Gone Black - Chapter Two - Black Bros' Ho
Gone Black - Chapter Two - Black Bros' Ho
* This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or living persons is coincidental.
Personal experiences, from images to events, memories and words, flavor my writing, and while elements of this story may be (and often are) based in fact, the characters are entirely fictional.
* Unprotected sex is depicted. In real life, be safe! Don't gamble.
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GONE BLACK
By Colton Aalto
CHAPTER 2 – BLACK BROS' HO
Blinking at Jeron as the slender black thug sneered at me, I had no time to contemplate what might be in store for me in my newfound role as his "party entertainment," whatever that meant. Following his instructions to get my ass moving, I pulled on my jock strap and reached for my shorts and tank top. But he stopped me.
"Jeron didn' say yo cud git dressed, bitch. Bitch ho don' need no clothes where we goin'. Dis ass need ta be bare." He emphasized the point by slapping my bare buns, making them sting, and then pulling the straps of my jock as far as they would go before letting them snap back and smack my exposed glutes. I stifled a surprised yelp. He chortled and it crossed my mind that wearing a jock might not have been my wisest clothing choice.
Feeling trepidation, I looked down at my shirt and shorts and, for lack of any better idea, stuffed the tank into the pocket of my shorts to protect my keys from falling out. I had no desire to hunt for them in the park or wherever else Jeron might be taking me. He pinned one arm behind my back, the same as he always did, and pushed me forward.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as we left the park and approached the street. At the beginning of the evening, I'd worried that someone would see us when I sucked him off, but now I'd be parading around in public wearing nothing but a dirty jock strap and flip flops. Whatever he had planned, I knew Jeron well enough to understand he wouldn't cut me any slack. My heart was thumping and his earlier comment came back to me. "Dat ass will do." At the time it was curious, but now, coupled with his insistence that my ass be bare, it was ominous.
He continued pulling back the straps of my jock and releasing them, snickering as they snapped against my bare buns with a loud noise. He alternatively shoved and pushed me to the street and then across it to the stairs of my dad's apartment building. I held my breath but nobody saw us. Climbing the stairs didn't help my effort to keep his nut from dribbling out of my crack. Normally my underwear and basketball shorts got blessed with his cum as I trudged up the stairs, but this time it threatened to run down the backs of my legs and drip on the stairs. Actually, if that happened, the stairs would smell better than normal. Their usual aroma of stale piss, particularly by the end of the summer, wasn't my favorite.
Jeron stopped two floors below my dad's. The backs of my legs were wet with his load but if he noticed, he didn't let on, instead directing me down the long hallway. Loud music and laugher were coming from an apartment ahead of us and when we reached it, he didn't bother to knock, instead opening the door, shoving me inside, and intentionally tripping me. I went sprawling onto the floor, my balled shorts and shirt rolling into an empty corner of the room.
I looked up to a roomful of black men staring in puzzlement. I guess it wasn't every day that a tall white boy dressed only in a jock strap suddenly appeared on their floor. Particularly a dude who smelled like a cum cesspool and had ball juice leaking from his pussy.
A mouthwatering buffet of black men was arrayed in front of me. It was a hot night and the building wasn't air conditioned, so it wasn't surprising that every man was shirtless. They ranged from guys who were skinny rails to men carrying plenty of extra pounds. Most of the dudes, however, were trim with muscular black pecs and hard abs. Beer cans littered the place and the heady aroma of dope filled the air. A straight porn video played on the television and I got a hint about the night's entertainment when the screen showed a white girl being dominated by three black studs. She was getting all three holes fucked simultaneously and her tits were bouncing and jiggling like crazy. It looked painful.
It also looked kinda interesting.
From the glassy looks on the faces staring back at me, the party had been going on for a while. Jeron may have started there before buttfucking me in the park and then collecting me for the party. Maybe that was why his basketball buddies weren't playing ball earlier tonight. I recognized a couple of them among the faces staring at me.
To no one in particular Jeron boasted, "Tol yo Jeron bring yo a white faggot ho. Gives good head an has a tighter ass dan any pussy yo been fucking. Jeron trained da slut good. Trained it ta take big black cock. It yours for da night."
