Date: Sun, 28 Sep 2003 15:27:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: Webster Dazell <webdazell@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fulfilling The Fantasy

Title: Fulfilling The Fantasy, A Response Story Author: Web Dazell Part: 1
of 1 Keywords: Oral, Interracial, Male Homosexual Redistribution: Not
without author's permission

   Welcome to the latest in my line of divertissements, The Response
Stories.  These little tales fall somewhere between the real-life
autobiography of my Arrangement series and the pure fiction of my Adventure
series.

   As an author, every once in a awhile a reader's email
(webdazell@yahoo.com) will strike a
spark in me.  No, not that kind of a spark.  The type that sets my mind to
whirling and forces my my fingers to begin tapping on the keyboard.
Sometimes these peter off (so to speak) but sometimes they result in a
short story which I then share with my correspondent.  This has happened a
half-dozen times or so in the last year.

   One of the recipients of a Response Story suggested I share these
stories with my other readers and I figured "why not." Each story will
begin with the original email.  The names and other identifying information
in this story have been changed to cover up for the reader who inspired it.

   All of the usual warnings and cautions apply to this story.  Do not read
this if you are a minor or if it is unlawful in your area as it contains
vivid descriptions on interracial, homosexual activities.

   Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
(including reproduction or reposting) reserved by its author, Web Dazell,
unless explicitly otherwise indicated.

   FULFILLING THE FANTASY By Web Dazell

   Cougar wrote:

   Hi Web, Man, I've got to tell you I've enjoyed all your stories
especially the ones where you get to suck black cock.

   I've never had the pleasure of tasting a delicious big black cock.  It's
always been my no.1 fantasy.  Hopefully one of these nights if I can get up
the nerve.

   I probably owe you a dozen blowjobs from all the times I've cum over
your stories.  Please keep me and your stories cumming.

   Cougar

   I wrote back:

   Cougar:

   Thanks for your kind words.

   I don't know where you live but any large metropolitan area with an
adult movie arcade will usually have an ample number of black cocks whose
owners would be more than happy to help you fulfill your fantasy.  Just
picture it in your mind:

   It's early Saturday evening, a little after twilight has begun, the
deepening shadows of night leap across the road in front of you, yet go
unnoticed.  You have no eye for the scenery.  It takes all your
concentration to simply steer the car toward your destination.

   Just a week ago you decided you'd lived through the experiences of
others long enough.  You had to find out what it would be like to have a
black man's cock in your mouth.

   So, you visited the sex listings section on the www.cruisingforsex.com
website to find the perfect bookstore for your initiation; one close enough
to be drivable but far enough away the odds are no one would know you.  To
help make sure your fantasy came true you even posted an email on their
message board.

   "HELP ME SATISFY MY DARK DESIRES," you typed, "White mouth hungers for
black cock.  I'm an interracial virgin who wants his oral cherry busted.
Will you be the one to feed me my first ebony pole?  I'll be at the ____
bookstore on _____ street in ______ at 9:30 PM next Saturday.  I'll be
wearing khaki pants and the blue cotton sweater.  Please coat my tongue
with your strong masculine seed.  Believe me, this cat will make you yowl."

   For a week you checked your email account for replies like a nervous
bride waiting for the RSVPs to role in from her wedding invitations.  Only
two responses but anticipating thick black manmeat to suck on kept you hard
for days.

   You park off the street in the lot behind the bookstore, the gravel of
the lot crunching under your tires as you slide your car among the dozen or
so already there.  The darkness has increased, granting you cover as the
flickering light from a 40-watt bulb guides your way to the entryway.
Stepping inside, you wait for a moment trying to get your bearings.

   You're at the far end of the store.  To your left is a room marked
"Men," to your right a heavy black curtain covers the entryway to the peep
show booths.  Pinned to the curtain is a crudely scrawled sign, "You must
buy five dollars worth of tokens from cashier to enter this area!!!" You go
left down the hall and buy double the minimum from a fat middle-aged man,
his balding head glistening with sweat.  After a hour and a half's drive,
you need more than a few minutes of relief.

   As you turn to go back to the booths, you notice four men standing in
the magazine area behind you.  Three of the four are black.  One, the one
whose skin is almost the sooty black color of an eggplant, gives you a slow
inspection, his eyes moving from your toes to the crown of your head and
back again.

   Catching your gaze for a moment he smiles at you, then places the
magazine he was holding back in the rack nudging the older, mocha-toned man
next to him.

   Pants tenting out, your sight goes fuzzy and, for just a moment, you
feel a light tingle of dizziness.  Somehow you put one foot in front of the
other and make your way back toward the curtain, gently shivering as you
walk.

