Date: Thu, 14 Aug 2003 20:31:53 -0400
From: Jon Royale <JRoyale@msn.com>
Subject: Big Brutha's Always Watchin'

This story contains graphic descriptions of man to man sexual gratification
and is intended for a mature audience.

copyright 2003 JRoyale


There I was---right up there on the video screen in all my hunky
glory---getting ram-charged up the ass by Mark, the straight and
separated-from-his-wife bread delivery guy at the supermarket where I
worked.  Face down, spread across a bank of shopping carts out on the back
loading dock, my thick, stubby fingers were entwined in the metal of the
uncomfortable carts and holding on for dear life as hot, hung Mark plowed
the living fuck out of me.  Both our pants were down around our ankles.  It
might have been after closing time, but anybody could've come around the
back of the building and caught us up atop the carts rutting like dogs---so
we had to be ready to hop off and haul up our jeans at a moment's notice.
As it turned out, we fucked undisturbed.  Mark was every bit the stud I
figured him to be and I went home with a satisfyingly sore asshole.  How
the fuck was I supposed to know that there were two security cameras out on
the dock recording our sweaty encounter from multiple angles?

My name is Rafe.  Sound macho?  Well, I am.  I'm not one of those sissy
boys, and I don't advertise it, but I like a nice hard cock plugging my
hole every now and again.  Like one plunging down my throat, too.  And I
get off swallowing another dude's hot load fresh out of his ball bag.  But
there is nobody---and I do mean NOBODY---at home or work who would suspect
me of being a cock hound.  Not that I would have denied it; it's just that
nobody ever had reason to ask.  In high school I was your average,
all-around jock type into all varieties of sports.  Shit, I was a shoo-in
for the football, softball and basketball teams all through my academic
years.  I might be a bit short (5'7") but I'm a strong, stocky little
sonofabitch.  If you were to combine a soccer stud, tough linebacker and a
humpy wrestler dude you'd pretty much have me pegged.  Dark, almost black
hair which I keep real short, the top gelled forward to create those trendy
high wispy bangs right near the top of my forehead.  Eyelashes also dark as
coal, they look like I paint 'em on all the way around with that
liner/mascara shit the girls use.  Not me---I don't do none of that sissy
stuff, and wouldn't have to anyways.  Just have a large silver hoop earring
in each lobe---but there's nothin' immasculine about that.  Also got me a
pair of really full lips (kinda like the bruthas) with the lower one more
prominent and forever pouting.  Have one of those charcoal jawlines, too.
No matter how many times a day I shave it always looks like I could use
another.  All the cunts think I'm hot-lookin'---but aloof.  I could
probably get most any twat I wanted; only problem is that I don't want!

What I wanted this past long, hot summer was Mark, although convinced I
would never nail him.  True, he'd been married for years but I know from
past experience that a wedding ring means nothing when the cock is
throbbing from lack of attention.  In actuality, I'd been observing this
dude almost daily for the past two years I'd been working at the market
but, for some inexplicable reason, my attraction to him was only recently
sparked.  He was good looking in an almost rugged type of way: tall, tight
and perpetually tanned, very masculine and decidedly sexy.  In all that
time he'd been delivering and packing out Little Devil Snacks in the market
I probably must have passed by him hundreds of times---but barely spoke a
few words to him.  I've got this useful talent for looking right past, even
through, a person but believe me I'm lookin' when he isn't.  And I'd
checked out Mark more'n once; must have jerked off to his image at least
half a dozen times.

Once again, I don't know exactly what it was that pushed the macho buck to
the forefront of my sexual desire but, suddenly, he was everything my
parched throat thirsted for.  I began making more careful observation of
him---like the way he wore his hair.  It was always the same: light brown,
buzzed short on the sides and back and fuller on top, always neat and
rarely out of place.  Except that now, under closer scrutiny, I noticed the
few---very few---speckles of gray at his temples.  Mark was late thirties,
but looked about five to seven years younger.  Other than those slashes of
gray and the fine sun crinkles at the corner of his eyes, he probably
could've passed for very late twenties, which would have brought him a
little closer to my twenty-two years.  I sweat older guys; prefer them, in
fact.  They seem to fuck a whole lot more forceful than dudes in my age
group.

He also had a sexy little gap between his two front teeth, which made him
all the more ruggedly appealing.  You'd never really notice it unless you
were up close to the stud engaged in conversation.  I'd heard him talkin'
to some of the other guys waiting for their goods to be checked in at the
receiving dock and knew that he was a Yankee fan.  I'm a Mets fan myself,
but I took to catchin' a few Yankee games just so's I could throw a few
team stats his way and get the dude's attention.  He was a friendly,
talkative type; I'd known that for awhile by the way he interacted with the
managers and some of the other everyday workers.  Guess when you're drivin'
around in a truck all day makin' deliveries here and there you welcome some
friendly chit chat with the help.  Like I said, I'm not the overly sociable
type but my hormones were workin' on overdrive and if there was any fuckin'
chance of getting into that stud's jock I had to at least be sociable with
him.

