Blac Daddy at the Y

Robert was sitting in tech class, trying to concentrate on the teacher's computer programming jargon. Today's lecture had taken a simplistic turn and Robert got bored.

The Navy officer could not stop his thoughts from wandering to the sex he and the horny white boy Jamie had enjoyed the day before. Indeed, thinking about it gave Robert one of those lightning-strike moments of insight on himself.

He knew he was gay.

He had always considered himself bisexual, that it was an easy way to get his rocks off. He'd enjoyed a glory hole blowjob or sex with a pickup when his ship pulled into port.

Deep down, though, Robert realized he preferred fucking with men because that is what he preferred. Sex with Jamie had made that clear. Tall, muscular black Robert loved having sex with cute, slim, white Jamie. He loved it and he needed it. Sex with men was part of his core being.

He considered the pros and cons of being gay. Fag were perverts that preyed on kids and had sex up the butt; that's what he was taught as a young man coming up.

His folks, the preacher, his coaches, and friends believed that homos had to be driven from the community, even killed, to send a message to any other fags living in the area.

On the other hand, ... hmm. What's positive about being gay in 1978? Well, the sex felt great, natural. No way can I live my life without the fulfilling sex I had with beautiful Jamie.

And Robert thought about guys he knew who were gay, either because their effeminate mannerisms made it obvious, or they came on to him, or he had heard rumors.

Fact is, Robert felt a camaraderie with gay guys. Yes, even the fruity ones. They were open, insightful, funny, sometimes cruel, sometimes kind. Being friends with a mincing fairy didn't mean that's what he was. For that matter, the pillars of the gay-hating straight community were often hypocrites.

He recalled the first time he had seen actual gay sexuality. He was 18 and his mother had volunteered him for a park cleanup project their church organized.

Robert was returning some rakes to the church basement after finishing his work. He heard people talking but couldn't make out what they were saying. He turned a corner and recognized the voice of preacher Burton, the church's hard driving, demanding leader who adamantly warned his flock of the evils of homosexuality.

"That's it son, that's good, you're getting it," Robert heard the preacher say.

Robert quietly put down the rakes and crept up to the spare office where the voices were coming from. He furtively looked around the open door to the dimly lit room, waiting for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. The only light streamed from a single, high wall window throwing thin sunlight on a well-used desk, beat up couch and some chairs.

Through the shadows Robert saw preacher Burton but his eyes fell quickly to man's groin. His cock was standing upright, eight, hard black inches with a purple head on a stiff shaft. His golf ball-sized testicles drooped outside his zipper. A guy's hand was stroking the monster, though the person remained hidden from the light.

Robert felt a jolt from his brain to his crotch. He had seen flaccid boy's penises in locker rooms but never a grown man's erection. He felt his cock tingle, a surge of blood making it heavy.

"Boy, I had a feeling you would be a quick learner. Now, take those balls in your other hand. Real gentle boy, take your time," Burton directed his partner.

Robert thought the preacher was 35 or 40. He was a physically imposing dark Black man with broad shoulders, strong legs, and a deep voice he could shift from a whisper to a shout that shook the church rafters.

A second hand reached out from the shadows and gently cupped the nut sack, the balls so big they spilled from the palm. The boy's face came into the light.

It was Terrence Jackson, an 18 year-old, caramel-colored, small, quiet guy. Terrence was in the choir and just last week was one of the teens celebrated by the church for graduating from high school.

"How does that feel sir? Am I doing it right?" Terrence asked. "Your penis is so hot in my hands. Are you OK?"

"It's not a penis boy, it's a cock," the preacher said, his deep voice gravelly with lust. "A big black cock. Say it right son because you are going to get to know this cock real good. We can use words like cock when we're alone together."

"Yes sir. Sir, I like feeling your cock," Terrence said softly.

Preacher Burton looked down at his erection. He touched his thumb to a droplet at the tip.

"See that? It's precum. Taste it, boy," he said and pressed his thumb to Terrence's mouth. "How do you like that?"

The boy sucked. "I like it sir, will there be more?"

"Hell yes, boy. Keep doing what you're doing," said Burton. "This is going to be a good training session. You're going to learn how to pleasure me. The preacher works hard, and he needs a powerful release."

