys to a back alley that was known to be a hangout for kids who smoked pot. Pot costs money, Bob reasoned, and teenagers are always short of cash. Maybe he could find a way so that he and the kid could help each other.

The kid came back from the alley red-eyed, with a goofy grin on his face. He sat down at the table next to Bob, spreading his legs and playing with the yellow band on his wrist.  Bob looked over at the boy, “So, you like smoking trees?”

The boy shot the older man an alarmed and defensive glance.

“No need to be alarmed,” the man reassured him, “I did the same thing when I was your age.”

The boy turned his head dismissively, “Man, I can’t believe you were EVER my age.”

“Well, I was once,” the man said, pretending not to take offense at the insult, “and I know a lot more about you than you might think. In fact, I probably know a lot more about you than you know about yourself.”

The boy looked impatient and resumed playing with his yellow wrist band, “Is that right?”

Bob sat back in his chair and reeled off the obvious, “Your parents are a pain in the ass and they don’t understand you; the ones who really know how you feel are your friends, and even with them you sometimes feel like an outsider; when you get high – back there in the ally – you feel like you can understand the whole crazy, mixed-up and confused world ….”

Bob paused for effect. The kid waited; his mouth hanging slightly open in amazement at the perceptiveness of this “old guy.”

The older man continued, “And sometimes your dick gets so hard, and you get so horny, that you think it will kill you.”

The boy seemed to be blushing. He quickly turned away in embarrassment. 

He grabbed his crotch and pumped his legs back and forth. “Well, you almost right,” he said defensively, “‘cept I don’t have to get horny ‘cause I got bitches to take care of my dick when I need to.”

“No you don’t,” Bob shot back, not taking any bullshit bravado from the kid, “You spend most nights stroking that monster cock of yours alone in bed – and what you don’t take care of at night, you finish off in the toilet stalls of public restrooms, when nobody else is around, and the urge is so powerful that you can’t wait to get home to take care of it.”

It was a good guess. 

An expression of guilt flashed across the boy’s face, quickly followed by angry defensiveness, 

“What, is you some kinda faggot pervert? You stalkin’ me? You all into my business…”

Then, as if the kid realized what he was admitting, he quickly added, “Man, I don’t do none of that shit. I aint no fuckin’ pervert freak like you.”

Bob didn’t let up, he laid it on thick, “Sure you do. The walls of the stalls of men’s rooms all over this neighborhood are probably splattered with stains that are souvenirs of your horny teenage jack-off sessions.”

The black teen was now tightly clutching his crotch, absent mindedly, while pumping his legs rapidly, giving the white man an angry face. 

“Get the fuck away from me you fuckin’ faggot pervert; just stay the fuck away from me,” yet the boy made no effort to get away from the man himself, and he continued to pump his legs like a Texas oil drill.

“No need to get angry,” Bob reassured the boy, “I think we can help each other.”

The boy gave the older man a sour look but before he could say anything Bob pressed ahead with his proposition, “I can pay you the money you need so you can go on smoking trees …”

The boy froze. He stared at the older man, his mouth hanging open. Bob knew he had the lad’s attention.

“…and in exchange,” Bob continued, “you will allow me to taste that black teenage cock of yours.”

Bob sat back and picked up a newspaper, allowing his proposition to sink in.

The boy held onto his crotch and pumped his legs again while his mind seemed to drift off to some distant place. 

Bob studied the lad from the corner of his eyes, trying to read what the boy was thinking.

When the boy seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to respond the older man laid down his newspaper. He turned to face the boy directly, thinking that he better spell out the terms for him, “Look, you’re a horny teenage bastard and, to you, I may seem like a dirty old man. I have money; you don’t. For $50 I can discreetly take care of your, uh, condition and you can earn extra cash to go on burning weeds … do we have a deal?”

The boy seemed to mull over Bob’s offer.

Bob added, as a teaser, “I can make that black cock of yours feel good. None of your inexperienced little girl school chums can do what I can do for you. 

“Ever imagine what it would be like to have a pair of warm, moist lips sucking on your big black cock? Most boys your age say it feels better than fucking pussy.

“And if you close your eyes it won’t matter to you whether it’s done by a boy or a girl … or even a dirty old man. All you’ll feel is the sucking, you’ll feel my lips and tongue moving up and down the length of the stiff, hard black shaft between your legs … and nobody has to know anything about it, it will just be between you and me – and you’ll get paid for letting me do it….”