Every summer season he and all the other hot bread vendors wore little more
than tank tops orT-shirts and shorts while making their deliveries.  I
nearly popped a woodie in my standard black jeans every time I happened
past his display and saw the hot stud squatting down to reach a low shelf,
those tan khaki shorts framing his tight, masculine glutes and strong,
hairy thighs.  Ridin' around all day, getting in and out of their trucks
and hauling their good in the hot summer sun made the bodies on those dudes
nice and sweaty.  Tank and T's were practically clingin' to their masculine
torsos, 'specially the ones making afternoon deliveries (which was Mark's
usual arrival time).  The super-chilly air conditioning in the store worked
to make their man tit's rock hard and clearly visible as they pressed
against the thin cotton material of the sweaty shirt.

It was a real hot one the day Mark caught me red-handed checkin' out his
hunky bulk.  Guess it was the heat that made me lose my usual concentration
or---who knows---maybe I wanted to get fuckin' caught already.  I was on my
fifteen minute break, leaning back against a seldom used cash register
station flipping through a magazine---but not lookin' at the magazine at
all.  I was lookin' at hot Mark directly across from me down on one knee
shoving his wares onto the end aisle display.  There was a big,
diamond-shaped wet spot on the back of his faded blue tank top and further
evidence of manly perspiration around the neck line and deep arm holes.
What had me lickin' my juicy chops most of all was the telltale wet mark
runnin' straight down the seam of those khaki shorts that molded his buns
so perfectly.  I was fuckin' mesmerized by the ball churning sight in front
of me, my eyes secretly stripping him bare and my tongue almost tasting the
sweaty maleness of his ripened crack.

Don't know how long I was standing there openly ogling him, oblivious to
the magazine in my hands or the presence of passing customers, but all of a
sudden I became aware that my cock had stiffened and was pounding against
the front of my black jeans.  At that same instant I realized Mark was no
longer putting his product out; he had half-turned from his kneeling
position on the tiled floor and was lookin' right at me with an incredulous
expression on his rugged face!  My own face reddened as I snapped out of my
lusty reverie, averting his eyes and fumbling with the magazine which had
slipped from my hands.  I practically fell over my own feet in my haste to
distance myself from the straight stud, convinced he'd seen the outline of
my hard on and knew I'd been entertaining sexual thoughts about him.
Damnitalltohell; I wanted to find a dark place and hide!  He'd prob'ly be
jokin' with all the other vendors about me: the jock grocery boy who was
queer for men.  Word'd get out and before long ev'rybody would know my
private yearnings.  After I'd calmed down a bit and was breathing more
normally, I reasoned that it might just open up some before untold
opportunities---but there were also some inherent disadvantages.  Like the
taunting and ridicule I was sure to receive from some of those fuckin' gay
bashers, one of whom was the boss himself---not to mention my queer-hating
father!

It was a couple days later when I ran into him again.  I mean---quite
literally---RAN into him!  I was wheelin' a "boat" of dead stock a little
too fast around a blind corner of the back room when WHAM! I slammed head
on into the "boat" Mark was bringing out on the sales floor.  Boxes of
Little Devil Snacks went flying all over the place to join with my store
brand merchandise, which had toppled on impact.  When I saw he was the
operator of the other cart I nearly shit my drawers!  I'd been tryin' to
avoid the sonofabitch since the other day and what do I do but have a
collision with the hot fuck!!

"Whoa, Buddy!  You need to use the brakes on that thing," he bellowed
good-naturedly in his deeply masculine voice as he squatted down to repack
the fallen merchandise.  What choice did I have but to assist him down
there on the floor?  He was makin' all kinds of small talk while we flexed
some muscle and repacked the "boats"; I completely averted his eyes (and
crotch) and merely grunted my response, nervous fuck that I was.

When we'd finished he totally fuckin' caught me off guard by backslapping
me on one pumped-up arm and got my total attention.  He had one bare arm
wrapped around the metal of the U-boat and was kind of leaning a hip into
it, ankles crossed and lookin' real relaxed.  Looking down on me with his
head raised high and chest challengingly thrust out he said, in a
completely normal tone of voice, "So, you wanna do more'n just look?"

My eyes nearly popped outa my head and I nearly choked on the piece of gum
I'd been chewing.  "Fuck, yeah!"  The words kinda came gushin' outa my
mouth with little-to-no control.  This straight, married dude was hittin'
on me right out there in the open and not even doin' it in a conspiring
tone.  Okay, so nobody passing by would've known what the fuck we were
talking about, but still----

"Gotta place?" he asked, absently raising a hand to scratch an itch under
one hairy arm pit.

"No, man.  I live with my parents," I told him.  "How 'bout you?"

He clucked his tongue.  "Nah, that won't work either."  One thick brow
furrowed as he pondered a solution to our predicament.

"How 'bout here?" I suggested.  "Place closes up at ten and ev'rybody's
gone by about quarter after."

He raised those brows, incredulous.  "You mean here, in the store?"

"Nah," I replied, shaking my head and nodding to the loading dock.  "Out
there."

"Yeah?"  It was more than a question; there was also a little bit of
curiosity, and shock, in his tone.

"Lotsa rubbers been swept off the dock over the years," I told him.  It was
true; we existed in a rural area where the sidewalks pretty much rolled up
at nine and, unless you were hidin' out in the fairly dense woods behind
the store, the back area was free game for horndogs like me.  I'd struck a
home run in the front seat of more than one car parked out there under the
subdued lights over the years.