Terrence blushed, "I'm glad you chose me. You're a powerful teacher."

Robert remained motionless in the hallway, his eyes glued to the randy display of masculine sex, his face flushed. Was that due to being sexually turned on, he wondered. He was ashamed for his secret watching but fascinated by the action and the preacher's sexy commands.

He could not stop looking at the preacher's thick meat. It veins swelled and thinned as the boy's hand stroked it. That's what a man's cock looks like, Robert thought. With a sense of pride, he knew he was about the same length and girth.

But Robert was confused. The preacher hated gays, told the congregation that homosexuality was a sin and that it would ruin the black community. Yet he and Terrence were sure acting gay, weren't they? Indeed, he was encouraging Terrence to play with his cock and balls.

Robert's next thought frightened him. Everyone says gays are bad but I'm getting horny looking at that big dick. Does that mean I'm gay?

Preacher Burton commanded Terrence to get undressed. As the boy complied the preacher took off his shoes while leaving on his shirt and pants.

Robert checked out Terrence's naked body. He was a lush honey color, slim, and his cock hung down heavily, looking like it was getting ready for action. Terrence moved his hand to cover his penis.

"Did I tell you to hide your cock? Get your hand away from your cock," ordered the preacher.

The nude boy complied and, looking at the floor, said he was sorry.

"That's OK son. You're learning. But remember, do what I tell you, is that understood?" demanded the preacher.

The shy boy mumbled, yes sir.

"Boy, don't be ashamed, you've got nothing to be ashamed of. You've got a healthy-looking cock and it will bring you much pleasure," said the preacher. "See how I let my cock hang free? That's what you should do. Here boy, let me take a good look at it."

The preacher took hold of the boy's penis and fondled it, his black hand against the boy's caramel penis, feeling its weight, eyeballing it, and giving it a few tugs to encourage its growth. He reached down and cupped the boy's balls.

"That's a nice one son. We black men should be proud of our size. We're built bigger and our women love us for it," said the preacher. "Now it's time for you to undress me. Unbutton my shirt."

In his hiding place Robert saw two black men facing each other. One young, light-skinned and naked. The other tall, muscular, and dark, with a large cock dangling out of his zipper. Robert was hypnotized, fondling his own stiff cock through his jeans.

Terrence clumsily tried to unbutton the shirt. After a moment he got the hang of it and opened all the buttons including those on the sleeve. The preacher's large cock bounced, and the head brushed against the naked boy.

"OK boy, take off my shirt," the preacher ordered.

Terrence loosened the shirt from the man's torso and pulled it off his arms and put it on the couch. The preacher had a flat stomach and defined abs. He opened his arms and grabbed Terrence by his shoulders.

"You're doing good, son. Come closer. Put both your hands on my chest," said the preacher. "You want to feel me, don't you boy, go ahead, don't be shy. Massage my arms while you're at it. That's it, lick my nipples, men's nipples can be sensitive."

The boy's eyes grew large as he began feeling the man's body. He petted the broad chest and moved his hands to feel the biceps. His breathing grew heavier and his mouth fell open.

He was doing something he had fantasized about many times. He licked a nipple, put his fawn-colored face against the stud preacher's ebony chest and quietly moaned.

"You like that don't you boy?" the preacher said in a muffled voice. "I told you I would help you learn something about yourself. You like feeling a man's body, don't you boy?"

The boy was entranced. "Yes sir. Your body is so hard. You must work out a lot," he said.

"I do and you should too. It is important to be in top condition. I'll tell you a secret," teased the preacher. "The ladies like feeling this body too. I won't say who, but you probably know a few from the choir."

He pulled the boy closer and ran his thick lips on the teen's tender neck. The youth shivered in pleasure.

"Terrence, there are other boys like you, boys that grew up in a home without a father or a father that was rarely around. You missed that man's touch, his authority. It's something that a boy needs," said the preacher.

"Sometimes I choose a boy, a special boy, and I help him learn about a man's touch. And I teach him how to touch a man. I knew you were a special boy," whispered the preacher.

"I'm glad you did sir. But I've never done this before. I want to learn but go slow," Terrence sniffled, his head down.

"I understand son. I know just how to train boys like you. We'll take our time and you let me know if I'm going too fast," said the preacher. "Now. It's time to take off my pants."

