A gay adult story: What just happened by Pcsissy ,
If you aren’t into gay interracial rough and forced sex, move on.
I woke up with a fur-lined metal collar locked around my neck. My hands were free for all the good it did me – the collar was not too tight, and there was a chain of, ample length and the soft fur lining was, I suppose, a considerate touch, but I was chained in a room with, now that I noticed it, an array of hooks and unusually shaped furniture and what looked like a cross, and phallic sextoys (dildos in simpler terms) – I could move freely, but the collar and chain were steel and the chain was securely bolted to my collar and the wall – I wasn’t going anywhere past the length of the chain anytime soon.there was what looked like a jail cell-style toilet, a drain in the center and sorta weirdly a king-sized four poster bed – quite feminine in its appearance: frilly and fluffy pink pillows and quilt
The last thing I remembered was smoking from a pipe with Danell and Donnell McPhillips ,twin brothers I knew from school. And drinking a coke they had told me had a little rum in it.
We had become friendly in a kind of a weird way. They were juniors and varsity football players -all conference running backs already being seriously recruited by Big 10 programs.
I was a freshman and not a fatty or unathletic I was actually planning to go out for baseball in the spring, but I didn’t have the size for football, although I liked it and on our neighborhood games Dannell and Darnell had picked me for their teams when he had played touch as younger kids in the neighborhood and had praised my hands catching passes in the games we usually won – it didn’t bother me at all that they had to take me to ‘even the sides’ since they were both so good, and since I was better than most guys thought we almost always won.
I guess that it also didn’t hurt that I didn’t have any reservations about them being black, while, although for the most part they kept it quiet, considering that the McPhillips twins were big enough to kick the ass of anybody in our neighborhood, a lot, even most, of the guys in our neighborhood did, and looked down on them racially. I don’t know how else to say it, but where we lived, a more or less exclusively white community, there was a quiet, politely expressed, racism, not inclined to lynchings or cross-burnings, but to more subtle expressions of if not exactly racism, then at least racial contempt.
Let my just put it this way – I knew a lot of guys, and some chicks too, who would not have dared to call them niggers to their faces, but frequently and enthusiastically did behind their backs. I got called nigger-lover plenty, since, because, while with our age difference, me being so much younger, I couldn’t really call them friends, I did respect and admire them and felt friendly toward them, being welcome in their home, which was just around the corner from my own and strongly considered them to be good guys.
Anyway, that is how I, a white boy, came to be so well-acquainted and friendly with two older, more athletic black guys living, somewhat anonymously in the virtually all-white neighborhood I grew up in.
After what seemed like hours, but probably was not that long, a black guy I had never seen before came in,, his face looked similar to Dannell’s and Darnell’s but older, not as lean and, for lack of a better word, harder.
I need to admit – he had a half a foot and at least 60 pounds on me, so I did not John Wayne it and get all macho with him, although I suppose I could have struggled, I didn’t see much future in trying that anyway, since, near the collection of dildos, I saw shackles, manacles, and handcuffs, but I did manage to demand ‘who are you?’
The portly man made a strange facial expression that combined amusement, aggression, and lust “you can call me ‘Master’ and the more you sound like a little girl who believes and enjoys that, the better for you.”
I had no idea what he was talking about and thought he was crazy or drunk or stoned. “What the fuck?”
It was then, when, without a word he grabbed me roughly and threw me down on the floor that I realized I was naked too. “Ok, white boy, do you want to try to get me wet by sucking on my cock first or do you want to take it up the ass dry right away?”
“What the fuck?” I repeated.
“Ass or throat, bitch?” He growled, “which one do you want, or I should really say ‘need’ first?”
“What are you nuts?” I was disoriented, but starting to snap out of it, and now that I was catching on to the basic situation, I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was intimidated and frightened. More, and a little oddly, now that I realized I was naked, I started feeling chilled and began shivering and also trembling a little from a fear adrenaline rush.
“You can suck my nuts later,” that menacing expression of sexual menace and violence flashed across his face again, “you can pet and kiss and lick them too, later, white bitch boy, since I know you will want to, but right now you are going to suck my dick or take it up the ass dry, but you are going to do it RIGHT NOW!”
Here I have a confession to make, or a lot of what follows might not make any sense at all. After I had learned enough anatomy to know the basics of fucking penetration but not enough to know about subtleties, like clitorises, g-spots, and lubrication, I was curious enough about what fucking felt like to a girl that I had tried broom handles in my ass. The ordinary broom handle was a little bit of a jolt but I need to admit. Felt good enough that I did it more than once, and learned a valuable lesson about clean up. Not too long after, I noticed my grampa’s big plow shovel had a thick knob at the end instead of just a thin handle. Realizing that an ordinary broom handle was thinner than even my modest little white boy peter, so once I saw it I wanted to and did try it – learning a sharp and very valuable lesson about lubrication the first time I poked myself with it.
But the first time I used some vaseline to slide it in, I was hooked. The thick knob prevented my sphincter from expelling it, so I could lie back and not worry about needing a wall to push against and the orgasm I got from doing it was one of the most intense I had ever had up to that time. Eventually I found KY jell which made clean-up faster. I did worry about splinters a little, but gratefully I never experienced any.
Some years later I read about a somewhat militant feminist who was fond of asserting that males should not be permitted to penetrate a vagina until they had had a broom handle shoved up the ass. Well, if that is a valid requirement, I am among the most qualified males on the planet. And quite happily so, I suppose I need to confess.
Based on my masturbatory experiences with the shovel handle I was sure I could take it up the ass more or less without too much pain if I could get him lubricated, but I had never had one in my mouth before, although I need to confess, I had wrapped my mouth around the shovel handle once experimentally, but since that didn’t have nearly as pleasurable an effect as using it in my ass and tasted like wood I never repeated the experience. I had tried with carrots, but the shape was so unrealistic it was no fun. I had thought about getting a thick soup carrot and carving it into shape but never had done it.