So we parted, agreeing to meet that night at eleven.  I could barely keep
my mind on the job the rest of the day and kept lookin' at my watch while
the minutes dragged on by.  It was even worse when I got outa there at six
and had those last remaining hours to kill.  Ended up getting to our
rendezvous point early.  Place was all closed up, ev'rybody was gone and,
thankfully, nobody was hanging out back drinkin' or smokin' pot or fucking.
Full of nervous expectation, I couldn't just sit there waiting expectantly
in my beat-up VW for my dream stud's appearance.  Got out of the car, paced
around a bit and finally hoisted myself up onto the loading dock and sat my
ass right there at the edge, feet crossed at the ankles and dangling legs
swinging to and fro.  I'd taken a relaxing, leisurely shower earlier and
had changed into a sleeveless pastel T-shirt and a pair of loose homeboy
jean-shorts that went down just below the knees.  At work I usually wear my
black engineer's, steel-toed boots but for tonight's excursion I was
donning my clean, white high tops.

When my watch read a couple minutes after eleven I started getting even
more nervous; when it got to be ten after, I was in near-panic.  The
thought had occurred to me earlier that Mark might be blowing smoke up my
ass---or he might have a last-minute change of heart.  Disappointment
overcame my earlier ecstatic mood as the minutes ticked by.  Soon it was
twenty after the hour; I decided I'd give him 'til half past and then I was
reluctantly calling it a night.  Didn't know how I'd handle it with him
tomorrow; how could I tell him I'd been waiting out there in the dead of
the night for a taste of his prick like some love struck puppy dog?

I was close to giving up when I suddenly detected the sound of a car's
engine coming from somewhere nearby.  Headlights flashed from around the
corner and a silver Camaro turned into the back loading area.  The car
pulled up next to mine, the engine died and Mark stepped out into the
security lights.  His long legs carried him over to where I was
sitting---trying like hell to appear nonchalant, although I was full of
excited apprehension.  With outstretched arms, he gripped the edge of the
chest-high loading dock and leaned into it while looking up at me.

"Sorry I'm late, buddy.  The wife stopped over and I couldn't get away," he
told me.

"Didja fuck 'er?" I ventured, bravely.

"Hell, no!" he spat out and then, with a sexy lopsided grin, "Well,
actually, I thought about it.  I've been horny as all hell for a long while
now.  But, no, she's bein' a real cunt about this separation, so I got jack
shit outa her."

I sure liked the sound of those words.  And I could see that Mark had gone
to a bit of trouble for our encounter.  Clearly he'd shaved, showered and
dressed himself up in a snappy looking, short- sleeved shirt, unbuttoned to
hairy mid chest and tucked into a pair of fairly tight, faded denim shorts
which contoured his basket nicely.  The slight evening breeze carried the
faint scent of his intoxicating, manly aftershave.  I realized I'd long ago
gotten totally stiff in the crotch.

"So you gonna stand down there all night or ya comin' up here?" I
challenged.

He hesitated for a moment, searching my face with those smoky eyes and
exercising a bit of straight man's caution.  Didn't take him long to make
his decision; Mark pumped the muscles in those bronzed arms, lifting his
hunky body up onto the cement platform right next to me.  Failing to waste
another second, I planted my hands on the stud's broad shoulders and pushed
him backwards, then swung both his legs up onto the dock so he was laying
there spread-eagled and propped up on his elbows watching me take charge.
Scooting in between the V of his nicely toned, hairy limbs I quickly undid
his snap and zipper, pulled his shorts and briefs down below his nuts and
had his knob in my mouth before he could utter any last-minute protest.

The dude sure had a nice dick; the fucker was already semi-hard when I got
my first taste of it and in less than half-a-minute had swelled to its full
glory.  Between seven to eight, I'd estimate, and nicely thick---not too
much, but just enough to give my jaws a nice, healthy stretch.  Kneeling
there between his spread legs, my wet tongue worked his hot knob while my
hand encircled the length of his throbbing shaft and jerked his man meat.
With my free hand I managed to undo the buttons of his shirt, allowing it
to fall open and expose his tightly compact, lightly hairy torso.  Rubbing
the palm of my sweaty hand over his stomach and across his chest, I reached
for a plump nipple and gave it a hard twist with my fingertips.  The stud
groaned real deep and sexy; his heated cock twitched excitedly in my mouth.

I gave his cock everything it wanted---everything it had been deprived of
for months.  I bathed his entire shaft with my abundant saliva, sucked at
his big, hairy nuts and even worked my tongue down his hot ass crack.  My
own excited prick was throbbing inside my shorts as I gave this hetero dude
some fine, long-overdue head.  He closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure
when I managed to draw his entire shaft deep into my velvety slick throat,
nibbling on the base of that beauty with my wet lips.  Pretty soon he was
thashin' around on the cement dock, hands clutching my head to hold it in
place as he thrust his hips up against my working mouth---now intently
watching the heated male action.

Damn, how I had wanted to suck that hot load right outa the big fella and
quench my thirst with his manly nectar!  But I also had some other itches
that needed some scratchin'.  Comin' up off his dick, I stood there and
undid my shorts, droppin' em down to my ankles.  My own big cock sprang
into view, an' I think a spray of pre-cum danced up into the air and might
have rained down on the macho stud.  Turnin' around, I grabbed both round
ass melons and, bendin' at the waist, spread my crack wide open for his
perusal.  My hairy hole was winkin' at the horned up stud as I asked, with
as much machismo as the situation allowed, while I fingered my wet pucker,
"Wanna fuck me, dude?"