Terrence looked into the man's eyes then down to his belt. He reached down and pulled it open, then pulled it out of the belt loops. He placed it on the couch. He unhooked the pants' clasp, moved his hands to either side of the man's waist, and began pulling down.

The preacher's cock bobbed up and down as the pants dropped; it was sticking out from the stud's underwear. Terrence knelt, pulled the pants from the preacher's legs, carefully folded them, and put them on the couch.

The boy turned back to the preacher and his erect cock.

"Terrence, do you see how my cock stays hard? It stays hard because I take care of myself -- body and soul. And because you excite me. You are an extremely attractive young man," said the preacher. "Come here boy."

The preacher grabbed the boy by his rounded butt, squeezed, and pulled him closer. They were chest-to-chest, cock-to-cock. The preacher pushed hard against the boy who let out an involuntary moan.

"It looks like you'll have to get my cock out of those underpants," the preacher said into the boy's ear. "I want you to get down on your knees and get them off me. This will help."

Preacher Burton took a cushion from the couch and put it down in front of his feet. Terrence placed his knees on the cushion. He stared at the enormous hard on that was only inches from his face. The boy was hypnotized. He licked his lips. He lifted his hands to the waistband.

The preacher upped his pressure on the boy, he knew it was now or never, he couldn't let the kid hesitate. "That's it boy, you're getting it. Take my jockeys off."

Terrence pulled the waistband out past the erection and lowered the jockeys to the floor.

The preacher kicked them aside and thrust his giant meatpole at the boy. "Grab it. Now," he demanded. "Jack it boy."

Terrence took hold of the throbbing cock and began a slow jerking motion. It was so big he put his second hand on the shaft. He moved both hands steadily forward and back.

"Like that boy?" asked the preacher.

"Yes sir ... it feels so good in my hands, is this the right way to do it," he murmured, staring at the throbbing phallus.

"You're doing good. Keep going. Well, look at that. You've got me dripping more precum," said the preacher looking down at the steady stream of viscous liquid oozing from the bulbous head of his cock.

In his hiding place Robert stared, transfixed by the beautiful black cock. He could smell the sweat and musk the two nude studs were generating. Robert was turned on, his cock rock hard in his jeans.

The preacher kept up his verbal control of the young man who kneeled in front of him, staring at the organ in wonder as he stroked it.

"Terrence, it's time for you to taste that cum. Stick out your tongue and lick the head," said the preacher.

The boy licked his lips and stuck out his tongue, moving his mouth closer. The tongue went over and around the head and into its slit. The boy licked it, dug in deeper, kept licking.

The boy moaned, knowing he had kissed and licked a cock, fascinated by the feel of the spongy head, inhaling the odor of man dick, and sweat.

The preacher's eyes closed, and his head fell back. "Damn boy. Whoo ... shit. That's it boy, that's it, lick it,' the preacher panted.

The boy pulled back, looked at the penis, thought for a heartbeat, then moved forward and took the black mushroom head in his honey-lipped mouth. He started sucking on it, eyes closed, then his body seemed to swoon in delicious pleasure, his moan filling the room as he luxuriated in the feeling of a fat dick filling his mouth.

"Yea boy, that's good," the preacher exhaled, lost in the liquid warmth encircling his thick meat. "Oh fuck, you done made the preacher feel good."

Now it was the cock-sucking boy's turn to take control. He kept jacking the thick meat with both hands as he swirled his tongue around the head. He pulled his lips off the organ with a wet plop, then began licking the sides of the shaft. He pulled back, looked at the veins that crisscrossed the monster and licked them from front to back.

Terrence opened his mouth wide and tried to take the whole cock into his mouth and throat. He got about two inches in, then withdrew, then moved his mouth forward, engulfing more of the shaft.

The naked boy's cock stood erect as he continued his sucking and jacking, kneeling in front of the church leader, the cock deeper and deeper in his throat, his body sweating, blood rushing to his skin.

"Shit boy. You are learning fast ... suck that cock," the preacher babbled. "You got it, you done got the preacher's cock. Show your preacher what you can do."

