Summary:
Straight married man can't resist black teen's huge cock.
Note 1:
This story is dedicated to
goamz86
and to making one of his fantasies as real as possible.
Note 2:
Thanks to goamz86, Robert, and Wayne for editing this story.
Note 3:
Although this story is mostly a GAY interracial story, it is really a much deeper story about one man's lengthy journey of sexual self-discovery. Besides being about a man becoming a cocksucker, it's also about the changing relationship in the bedroom with his lovely wife.
Black Cock: 1 Day Changes Everything
1. THE ACCIDENTAL MOMENT THAT STARTS EVERYTHING
I called it my midlife crisis.
My wife called it her sexual liberation.
My Master called it my destiny.
Regardless of how you labelled it, in the end I became a cocksucker, a bottom and eventually a cuckold.
Now I've read tons of stories on this website about supposedly straight men who see a cock and boom they are no longer straight.
That is not me.
I had never sucked a cock, never been a bottom and never allowed another man to fuck my wife of 20 years.
That didn't mean I hadn't fantasized about it...a lot. It had become somewhat of an obsession, in fact. Yet, fantasy and reality are two very different things.
And in all reality, I can blame author Silkstockingslover for a curiosity that started as a flicker of a spark, but had been growing inside me until it became a fiery inferno that I could barely keep under control.
I really enjoy her stories both because she writes so vividly and because she has a lot of the same fetishes as me.
I mean, who doesn't like a woman in silk stockings?
Her other themes of older women being seduced and turned into submissive pets to eighteen year olds, interracial sex, orgies and anal are all dirty kinks of mine.
So after a few email chats a couple of years ago, I offered to assist by editing her stories. To be truthful I did it mostly to get an early peek at her stories, but I also enjoy editing.
Anyways, I had read her whole extensive, diverse collection, except her she-male and gay stories. I was straight and wasn't remotely interested in reading about faggots or chicks with dicks.
Then I read 'Shemale School' after she suggested that it gave a lot of insight into who she really was as well as her writing process.
Being an erotic writer myself (writing under the pseudonym goamz86), I was curious and I reluctantly promised her I'd read it, although I told myself it was for research.
Well, that promise was the beginning of my journey from straight married guy to cocksucker and bottom to an eighteen year old black man.
As I got immersed in the beautiful, realistic world of an exclusive she-male school, I felt my cock harden. At first I denied it was the she-males but rather the idea of my favourite author becoming a submissive slut for cock...a fantasy I had long envisioned for myself after reading her stories, checking out her brief bio and the sexy picture of her legs in nylons.
Yet, as I read the many hot sex scenes starring she-males with big cocks I began to wonder what it would be like to be with a she-male: at first, I imagined fucking one from behind in her ass, but over time I had dreams of being forced to suck a she-male's cock, just like Jasmine had in the story. It seemed less gay since these cocks were attached to guys made up to look like chicks...and they had tits.
I should note that I have a bit of a small cock inferiority complex. My cock is five inches hard and very thin. My wife had never complained, but I couldn't get her off by fucking her, but only by eating her out or using toys. She stressed, for years, that it had nothing to do with the size of my cock, but was simply the way she got off.
Of course, I often wondered if she was lying to protect my fragile manhood.
So, when Jasmine sent me a gay story to edit, 'Straight Cocksucker'. I figured no big deal. Usually her stories turn me on and lead to a jerk off session, a blow job from my wife who still loves giving head after all these years, or even a fuck. So I figured I would just edit it for the sake of editing.
As with her shemale story, I felt my cock rising the more I read, beginning to imagine that the straight protagonist was somehow me. Like the protagonist, I hadn't considered sex with another man, yet the scenario, so simple, so day-to-day, and the vivid description of the black cock had me intrigued.
I mean I didn't immediately become obsessed with sucking cock or being a bottom with one read, but over time I read all her gay stories as well, each one making me more and more curious.
I then read other gay stories, and became even more enthralled by interracial gay stories and inevitably began looking up pictures of black cocks.
I couldn't explain it, still can't, but somehow a black cock is beautiful to look at. They are almost majestic, especially long, thick ones (which are plentiful).
This, of course, led to watching gay porn, although most of it is terribly done. At least some lesbian or straight porn has some semblance of a story, but apparently gay porn is suck and fuck...and that didn't turn me on. So I returned to reading gay erotica.
What turned me on the most was the mindset of a straight man. Usually, a simple moment triggers a curiosity (walking in on a gay act, for example), and once the spark is lit, the flame is bound to grow and grow until it consumes your very being.
The slow, yet growing undeniable desire to fall to your knees, to ignore socially excepted norms and take a cock in your mouth...especially a black cock...and eventually shift from cocksucker to faggot when you allow your back door to be drilled. In my mind, once the door is open it's like the apple and Eve, it can't be taken back, it can only be resisted...but only for so long.
So with all these thoughts in my head, a year passed by with my curiosity only growing and growing.
Then my accidental moment occurred, and like in the fictional stories, the flame was ignited like a prairie fire.
It was late in the Pop Warner football conference championship game and we were down by four (I coach middle school football), we had the ball with fifteen seconds left at their five yard line. I was already livid with the official, a friend of mine, Andy, who had always been very good and impartial. Yet today, a few questionable and a couple outright ridiculous calls had kept our arch enemy, the Cougars, in a game that we should have been winning by a couple TD's.
Then he did it again.
We scored a touchdown on a screen pass and after it was caught, after the other official raised his arms for a touchdown, he threw another flag. I couldn't fathom what the call could be.
He then called holding on us on a number that didn't exist on our team.
I was furious.
On the following play, we were intercepted in the end zone and the game was over.
Although I'm usually a very calm person, I immediately went to him on the field and went ballistic.
Although he said nothing, there was something in his eyes that implied he was sorry.
I finished my rant, shook hands with the other coach and then dealt with the local media. Thankfully, the winning coach went first and actually admitted, "We were the beneficiary of some questionable calls."
That only made me angrier at Andy, although it calmed me down slightly for my time with the media. Once done, I went to the locker room to console a group of young men who had won the game in theory, but not in the box score.
After a ten minute speech, and seeing almost every boy in tears, I decided I needed I find out why.
I left the boys, and walked to the official's room to have a discussion with Andy, an official, like I said earlier, who I thought was the best in the league.
Reaching the official's room, which was on the other side of the field, I found it locked. I sighed, 'He likely got the hell out of Dodge as quickly as he could.'
I grabbed my key. I sometimes officiated as well, and opened the door just in case. I walked in, closed the door, walked around the corner and froze.
