The following story is a work of fiction for erotic entertainment purposes only. It is not intended for minors. It includes teenagers and racially offensive language. Anyone who might be offended by this type of story, or unduly influenced by it, should find something else to read.
Suddenly you can be overwhelmed by a crowd of young hip hoppers:
It was a humid summer day. I was riding through the city on the rapid transit system. I was finding it hard to keep from nodding off. Every once in awhile I looked up, with half-closed eyes, to see people lost in their own world, text messaging on their cell phones, reading the newspaper ... there was even a pregnant woman who was knitting booties for her expected child.
My chin bounced against my chest. I jolted myself awake, only to drift off to sleep again and again.
Suddenly there was a noise, like the rush of a stampede coming my way. I sluggishly opened my eyes just in time to find myself surrounded by a hoard of black and Mexican teenage boys; they must have been getting off from school. There were so many of them that they packed the aisle, making it difficult to move or breathe.
The musty smell of their clothing pressed in on me. Young, warm black and brown male bodies surrounded me on all sides -- strong, muscular, and lean -- smooth dark skin brushing up against my face. Young, slender teenage arms made firm by getting a workout when they masturbate every morning.
I had difficulty breathing. The air was hot, the air conditioner wasn't working. I was almost overwhelmed by the body funk of their teenage bodies. Most of them must not have showered after gym class. Maybe they hadn't bathed at all this morning. They smelled likes they had just hopped right out of bed and onto the bus, maybe after fucking their girlfriends while their mom was in the other room -- they didn't bother to take a bath, they just hopped on the bus. Even though it was afternoon, their morning sex smell still lingered. The smell of their unmade bed, no doubt with sheets stained with the crust of their morning orgasmic pleasures -- if not with their girlfriend, then arrived at manually and alone. A teenage boy has to pleasure himself any way that he can -- as often as he can.
I felt closed in by the stuffy air. All those young, male black and brown bodies tossed to and fro by the motion of the bus -- bumping into each other and bumping into me. Some of that sweaty Black, Mexican and Puerto Rican sex smell was rubbing up against me -- rubbing off on my face and clothing. I was sharing the smell of their beds, sharing the smell of their morning masturbation; the smell of their bed sheets was becoming a part of me. They filled my nostrils with it. The smell clung to my clothes.
Their blue jeaned crotches were right in front of my face. You could see that these dark skinned young men had big dicks -- it was obvious, how could you miss it? Those big lumps in their jeans pushed right up against my face as their lean muscular bodies swayed to the motion of the bus. It was impossible not to notice what they were packing. It was more than I needed to know -- more than I wanted to know. I tried to look away, but everywhere I turned another boy's bulging crotch was staring me in my face.
I wonder where these boys go to school. I wonder how they work out during gym class. I can just imagine their lean dark bodies stripped down to take a shower. You can see by their firm, shapely, hairless arms -- glistening with sweat -- you can imagine what they look like in the shower.
I tried to close my eyes so I wouldn't have to think about it.
My cock was throbbing in my pants and this, after all, was public transportation. What could I do with the uncomfortable boner I felt growing in my pants? A boner induced by black and brown boys standing over me, holding on to the passenger straps, thrusting their bulging teenage crotches in my face; bulging pants that were obviously stuffed with thick cock meat and tight bulbous buttocks.
I tried to take my mind off of it. I looked out of the window.
Gosh, I wonder what these boys look like when they're fucking their girlfriends. When I turned my head away from the window a Hispanic boy had is crotch just inches from my mouth. I look up and he is laughing and joking with his buddies. He has no idea what is going on below his waist. The boys and laughing and cracking nasty jokes about sex, with the brown teenager is thrusting his crotch just inches from my face.
I turn away, only to come face-to-crotch with a black boy's fuck meat poorly concealed by his warm-up pants. He's not wearing anything under his sweatpants. The outline of his thick nigger cock is plainly on display. He's got a big one. The boy is clearly packing at least nine inches soft. It's nine inches long, and it's thick too. You can see it all -- outlined underneath his sweat pants. You can smell it. You can smell the nigger's jock meat just beneath his sweats; nearly brushing against my face.
The smell of the boy's pubes, nearly covering my face, is intoxicating. It is driving me overboard with desire. I can feel my cock straining in my pants, wanting to bust free. I struggle with my hands, trying not to stroke myself.
And then the black boy does the most outrageous thing. He reaches down and grabs his cock meat through his pants. He grabs it several times. I look up and he's laughing and talking with his buddies, not even conscious of what he's doing with his hands. Not even noticing me. He tugs on his nigger cock meat while he's telling his friends a bunch of sexy jokes and stories. I see his cock getting bigger and bigger in his sweat pants as he tugs on it while telling his outrageous stories. The boys are all crowded in around my face. There is row after row of boys behind them, pressing in on them; not giving anyone room to move. We're all jammed together and these teenage boys have their crotches in my face.