A dozen pair of dark eyes bored into me. Not only was there a range of body types, there was a range of skin tones too, from light skinned guys who could pass as white to dark skinned dudes almost as black as Jeron. Most of the men were twenty or thirtysomething, but a couple of the guys were young – younger than me and maybe not even 16. At the other extreme were dudes in their 40s or 50s. Each radiated the same vaguely predatory air that I found so hot with Jeron, even the two kids. Maybe especially the kids.
A sneering grin crossed the face of the oldest of the guys and he broke the silence in the dimly lit room. "Didn't believe you, Jeron, but you done good. Jackson's two hos didn't show, so we ain't got no cunt. But they say when they ain't no girls, faggot ass will do."
I started to get up from the floor, but Jeron used the same lightning-quick reflexes he'd shown before to pin my arm behind me again and shove my face into the dirty carpet. Meanwhile, Booker got up and circled around me as if inspecting the merchandise.
He snarled, "Spread those long legs for your daddy, bitch!" He didn't wait for me to move, instead kicking my legs apart and wrenching my ass crack open. He laughed, slapped my bare buns and announced, "I think I can fuck that white butt."
"Tol ya, Booker," Jeron replied happily. "Dis here's a faggot dat do whut ah tell it to. It done gone black an never go back. An it gon suck yo black dick an take it up its ass."
Booker stopped in front of me and groped himself, warming to the subject of getting off. He grabbed my long brown hair, pulled my head back and shoved his crotch into my face. "You want this, faggot?"
Well, yes I did. However, Jeron had trained me to pretend to resist, so I debated. If I said, "Lemme go," I knew what would happen. Jeron would be on me in a flash, slapping my face, grabbing me by the neck, glaring at me and sneering, "Yeah, we let yo go, white boi. When we done rapin yo holes. Maybe tomorrow `bout this time."
However, with Booker and his bros, I wasn't certain what to say. So I stayed silent. Jeron, always one to run his mouth, answered for me. "Faggot knows `no' but it ain't never say it. Have yo white boi?"
I swallowed, frozen and unable to speak.
"Yah it want it. Ah done spoil da white boi. Gone black, ain't gone back. Ain't dat right, faggot?"
Even without Jeron's comments, it was obvious by now that I wasn't going to resist, so I nodded slightly. Booker chuckled, pulled a fleshy black cock from his pants and squeezed it. "White boys are good for one thing. Getting off when there's no cunt around. They really only good for their mouths and their assholes. A place to dump black nut. Ain't that right, boy?"
I gave him a bigger nod. He smiled, revealing a couple of broken teeth. "That's what you want, ain't it white boy? Jeron's right. He done spoil you and now you can't stop thinking about black cock raping your holes. What's your name, boy?"
I swallowed and said, "Collins."
"No it ain't. It's faggot ho cocksucking bitch. Ho for short. Anyone here call you `ho,' you answer him, hear?"
Booker didn't wait for me to respond, instead turning to Jeron. "Faggot ho ain't got three holes, but he's got two, so he can take care of two of us at the same time." He forced my mouth open with his fingers and shoved his fuck stick into it, ramming his rod down my throat. I gagged and gurgled. My nose was pressed into his pubes, and I got a strong whiff of his musk. It was rank. The dude either hadn't showered for a day or two or did manual labor outside in the heat and humidity. Maybe both. The smell threatened to make me puke but it was weirdly intoxicating, too. It sorta put an exclamation point on my being dominated by the black stud.
"That's right cocksucker. Be a good little faggot and suck that dick!"
I began bobbing back and forth on Booker's manhood while a second guy fisted his dick and spat on my ass, ready to jam his rod into my waiting butthole. At least Jeron had loosened me up and plenty of his load was still swimming in my sloppy hole, so I wouldn't get bare-fucked dry. It took a while for the dude to get hard. I began to think he wouldn't fuck me after all, but I was sadly mistaken. All at once his rough hands were on my hips and his stiff shaft was at the entrance to my ass. He wrenched my crack apart and forced his cock into me in one seemingly endless thrust, accompanied by a deep, guttural growl. I thought he would never stop sinking into me but I eventually felt his groin pressed against my butt cheeks. He growled, "Oh fuck that ass is tight. Just what I need."
