Gay Interracial - Sex Stories

Gay Interracial

... death. No, it was like the break of a shell, and with the break a new person peered out from inside me. A new person whose first sight was that hard, black cock of his. A new person who spoke for the first time: "Please . . ." The words burst out of me with a sob. ". . . Please . . . call me a pussy again!" ** When he was done, I wiped my face in silence, and then Kyle took me outside. He opened the door and walked outside, and I followed him into the living room. My father was gone. His father was on the couch, listening to Ali talk about his victory. I was walking towards the apartment door. Ken stood up and headed me off before I got to it. "You have a good time Jamie?" he asked. He leaned down and looked closely at my face, his eyes were like lasers beneath his drooping dreadlocks. He was studying my soul, as if he could see all the nuances of my humiliation written on my face. When he saw what he needed he straightened up and looked over me at his boy. A loud, wild laugh rose up in him. "I'll bet we'll be seeing a lot of you!" he said. I hung my head and walked past him through the door. I could still hear them laughing as I walked down the hallway to my apartment. ** They did see a lot of me. When Kyle was in the mood, he would wait downstairs in the lobby and meet me when I got home from school. He would take me up to his place. We'd go inside and would head straight to his room. Ken was always there -- he and Kyle would high-five each other as we passed him on the ...

... way to his room. I would suck Kyle off, and then head home with the taste of him still in my mouth. I'd go into my room and masturbate, thinking of his cock, the way its big head probed my throat while my lips were stretched. I'd rub myself, and think of his voice; I'd linger on the dirty things he said to me, and feel the thrill that made me shiver at the sound of that hiss in his voice. For weeks we were like that. I was a cocksucker now. He was in the full rush of boyhood, he needed to empty himself out almost every day, and so it was every day that he'd be down in the lobby, smoking a cigarette, waiting for me. When you spend that much time with someone's cock in your mouth an intimacy grows. I began to notice that I could control his sensations with subtle movements within my mouth. I'd look up at him, and see the reaction in his eyes to the way I pursed my lips. I'd shift the shape of my tongue and my hands would feel a little shake in his ass. But for all my conceit of control, he was the one that was calling the shots. He was the one that laughed at me with contempt; he was the one that called me a motherfucker as he rubbed his cum around my nose. He was the one that decided it would be fun to do me in my own apartment, and so one day when I made a right off the elevator he grabbed my arm, spun me around and pushed me down the hall the other way, to my apartment. This so I could see the look in my father's face when he saw us at the door; this so my Dad could listen at ...