Gay Interracial - Sex Stories

Gay Interracial

... cops to handle things." So I wondered when I heard him complain about "them" what had changed? Whatever it was, it ate at him. When he stood up he seemed smaller to me, I'd look at the pictures of him in the hallway. There were a half dozen photos of him in fighter's poses, centered around a framed page from of the Daily News, showing the 1959 Golden Gloves standings and the proud circle around his name. "Bill Williams 11-1-4" He was a lot closer to the top then the bottom. The collage was completed by a picture of mom and Dad, she was leaning back into his rippling chest, his arms hung around her into his big shoulders. They met during that tournament because mom was a fight fan. Each day I grew further from him; Age and the cruelty of economics was killing him drip by drip, while my 13 year old body was rabid with new life. I spent hours in my room masturbating, rubbing myself so often and with such intensity that my cock had red sores. Sex was all I thought about. Once a week I'd run up to a news stand, and continue running as I reached up and pulled the latest edition of Screw magazine from the top of the stand. I wanted it that bad, bad enough to risk being caught stealing. What an eye- opener Screw was! Not sex the way it was in library books, reduced to some bloodless diagrams, but sex the way people dreamed about it: crude and dirty. I wanted to know what people looked like down there, something in me reveled in the look of naked bodies, and the leer of Screw's ...

... attitude: Fuck morality, let's just get it on! The revolution of the sixties had receded from its political high water mark, but it was still cutting new channels within the uncharted Amazon of our desires. There were no more walks in Riverside Park. We lived together, but the inner lives of the three of us had spun away from the close orbit of a few months before. Dad seemed to get weaker almost every day. I was growing stronger, hair was sprouting all over my balls, and while I still had the remnants of a child in my face, I had the hungry, devouring appetite of a leering adult man inside me. And mom? There was something changing in her as well. I was astonished that she kept the job in the movie theater when it switched to adult, XXX, only. Some day's I'd walk up to 107th street just to see it. I knew from my weekly Screw the story line from the marquee title. I knew from the review how good it was, whether it was a "one erection" dud or a "four erection" title that was so intense you could close your eyes and smell the accumulating arousal of the men in the theater. I don't know why I walked up there. I couldn't go inside, I would just stand there a few minutes, occasionally seeing one of the neighborhood men walk in or out. She was changing. Sometimes while I was in my room I could hear Mom and Dad talking in the living room. Or rather her talking, and some polite grunts from him. And when I heard them I would stop masturbating, because sometimes I would hear an exchange that ...