Miraculously his prick barely hurt and instead felt incredibly good inside me. The dude began ramming my ass while I worked on deepthroating Booker's cock, and the spit roast was on. Booker occasionally hissed, "Suck that cock, bitch!" but the stud with his shaft up my ass was more vocal, repeating, "Take that big dick! Take that big dick!" over and over. A couple of times he asked, "You like this black cock raping your whore hole?" It wasn't like I could answer given that Booker was skull fucking me, but it wasn't a question that was designed to elicit a response anyway.
As two black poles pillaged my mouth and ass, porn continued to play in the background. It was supposed to be a gang rape, with the woman constantly begging half a dozen black men surrounding her to stop. She wasn't trying hard to get away. Actually, she wasn't trying at all. Neither was I. But unlike the porn actress, I wasn't saying `stop,' and `no' was a word that seemed to have disappeared from my vocabulary.
The dude buttfucking me didn't last long. He began breathing through his teeth in a loud, raspy way like he was in a gym doing reps with heavy weights. He grunted, "Fuck, I'm cumming in the white slut's ass!" Moments later his jizz shot into my hole, joining Jeron's big load. My ass suddenly felt wet and runny. Booker took the occasion to pull his hard cock from my mouth, slap it across my face several times, and sneer, "I'm gonna fuck that lily-white ass of yours, boy!" He circled behind me and rammed his shaft into my cummy hole. Within moments, two skinny black thighs and a soft, hooded cock appeared in front of me. The owner fed his tool to me and my second spit roast of the night began.
For the next three hours, the black dudes took turns. I was a slab of white chicken in a black stud rotisserie, my mouth and ass constantly skewered by two black rods. One man would fuck my ass while I mouthed another's dick, and as soon as the first guy nutted, the second would move to my ass, slamming his hard cock deep into my guts, as a glistening new black cock appeared in front of my face. At first I thought it was good that I was getting guys close by giving them head before they abused my fuck chute – they came faster that way – but as the night wore on and my jaws began to cramp, I wasn't so sure.
Two or three of the black bros had incredible, massive cocks and even after being opened up by Jeron and three or four other studs, those monsters hurt like hell. I didn't care. I was in a porn video fantasy. My cock certainly enjoyed the night. In addition to the load I'd blown on the picnic table, I came hands-free three times as stiff dicks massaged my overstimulated prostate. The last time was the weirdest, because I swear my dick was totally soft, but I climaxed anyway and added a load to my soaked jock strap. The goo wasn't that noticeable because my entire jock strap was soaked with sweat and the hot room smelled like a cum factory.
Dudes came and went from the party, so while there were maybe a dozen when I arrived, by the end of the night 17 or 18 different men used my ass. Most of them only wanted to get their rocks off and once their horns were clipped they ignored me. However, several studs came back for seconds, including Jeron.
He played the role of a showman, proud of his big dick, performing for his bros, and intent on fucking me as brutally as he could. Even though it was his third load, he shot quickly. Seeing how much he enjoyed being on stage kinda gave me an idea for the future. Rather than waiting until his basketball bros left, I might show up while they were still hanging around. If Jeron wanted to put on a little exhibition for them, great. And if he wanted to share my holes with them, even better.
The repeat performers included two young kids who were starting on their third round when Booker grunted, "D'Marcus, what the fuck you doin? Don' you ever get `nuff ass? If you wanna keep fucking the bitch ho, take the faggot into the bedroom so I don hafta watch."
D'Marcus was a solid block of black muscle. No other description quite fit him. He was shorter than me by three or four inches, which probably made him 6'2," but he outweighed me by a good 40 pounds. None of the extra weight was flab; instead it was solid, rock hard muscle. His mature body was at odds with a face that looked like he didn't shave yet. His dick was built like he was. Not super long, but thick as a brick. The thing looked like a beer can. There was a beer marketed as `black label' and if its logo had been slapped on his fuck pole, it could have masqueraded as a beer can.
Keon, the other young kid partying in my ass, was willowy and skinny as a pole. He looked like someone had taken D'Marcus and split him in half. D'Marcus was 16 or so, but Keon could have been 14. His dick had a comical upward curve, but the damn thing was like fire hardened steel. It was the hardest prong that had been inside me all night long and that was saying something.