In short order I was crawlin' on hands and feet across the bank of shopping
carts stored against the back wall on the dock with Mark followin' right
behind me.  Finding a spot, I lay belly down with my fingers intertwined in
the metal of the carts and my muscular thighs spread wide.  Mark's body was
over mine in seconds, hands to either side of me and wedding ring in clear
view.  Manly outer thighs pressed against my equally hairy inner thighs as
he got into position, took hold of his aching hard-on and aimed it at my
quivering ass hole.  The fucker wasn't askin' about lube or rubbers; he was
absorbed by lust and only thinkin' about sinking his manhood deep into my
rectal cavity and getting his rocks off.  Unbeknownst to him, I'd
anticipated the urgency of our eventual fuck and had included a lube job
along with my other grooming for the evening.

His big cock glided into me easily---all of it, in one penetrating
thrust---like a knife through soft butter.  When he'd bottomed out inside
me he let out an audible sigh of unexpected satisfaction and held it there
throbbing inside me for the briefest of moments before he really started
the fucking.  And once that sonofabitch started, there was no slowing him
down.  He rode me hard and fast, pounding the living fuck out of my juicy
hole.  I'm not one for simply laying there and taking a fuck; I had to get
in on the action, too.  Every chance I got I was backin' myself up against
him to meet his next maddening thrust.  And when he got too wild, I was
crawling on fingers and toes across the carts tryin' to get a little
distance between us for a bit.  But the hot fucker kept right up on me,
grabbin' me around my tight waist and pullin' me back onto his battering
ram.

I don't know how long we were at it out there in the night before I lost my
nut.  Hard as I tried to keep the action goin', the way his big throbber
was bangin' against my prostate sendin' thrills throughout my body I knew I
couldn't last for long.  Sure enough, that fanfuckintastic feeling overtook
me and I was moaning, groaning and shouting in ecstasy as big wads of cream
exploded from my piss hole.  Caught up in this ultimate rapture with my
face pressed against the metal grating, I could see ribbons of my thick cum
trailing down the spokes of the interconnected shopping carts and dripping
onto the cement flooring below.

Wasn't long after that when he started panting like a dog in heat and his
big, fat dick started throbbing like mad as it plunged in and out of my hot
hole.  Knowing he was real close to cumming, I clamped the muscles of my
ass as tight as I could around his invading pecker---driving the poor slob
totally nuts!  He was totally loving it---and so was I!  He whacked away at
my love hole a couple more times and then, with a thunderous bellow, rammed
the fucker home and started shootin' his load.  It was like a fuckin'
uncapped hose fillin' up my tank with white hot, creamy cum.  Mark's whole
body was shuddering as he fell upon me, his mouth chewin' on the back of my
neck and mutterin' all sorts of arousing obscenities as he emptied his ball
sac into my mushy guts.

We laid that way for quite a while, him with his sweaty body pressed atop
mine and his still hard dick buried ball's deep up my drenched fuck hole.
It'd been a long time since he'd gotten laid and I sensed the stud still
had another fuck in him.  I managed to get him off me long enough to flip
over onto my back, raise my legs and offer myself from a new perspective.
Mark was on me like flies to shit, beating his stiff shaft inside my
asshole until we'd both shot our second massive loads of the evening.  It
was well after midnight when we parted, him thanking me profusely for
helping him get off and me thankin' him for one of the best straight fucks
of my life.  Lying in my bed that night lookin' out the window at the
collection of stars in the sky I could swear I felt all of his spent babies
squirming around inside of me.

Don't go nowhere, guys; this story ain't quite over yet.

Three days later my wanton, carefree actions caught up with me in a way I
never suspected they would.  I'd seen Mark once since our lust-crazed night
when he made his normal delivery.  At first he appeared a little nervous,
seein' me at work for the first time after he'd fucked the fight out of me.
Instead of making any reference to it, I instead chatted with the dude
about the previous evening's Yankee game.  He was the one to ultimately
bring up the fucking.  Looking around to make sure no one was within
earshot, he told me he wanted to hang out with me again some night.  There
was this cheap motel right at the outskirts of town---maybe we could catch
the game together.  Shee-it, I was all for it!  His dick was already
drooling as he planned on a Friday night fuck fest.

Next day I had to work the closing shift.  It really ain't all that bad;
business is slow after eight, night manager is gone by nine and security
shuts the joint up at ten, earlier if there's nobody shopping.  Clocking
out at 9:48, I headed for the exit right behind the lone cashier, some
dowdy old housewife, when the store security guard stopped me in my tracks.

"Hol' on, boy," the big black fucker had his equally big and black arm
stretched out blocking my path.  "I wantsa tawk wit' you 'bout suttin'."

"I'm off the clock," I told him, sounding annoyed.  "Get me tomorrow."

A dark, chocolate finger poked me dead center in the chest and knocked me
back a step.  "Ut uh, dis is security bizness, boi.  Gets yo white ass inta
mah office---NOW!!!"

