Date: Sun, 8 Aug 2004 13:04:14 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jerome Skorpio <jeromeskorpio@yahoo.com>
Subject: Kirk's First Time (author, interr)

KIRK'S FIRST TIME,
by J. Skorpio.

My name is Kirk.  For the past few years I've been a sex addict.  Black
cock was my drug of choice.  I couldn't get enough.  Night and day found me
on my knees in some alley, park, or men's room giving head to any Black man
who came along.  Usually I had to pay and more than once got the crap beat
out of me.  Last week, after getting jumped by four thugs at 3:30 in the
morning, I sought professional help, but my shrink wants me to write about
my addiction before we begin our sessions together.  I suppose it's best to
start at the beginning.

The first time I had sex with a black guy I was eighteen and working for
minimum wage in a hospital kitchen.  The breakfast and lunch crew consisted
mostly of older Black women, but two guys were always scheduled for the
heavy work such as lugging food carts to each wing, scrubbing pots,
emptying the trash, mopping the floor.

It was back-breaking, menial work of the lowest rung but I was glad to have
a job after being kicked out of the house by my father.  He found the porn
magazines which I thought were hidden in my closet: Black Inches, Ghetto
Boyz, Ebony Masters.  Their titles say it all.  I don't know which my
father hated more: that his only son was a homo or that he was a
Negro-lover.  I can't bring myself to repeat his actual words.

At the hospital kitchen, I was usually assigned to work with a tall, slim
Black dude named Rayshawn who rarely spoke to me.  Whenever he did speak it
was usually in short, spare commands, like telling me to empty the garbage
for him because he was cutting out early. I was intimidated and turned on
by his presence at the same time.  We were the same age, but Rayshawn
looked younger and carried himself like a full-grown man.  Another
incentive for coming to work each day, besides a paycheck, was getting a
glimpse of Rayshawn in the locker room when we changed into our work
clothes or when his thin white work pants got soaked from the dishwasher
and I could see distinctly the long outline of his cock through the cloth.

I didn't figure Rayshawn or anyone else knew I was gay.  I'm a decent
looking guy with an average physique and no gay mannerisms.  I played
softball in high school and even slept with two different girls so I had my
heterosexual credentials, or so I thought.  One day, after working at the
kitchen for about a month, I walked into the locker room and discovered new
graffiti written with a black Magic Marker on the wall above the only
urinal: "The whiteboy is a stone fag."

I was stunned.  This not only meant that one of the guys I worked with knew
the truth about me, but now any man who recently took a piss would know.
Was it Rayshawn, I wondered.  He might have caught me staring at his sexy
body any number of times.  I didn't want to believe it was him, but in my
gut maybe I hoped it was.  I scratched out the graffiti with a pocket-knife
until it was completely effaced, then returned to work.  Day after day, I
tortured myself worrying about who was responsible.

A month went by.  Rayshawn didn't treat me any differently, neither did
anyone else.  Eventually, I stopped thinking about it.  When fall came I
enrolled in community college and switched from full-time days at the
hospital to the dinner shift. My first night with the part-timers, I was
assigned to work with Jamal, a tall, muscular, basketball player type, dark
like a Hershey bar, with thick lips and an eye for Barbara Jean, the young,
big-breasted blonde who prepped salads.

While we were emptying the trash and hosing down the food carts outside,
Jamal rambled on about sexy Barbara-Jean.  "Especially her lips," he said.
"Dayumm, I'm wanna git me a bee-jay from BJ."

I had never heard a blowjob called a BJ before, that's how innocent and
unworldly I was at eighteen.

"What's a BJ?"

"Dumbfuck, you never heard of a blow job?  That's funny as shit!  Ain't you
never had yo dick sucked, boy?  Don't you know spit don't make babies?"

"Yeah, I've had my cock sucked," I lied.

"Well, that's what I'm talkin' about!  I want BJ's pretty lips on my
johnson so fuckin' bad I can feel it!"  He tugged at his crotch.  "Yo, you
think she'll suck my dick, man?"

"I don't know.  She might."

I didn't know how to talk to Jamal.  I grew up in a lily white suburb and
attended a lily-white school.  Other than Rayshawn, who rarely spoke to me,
I had never been around black guys before.

"Yo, I'm gonna git that bee-jay," Jamal boasted.  "You don't think I'm
gonna git it, but I'm gonna!"

After hosing down the food carts, Jamal and I scrubbed pots an pans for an
hour.  Between sweat and steam we were soaked.  Jamal worked in his
sleeveless undershirt.  His bulging arms, shoulders, and chest were so much
bigger and more defined than mine.  I don't think there was an ounce of fat
on Jamal's entire body.  Veins stood out on his arms.

By the time we swept and mopped, the cooks and the rest of the staff had
punched out.  Jamal asked me if I'd seen Barbara Jean.

"Yeah, she just left."