"You heard da man," D'Marcus snarled in my ear, "get your faggot ass in the bedroom. I ain't done wit your holes. Your ass belong to me now." I wondered how Jeron would have taken that comment, but he wasn't around to hear it. After seeding my boi pussy the second time, he'd disappeared from the party.
I'd been on my hands and knees with my nose buried in pubes and smelling man musk all night, so I appreciated the break. I staggered to my feet, still clad in only my spunk-and-sweat-soaked jock. D'Marcus shoved me toward a bedroom doorway. The bed inside didn't look like it had been made in days.
D'Marcus put me on my back and lifted my legs in the air. His hard rod was instantly at the entrance to my sloppy boi pussy and in moments he shoved his cock inside me. "Fucking tight ass!" he growled and began to pound my pussy.
His dick was one of the improbably massive cocks that had hurt earlier. It still hurt but it was a different pain from what I felt before. Different than when Jeron entered me at the beginning of the night, and different than when D'Marcus buttboned me earlier. My abused hole was raw and sore and the dude's fat fuck rod was stretching it to the max.
The bedroom lights were off and the light from the television in the living room cast an eerie glow, backlighting D'Marcus' muscular teen body. Meanwhile, Keon climbed on top of me and tried to feed me his cock, but because of its sharp upward curve, he had to turn around and face D'Marcus, bending over to get his dick down my throat. Unfortunately that meant I couldn't see D'Marcus' hot body as he pummeled my raw hole, although I wasn't complaining about having a dick in my mouth.
I guess the proximity of Keon's asshole to my face gave him an idea. He pulled his cock from my mouth, slid forward slightly and said, "Eat my ass, faggot. I wanna feel your tongue inside my hole."
Rimming a guy wasn't in my fantasy repertoire but being humiliated by a black dude was. In this case, the dude was a young twink, but I didn't have much choice as he spread his ass cheeks and sat on my face. I started timidly, fearing the worst. But damn, as D'Marcus kept ramming his beer can into my ravaged asshole, punching my prostate with his fat prick each time he slammed me, I got into eating Keon's black hole. He was getting into it too, moaning and wiggling his thin hips and trying to get my tongue farther into his ass.
He spread his slim, hard ass cheeks so my nose and face went farther into his crack. I got a heady aroma of teen sweat and pungent ass, and I liked Keon's anus clenching around my tongue as I repeatedly drilled it into his hole. I wondered if Jeron or D'Marcus would let me eat their asses. Jeron wouldn't if he thought I wanted it, but if he thought it would humiliate me, he'd be all over it. And, in truth, if he ordered me to do it and laughed about me being his faggot bitch ho and ass licker in addition to a cocksucker, I'd like it better that way.
My maiden effort at rimming must have been good enough because before long Keon groaned and began rapidly fisting his cock. In moments he gasped and a pool of hot cum splattered on my chest. He'd already seeded my ass twice, so it wasn't a huge load, but mixed with the sweat pooling in my abs it seemed like a lot. Black ball juice filled my ass, coated my throat and now crusted on my torso. I was a total slut and loved it. Keon and D'Marcus could double team me anytime.
Keon continued to sit on my face while panting, and I saw no reason to stop exploring his intriguing black hole with my tongue. Fuck, I was getting off on it and was glad his slender butt was still planted on my face. He started whimpering and I chanced reaching around his waist. Damn! Sure enough, his prick was rock hard again, curving into his stomach like a scimitar.
D'Marcus quickened his pace, ramming his fat pick deep into my boi pussy. He was getting close and jack-hammered my sloppy asscunt. Within moments he growled something indecipherable and nutted, his body freezing and shaking as his dick spewed spunk deep in my guts.
As soon as D'Marcus pulled out, Keon slipped off my face and rammed his curved devil into my hole. His cock was nothing to compare with D'Marcus', but with me on my back rather than on my knees, his rock-hard pole was angled in the perfect way to crush my prostate each time he thrust into me. Meanwhile, D'Marcus wanted his cock cleaned – or maybe prepped for another round – so he crawled on top of me and snarled, "Mouth it, slut. Be a good cocksucker. I want my dick washed good, faggot."