   At the door you pause, asking yourself if you really want to do this,
cross the color line, take that dark dick in your mouth?  You could just
turn to the left, get back in the car and go home.  All you'd be out is $10
plus gas plus a few hours of your time.

   As you debate the issue you look up and see a circular mirror affixed
where the wall and ceiling join.  The mirror reflects what's going on
behind you.

   A trio follows you now, the first two you exchanged glances with and a
third black man from the magazine area; a young, hardbodied, homeboy, with
baseball cap on backwards, a yellow muscle shirt, jeans, tattoos and
piercing, the whole ghetto ambiance.

   Like you, they are looking in the mirror.  You watch them, they watch
you, a moment frozen in time.  Then Homeboy rubs his crotch and grins, his
parting lips revealing a gold tooth with a diamond inset.  Eggplant winks
while Mocha just nods.  Your mind made up, you part the curtain and step
in.

   It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, a moment during
which a hand brushes against your crotch.  It's Mocha's hand.  When you
don't push him away his movements become bolder.  He takes your hand,
places it against his thickening tool and whispers in your ear "Give it a
squeeze Cougar." You do.  It feels good against your palm, throbbing with
the promise of juicy rewards to come.

   Homeboy comes up to you.  "Straight up, cracker, you be Cougar?  You be
the dude wanting some licorice stick to swing on, cuz if you is, we can hep
you out." The other two wait for your answer.

   "Yeah, I'm Cougar," you answer as the blood in your veins grows warm.
"Who are you."

   "Sheeit man, don't matter who I be.  What I be, muthafuck, is your next
dinner, knowumsayin?"

   You try to swallow before you reply, your mouth as dry as Lot's wife.
One last chance to back out, to run back to the safety of your home.  The
challenging tone in Homeboy's query makes your decision for you.  It's time
to satisfy your hunger, live out your fantasy, feel a black bone slide
between your lips and receive the cocksucker's reward.

   Without speaking you reach out to the zipper of Homeboy's jeans, take
the tab between your fingers and, looking him right in the eye, begin to
unzip his pants.  Homeboy's smile becomes wider, the gold and diamond
reflecting the yellow tinge of the exit sign.

   Before you can complete your task, Eggplant grabs your arm.  "Not out
here Cougar," he says in a soft cultured voice at odds with Homeboy's
center city slang.  "They're fairly tolerant here but they do draw the line
at blowjobs in the hallway."

   He heads off to the side of the arcade, holding the door open on a
"Buddy Booth." You file in, followed by Mocha.  Eggplant lets the door
close softly behind him but doesn't lock it.  Homeboy is still outside.

   You look around the "booth," actually a small room.  There are two TV
screens on the wall with a small sofa facing them.  The sofa has seen
better days.  On the left side of the booth there's a raised plywood bench,
almost like a massage table.  A box of facial tissue sits on the wooden
surface.  Hanging from the wall at the end of the table is a vending
machine with three selections of condoms: unlubricated, extra large-ridged
and strawberry flavored.

   There are two wastebaskets in the room, a used condom hangs limply over
the side of the one closest to you, glistening in the pale blueish-white of
the television screens.  The booth smells of old smoke, stale sex and cheap
disinfectant but you don't care.  You're not there to smell the flowers.

   Your attention turns from the room to Mocha who is the process of taking
his pants off.  Underneath his clothes his body is far from perfect.  It's
soft, spindly and sags but you don't care.  Because the meat between his
legs isn't sagging.  It's standing almost straight out from the triangle of
curly hair that surrounds it, his balls hanging loosely down beneath.

   Now nude, Mocha hops up on the bench, spreading his legs with his ass
hanging off the table's edge.  A single drop of fluid slips from his piss
slot to mingle on the floor with the stains and secretions of men who came
before him.

   Still, you wait before approaching Mocha.  All of the invitees to the
party haven't arrived.  Eggplant hasn't even begun to undress.  Homeboy is
still outside and you want to get a look at all your options before you
decide who first christens your mouth with their water of life.

   A quick rap echoes through the booth followed by some muffled words
through the wood.  Eggplant swings the door open just long enough for
Homeboy to squeeze in.  But Homeboy isn't alone, he's brought a friend.

   The newcomer is short, stocky with a shaven head and a small neatly
trimmed goatee.  Although the ambient light is too unnatural to make out
his skin tone, it spills its lambent bounty over him, giving him the look
of glowing black marble.

   His chest, framed by an open shirt, is broad with well-defined muscles,
firm pecs and erect little nipples.  A trail of dark hair trails down his
stomach to disappear below the waistband of his pants.  An aroused John
Thomas juts from the open fly of his pants like a promontory into the sea.