I was gonna argue the point but the big, mean fuck looked serious as a
heart attack and I figured I'd better cooperate.  Knew damned well I hadn't
breached any security or violated any company policy, but I stretched my
arms in defeat and stepped back into the store.  The stupid fucking cashier
had no idea what had gone on behind her; all she'd been thinkin' of when
she crossed that threshold was getting her old ass home.  She was in her
car and headed out of the lot while I was stuck in the store, a
self-imposed prisoner at the self-important security guard's request.

His name was Jerome---that much I knew for sure---and he was a complete
hard-ass.  Just 'cos he was on the company payroll as plainclothes security
he thought he was Super Cop, and he got a rush out of busting shoplifters
and thieving employees.  Especially thieving employees.  It was like a
feather in the baseball cap he ususally wore over his shaved head when he
busted a worker---rumor had it he got a special bonus for that kind of
bust.  He was a tall, muscular, meaty brutha with really dark skin tone
which gave new meaning to the phrase "black" and kinda looked like he'd
been a defensive football player before he got the security gig.  Sure
enough, I'd seen him tackle more than one fleeing shoplifter to the ground
with a minimum of effort.  Most people didn't fuck with him anyways; he was
an intimidating sort.  Nobody on the job liked him and I was no different.
Growing up in a racist household I had an inbred prejudice when it came to
blacks---not anywheres near as hateful as my folks, mind you, but I kept my
distance from them.  Needless to say, it didn't make me too comfortable to
observe him turning the locks in the doors and knowing I was trapped alone
in here with a big, black nigger.

When he'd finished securing the store he turned back to me and waved a
massive corded arm towards the area where I knew his lair was located.
"Git back in mah office, boy, we got us a sitchyachion ta discuss."

"I ain't going nowhere till you tell me what this is all about," I defied
him.  The whites of his eyes got real fuckin' big---I thought the fuckers
were gonna pop out of their sockets---and big veins bulged at his temples.
Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck
and, squeezing hard, propelled me towards the security cavern.  I was
wailing like a rowdy kid, but he had a firm grip on me; shit, he was
practically lifting me off my feet with that simple handhold.  He pushed
open the door to the security room and roughly shoved me inside.  The door
closed behind us and, nostrils flared and full of indignation at this
barbaric treatment, I turned to face him.

"Si' down," he bellowed in that 2 X 4 makeshift office that lewdly smelled
of nigger sweat.

"FUCK YOU!" I charged back at him, my male ego bruised by his enactment of
superiority over me.

"Si' down," he repeated, even more loudly this time, and gave me a shove
which knocked me right off my feet and onto a swivel desk chair.  Pissed
off as all hell, I bounced up off the seat ready to make a run for it but
he easily tossed me back into place.  Frustrated by my predicament, I made
a quick inspection of the surroundings---hunting for some avenue of escape.
There was a long counter the length of the tiny space which held all kinds
of mechanical looking paraphernalia, including a dual VCR deck, monitor and
lots of dated videotape.  The counter was also littered with empty food and
drink containers, along with the standard pencils, pads and a set of framed
pictures---probably those of his wife and young kids.  There were also
clipboards hanging from nails all over the walls of the place with various
notations and company memorandum.  This dude was obviously no housekeeper,
because the place was decidedly untidy.

Now, I might be a sloppy cocksucker, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of
wimp.  I was at the edge of the seat, knuckles white from tightly clinging
to the handles, and ready to spring at the first opportunity.  Only problem
is that we were locked in the supermarket---and big blackie was the one
holdin' the keys.  Even if I was to get away from him for the moment, where
the hell was I gonna go?  I was breathin' heavily, sweating profusely and
shaking like a fucking leaf, but only partly out of fear.  The indignation
at having this big monkey detain me in such a thug-like manner was what was
really getting to me.  My father, the biggest bigot of all time, and his
equally prejudiced buddies would kick that motherfucker's ass once they
knew what he'd put this white boy through.

He'd plopped his ass down in the only other chair---a bigger, more
comfortable looking leather job on wheels and was powering up the display
monitor.  He had a big, thick bull's neck coming up out of the scoop of his
half-sleeve T-shirt which, despite being fashionably homeboy-oversized,
still failed to conceal hugely rounded shoulders and massive biceps.  A
thick vein rode right below the surface of his dark skin directly over the
explosive bulge of each muscle.  Even the dude's forearms were thick and
sinewy---it always pissed me off how the brutha's appeared to have been
born with the kind of musculature we white boys work for hours at the
fuckin' gym to develop.  My Dad says it's heredity---passed down in the
genes from all their slave ancestors workin' their black asses off for the
"massah" on the plantation.  Dad thinks that's where they still should be.

"You're gonna lose your job for this," I warned him.  "You got no right
pushin' me around and detaining me without good reason."  It was a pretty
brave statement for me to make considering my current situation, but I
wasn't about to let some black dude get the best of me.

"Ah don' thinks I's gonna lose nooooooooo fuckin' job, whi' boy," he
replied as he pressed some buttons on the hand-held control unit and
motioned towards the monitor.  "Take a look, boi."

As the videotape whirred into playback mode two figures appeared in the
poorly-lit scene, quite obviously fucking like rabbits.  It wasn't long
before I realized I was watching no amateur video.  I was, in fact,
watching myself getting banged by Mark the other night out on the loading
dock!  I stared stone-faced at the monitor, not really watching but too
frightened to look in the direction of the fucking security guard.

