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This is a work of fiction. My experiences and likes influence all my writing, so there might be a nugget or two of truth somewhere within, but don't worry, it's carefully hidden... Any similarity with actual people or places is entirely coincidental.
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This story involves interracial sex between adult men. There is lot of crude stereotyping, role play, nasty and demeaning language and other things that might be called kinky or just plain ignorant. If any of this offends you, please leave now.
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If you are underage or if reading this is illegal where you are for any reason, please leave now.
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Lunch was filling. Satisfying, but in a surprising way.
We walked about six blocks and ended up in this seedy combination hotdog shop and convenience store. It smelled good when we walked in, but the place looked like they sold more lottery tickets than food.
There was one guy behind the counter. Darryl never spoke to him but nodded his head as he strode nonchalantly to the back of the place. He stopped behind the counter, grabbed a beer from the cooler, nodded for me to follow him and walked through the swinging door and in to the kitchen.
I followed him in to the little kitchen. And I do mean little. There was one Asian-looking cook back there who was playing with his phone. He never even looked at us as we crowded in that narrow galley. It smelled like a kitchen, but there was nothing cooking.
Darryl walked past the cook without giving him a look, took out some keys and unlocked a small door on the far wall. He ducked his head, walked in, turned to look my way and stood aside. I guess that was our next destination. I was really getting a tour.
I entered a large, messy store room. There was a a beat-up desk, three or four wooden chairs and the world's oldest sofa. The room was roughly split in half by the furniture. The sofa divided what looked like an office section from the storage area on the other side filled with shelves and boxes.
The bundles of cash stacked neatly on the desk caught my attention. I knew that cash wasn't from selling hotdogs.
The room was brightly lit by overhead fluorescent lights. The smell of stale smoke hung in the air. This would not have been the health department's idea of a good place for food storage.
Darryl looked at home. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. He pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing not only a black wifebeater t-shirt, but bulging arms and a full chest. Dude was built, like I said. He tossed the sweatshirt on to the couch, near where I was standing. I looked at him and he returned the favor.
I was getting ready to ask about lunch when he slowly walked towards the door. I guess we were going to eat back here. It was certainly private, if nothing else.
Then it went dark. Someone had hit the lights. I was about to say something when I heard the door latch locking. I could tell Darryl had turned the deadbolt. He had locked the door.
I was starting to get my bearings. There was a drink cooler in the far corner behind the rows of shelves. The bluish light coming from the glass doors of that cooler was the only light in this room. It cast shadows long shadows, making this messy room now look creepy as hell.
I reached out and placed a hand on the sofa nearby. I was trying to remember where all the furniture was, but in the shadows it was hard to be sure. Even with my eyes adjusting the effect was disorienting.
"Hey," I called out.
"Hey," was the response Darryl shot back.
"What the hell," I asked trying to sound like it was a joke. I was trying to stay positive.
I heard him walking towards me.
"Man I can't see shit. Turn the lights back on." I heard him getting closer, slowly but steadily.
"What chu tryna see?" he asked.
"Shit, at this point anything would be good." I was trying to keep it light, but I felt fear in my stomach. This didn't feel funny at all.
As he got closer, I instinctively backed away. I didn't think him walking up on me at this point was a good idea.
He either could see better than me, or he anticipated my move. I got a couple of feet away and felt him grabbing my arm.
I froze. He gripped my arm and got closer. I felt him right next to me. I could hardly see a thing, but I could see his form.
I was trembling. I had no idea what to expect. I thought I might yell for help, but I doubted the oblivious cook or Darryl's friend up front would help me. I was locked in here now. In a dark room. And he kept up his grip on my arm.
I half expected a punch in the face, or a knee in the nuts. My stomach sank.
He let go of my arm. For a second I was puzzled. What was next?
"Drop ya pants," he said.
"Huh?" I asked. What did he say?
"Drop ya pants."
Oh shit. My mind was firing on all cylinders now. I knew where this was going, but I still wasn't comfortable. Not by a long shot.
Instinct and fear were still in charge. I started to back away. I could feel the sofa next to me, and I pressed against it with my leg to make sure I didn't fall. I thought he might be following me and I started moving a bit faster. I didn't get far.
I made it around the back of the sofa and I felt him press against me with his body. My ass was pressed against the back of the sofa and he was pressing me forward with his body weight.