   You are immediately attracted to him.  His body, his bearing all radiate
not only sex but power beyond his young years.  Here is the man who will be
the first black you worship, whose liquid offering you will accept and
absorb.

   As Eggplant locks the door you speak, surprised at how little quiver
there is in your voice.  "Please all of you.  Take off your clothes and sit
on the table."

   "Sure Cougar," says Eggplant.  "But maybe you should put some money in
the coin slots.  Get the movies rolling before the attendant knocks on the
door.  Like I said, they're tolerant here but this is intended to be a
for-profit business."

   The light in the room grows brighter, more multi-colored as the movies
begin to play.  Eggplant sits at the end of the table closest to the door,
Mocha next to him, Homeboy to Mocha's left and Newcomer on the end closest
to you.

   As you return to the bench, Newcomer speaks, his voice higher pitched
than you would have expected..

   "I'm not wearin no fuckin jimmy hat."

   Seeing your confusion Eggplant translates.  "He means no condom.  He
won't wear a condom.  He wants to go bareback." You nod your acceptance as
you approach the nude quartet, all thought of disease and death banished by
your raw desire.

   They are waiting for you now, waiting for you to begin, to fulfill the
promise in your message, It's time for Cougar to make them yowl.

   You start with Eggplant, your hands grasping his fully erect cock,
squeezing and pressing, sliding up and down its length.  It just feels so
right in your grasp.

   Then it's on to Mocha, the outer softness of his rod hiding the steel
within.  Again your hands fly up and down until the older man begins to
breath faster and the tip of his dick is awash in precum.

   Homeboy gets his turn too but not as long or as thorough as the other
two.  You're too distracted by the thought of taking Newcomer's manhood
between your lips to do Homeboy justice.  But you know you'll make it up to
him later.

   Your mouth descends, not to Newcomer's cock, there will be time to
explore that treasure soon, but to his chest.  You lick and suck his pebbly
nips, your tongue teasing them with feathery swipes until they are as hard
as his cock in your hand.  Careful to maintain contact, you slide your
mouth down his rippled abdomen, your tongue leaving behind a trail of
saliva like a snail,

   Finally you reach his dick, his fat, heavy, black as Siberian midnight
dick.  Rocking back on your heels, you take it in your hand, stare at it
like a vampire would a young virgin's throat, filled with the same lust and
need to suck as the Count himself.

   Your hands let go of his prick.  For a second it bounces up and down
before pointing skyward.  You move your arms under the back of his legs.
In a movement akin to doing the breast stroke, you brush aside his legs,
spreading his crotch wider.  Quickly you wiggle forward then side to side
until your body is behind his legs, his thighs resting on your back.

   Craning upwards, stretching your neck until it hurts, you begin to
teabag his nutsack, sucking and licking his walnut-sized balls until
Newcomers moans.  In the background you can hear the sound of heavy
breathing and fists slowly beating against dicks, as the remaining men
respond to your performance.

   Backing off and rising up a little, you balance yourself on your heels.
Newcomer's cockhead is just inches from your mouth, a ripe shiny plum
waiting to be devoured.

   As you take your first black dick into your mouth,saliva spills from the
corners of your lips, a sign of the deluge to come.  It's so good, so warm,
so natural you want to nurse forever.

   But Newcomer won't give you forever.  He's read your posting, knows he's
sliding in and out of a virgin mouth and a white one at that.  That
knowledge has made him hot, hotter than even your sweet sucking mouth could
alone.

   He grabs your head between his strong hands and squeezes to hold you in
place.  Now you're not blowing him, he's fucking you, fucking your mouth
hard and fast and you love it.  You love his mastery of you.

   You feel him begin to come, his cock swelling, the sperm you've wanted
for so long rushing though his fleshy tube to shoot against the back of
your throat.  Pure ambrosia.

   Without warning, Newcomer pulls his rod out of your mouth, jism still
spurting from its tip.  A baker frosting a cake, he decorates your face
with lines of his hot spunk, warm white liquid splashing everywhere, the
last heavy drop falling like syrup onto your lower lip before rolling back
into your mouth.

   Fire hydrant to his dog, you wait until Newcomer has finished marking
you.  Then you stand, still fully clothed, and carefully use your hand to
shepherd the remains of his gift to you into your mouth; eight eyes
watching as you lick and swallow the last of Newcomer's spendings from your
palm.

   "Thank you," you say your head bowed in reverence.  Then, your lust
still unabated you turn to the remaining three and ask:

   "Who's next?"

   Hope you liked the story Cougar and I hope you get the chance to live
out your fantasy.  Let me know how it goes (or cums).

   Web