"Dag, I wanted to talk to that bitch.  She must've seen how I was checkin'
her out and got scared and shit."

Done for the night, I went to the men's locker room to change.  I was so
exhausted that I sat down on a bench against the wall to rest with my eyes
closed for a moment.  I figured Jamal had gone straight home without
changing, but I was wrong.  The door swung open.

"What you doin', dumbfuck?" he asked.  "You sleepin'?  They worked you that
hard?"

"I'm tired as hell," I said, not even opening my eyes.  I had my hands
behind my head.  I was just wanted to rest quietly for a moment.

"Yeah, me too," said Jamal.  "I thought this was gonna be a git-over job
but they work the shit outta you in this place!"

Jamal opened his locker and stripped down to his gray boxer briefs.
Hearing him undress, I had to open my eyes, although I pretended not to
look in his direction.  He looked so hot in his underwear.  His magnificent
abs looked like they were chiseled out of obsidian and the snug boxer
briefs revealed the outline of his cock.  I closed my eyes again and hoped
Jamal wouldn't waste any time getting out of there.  I was afraid of what I
might do if he lingered. ,

"You better not fall asleep wit' yo mouth open," said Jamal.

"What do you mean?"  I asked naively.

"Cause if you fall asleep wit yo mouth open," he taunted, "I might just put
my dick in it!"

"But, but, I don't - "

"Look, dumbfuck, I'm gonna let you be the one to give me that bee-jay,
aiight?"

I wanted to drop to my knees at once, but what if he was just joking, what
if he wanted to beat me up?  Out of cowardice, I kept silent, but the lust
in my eyes gave me away.

"C'mon, man, you know this shit is callin' you," he went on.  "Check it
out, ain't this what you want?"

Jamal pulled down his boxer briefs and stood before me naked except for his
white socks.  His uncircumcised cock was flaccid but impressive.

I joked, "It's not even hard.  Very funny."

"You're gonna make it grow in yo mouth."

As Jamal began stroking his cock, I realized he meant it.  He was seriously
looking for a bee-jay and didn't care where or how he got it.

I got down on my knees and took his soft juicy cock in my mouth.  It got
hard fast. I mean, fast!  One second it was a plump five inch sausage.  A
second later it was like a nine inch pipe of wrought iron forcing its way
down my throat.

Jamal grabbed my head with both hands and pushed me down on his growing
black shaft.  I choked and gagged as he jammed it into my throat.

"Oh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about," he growled.  "Yeah, suck that
dick.  Suck it good like that.  I told you I was gonna git me a bee-jay
today."

 He fucked my face brutally.  I guess his cock was maybe nine or ten inches
long.  His balls were on the small side, dangling low in the sack as they
slapped my chin.  There was something in the musky scent of his crotch as
it hit my nostrils that excited me beyond belief.

"Awww, shit, you like dat?  Suck my dick, suck it bitch!  Dayummm," he
said.  "Swallow it, swallow it!!!  Make me bust this nut!  That`s right,
you got it!  Show me how bad you want this dick, whiteboy! Yah, suck that
Black dick, cracker!  Suck me like you know you should!"

A few minutes later, Jamal got his wish and I got mine.  A gusher of hot
salty sperm foamed in my mouth, drooling from my lips.  Jamal pushed me
away and snatched up his boxers.  It seemed like his long Black cock had
been in my mouth for an eternity and now that it was taken away from me, I
felt lost and deprived.  I wanted more.  I needed more.

"That was nice, whiteboy," he chuckled in a sinister way.  "Rayshawn was
right, you is a stone fag."

So, Rayshawn was responsible for the graffiti.  Not only that, but he told
Jamal.  I wondered if all the black guys who worked there knew about me.

A week later I found myself alone in the men's locker room with Rayshawn.
He said to me, "I heard about you and Jamal!  You gonna do me like you did
him?"

"If that's what you want," I said, meekly.

"You know what I want, whiteboy," he said.

Not another word was spoken between us as I got down on my knees before
Rayshawn and worshipped at his beautiful Black cock for the next hour.  It
wasn't as long as Jamal's, but was thicker.  Again, the heady smell of a
Black Man's crotch worked on me like an aphrodisiac.  I couldn't help
myself.  The musky scent drove me crazy.

For the next few months I went down regularly on both Jamal and Rayshawn,
knowing that every day I reported to work, one of them would be waiting for
me in the locker room!  One night they took turns banging my face.  It was
like a game to see who could last the longest before cumming.

Sometimes Jamal would see me in the hallway and whisper, "Yo, bitch, meet
me in the room.  I need one of them super jobs."  Rayshawn often asked me
to give him a few dollars (nothing less than $30), but Jamal was content to
have me suck the sperm out of his dick whenever he was horny.

This was how I got started but it was only the beginning.  I had no idea
how many Black Men, straight or gay, were ready to take advantage of a
white slut like me.  My addiction to Black Dick was only getting started.


THE END