DARK
CUB
I'd come to town to see my favorite white
trash band. I love attending
their concerts, though I stand out from the crowd and often get taken for a
drug dealer—or worse—a cop!
I'm
not tall, but stocky and well built.
And, I suppose, being black with a killer smirk, materially contributes
to my straight white world formidability.
Gay-wise, I'm just the opposite.
I'd fuck myself if that were possible.
So
there I was in town to see this garbage band, when I got the sorry news—concert
cancelled—their tour bus broken down 200 miles north.
Actually
the city wasn't new to me. I'd
been there before and had a few acquaintances—but nothing serious—no Fuck Buds
or anything.
I
tried to make the best of a bad scene and called up a trick from the last
time I was in town. But Rob
was preoccupied—with a mutual acquaintance of ours—actually a
good friend of mine from my neck of the woods. Todd was a sweet guy and a father figure to
me. He had a thing for Blacks, but
had never put the make on me for fear of POZZING
me. Tsk! Tsk!
So, after exchanging pleasantries, I hung up the phone and, likewise, hung up the concert duds I wouldn't get to wear that night. After a nap, I planned on heading out to the Baths. I felt deprived and in need of an ego boost.
When
I awoke, I showered and preened
for an evening on the town. The
phone rang, and it was Rob and Todd downstairs.
Todd
pulled out a joint and passed it to me, while Rob massaged my chest, and his
fingertips felt like electric prods as they danced across my tits.
They
invited me to go bar-hopping with them; but that seemed too hit-or-miss. So Rob suggested I check out The Cellar, a bathhouse catering to a more diverse,
if older, crowd. He
even had a discount pass for me.
After
a couple beers, Todd handed me another joint and told me to save it for the
next guy who really turned me on.
Horny as I was, I knew Mr.
Perfect would shortly cum along.
I
took a wrong turn and drove for what seemed like hours up and down the dark, deserted
downtown streets. So it was past
10 when I arrived. Since I
had Rob's coupon in my pocket, I splurged and got a room.
Having
gotten lost, I felt a little out of sorts; and the other joint Todd had given
me looked SOOOOH ENTICING. I caved, and leaned back on the bunk. Finally, at peace with the world,
gripping my ever present Poppers bottle, I headed out to cruise the world.
AN
OPEN DOOR! INSIDE A BEAR
BEATING HIS MEAT! On the
third approach, I inched into the archway and caressed my privates through my
towel. He waved me in and promptly
rammed his funky Uncut down my throat.
Attracted by his moans and groans, a group of perverts gathered outside
his door. He was a vociferous one,
he was!
Another
hit of Poppers, and all hell broke loose.
The beers, the joint, and Poppers all hit me at once. It was seconds before it dawned on me
he was cuming down my throat; and, much more to my liking, someone else
was fingering my Cunt.
I
swallowed and excused myself from the Bear's room, and the gawkers started to
disperse. I stumbled down the
hall; and, as I hoped, Magic Fingers caught up with me and rammed his finger up
my Butt. My basic instincts
tend toward passivity, so I stood there in the center of the hall, buck
naked, my towel crumpled about my feet, as he slid another digit in beside the
first. Like vultures circling easy
prey, guys surrounded us again, and a real mean Dude with an even meaner Dick
approached and tweaked my Nips.
"OUCH!
GODAMMIT! HURTS!"
But
he ignored my anguished pleas and twisted them unmercifully till I was up on
tippy toes moaning like a Slut.
Mainly to shut me up, I suppose, he rammed his putrid, halitosistic
lingua down my throat.
At
last he relaxed his death-grip on my titties; and I slumped down on my heels,
only to be greeted by two more digits up my Cunt--shy by a thumb of a Full
Fist. My Pussy felt
distended like it'd never been before—a gaping Vulva begging penetration by all
the Faggot Bastards ogling me.
Up till then I'd never taken more than a
three fingers up my Cunt—and was half inclined to bolt—when some kleptomaniacal
Punker yanked my Poppers from my palm and
practically rammed the whole damn vial up my schonz.
First
whiff, and I wished Magic Fingers would probe deeper. Second whiff, and I leaned backwards,
forcing Magic Fingers deeper up my Cunt.
"YOU FUCK?" he asked, as I bent
down to blow Rough Trade.
Not
waiting for an answer, Magic Fingers rammed his whole 8-Inches up my
Butt! Bucked forward by this
penile penetration, Rough Trade's entire 7-Incher slid with no
resistance down my throat.
Startled as I was by the turn events had taken, it was, nonetheless, Nirvana
as they ground away at my Holes from both ends.
From
all angles and directions, guys emerged out of the woodwork, and one
concupiscent protagonist crawled beneath us to suck my Cock. Cum, Sweat, and Piss puddled
everywhere, and the Thief who'd swiped my Poppers kept them pressed
tight against my nostrils so the Orgy could proceed ad nauseum. Finally, when Magic Fingers withdrew
his Deathstick, I wilted like a wet noodle, sinking to my knees. Rivulets of creamy skank oozed
forth from my Pussy like putrid exudation from an industrial canal.
Guys
everywhere beat their Meat, awaiting a chance to bury their Hatchets up my Ass,
until, finally, one concerned observer asked if I needed help. Meekly I glanced up into the smirking
countenance of Rob. He commended
me for taking on all Cumers.
"And
I did enjoy the Piece of Ass, thank you. But there's another who craves your Mancunt even more
than I did."
I
followed the direction of his nod, and there, behind a couple Old Trolls, stood
Todd. Petty me bemoaned my stolen
Poppers bottle. A tall, skinny
Dude with a Biohazard Tat on his 'cep came to my rescue. He was the second to compliment me on
being a "Great
Fuck." "Here," he offered, handing me his nearly empty vial. "You
need 'em more than I do."
Suddenly
it dawned on me. While I'd been
bent over, halfway to LaLa Land, MR. POZ TAT and
his cohorts had had their way with me. I surveyed the sticky tile floor beneath me—befouled
with drying Cum—not a discarded Condom anywhere.
Todd
smiled. "Now,
are you ready for my Load?"
The
question, if it was one, was largely rhetorical. We hightailed it to his room. Steady streams of spoogey, creamy rivulets trickled
down my thighs; and with each step a telltale "Squish, Squish,
Squish" emanated from my Cunt.