Fulfilling The Fantasy 1

This is somewhat different from my other stories. I wrote it at the reuqest of a reader with the understanding it was going to be posted online for others to read. It was also the last story I wrote.

All identifying information in this story were been changed to provide anonymity for the reader who requested it.

All of the usual warnings and cautions apply to this story. Do not read this if you are a minor or if it is unlawful in your area as it contains vivid descriptions on interracial, homosexual activities.

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights (including reproduction or reposting) reserved by its author, Web Dazell, unless explicitly otherwise indicated.

Jaguar wrote:

"Hi Web, Man, I've got to tell you I've enjoyed all your stories especially the ones where you get to suck black cock.

I've never had the pleasure of tasting a delicious big black cock. It's always been my no. 1 fantasy. Hopefully one of these nights if I can get up the nerve.

I probably owe you a dozen blowjobs from all the times I've cum over your stories. Please keep me and your stories cumming."

Jaguar

I wrote back:

Jaguar:

Thanks for your kind words.

I don't know where you live but any large metropolitan area with an adult movie arcade will usually have an ample number of black cocks whose owners would be more than happy to help you fulfill your fantasy. Just picture it in your mind:

It's early Saturday evening, a little after twilight has begun, the deepening shadows of night leap across the road in front of you, yet go unnoticed. You have no eye for the scenery. It takes all your concentration to simply steer the car toward your destination.

Just a week ago you decided you'd lived through the experiences of others long enough. You had to find out what it would be like to have a black man's cock in your mouth.

So, you visited the sex listings section on a gay cruising website to find the perfect bookstore for your initiation; one close enough to be drivable but far enough away the odds are no one would know you. To help make sure your fantasy came true you even posted an email on their message board.

"HELP ME SATISFY MY DARK DESIRES," you typed, "White mouth hungers for black cock. I'm an interracial virgin who wants his oral cherry busted. Will you be the one to feed me my first ebony pole? I'll be at the ____ bookstore on _____ street in ______ at 9:30 PM next Saturday. I'll be wearing khaki pants and the blue cotton sweater. Please coat my tongue with your strong masculine seed. Believe me, this cat will make you yowl. Jaguar"

For a week you checked your email account for replies like a nervous bride waiting for the RSVPs to roll in from her wedding invitations. Only two responses but anticipating thick black manmeat to suck on kept you hard for days.

You park off the street in the lot behind the bookstore, the gravel of the lot crunching under your tires as you park your car among the dozen or so already there. The darkness has increased, granting you cover as the flickering light from a 75-watt yellow bug bulb guides your way to the entryway. Stepping inside, you wait for a moment trying to get your bearings.

You're at the far end of the store. To your left is a room marked "Men," to your right a heavy black curtain covers the entryway to the peep show booths. Pinned to the curtain is a crudely scrawled sign, "You must buy five dollars worth of tokens from cashier to enter this area!!!" You go down the hall and buy double the minimum from a fat middle-aged man, his balding head glistening with sweat. After a hour and a half's drive, you need more than a few minutes of relief.

As you turn to go back to the booths, you notice four men standing in the magazine area behind you. Three of the four are black. One, the one whose skin is almost the sooty black color of an eggplant, gives you a slow inspection, his eyes moving from your toes to the crown of your head and back again.

Catching your gaze for a moment he smiles at you, then places the magazine he was holding back in the rack nudging the older, mocha-toned man next to him.

Pants tenting out, your sight goes fuzzy and, for just a moment, you feel a light tingle of dizziness. Somehow you put one foot in front of the other and make your way back toward the curtain, gently shivering as you walk.

At the door you pause, asking yourself if you really want to do this, cross the color line, take that dark dick in your mouth? You could just turn around, get back in the car and go home. All you'd be out is $10 plus gas plus a few hours of your time.

As you debate the issue you look up and see a circular mirror affixed where the wall and ceiling join. The mirror reflects what's going on behind you.

A trio follows you now, the first two you exchanged glances with and a third black man from the magazine area; a young, hardbodied, homeboy, with baseball cap on backwards, a yellow muscle shirt, jeans, tattoos and piercing, the whole ghetto ambiance.