"See's anybody you knows?" he taunted.  "Betchyoo didn't know dere wuz
camera's out dere on de fuckin' dock?  Stupid fuck!  How's you think we
keeps shit from walkin' out de buildin'?  Here I is checkin' out onea da
ovahnight tapes and what I come across but you fuckin' out dere like some
'ho.  Nevah took you for a queer boy befo."

Swallowing hard, with my eyes still trained on the monitor where Mark was
plowing the hell out of my hole, I managed, "I--it was after hours."

"Don' mattah, white boy, you wuz still on comp'ny propahty.  All I gots to
do is show this tape ta da man and you sorry ass outa da job.  And ain't
this dude hooked up?  Seems like I seen a ring on his finger.  His bitch
gonna cut off his balls and take him for every fuckin' dollah he got.
Prob'ly won' have much tho', cos his com'ny more'n likely fire his ass
anyways.  Whoo-eee, youse all in deep shit!"

Without even looking at him, I could tell the motherfucker was enjoying
every moment of this.  "Who you gonna show it to?"  I asked, with my mouth
cotton dry.

"Well now," he said deliberately slowly, "That all depen's."

"On what?" For the first time since the tape went on, I turned my head to
face him.  He was leaning back in the chair, arms raised and hands locked
behind his head.  Those huge biceps looked like they were gonna split the
seams of his cotton T.  He was cheesin' and lookin' down at me with a
twinkle in those hazel eyes.  Then one of his big black arms moved and,
right in front of me, he reached down and started lewdly massaging the
bulge in the crotch of his faded oversized jeans.

Trembling now, although trying hard not to show it, the reality of the cost
of his silence became obvious.  Although unable to tear my widened eyes
from the basket between his spread legs, I slowly shook my head from side
to side and muttered, "No way."

"C'mon, white boy, you knows you wantsta look at it," he taunted me.
Somehow, on unsteady feet, I managed to rise from the chair and back up the
entirety of two steps until I hit the wall behind me, still shaking my head
in the negative.  But, damn my hormones, he was right!  Despite the show I
was putting on, I wanted a peek at that nigger cock.  Sure I'd seen some
dark dick in the high school locker room, but I'd never feasted my eyes on
a grown black man's piece before.  Completely conflicted, I stood there
with my back against the wall perspiring like a sonofabitch as he unhooked
the metal button at the waistband of his jeans and lowered the zipper.
With fat fingers hooked into the waist, he raised his hips a bit and slid
those jeans and boxers down around his ankles, then settled back into his
former position of one arm behind head, other toying with his crotch.

I went slack-jawed and my eyes must've bugged out of my head when I got my
first look at the enormous piece of chocolate sausage resting like some
sort of slumbering python against his meaty thigh.  Even in its flaccid
state it was an astonishing length---anywheres from eight to nine inches, I
quickly estimated.  Big fuckin' elephant balls hung between his legs, black
as coal and resting on the edge of the chair.  The first three-quarters of
his massive nigger meat were just about as dark as his sac but when it got
maybe within two inches or so of the fat, mushroom shaped helmet---probably
where he'd been circumcised---the coloring became lighter and mocha-like.
There were thick blue veins criss-crossed like a roadmap all under the dark
surface of his big, beautiful black cock, which began to stir under my
close scrutiny.  Hefting the heavy equipment in the palm of his strong
hand, he began to stroke the mighty shaft before my wondrous eyes.

"Git down here and show Samson some lovin'," he commanded me.

Hypnotically, I took a couple steps forward and then, regaining my senses,
thrust my body back against the wall, shaking my head even more
dramatically then before.  Although it was the biggest, healthiest piece of
meat I'd ever seen, it was still nigger dick.  I could hear my father's
voice ringing in my ears; all his admonitions about how laying down with a
nigger was like laying down with an animal.  Of how you'd never get clean
again if you got soiled by a nigger.  And yet the sight of him was making
my mouth water and my asshole quiver.

"You wants to suck on dis dick, white boy, you know you does," he taunted
me as he worked his organ towards full erection.  "An' from de looks a dat
tape, you mus' be a pretty good cocksucker."

"I don't suck nigger cock," I spat out at him, amazed at my nerve.

Instead of getting up and beating the shit out of me, like I thought he
might, those big juicy "soup-coolers" of his just spread in a cheesy grin
and he nodded at my crotch.  "Fo' a white boi don' suck niggah cock, sho'
'nuff looks like you gots one ragin' hard-on."

He wasn't kidding; my dick was stiff as a board, leaking like a faucet and
straining against the material of my jeans.  Jerome's gigantic fuck-pole
had risen like some ebony skyscraper from his wiry-haired loins, very near
to full height, its thick blue veins standing out along the shaft and
throbbing with anticipation.  The skin of his plum-sized cock-head was
smooth as dark marble and glistening in the dim light supplied by the
flickering images on the monitor. That motherfucker looked to be every bit
of, if not more than, a foot long and near fat around as my wrist!  Only in
my wildest fantasies had I come close to servicing such a dangerous-looking
dong!!  Opportunity was presenting itself mere feet away from me, yet I
remained full of conflicting emotions.

