Gay Interracial - Sex Stories

Gay Interracial

... hammering Wepner. The silence broke when the ref called the doctor in. "Shit! Fucker's bleedin'," Kyle said. "Damn! That shit again!" Ken said. He sat a minute and said some more. "Know how that works Bill?" He didn't wait for my father to ask; Ken moved over along the couch right next to Dad. Ken drew his right hand into a huge fist and said: "Ali hits like this. . ." Ken demonstrated the movement of a punch. "See, just as the punch lands, he turns his hand just a bit. . ." He pivoted his hand counterclockwise an inch or so. "Just a few punches with that little turn there cuts the motherfucker's eye open." My father didn't move, and didn't acknowledge Ken's lesson in any way. He was shut down, hiding somewhere deep inside. Ken looked at him, waiting a long time for a reaction from Dad. I wondered if he was breathing. Then Ken stood up, and he said to Kyle: "Let's go in the kitchen and get some more beers." When they left, I could hear them down there, laughing and giggling, and talking about something in low, basso whispers. Something was up, and I was becoming very frightened. I leaned over at Dad. "Dad, can't we just get out of here?" He was frozen. Maybe he had the same fear I did; whatever it was though, he seemed pale and bloodless. "It's not going to last long . . . maybe another round or so." I was about to tell him I wanted to go then, at that moment before something ugly happened. I was about to speak, but they had stopped laughing in the kitchen, and now they ...

... were speaking to each other low, deep whispers. I turned my head and strained to hear them over the TV, but I couldn't. All I could pick up was the feeling - they were planning something, something serious. I turned back to Dad. I started to tell him that I was going to go even if he wasn't, when I heard their footsteps in the hallway. Ken and Kyle sauntered back in, holding two beers each. Kyle walked right over to me and stood by my chair. "Hey Jamie, c'mon." I craned my neck and looked up at him. "C'mon, I want to show you my room." He wasn't smiling. His eyes were cold, but very bright - I couldn't look away. "C'mon man - I got somethin' I want to show you." It was my turn. ** The first thing I noticed when I walked into his room was the pictures: there were dozens of Hustler magazine centerfolds pinned to the wall. Girls from the front, girls from the rear and even underneath, but no matter the angle the thing of greatest interest was centered in each picture. Every girl was pulling her pussy lips apart, showing the damp pink skin that makes the blood rush to our cocks. He was behind me, closing the door while I scanned the room. I was struck by the openness; my pornography was hidden in my closet. His was displayed proudly on the wall. Aside from that difference, the room was just like mine: an unmade bed, dirty clothes on the floor, and a stereo system on a small bench. I turned and faced him. "Like my girls?" he said. "Yeah." He walked over to me and put his hand on my ...