I look up at the black boy who is laughing. I look up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to notice me. I am silently pleading for him to let me take care of that uncomfortable bulge he's got there in his pants. Just one lick. Nobody will be the wiser. Nobody will see it. Just one lick so I can relieve the frustration that is building up inside of me.
Suddenly he catches my eyes. He looks surprised at first, wondering what I am staring at. Then he seems to catch on. He grabs a fistful of his crotch and looks down at me. He sneers, almost daring me, egging me on.
I look away. I look out of the window. Outside the window of the bus a black teen in a wife beater, his cinnamon brown skin glistening in the sun, is pressing his body against his girlfriend, gently humping her on the hood of his car. He is leaning over her while she bends over backward across the hood. Both of them are fully clothed but it almost looks like the boy is trying to fuck the girl right there on the street. A small crowd of their teenage buddies, both male and female, cat whistle and egg the couple on. The crowd of teens on the sidewalk roars with laughter. The sun beats down on the two dark bodies now sprawled across the hood, making slow, rhythmic, grinding motions.
Suddenly, turning my attention back on board the bus, somebody must be trying to get down the aisle because now both the black and the Hispanic boy are leaning in -- their crotches rub against both sides of my face. I feel their thick cocks through the fabric of their pants. Both boys feel like they're packing meaty sausages down there -- thick, meaty teenage sausages that I'm sure they give a workout every night -- how could they avoid it?
They rub their crotches against my face, against my nose and my mouth. They don't seem to mind. They just want to lean in and give room for the man who is trying to make his way down the aisle. They don't care if their thick teenage cocks rub up against another passenger's mouth, enveloping his face with the smell of their sweaty pubes and crotches. They don't care if I can smell the dried cum on their cock meat -- that I can tell they've been masturbating this morning.
They probably have naughty magazines still tucked underneath their beds. The pages are glued together with their morning cum juices. They don't care that I know this. They have no shame. They push their crotches in my face as if they expect me to suck them off right there in public.
They tease each other about being "faggots", while taking advantage of the crowded bus to nearly force me to lick their cocks through their pants. They rub their black and brown crotches up and down against my lips while joking with each other about "fags" and girls, and how they can always get as much pussy as they want -- any time they want it.
They rib each other about how well hung they are, and all the while I know they aren't bluffing -- I know they aren't faking it because these boys have furtively stuffed their ghetto cocks into my mouth through their trousers. I hear their deep voices and the sound of their laughter overhead. I feel their bodies shaking with laughter at the teenage humor they swap with each other. I smell the funk from their underarms, the potent smells of unwashed boyish manhood.
The bus is too crowded for anyone to see all of what is going on. I lick the crotches of their pants and they seem to feel it. They giggle and press in harder. The smell is overpowering. Thick, dense jungle sexual smell emanating from their cocks, their balls, their pubic hair, their sweaty navels -- all pressed against my face.
Their buddies laugh at these boys' lusty jokes about "fucking" girls. Their buddies don't seem to have a clue about what's going on just below their waists. The crowd of black and brown bodies is too densely bunched together, the fortification of overstuffed book bags too closely packed, for anyone to see anything below the waistline -- except for the black and Hispanic boy who glance down occasionally with mischievous grins on their faces.
Their fertile, dark heterosexual bodies press hard against my face. The black boy suddenly reaches down and grabs the waistband of his sweat shorts. He pulls the waistband down and confirms what I knew all along, he wasn't wearing anything underneath. The boy allows his sweaty teenaged cock to press against my lips. I open my mouth and for the briefest of moments he slips it inside. For just the slightest of moments I suck on it -- just for less than a second -- before he yanks it from my mouth and stuffs it back inside his sweat pants. He and the Hispanic boy laugh nastily.
Sure enough, the black boy's cock tasted of boyish funk; it was musty and warm in my mouth. His cock was comforting, kinda nasty, kinda unwashed, kinda potent, kinda manly, very sensual, very thick, very warm -- and comforting. There is no other way to describe what it felt like sucking on that boy's dick.
Suddenly they all pull back. The crowd brakes. The boys clear out rapidly down the aisle. This must be their stop. They all troop out like a swarm of bees, just like when they came in.
Fresh air. I can see the other passengers once again. A white haired lady sits across the aisle with a grandmotherly smile on her face. A middle aged man reads his newspaper. A young man-on-the- make is feverishly text-messaging someone; maybe his boss, maybe a co-worker, maybe his girlfriend.
The aisle is clear now. Everything returns to normal. I can breathe again. I can breathe.