"You sucks me off, whi' boi, and I gives you da tape.  How 'bout dat?"  He
was sweetening the pot.  For certain, I didn't want the whole fucking town
to know I was a voracious cocksucker (well, perhaps some of the town) but I
knew the trouble such a scandalous revelation could make for Mark.  His
estranged wife would have all the ammunition she would need to take him to
the cleaners if the video fell into her hands.  And I had little doubt that
Jerome would revel in trading the tape for cash from the delivery guy's
missus.  Hell, he was sure enough willing to humiliate me by forcing me to
feed on nigger cock (fantastic cock that it was) in exchange for the tape.
Who knew what else he might do if he had any more time to ponder his
blackmail options?

"You swear you'd give it to me?"  My resolve was weakening; his cock looked
so damned fine!

"Said so, di'nt I?"

After one more moment of indecision I sank to my knees and crawled into the
space created by the spread of his legs.  His huge man-meat was right there
in front of me, lightly swaying from his hairy groin.  The scent of nigger
assailed my nostrils and I fought back a wave of revulsion.  Gingerly
reaching forward with both hands I wrapped my fingers around his colossal
cockstalk and began to stroke.  The black beauty was so fuckin' thick that
I was unable to make my fingers meet around it, but I managed to move them
all over his huge organ.  The ridges of those heavy, distended cock-veins
played along my sweaty palms as I worked him with increasing confidence.
Jerome had unhanded himself soon as I got down there and he was leanin'
back again with hands tucked behind his head, cheesin' and enjoyin' his
dominance over this white boy.

Growing even more ballsy, I hefted his behemoth ball bag with one hand
while I continued to jerk his rod with the other.  The sac containing those
egg-sized nuts was coated with man-sweat and weighed heavily in my palm as
I steadily massaged it.  Before long the fleshy lips of his piss hole
opened and a few drops of pre-cum pulsed out to coat the fat mushroom
shaped cock-head.  Moving in, I applied my lips to his heated length and
nibbled on the criss-cross network of deep blue veins running all over the
dark shaft.  Surprised to find the cock tasted quite good (somehow I'd
always figured nigger cock would have a bad flavor), I began lapping it
with long swipes of my tongue.  Jerome responded the second my mouth was on
him; I could detect a deep, satisfied growl as his strong body began
grinding about on the chair.  A steadier flow of pre-cum began oozing out,
gliding over the head and draining down his hardened shaft.  Throwing
caution entirely to the wind, I took one long swipe up the thick center
vein, circled the thick rim of his glans and washed the surface of that
steamy cock-head.  That nigger's pre-cum tasted great; thick, rich and
entirely manly! I knew I had passed the point of return by devouring
forbidden fruit---I was no better than white trash now!

Opening wide, I took the entirety of his chocolate plum into my mouth and,
latching my lips under the rim, started sucking on him.  Pre-cum was
constantly running into my steamy throat and I hungrily swallowed it down,
filling my belly with nigger babies.  The huge cock stretched my jaws
impossibly wide as I devoured inch after inch, sucking nearly half of his
length down into my face hole.  I was snortin' like a pig, nostrils widely
flared as I was forced to breath solely through them.  Spittle was flying
from the corners of my mouth as I frantically bobbed my head up and down on
the enormous black sex tool.  My right hand was strokin' the lower, darker
portion of his rod and my left was roaming all over his thigh, down the
side of his buttocks and up under his shirt.  Grasping me by the back of
the head, he forced me down even lower on the veiny monster and I managed
to swallow another couple inches of black meat.  Then he started thrusting
his hips up towards my face, impaling my mouth and mercilessly fucking my
throat.  I met him lunge for lunge, sucking and slurping on his invading
cannon like it was the greatest cock in the world!  Which, at the moment,
it was.

"O yeah, das it whi' boi, take dat big black dick in yo mouf!  Shee-it, you
a bettah cocksucka den I thought you wuz.  Mah bitch cain't even take dat
much dick!  C'mon, whi' boi, make me cum.  Make me cum real fuckin' good!"

He wasn't the only one needed to pop a nut; my own balls were boiling and
my raging hard-on needed some release.  Dislodging his huge throbber from
my soaked throat I got to my feet in front of him, tearing off every
article of clothing until I was buck-assed naked.  My overly excited cock
was leaking a virtual river of pre-cum.  I took my hot meat in hand and
began stroking it as my eyes fixed on the gigantic appendage of the horny
nigger.  Didn't matter anymore if I was forever marked as a nigger lover; I
had to have more of that fat cock.  And I knew just how I wanted it!

Stepping forward again, I turned my back to him and positioned my body
straddling his big, meaty outstretched thighs.  Reaching back, I grasped
his throbbing meat and aimed the big fucker at my small, puckered target.
Rubbing the fleshy cock-head all over my quivering hole, I liberally coated
myself with his more-than-abundant pre-cum to insure a slippery entrance.

"Fuck yeah, whi' boi," he gasped as he placed his big black hands on my
hips to steady me. "Ride dat fuckin cock!"

Calf muscles bulged as I stood on the tips of my toes, hairy athletic legs
widely spread to either side of him, and lowered myself onto his mammoth
weapon.  The blunt, chocolate mushroom spread my hungry hole wide and I
groaned with satisfaction at the welcome entry.  Grinding my talented ass
against him I felt the wet head slip even deeper inside me, heating my hole
with a fiery intensity.  Pausing for only a few moments with that fucker's
big black dick lodged inside me, I reached around to spread my tight cheeks
wide and, taking a deep anticipatory breath, allowed my body to drop like
dead weight---successfully impaling my ass on his third arm!