D'Marcus' fat, semi-hard prick was covered with a funky mixture of jizz from every guy who'd seeded my boi pussy. Its smell was intense. To me, it was like an exquisite cologne smelling of fresh black nut. I wanted to bottle it so I could breathe it whenever I wanted.
I began licking the goo off his rod. God, I loved eating the cum. It tasted like nectar from the gods. Even better, D'Marcus was uncut, and lurking beneath his foreskin was a reservoir of spunk that I happily dug out and savored. "Yah, suck that cock," D'Marcus said. "You nuttin but a faggot bitch, white boi. I own you, bitch."
The combination was too much – D'Marcus calling me his bitch, the salty tang of fresh jizz on my tongue, the insistent pressure of Keon's cock against my prostate, the vision of D'Marcus' muscular body hovering over me, and the feel of D'Marcus' fat beer can face-fucking me. I went over one more time, the fifth, hands-free once again. I'd take the fifth any day. This time my jock-imprisoned cock was at least semi-hard this time. D'Marcus was facing away from my junk and couldn't see my climax, but Keon probably had a clear view of my rod lurching inside my jock followed by my jizz seeping to the rank pouch. Fortunately, if Keon detected my sphlooge, he didn't say anything. It was kinda dark and maybe he was only focused on pummeling my hole. He continued to dick me until he gasped and froze as his nut surged from his tool and juiced my hole.
It was four in the morning when I rousted myself from the bedroom. Keon was asleep on the floor and after D'Marcus juiced my ass for the last time, he'd passed out with his cock buried in my hole, although it had slipped out, which was what made me decide it was time to sneak out. I'd catch hell from my dad for not coming home.
I stumbled into the living room dressed only in my jock strap, kicking over an empty Tequila bottle before I saw it. The room looked like a war zone, littered with stacks of beer cans, spent bottles of booze, half-eaten pizza slices, mostly-empty bowls of chips and overflowing ash trays. One guy was snoring on the couch and the television was still playing straight, interracial porn in an endless loop. Different white woman, different black studs, same dialogue, same plot.
That wasn't the worst of it, at least for me. My clothes had disappeared from the corner where they'd rolled as Jeron tripped me. Only my flip-flops remained and, miraculously, my keys.
My shirt wasn't critical but walking down the hallway dressed only in a spunk-and-sweat-soaked jock strap wasn't where I wanted to be. I tried to locate my shorts, but they were nowhere to be found. I thought about sneaking back into the bedroom where D'Marcus and Keon were sleeping and borrowing something to wear, but I ruled that out, not knowing who lived there or whether they would take kindly to my rummaging through their stuff. I didn't want to steal anyway and I figured if I got caught it wouldn't go well.
I cautiously peered out the door and, seeing the coast was clear, raced down the hallway and into the stairwell. I flew up the stairs and into my dad's apartment, despite dropping my keys twice and fumbling with the lock in my haste to make sure I wasn't seen. Fortunately at four on a Saturday morning, nobody was up.
My dad was asleep. I fell into bed and, in a reversal from what happened on every other Friday night, I was too exhausted to whack off a load. Not too exhausted to scoop out some of the spunk leaking from my hole and slurp it down. I drifted off smelling and tasting black nut.
I expected to catch hell for being out late, but happily my dad had been late, too. He saw my car parked outside and my bedroom door closed, assumed I was asleep and didn't disturb me. I dodged a major bullet.
My ass was too sore during the rest of the weekend to chance my usual Saturday or Sunday meetings in the park with Jeron, but he might have been gone for the holiday weekend anyway because I didn't spot him playing basketball. My shredded ass didn't stop me from whacking off repeatedly, remembering my cum-dump-night as the white bitch boi for a roomful of black bros.