Like you, they are looking in the mirror. You watch them, they watch you, a moment frozen in time. Then Homeboy rubs his crotch and grins, his parting lips revealing a gold tooth with a diamond inset. Eggplant winks while Mocha just nods. Your mind made up, you part the curtain and step in.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, a moment during which a hand brushes against your crotch. It's Mocha's hand. When you don't push him away his movements become bolder. He takes your hand, places it against his thickening tool and whispers in your ear "Give it a squeeze Jaguar."

You do, excited your posting worked. It feels good against your palm, throbbing with the promise of juicy rewards to come.

Homeboy comes up to you. "Straight up, cracker, you be Jaguar? You be the dude wanting some licorice stick to swing on, cuz if you is, we can hep you out." The other two wait for your answer.

"Yeah, I'm Jaguar," you answer as the blood in your veins grows warm. "Who are you?"

"Sheeit man, don't matter who I be. What I be, muthafuck, is your next dinner, knowumsayin?"

You try to swallow before you reply, your mouth as dry as Lot's wife. One last chance to back out, to run back to the safety of your home. The challenging tone in Homeboy's query makes your decision for you. It's time to satisfy your hunger, live out your fantasy, feel a black bone slide between your lips and receive the cocksucker's reward.

Without speaking you reach out to the zipper of Homeboy's jeans, take the tab between your fingers and, looking him right in the eye, begin to unzip his pants. Homeboy's smile becomes wider, the gold and diamond reflecting the yellow tinge of the exit sign.

Before you can complete your task, Eggplant grabs your arm. "Not out here Jaguar," he says in a soft cultured voice at odds with Homeboy's center city slang. "They're fairly tolerant here but they do draw the line at blowjobs in the hallway."

He heads off to the side of the arcade, holding the door open on a "Buddy Booth." You file in, followed by Mocha. Eggplant lets the door close softly behind him but doesn't lock it. Homeboy is still outside.

You look around the "booth," actually a small room. There are two TV screens on the wall with a small sofa facing them. The sofa has seen better days. On the left side of the booth there's a raised plywood bench, almost like a massage table. A box of facial tissue sits on the wooden surface. Hanging from the wall at the end of the table is a vending machine with three selections of condoms: unlubricated, extra large-ridged and strawberry flavored.

There are two wastebaskets in the room, a used condom hangs limply over the side of the one closest to you, glistening in the pale blueish-white of the television screens. The booth smells of old smoke, stale sex and cheap disinfectant but you don't care. You're not there to smell the flowers.

Your attention turns from the room to Mocha who is the process of taking his pants off. Underneath his clothes his body is far from perfect. It's soft, spindly and sags but you don't care. Because the meat between his legs isn't sagging. It's standing almost straight out from the triangle of curly hair that surrounds it, his balls hanging loosely down beneath.

Now nude, Mocha hops up on the bench, spreading his legs with his ass hanging off the table's edge. A single drop of fluid slips from his piss slot to mingle on the floor with the stains and secretions of men who came before him.

Still, you wait before approaching Mocha. All of the invitees to the party haven't arrived. Eggplant hasn't even begun to undress. Homeboy is still outside and you want to get a look at all your options before you decide who first christens your mouth with their water of life.

A quick rap echoes through the booth followed by some muffled words through the wood. Eggplant swings the door open just long enough for Homeboy to squeeze in. But Homeboy isn't alone, he's brought a friend.

The newcomer is short, stocky with a shaven head and a small neatly trimmed goatee. Although the ambient light is too unnatural to make out his skin tone, it spills its lambent bounty over him, giving him the look of glowing black marble.

His chest, framed by an open shirt, is broad with well-defined muscles, firm pecs and erect little nipples. A trail of dark hair trails down his stomach to disappear below the waistband of his pants. An aroused John Thomas juts from the open fly of his pants like a promontory into the sea.

You are immediately attracted to him. His body, his bearing all radiate not only sex but power beyond his young years. Here is the man who will be the first black you worship, whose liquid offering you will accept and absorb.