It felt like some fuckin' massive torpedo had mercilessly plowed its way
through me and punched deep into my guts.  Letting out a guttural howl of
pained ecstasy, I fell back against him and started moaning like a school
girl who'd just had her cherry busted.  His huge black hands came around to
rub all over my sweaty naked torso and latched onto my pert, meaty nipples.
He was massagin' em real nice, probably the way he did with his wife during
their private sex sessions.  This just made me moan and groan even louder,
writhin' my sweat-soaked body against his, prompting the man to work my
tits even harder.  Jerome's face was right next to mine, his hot breath
mutterin' all kinds of raunchy nigger jive into my ear, but I was too far
gone---crazed by the hot poker wildly throbbing inside my ravaged rectum.

Finally regaining the wind which had been completely knocked out of me, I
began to gyrate my hot man-pussy against the astonishingly proportioned
horse-cock buried to the balls inside me.  Jockeying back into a position
of control I slowly lifted myself up, feeling every fucking inch of that
black bomber coursing through my shitter and sliding out of my swollen ass
lips.  My eyes rolled back in my head, which itself fell back on my broad
shoulders from the feeling of sheer nirvana.  As I dropped back down onto
him, slower this time, Jerome assisted by raising his hips and driving his
shaft further into me.  He had me by the shoulders now and was moanin'
every bit as much as me when we reached rock bottom.

"Damn, you got a fine ass, boi!" he exclaimed in a breathless rush, which
prompted me to pick up the pace.  Soon I was humping my ass over the full
length of his beastly black behemoth.  His hands were all over my finely
contoured back as I rode his fat hog with renewed vigor.  Each downward
plunge felt like I was being ripped a brand new ass hole.  That nigger cock
was making me feel like I had never felt before.  I knew damned well that
if my Dad saw what I was doin' he would cock his pistol, plant it right
between my eyes and blow my brains out for fucking a nigger.  But right
then and there I didn't care; I was beyond shame.  I was in total, mindless
sexual bliss and the cock raging inside me was absolutely the most
spectacular cock in the universe!

Up and down I went, like on some kind of human pogo stick, harder and
faster, feeling the fleshy head slamming into my belly and rearranging my
insides.  My ass cheeks slapped against his groin and I felt his wiry bush
brush my white, wet skin.  My lungs were roaring in my chest from all the
exertion and I was soaked with perspiration from head to toe.  Using every
bit of my energy to fuck that huge cock, I barely realized the sudden
shuddering of my body was signaling my oncoming climax.  With a strangled
cry I shot a stream of white hot cum which sailed near-ceiling high.  My
second ball burstin' blast splattered against the monitor, which had long
ago gone to static after, unknown to either of us, the surveillance tape
ended.  I blew off two more gut wrenchin' blasts, but never once throughout
my orgasm did I cease thrustin' my whore's ass onto that prize stallion
cock.

"FUCK, BOI!  I'M GONNA FUCKIN' CUM UP YOUR FUCKIN' ASS! AW, SHEEE-ITT, HERE
IT CUMS!!!!"  He was thrashin' around below me and thrustin' his loins up
against my wide-open hole.  Grabbing me around the waist, he pulled me
against his lap and I sat down hard, burying every inch of that black
monster in the warm folds of my asshole.  With my inner muscles gripping
him like a tight, warm glove, I could feel his already huge cock swelling
even larger---and then he began blasting his load deep inside my bowels,
filling my guts with nigger cum.  I didn't think he was ever gonna
stop---that black motherfucker's ball bag sure held a shitload of jungle
juice!  Just when I thought for sure he was never gonna quit, Jerome let
out one hell of an exhausted sigh and fell back onto the chair, signaling
the end of his explosive orgasm.

I kept his cock inside me for awhile longer, unwilling to let it go.  When
I finally uncorked my ass and got up off him it was a little difficult to
walk.  Jerome was back to bein' the mean nigger security guard now that
he'd gotten his fuckin' rocks off.  But he gave me the tape, as promised,
which I secreted well back in a dark corner of my bedroom closet.  I just
couldn't bring myself to destroy the visual memory of my fuck session with
Mark---I've jerked off watching it many times since.  I had to bang out of
work the next day 'cos of all the nigger jizz that was runnin' out of my
asshole.  When Dad asked what was wrong with me I told him I had a stomach
ache.  If he only knew what was really up there in my belly, I'd be one
dead white boy!

A week or so later, several days after I'd spent another fuck-filled night
with handsome Mark, Jerome and his bad-ass cop wannabe attitude stopped me
again at closing.  A rush of exhilaration coursed through my body as I was
led into the security room and plopped down into a familiar chair.  Seems
like he had another tape to show me.  His big fingers worked the controls
and soon the monitor filled with the image of yours truly sucking on a
monstrous black cock.  Quickly glancing up into the corners of the cubicle
I detected the cameras I hadn't noticed on my last visit to the room.

"Now unless you wants yo Daddy to see dis tape," he said as he began
unfastening his jeans, "you gets yo white ass down here and show Samson
some mo' o yo lovin'.

And 'dis time, whi' boi, I gets to fuck YOU!"