I could have pushed him off. He wasn't holding me. I could have run. I might have tripped over shit. It would be messy, but I could get away. The heat from his body was warming me up.
I felt him press forward a little more, leaning towards me.
"Drop ya pants. And bend over da couch."
"Hey, look..."
I felt his hand around my throat from the front. Not squeezing, not hurting. He just gripped my throat slightly.
"Man, no. Look..."
He backed off me but kept his hand around my throat. Without applying any more pressure, he lifted his hand upward, pressing my head up, stretching me out. He was manipulating me with his hand. Pushing me against the sofa and up on the tips of my feet.
"Don't make me tell ya ass again. Drop em and bend da fuck ova."
He gave my throat a little squeeze. Just enough to put an exclamation point on his instructions.
I felt my dick getting hard. It was hard to swallow with his hand around my throat. I was suddenly hot all over.
He released my throat. I felt his hands on both my arms. He moved forward but then I felt him back away. Now his hands on each of my arms was our only connection. He was just giving me room to move.
I felt pressure as he used his hands to turn me around. I cooperated. I was sluggish and my steps were unsteady. I was being manhandled, albeit gently, by a man in a dark room, pressed up against the back of a couch with my pants around my ankles. It wasn't an easy maneuver.
And now my back was too him. I could see the hazy, shadowy room in front of me. It looked so anonymous. So dingy. The darkness made the fact I couldn't see him behind me even more alarming. He kept his hands on my arms. I'm sure he could feel me shaking.
He took his hands off my arms, but immediately reached forward and gripped my throat from behind. Again, he didn't grip hard. He was just holding me in place. His hand on my throat was his sign of power.
He leaned forward, pressing the length of his body against me and forcing my lower body against the back of the sofa. I could tell it was coming.
"Ya know Imma hit." He was speaking plainly.
"And ya know ya gonna like it. So ease up."
He took his hands off me and I could feel some space open up between us. I straightened up, knowing my fate. He had told me, clearly. And I was hot for him now. No point in denying it. Not that it mattered to him. But he knew about me. All he had to do was set the scene. I was an easy score.
"Let's go." It was an order. Time to act.
I unfastened my belt and pants and let them slide down to my ankles. I stood for a moment, contemplating my situation. There was no turning back now. I slid my boxers down to my ankles. My dick was standing straight out, hard as hell and steaming, but I felt the cool air on my bare ass. I savored that coolness, knowing it wouldn't last.
I felt an open hand pressing between my shoulder blades. He gave me a little push forward. I followed his lead and bent forward on my own. My dick was rubbing against the back of the couch and my belly rested on the top. I was wide open. And waiting.
I could hear the sounds of his belt buckle clinking and the unzipping of his pants. I heard the rush of rumpled fabric as his pants crumpled below him.
I started clinching and relaxing my hole. I knew what was coming. I was trying to prepare. It seemed like it took forever.
I felt the hot tip of his dick sliding up and down my crack. In the cool air his dickhead was hot like fire. He started jacking his dick between my crack. Stiffening himself up with a fucking motion. Letting friction work it's magic.
I couldn't help myself, and let out a little moan. There's something about that moment it first touches you. You know what's coming, literally. It's a tingle, and a shock and a caress, all rolled up in one. Impossible to ignore.
"Yup," he seemed to sneer, as he grabbed my hips with both hands and started grinding on me with some force.
"Ya fell that?"
Oh hell yeah. "Yeah" was all I could mumble.
I heard him jacking behind me as he pulled his dick away. Preparation.
Moments later I felt something cool and wet dripping down my ass. It wasn't spit - it was too cool. It wasn't lube, it felt too thick. Whatever it was, I was glad he had it. It's not like I had lube in my pocket.
Moments later the tip was rubbing down my crack again. It was slick and warm. The coolness on my ass was gone. It would be awhile before I felt it again.
In a flash of panic, I pulled forward, but there was nowhere to go.
"You got a rubber?" I asked. It was instinct kicking in again. I didn't know this dude for shit.
"Nope" was all he said as the head of his dick breached my hole. I already knew the answer, but I had asked it anyway.
One wet hand was grabbing my hip and a dry one was grabbing the other side. He pushed forward and another inch sank inside me.
I wanted him to wear a condom - UNTIL the moment his dick was inside me. After that the animal in me wanted him bare. If he was going to do this, I wanted to feel him. All of him. And I wanted his nutt.