The man sat back again and picked up his newspaper, as if he rested his case and was waiting for a verdict from the jury. Once again he studied the boy out of the corner of his eyes.

The boy’s hand was no longer simply clutching his crotch, it was subtly rubbing and grabbing what was obviously a thickening tube of flesh between his wobbling knees. 

Bob suspected that the feeling was a familiar one for the boy, the torment of all teenage males. The boy’s cock no doubt got hard in public at the most inconvenient times and he’d have to find a way to hide his state of arousal until he could go somewhere to take care of it.

Bob watched the boy’s growing discomfort with amused satisfaction. 

He watched the black lad wiggle in his chair, surreptitiously stroking his cock through his pants. He watched the boy’s futile efforts to conceal his aroused condition from the man, using his hand to shield the tent in his pants which slowly grew too large for cover.

The boy tried to maintain his composure, but the fact that he was biting his lip in frustration gave him away.

Now the older man openly mocked him, “Come on you horny little bastard, you nasty teenage slut, you want to make some money and get that cock of yours taken care of at the same time?”

Bob stood up and walked toward the door of the coffee shop, “I’ll be in the middle restroom with the door locked. 

Knock three times and I’ll let you in. Otherwise you can go find someplace to jerk off alone, as you usually do, and live with the fact that you’re fifty dollars poorer than you would have been if you had had some smarts.”

Bob opened the door of the coffee shop with a flourish and dramatically left the boy outside, wobbling his knees, holding his crotch, biting on his lip and trying to figure out what he should do next.

Bob went into the middle restroom, locked the door and waited. 

It suddenly occurred to him, what if the black boy decided not to take him up on his generous offer? What if the kid got on his bike and rode home or went off with some buddies? How long should Bob wait in the restroom before he could assume that the boy just wasn’t coming?

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long to resolve these questions. He heard a timid knock on the door, followed by another and then another. He opened the door and the black teenager was standing there, head lowered, and eyes cast down at the floor.

As an impish impulse Bob was tempted to slam the door in the boy’s face and say, “Sorry, sir. You can’t come in here. This restroom is occupied.” He resisted this temptation because he could see that the boy was nervous and probably wouldn’t realize it was just a joke.

“C-can I come in?” the youth asked softly.

Bob moved away from the entrance and gestured for the boy to come in, “Be my guest. Come right in.”

The boy darted into the room as if he were afraid of being seen by other people in the coffee shop. 

Bob locked the door as the lad looked around the room. Bob moved in on him, almost pressing his body up against the boy. He caressed the boy’s shoulders and gently rubbed his back. The boy felt firm and muscular underneath Bob’s hands.

Bob held his face close to the boy, who instinctively jerked his face away, but must have realized that there weren’t too many places to escape to  in this small room, and besides, this was probably part of what the man was paying for.

The kid cooperated as Bob brought his face closer a second time and brushed his nose against the boy’s smooth brown cheek. Bob breathed in the boy’s scent, which seemed to have an earthy sweetness to it. The earthiness was certainly the smell of the boy’s body, but the sweetness…? Was it body lotion, or deodorant…? Bob couldn’t be sure, but it seemed light, pleasant and natural, not artificial and overwhelming.

Bob savored the smell of the boy.

Once again he caressed the boy’s firm body. There was no doubt that the lad was healthy and fit. Bob ran his hands up and down the boy’s torso and reached under the lad’s shirt to feel his warm, smooth, silky brown skin.

The boy quivered.

Bob unfastened the boy’s low-sagging trousers and let them bunch around his knees. 

The boy was sporting a hard-on that made an embarrassingly noticeable tent in his powder blue boxer shorts.

Bob tugged at the boy’s boxers, fully exposing the lad’s thick, ashy, brown cock. It sprung up and down like a mahogany diving board.

Bob looked at the boy’s face and could tell that, despite his dark skin tone, the boy was blushing. 

Bob sank to one knee so that his face was level with the boy’s big throbbing cock. A wet pearl of precum graced the youth’s cockhead. The musty unwashed smell of the lad’s pubes wafted into the man’s face, arousing him further. 

Bob unzipped himself and stroked his cock as he breathed in the manly scent of the horny black teenager.

The boy’s cock head seemed to float in air, provocatively, almost angrily, in front of Bob – threatening to impale him – daring him to try to dodge its menacing thrust.

