Date: Sun, 26 Jul 2009 11:13:02 -0600
From: Data Fever <data2fever@gmail.com>
Subject: Quick Learner Part 2

     Over the next couple of weeks, I learned that there were two types
of men who came to the arcade. Some men were like the young man who
fucked me, who took the time to make sure that I was sexually excited,
who might even be said to care about me, and who frequently said they
loved me.

     Other men obviously didn't care about me at all. All they wanted
was their own sexual gratification and didn't care if they caused me pain
in the process. Not that they raped me or anything like that, it's just
that they were inconsiderate of me and my feelings. I never let men like
that fuck me, although sometimes it was through their fucking the first
time that I found out that I would never let them do it again.

     Other than the young man who first fucked me - his name was Paul - I
never bothered to learn or remember the names of the men who had sex with
me. The sex all blurred into a continuous stream for me - fucking,
sucking, being sucked - none of it was exceptional or noteworthy.

     For those of us who slept in the rooms over the arcade each
night, there was a ritual that took place when the arcade closed. There
were usually about ten of us - that meant two or three to a room. We
grouped up depending upon whether we just wanted to sleep or whether we
wanted to engage in some sexplay. Pete got his five dollars from each of
us in either case.

     Some boys, like Tonka and Tweeter, had homes to sleep in at night.
I don't think Rusty had a home, but he didn't stay at the arcade either.
Every once in a while, one of the boys who regularly stayed at the
arcade, like Twix and Puffer, would be gone overnight staying at a
trick's place.

     That first night, I was just planning on going to sleep. Besides
Paul, I had also sucked off two men and been sucked off by a guy. That
was on top of the initiation that I had gone through. But Cheeter made it
clear that he wanted to sleep with me.

     I never had anything against blacks, but I never had anything *for*
them either. But the way the other boys all grouped up into the other
rooms, I felt as though I had no choice. I resigned myself to letting
him fuck me, and then we'd fall asleep and that would be that. Boy, was
I wrong.

     When Cheeter and I got into the room we would spend the night in,
I began to take off my clothes, but Cheeter stopped me. He told me that
there was no rush, that we could take our time and enjoy the night. Then
he turned off the light.

     The room had no windows and almost no light came in the closed door,
so it was pretty much pitch black in the room. The light bulb was
probably just a twenty-five watt or something, so it would have been no
problem to sleep with the light on.

     Cheeter took hold of my hand and guided me to the bed. Either he
could see in the dark or he was very familiar with the room's layout. I
guessed it was probably the latter.

     When Cheeter made a comment about not being able to see the color
of his skin when it was so dark, I realized that he must have faced a
lot of discrimination. I didn't say anything, but I guess he didn't
realize that I would be able to tell it was him just from the way he
smelled. It wasn't a bad smell. It wasn't a good smell. It was just a
different smell that was unlike the way Rusty, Tweeter, Twix, Puffer or
any of the other boys smelled.

     So we lay there fully dressed - I even still had my shoes on.
Cheeter told me about his childhood as he occasionally touched my face
or ran his fingers through my hair, how his dad and two of his uncles
used him and his brothers for sex, how his older brothers used him, how
he used his younger brothers.

     Somehow he got me talking about my life of being whipped. He had me
sit up so that he could remove my shirt. He removed his shirt at the
same time. As I talked, he ran his hand over my chest, sometimes tracing
my lips with a finger or circling my bellybutton.

     When Cheeter asked me what I wanted out of life, I found no answer
for him. I knew perfectly well that I didn't want to be whipped any more,
but as for what I did want, well, I wasn't sure. He was kissing my neck
and shoulders, sometimes nibbling on an ear, stopping only to ask more
questions. It seemed to be easy to talk with Cheeter.

     At some point, it occurred to me that what we were doing wasn't sex,
but it was enjoyable. It was in its own way even better than sex. I felt
close to Cheeter. I reached out my hand and gently began to feel his
chest, his shoulders. In silence, my hands explored his upper body while
his lips explored mine.

     When his lips met mine, a million thoughts seemed to flow through
my mind: Did I really want to be kissing a black boy, did I really want
to be kissing any boy, did it make any difference that he was black? For
all of my doubts, Cheeter taught me how to kiss that night, and I
enjoyed it very much.

     Then when his tongue penetrated my lips, more questions invaded me:
Wasn't his mouth dirty, could I get sick from his germs, wasn't this how
people got mono? And yet my arms wrapped around him and held him close
as our tongues danced together, as our lips pressed together, as I
inhaled into my nose the air he was exhaling from his.

     I have no idea how much time went by while we kissed. Perhaps not
all that much, but it was something that I wanted to go on forever just
as much as I wanted to move on to other things. It was Cheeter who
eventually got up and left me lying there as he removed my shoes and
socks and began to play with my feet.

     I took the time to think about my feelings. I had never thought
about having sex with another guy before, and rather suddenly I had
found myself having sex just to make money. Although what I was doing
with Cheeter had nothing to do with money. I enjoyed it, but even more
so, I desired it. It was as if I had been seeking it without even
realizing it.