As Eggplant locks the door you speak, surprised at how little quiver there is in your voice. "Please all of you. Take off your clothes and sit on the table."

"Sure Jaguar," says Eggplant. "But maybe you should put some money in the coin slots. Get the movies rolling before the attendant knocks on the door. Like I said, they're tolerant here but this is intended to be a for-profit business."

The light in the room grows brighter, more multi-colored as the movies begin to play. Eggplant sits at the end of the table closest to the door, Mocha next to him, Homeboy to Mocha's left and Newcomer on the end closest to you.

As you return to the bench, Newcomer speaks, his voice higher pitched than you would have expected..

"I ain't wearin no fuckin jimmy hat."

Seeing your confusion Eggplant translates. "He means no condom. He won't wear a condom. He wants to go bareback." You nod your acceptance as you approach the nude quartet, all thought of disease and death banished by your raw desire.

They are waiting for you now, waiting for you to begin, to fulfill the promise in your message, It's time for Jaguar to make them yowl.

You start with Eggplant, your hands grasping his fully erect cock, squeezing and pressing, sliding up and down its length. It just feels so right in your grasp.

Then it's on to Mocha, the outer softness of his rod hiding the steel within. Again your hands fly up and down until the older man begins to breath faster and the tip of his dick is awash in precum.

Homeboy gets his turn too but not as long or as thorough as the other two. You're too distracted by the thought of taking Newcomer's manhood between your lips to do Homeboy justice. But you know you'll make it up to him later.

Your mouth descends, not to Newcomer's cock, there will be time to explore that treasure soon, but to his chest. You lick and suck his pebbly nips, your tongue teasing them with feathery swipes until they are as hard as his cock in your hand. Careful to maintain contact, you slide your mouth down his rippled abdomen, your tongue leaving behind a trail of saliva like a snail,

Finally you reach his dick, his fat, heavy, black as Siberian midnight dick. Rocking back on your heels, you take it in your hand, stare at it like a vampire would a young virgin's throat, filled with the same lust and need to suck as the Count himself.

Your hands let go of his prick. For a second it bounces up and down before pointing skyward. You move your arms under the back of his legs. In a movement akin to doing the breast stroke, you brush aside his legs, spreading his crotch wider. Quickly you wiggle forward then side to side until your body is behind his legs, his thighs resting on your back.

Craning upwards, stretching your neck until it hurts, you begin to teabag his nutsack, sucking and licking his walnut-sized balls until Newcomers moans. In the background you can hear the sound of heavy breathing and fists slowly beating against dicks, as the remaining men respond to your performance.

Backing off and rising up a little, you balance yourself on your heels. Newcomer's cockhead is just inches from your mouth, a ripe shiny plum waiting to be devoured.

As you take your first black dick into your mouth, saliva spills from the corners of your lips, a sign of the deluge to come. It's so good, so warm, so natural you want to nurse forever.

But Newcomer won't give you forever. He's read your posting, knows he's sliding in and out of a virgin mouth and a white one at that. That knowledge has made him hot, hotter than even your sweet sucking mouth could alone.

He grabs your head between his strong hands and squeezes to hold you in place. Now you're not blowing him, he's fucking you, fucking your mouth hard and fast and you love it. You love his mastery of you.

You feel him begin to come, his cock swelling, the sperm you've wanted for so long rushing though his fleshy tube to shoot against the back of your throat. Pure ambrosia.

Without warning, Newcomer pulls his rod out of your mouth, jism still spurting from its tip. A baker frosting a cake, he decorates your face with lines of his hot spunk, warm white liquid splashing everywhere, the last heavy drop falling like syrup onto your lower lip before rolling back into your mouth.

Fire hydrant to his dog, you wait until Newcomer has finished marking you. Then you stand, still fully clothed, and carefully use your hand to shepherd the remains of his gift to you into your mouth; eight eyes watching as you lick and swallow the last of Newcomer's spendings from your palm.

"Thank you," you say your head bowed in reverence. Then, your lust still unabated your turn to the remaining three and ask:

"Who's next?"

Hope you liked the story Jaguar and I hope you get the chance to live out your fantasy. Let me know how it goes (or cums).

Web