Bob took a swipe at the bobbing black cock head with his tongue, tasting the light, gentle sweetness of the boy’s precum. 

The throbbing cock bobbed up and down.

Bob took another swipe at the enticing brown object. Again he tasted earthy sweetness as the throbbing brown object bobbed.

He repeated the action again and again, playfully licking the underside of the cockhead – taking long, wet swipes at the boy’s throbbing shaft – licking the piss slit and cleaning it of its light lubricating precum, yet never quite enveloping the whole dark organ in his mouth.

Bob had no idea what effect he was having on the kid – he was completely oblivious. The only thing that mattered for him at that moment was the dancing cockhead that bobbed tantalizingly in front of him like a piece of chocolate candy on a string at a Halloween party. 

Bob was completely lost in his playful game of taking swipes at the bobbing cockhead, without actually sucking on the boy’s cock.

But the kid was not oblivious. He looked increasingly frustrated and impatient. 

The boy bit his lower lip and glared aggressively at the man who was down on his knees unwittingly tormenting him. The kid moved his arms and hands in a jerky, halting motion, as if he wanted to grab the man’s head, but was afraid of what might happen if he dared do it. 

He seemed torn between forcing Bob to suck his cock, which would show that he was enjoying what was happening to him, and pretending to be indifferent and aloof so that he could preserve his heterosexual pride and self-image.

The boy gritted his teeth and gave into the more powerful of these two urges. 

He jerked his hands forward and clutched both sides of the man’s head and shoved his cock down the startled man’s throat. 

He humped violently in the man’s mouth. 

Bob was unprepared for this response from the shy black teenager. He gagged as the boy’s cockhead hit the back of his throat repeatedly in a violent but rhythmic motion. It wasn’t until Bob realized what was happening that he was able to relax enough to stop choking. Still, Bob found himself gasping desperately for breath as the throbbing black organ completely covered his tongue.

A thought flashed across his mind, what would his colleagues would think of him if they could see him now, a respectable middle class professional, a white man, down on his knees with a teenager’s thick, black cock stuffed inside his mouth, making him gasp for air?

The boy pressed on Bob’s head. Bob’s face was pushed against the boy’s peppercorn-like pubic hair. He didn’t resist, he just breathed in the musty teenage jock smell, which aroused him like an aromatic aphrodisiac.

Bob was startled by the fleshy taste of the boy’s cock. He thought it had the flavor of boyish ruggedness, an outdoorsy taste. It did not taste of gentle, scented, pampering. 

This was a raw, unadorned fuck tool. The boy tasted wholesome, organic, and natural. There was a sexual urgency to his flavor, as if the boy had no time to waste coating his cock with lotion. The boy was too much in a rush for that, eager to impale something with this throbbing member that demanded immediate attention. 

And so the boy’s cock impaled Bob, thrusting and pumping furiously in the man’s mouth to relieve the lad’s impulsive sexual need. 

Precum from the boy’s cock now flowed more freely. Its pungent slightly salty protein flavor mixed with Bob’s salvia and coated the man’s mouth. 

The boy’s grip on Bob’s head was tight and his cock thrusts in the man’s mouth were unrelenting. 

Bob almost felt that he could imagine what it would be like to be a teenage girl on a date with this boy, and envisioned that his mouth was the girl’s pussy. Bob almost felt sorry for this imaginary girl, as the boy thoughtlessly, mercilessly ravaged her virgin body with the thrusts of his big, hard fuck tool – completely absorbed in his own pleasure, giving no thought for the pleasure of the girl, like most male teenagers. 

At this moment, in the boy’s mind, the whole world swirled around him – there was no one else in the room as far as he was concerned – the only thing that mattered was the tension and the intense pleasure of his cock, and his need to relieve this tension by dumping his cum down the older man’s throat – a man who, as far as the teen was concerned – didn’t really matter and wasn’t even there, save for being the warm, wet, fleshy oral receptacle he was using to get off.

The kid’s hands clamped Bob’s head, not allowing him to move or pull away. Bob felt as though he was being raped. Indeed, the boy, who was now completely under the spell of his animal passions, was raping the older man’s mouth for his self-absorbed teenage pleasure. If the older man could see beyond the hairs on the boy’s abdomen, forming a “happy trail,” he would see that the youth’s eyes had rolled up in his head as he lost himself in erotic frenzy.