It was risky. It always was. But it was a thrill. A turn on. Instincts were still in control, but now it was lust, not reason.
He pulled his dick almost all the way out, leaving only the head inside me. He tightened his grip on my hips and gave his warning.
"Hold on."
The next sound I heard was my cry. It was like something tore inside me. He pressed down so hard and so fast and so deep I could literally feel my insides scrambling to adjust.
He left his pole planted there. He had heard my cry, and could feel my harsh breathing. He was either savoring the clamping hot tunnel surrounding his dick, or he was giving me time to get used to him. Either way, I was thankful. That twenty or thirty seconds made all the difference.
Slowly he pulled himself out, again leaving just the tip, and plowed forward again. Then he started his engine. The machine was up and running. It was on.
I could feel him getting a little deeper with each trip, chipping away at the obstruction in his path a bit more with each dive. He was going deeper for maybe a minute, before he finally bottomed out. He held himself there, squirming a little so I felt his dick pushing from side to side and up and down.
The feeling was intense, and a breathless "Fuck..." was all I could muster.
"Dat's what ya needed," he almost said in an almost sing-song voice. I guess that was his bedroom voice. The only time you use it is with someone you fuck. It wouldn't have sounded right in any other context.
He pulled all the way out, tightened his grip at my waist and slammed all the way back in. Hitting bottom again. I swear it felt like he was in the middle of me.
The machine started back up again, and he started pistoning my ass. The pain of his intrusion was already fading. It was replaced, with each pass, as always, by a warmth and fullness and tingle that only a bottom can know. Pain gives way to pleasure, but the pain never quite leaves. It's always there, just to keep you on your toes, just to keep you in reality. When you're getting fucked, you never forget what's happening. The moment you start to fade towards ecstasy, there's always a punch in the gut - a reminder there's a dick invading your body.
"Feel dat?"
"Feel dat big dick in ya ass?"
"Ya like dat, huh?
The questions were always timed with a downstroke, with the last word matching the moment he slammed his dick home.
As usual, I could tell he didn't want me to answer. The questions were rhetorical. He only wanted me to hear.
He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around my chest and pulled me upright, dick never leaving my hole. He slipped arms under mine and reached up and back until he was grabbing my shoulders. From here he had lots of leverage, and he dug up in me with strokes that seemed harder and more intense in my now compacted rear. With me standing, leaning back under his force, he had my insides squeezing his dick. The feeling worked for both of us.
"Imma work fa you," he grunted as he slammed.
"Then you gotta put in some work fa me," came the next grunt.
I barely heard him. My mind was focused on the sensations below. He was just getting started.
"You gonna get me off..."
"Get me dat muthafuckin deal."
I still wasn't registering his meaning. I was concentrating on his dick.
He needed me to pay attention.
He pulled all the way out and left me empty. An awful feeling. I suddenly got weak in the knees.
"You listening to me, bitch?" he sneered.
He slapped me once on the ass, trying to break me out of my daze.
"Huh? Ya listening?"
Another slap on the ass.
I knew it was time to talk.
"Yeah, I'm listening," I spat out, trying to catch my breath.
"Ya want this dick?"
"Yes."
"Ya want this dick in your pussy?" His tone was demanding.
"Yes, please," I called out, louder this time.
His dickhead pressed forward and slipped past my entrance.
I let out a moan and felt that weakness in my knees again. I was ready for him to come back inside. I wanted that fullness. I needed to feel him again.
Instead he pulled it out again, leaving the tip pressed against my opening.
Again I was empty. It was horrible.
"Ya want this dick ya gotta put in some work," he said. "Ya gonna do what it take?
I felt his dickhead pressed against my hole. All I could think about was getting him back in. To call it a moment of weakness is an understatement. I would have said anything at that moment. I let him know.
"Yes, whatever you want," I panted.
"Get me off, man. Do ya magic..."
As he uttered the word "magic" he slid back inside me about halfway. I almost nutted then and there.
"OK" was all I could get out.
"Ya gonna get me off?" he asked, sounding generally curious?
"Yes, I can get you off." I didn't even know what I was saying.
Moments later he hit my spot again. I could feel his wiry pubic hair rubbing against my ass. His middle was pressed against mine. It was like we were connected. Two parts made whole.