Monday was the Labor Day holiday and Jason and I played ball. No different than any of our days off during the summer, but it felt different because it was the end of the summer and school would start the next day. It was hot and we were both soaked with sweat after like fifteen minutes, but as usual Jason played shirtless and I got to gaze at his ripped body. The Friday night gangbang didn't do anything to stop my fantasies about getting it on with him, only made them worse. I couldn't stop thinking about what Jason had said on the beach at the beginning of the summer. "Think about how good it would feel to take my black heat into your mouth and get it all wet and slippery. Think about sliding my foreskin up and down my shaft and coaxing pre-cum out of it. Think about my big black dick squeezing into your tight white pussy and stretching you wide and makin you love it." I almost said something to him but couldn't bring myself to do it.
After we finished, my mind was in a daze as I walked back to my dad's apartment. On the way I stopped for a drink, chilling while I watched a street carnival erected for the holiday. Two little boys on one of the small rides got into a tussle and one yelled, "Faggot!" at the other kid. I hadn't been paying close attention to them and all I heard was `faggot.' For a split second I thought the kid was shouting at me. The boys were quickly separated and scolded by their parents, but the incident made me come to a sudden realization. That happens to me sometimes when I'm working through a problem or something is going on in my mind. All at once I cut through the crap, think things through and parse them out.
Being called faggot by Jeron and his bros on Friday night was degrading but I kinda got off on it too. I'd gone through an experience that most dudes would have hated, but I liked it. I wanted it and got off on it. That left little doubt in my mind of what I was; indeed, it was crystal clear.
First, I was gay. Certainly not straight, but not even remotely bisexual either. My one experience with a girl had been a flop, and I wouldn't have another one. Cocks did it for me, not cunts. That had been apparent for a month, ever since Willy slid his rock hard, thickly veined cock past my lips and started my cocksucking career. All doubt had been erased when Jeron buttboned me, took my cherry and started my bottoming career. I finally and completely accepted that I was gay.
Second, I was a bottom. That should have been apparent all along. I'd gotten rock hard that day on the beach when Jason hit me up and asked if he could bone me. Sure I'd topped Ben during the summer, but I'd been edging my way to bottoming for him, and after boning Luke one time I'd passed on a juicy opportunity to use him as my bottom boy. I could've had him following me around like a puppy dog, eagerly waiting for me to tie him up and pound his butt. But I wasn't interested. I hadn't even followed up with Vic, another dude Jason tried to set me up with who wanted a jock to top him. The reason was obvious. I wanted dicks in my mouth and my ass, not the other way around. If I got my own piece in a guy's mouth or ass, fine, but that was secondary.
Third, I liked black men. I liked black cocks. I liked black balls. Not that I wouldn't hookup with a white guy or an Asian dude or a Latino stud, but I preferred that the men breeding me be black. It didn't matter whether a dude was a thug like Jeron, a nerd like Keon or a jock like D'Marcus. It didn't matter if he was a stranger like Willy or my best friend like Jason. I wanted the cocks I sucked and took up the ass to be black. Yeah, I'd gone black and I wasn't going back.
Fourth, I liked to be dominated. I was a submissive bottom bitch into being bossed around and slapped around by black men. I wasn't into heavy S&M kink – I wasn't really a masochist into intense pain, and that wouldn't do it for me – but being told what to do, when to do it and how to do it was a turn-on. Being told I was – how did Booker put it – a faggot ho cocksucking bitch was a turn on. A little bondage might be fun too.
Um, `might' be fun? Bring it on. Luke wasn't the only white boy in my school who got hard fantasizing about a black man tying him up.
I was about to start my senior year of high school understanding full well that I was a submissive bottom boi, hungering for black meat. My problem would be how to get it. Jeron had reliably pounded my ass on weekends, but his absence over the weekend brought home the reality that he could disappear at any time. Giving it up to him was hot, but I wanted more. I wanted to get used by an array of studs.
Now to find black men who'd buttbone a submissive white twink jock...
TO BE CONTINUED...
My plan is to post chapters every two weeks, so stay tuned for Collins' wild senior year of high school. Let me know if you like the tale! Email me at ColtonAalto@gmail.com.
Read my other Nifty stories, which can be found in the author index (listed as Colton) using this link: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#colton. You can also locate them by searching for "Colton Aalto" using the Nifty Archive Search button, or by following this link: https://search.niftyarchives.org/?keywords=colton+aalto&sort=Relevance (I like this link better). I jump around in different Nifty categories, so you'll find a bit of everything. Enjoy!
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