Bob had no doubt that if he wanted the boy to stop, his pleas would go unheard. And if, by chance, the boy managed to hear the man’s pleas they would go unheeded. For the moment the boy was transformed. He was no longer Bob’s teenage trick for the afternoon, getting paid so that he could buy some dope, he was a boy in bodily need – and he was not going to let Bob get away until those needs had been fulfilled.

Bob resigned himself to his fate and slurped on the boy’s masculine member. He tried to relax enough to enjoy being raped. Isn’t this what he had been dreaming about, after all? Wasn’t this the experience he had been longing for? There was edginess and excitement to this impassioned experience that had spun out of the man’s control.

The teenage boy wailed in the older man’s mouth while Bob savored the sensation of frenzied teenage cock thrusts down his throat and his own powerlessness to stop the boy’s thrusts.

How much closer, how much more intimate can you get with a boy than this? What could be more intimate than sharing a boy’s private sexual frustrations, feeling the boy build toward a climax in your mouth – and feeling the boy erupt in an orgasm when he finally releases his cum down your throat? 

If Bob had been longing to get close and intimate with this teenager, well, it just couldn’t get any closer or more intimate.

So, Bob went with the flow. He allowed himself to be used as if he were of no more regard than a plastic fuck doll for the boy to work out his teen passions. He resigned himself to the fact that he was simply there to be used. If the boy got off in his mouth he will have served his purpose. Bob saw himself as being reduced to living for the sole purpose of serving this black kid’s sexual needs and frustrations.

The teenager stood on the balls of his feet, hunched over and arching his back like a dog in heat while he grabbed the older man by the ears and fucked his mouth. 

Had a woman been there to observe the scene she could not possibly have appreciated the type of male bonding that took place at that moment. This was raw masculine interaction. It was the reverse of what was usually expected, as older men in ancient Greece would bugger younger boys in order to usher them into manhood. This time it was a younger male, full of sexual potency and raw energy, who was about to dump his seed in an older man’s mouth, giving the older man his youthful power, allowing the man to drink from the fountain of youth.

The black boy whispered nastily, “Suck that dick, bytch,” something he must have learned by watching porno flicks or listening to hip hop. Bob didn’t like being called a bitch, but he couldn’t help feeling aroused by the teenager’s order. His mouth tightened around the boy’s cock, driving the kid into orgasmic spasms.

The teen’s cock throbbed in Bob’s mouth; his body jerked as he pumped thick, warm loads of cum down the older man’s throat. Waves of heavy boy juice flowed like gushing oil from the teenager’s cock head. Pungent ropes warm, white gravy flooded the older man’s mouth, choking him as he struggled to swallow it all at once. Bob was surprised; he never realized how much semen a teenage boy’s body was capable of producing. Now this semen was a part of him.

When both Bob and the boy paused, and were finally able to catch their breath, Bob’s mouth was coated with cum. The white syrupy liquid trickled out of the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. It was fresh boy cum, and Bob savored it. It had a smell and taste that hinted of raw oysters or bleach. 

The boy came out of his trance and avoided eye contact with Bob. He looked embarrassed and ashamed as he quickly re-did his trousers and turned to leave.

“You don’t want your $50?” Bob asked, holding two twenties and two fives in his hand.

The boy looked startled. Apparently he had forgotten that this was all for pay. He turned and snatched the bills from the older man’s hand and mumbled “Thanks.”

Bob tried to repress a smile, “Anytime.”

The boy turned to leave. When he was half way out of the door he turned around one final time to face the man, “You think we can do this again? I’m only askin’ cause I’m kinda low on cash…”

Bob give the boy a knowing grin, “Right, because you’re low on cash. Don’t worry about it. I’m always glad to help a cash-strapped boy, especially when his horny teenage cock won’t give him any rest.”

The teenager left; clearly embarrassed that he hadn’t convinced the man and had comprised his straight identity.

Bob lingered in the rest room, enjoying the taste of the teen that was still in his mouth. “These straight boys don’t know what they want while they are still young and cute,” he said to himself, “and by the time they figure out that it doesn’t matter whether they’re fucking a faggot’s mouth or a woman’s pussy they are older, and are as ugly as sin.”

He thought about this awhile, still savoring the flavor of the boy, and then he washed up so that he would look presentable to the public.