He pulled out and slammed back in a couple of times in rapid succession. Without even realizing it, I shot a load of cum on the back of the sofa. I hadn't even touched myself. But his dick was really hitting home.
He felt it. And he pushed me forward with one hand while he grabbed my hips with the other. And then he started wailing on me.
It was harder than before, harder than seemed possible. A jackhammering pace. His dick popped out a couple of times but he slammed it back in without delay. My hole was so wet and open at this point he couldn't have missed the target. And he never did.
"Get me off dis shit, boy."
"Ya don't want this dick goin to jail."
"Ya gonna git me off?"
"Huh?"
He slapped me on the ass hard with each hand and resumed his attack.
"Bitch I said you gonna get me off?" he bellowed, as he brutally dug forward at an angle, pulling at my insides like he was trying to dig a new path.
"Oh SHIT... FUCK" I cried out.
"Yeah, bitch, ya listenin' now, huh?
He dug back in at the opposite angle. He was trying to stretch my tunnel, pushing the envelope. He knew I would feel it. He didn't know it almost sent me over the edge.
"FUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK" I moaned again. I could feel drool dripping down my chin. I was thoroughly fucked. Fucked!
He kept going. His path was straight and true again. It was warm and comfortable, like your bed at home. Like you didn't ever want to leave. I was where I wanted to be.
"Ya want my nutt?
"Ya want me to breed ya, bitch?"
He was spitting out these questions. His voice was getting gruffer. I knew what that meant. It wouldn't be too long now. If he kept going...
"Bitch, I said ya want this cum?"
"Yeah," I cried out.
"Yeah?"
"Fuck yeah, please."
"Say it!"
"Say it, bitch!"
"Say you want dis nutt!"
"Say it!!!" he screamed as he slapped my ass again, then reached forward and grabbed my shoulders.
He started power driving again, using my body as leverage. Pulling me on him as he used all his strength to get even deeper.
I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and there was no voice in my throat. I could hear a sound coming from me, but it wasn't a human sound. It was a constant babbling stream of grunts and moans and yelps. I was beyond understanding. All animal.
I was trying to speak. He kept asking. I wanted to answer. I desperately wanted him to know. But nothing was coming out.
"If ya want this nutt ya gonna have to say it!" He was screaming.
"SAY IT" he insisted, pulling me harder towards him.
"I want it," I slurred out.
"What?" he demanded.
"Nutt" I managed to get out, but stopped there as I felt him tear inside me.
"Huh?" he asked, tightening his grip on me again.
"NUTT" I blurted out as he slammed. "IN" as he hit bottom again. "ME" as I felt his balls slapping mine.
I spat out each word between thrusts.
"OK bitch, Imma give ya what ya want" he grunted, voice low and grumbling.
And with that he leaned back, grabbed my hips and started his final drive.
I don't know how it ended.
I thought I heard him yelling "FUCK" and "TAKE IT" but I couldn't swear to it.
I didn't even feel him cum.
I just knew when it was over.
I was slumped over the back of the couch, covered in sweat, breathing so hard I thought I might pass out. My legs were sore and weak and I knew my belly and waist were going to be bruised from pressing against the furniture. I suspected there were red marks on my ass and hips as well. Fingerprints.
I heard him approaching me again. He tossed some paper towels on my back and the couch in front of me.
"Clean up, ya leakin" he said.
With some difficulty I finally stood up. My muscles were tight. I had been hunched over for too long. I was going to feel this tonight. And my ass. Well I was going to feel that for a while too.
I felt moisture dripping down my leg. I grabbed the paper towels and carefully cleaned myself up as much as I could. I needed a bathroom, but there was none in sight.
There were wet spots on my pants and boxers as I pulled them up. I prayed it was just some cum spots. I didn't have time to go home and change before court this afternoon. I wasn't even sure what time it was, but I felt rushed.
I wanted to rest. I didn't think sitting down was a good idea, but I could use a good long lean against the wall. My breathing was settling down, but I couldn't imagine what I looked like.
I looked up and Darryl was near the door.
"Ya know what you gotta do?" he asked.
I did know.
"Yes. I got you," I replied.
He flipped on the lights, which blinded me like a flash. He opened the door, looked my way and said "Let's roll" as he walked out.
I followed. As I smelled the aromas of the kitchen I remembered I hadn't eaten lunch. I didn't care. I wasn't hungry anymore.