     Cripes, even the touch of Cheeter's fingers on my feet and ankles
made me feel all tingly. I wouldn't have said that I was in love with
Cheeter. It could have been Tonka or Twix or even Rusty and I think I
would have felt the same way. It was like I was waking up to a desire
that I had never realized that I had.

     Lost in my thoughts, I became aware that Cheeter was in the process
of unsnapping my pants, unzipping them, and pulling them down with my
undies. I lifted my butt to facilitate the process. He bounced back on
the bed beside me and I wasn't too surprised to discover that he was as
naked as I was.

     Naked, we pressed our bodies together, our legs nestled together
allowing our crotches to meld. Our arms wrapped around each other. Our
lips once again found sweet solace together. His hands roamed over my
back and butt while my hands did the same. I wondered if I could just
live with Cheeter for the rest of my life.

     Cheeter engaged me in a mock wrestling match. Sometimes he would be
on top, sometimes I would be. In either case, our boners pressed between
our bodies and our lips seldom parted. I was totally dependent on Cheeter
for the lead on our playing around, and I was completely content with
that situation.

     Cheeter broke away from our ardent kissing. Not that we had been in
one continuous kiss the entire time - our lips had also wandered to other
parts of each other's faces. But the way that Cheeter moved his kisses
down to my neck while shifting his body off of mine led me to believe
that we were moving on to a new stage in our lovemaking.

     As Cheeter moved his way down my torso with his tongue, lips and
fingers, he positioned his body so that he way laying on his stomach with
his hips just about even with my shoulders. I played my hand over
Cheeter's back and butt while he roamed his fingers and mouth over every
part of my crotch except my boner.

     By the time Cheeter finally began to pay some attention to my boner,
my whole body was quivering in anticipation. Even then, he took his time,
using the tips of his fingers and the tip of his tongue to excite me. I
couldn't stand it any more, and my body shook in orgasm.

     As I lay there, breathing hard, I figured what would happen next
would be that Cheeter would roll me over and fuck me. Instead, Cheeter
continued to caress my entire groin area, licking on my balls, and not
ignoring my boner at all which was still hard but not completely stiff.

     When Cheeter sucked my boner into his mouth, I was amazed that my
body seemed to be ready for it. I knew that I had had at least five or
six orgasms already that day and yet I knew that if Cheeter kept going,
I would eventually have yet another one.

     I turned slightly to my side so that I could slide my hand under
Cheeter's body and grab a feel of his boner. Cheeter obliged by turning
slightly onto his side. I still found it to be a bit awkward to fondle
his boner and balls, so I turned a bit more and so did Cheeter. After one
more round, we were both lying on our sides, and Cheeter's boner was
almost right in my face.

     Even though Cheeter was younger than I was by a couple of months,
his boner was about the same size as Puffer's. Plus I could feel that he
had a nice small patch of pubic hair already.

     All this time, Cheeter never stopped sucking on my boner. Suddenly
I had a brilliant idea. With a small shift of my body, I was able to suck
on Cheeter's boner at the same time that he was sucking on mine. I
actually thought I had invented a brand new way for two boys to have sex
together.

     In what seemed like almost no time at all, Cheeter stopped sucking
on my boner long enough to tell me that he was going to shoot. I was a
little surprised that he was old enough to shoot, but I didn't think too
much of it. Then he told me again that he was going to shoot for real,
and there seemed to be an urgency in his words, but I didn't know why.

     True to his word, Cheeter shot his wad into my mouth. It wasn't
until later that I found out that no whitey had ever sucked Cheeter's
boner before and that just the idea that I was sucking him off had made
him super excited. He had thought that there was no way I would ever let
him shoot into my mouth.

     Anyway, between the excitement I felt at having made Cheeter excited
and the stimulation of Cheeter's mouth and hands, it wasn't very long
before I once again reached orgasm. Part of me was exhausted, and part
of me never wanted this night to end.

     At this point, Cheeter offered his butt to me, but I demurred. When
I offered my butt to Cheeter, he was incredulous. Later on I would learn
that for a whitey to pleasure a black was considered extremely taboo.
Whites didn't suck off blacks and blacks didn't fuck whites. It just
didn't happen.

     Once I managed to convince Cheeter that I was serious about letting
him fuck me, he lost little time in getting me lubed up. He had me lay
on my back and lift my legs way up in the air so that my knees were
almost touching my shoulders.

     Cheeter took his time, both in penetrating me and in fucking me.
After a while, I began to feel quite uncomfortable with having my legs
up in the air like that. My muscles were complaining. Cheeter had me get
on my knees and elbows and he got me behind me in what he called 'doggy
style'.

     While Cheeter fucked me, he jacked me off with one hand (I continued
to be amazed that I still had the energy to maintain a boner) and raked
his fingernails down my back with his other hand. I could feel myself
heading for yet another orgasm.

     As had happened with Paul earlier, my orgasm triggered Cheeter's
orgasm. After he made his final push into my butt, I gradually collapsed
onto the bed and Cheeter collapsed on top of me, his dick staying inside
of my butt as I drifted off to sleep.