The boy sucked even harder, turned on by the man's horny talk. His body glowed with pleasure, and his mouth filled with saliva and precum that he used to lubricate the cock as he jacked it.

Suddenly the preacher grabbed the boy by the shoulders and pushed him back and a loud 'slurp' sounded as the cock left the mouth and bobbed in the air, stiff, wet.

The boy looked up at the preacher in surprise, still holding the man's erection. "Did I do wrong?"

"No son, not at all. Let's slow down a bit, make our time last," said the preacher, catching his breath. "You learned how to suck. Damn, you sure have. Now it's time to take that cherry. Preacher wants a bite of your butt."

He pulled Terrence up, kissed him, and asked, "You liked that, didn't you boy?" His hands caressed the boy's satiny caramel skin, then reached around and grabbed his full bottom.

"Yes sir. It's like my whole body is alive. Your cock feels so good in my mouth," smiled the boy.

The preacher explained that he was going to make the boy feel even better. He would put his cock in the boy's butt where there were all kinds of nerve endings that would send waves of pleasure through his body.

He said it would hurt at first but soon would become the greatest feeling the boy ever had. Was he ready for that?

The boy eagerly said he was, that he had wanted it for a long time, and that he could withstand the pain.

"Son, I'm proud of you. This is another step on your journey to manhood. Now, reach in that desk drawer, take out the lube and give it to me," the preacher instructed.

The boy did as he was told.

The preacher pressed a dab of lube on the boy's hand, placed the hand on his ebony phallus and directed him to jack his cock. The boy got back to one of his favorite jobs -- stroking the man's meaty black joy stick.

The preacher said he had something to say but he wanted the boy to keep jacking while he spoke.

"This is important. Listen and understand. What we are doing isn't gay. There are some idiots who will say this is homosexual activity, but they're fools," said the preacher, looking into Terrence's eyes.

"I'm helping you to become a man," said the preacher. "You didn't have a man when you were a lad, so the preacher is taking responsibility for that role. You need a grown man to show you how to obey authority."

Once Terrence let the preacher take control, said the man, once he truly obeyed, he would be ready to take control of his own life.

The preacher said he used sex to teach obedience because he had found it was the best way to get young people -- especially boys -- to grow into being adults. These 'maturity sessions' just sped up the process.

The boy stroked the man's erection and looked dreamily into his eyes.

"What we are doing is something almost sacred," continued the preacher. "That's quite different from what fags do. They cannot control their own sick lust and they degrade themselves with filthy behavior in bus station bathrooms. I refuse to allow that in my congregation."

The preacher concluded by warning Terrence to never tell anyone about their 'maturity sessions' because outsiders would never understand. That meant keeping it from parents, teachers, even friends. The maturity sessions were something special between only the preacher and Terrence.

The boy nodded and promised to never tell.

"That's good son. I knew you were grown up enough to understand," smiled the preacher. "Now, I'll stop talking and we can get back our session."

Robert stayed silent in the hall and listened to the speech. He was shocked. The preacher was a conman who used his power to manipulate and screw boys, women and probably girls too. Robert wanted to stop this, then considered what would happen if he spoke out.

The preacher, a man the community respected, would say Robert was a liar who cooked up this story with Terrence, a lonely, easily led boy. He would say the two of them were gay. Robert's family would be thrown out of the church and his mother would never forgive him. Terrence would be hounded out of the neighborhood for having sex with a man.

Robert decided he couldn't risk that. And he had to admit he was fascinated watching the two have sex. He loved the contrast between the dark adult and the caramel-colored kid, big man against small, the powerful dominating the obedient. Robert was ashamed but he was unable to tear his eyes away.

As Robert pondered his dilemma the two men returned to their lovemaking.

The preacher hugged the boy and ran his hands over the youngster's smooth, hairless skin. He squeezed and fondled his café-au-lait butt, kissed his neck, then moved his lips to give the boy a gentle kiss and tell him he was beautiful. The young man sighed and continued to pull at the preacher's penis. Soon they were both hard again.

"Son, hand me that lube," ordered the preacher. "Here's what I want you to do. Bend over the desk and spread your legs. I'm going to put some of this in your butthole. It'll help loosen you up."

The boy whispered yes sir and raised his bottom to the world. The preacher leaned over him, his cock jutting out, his muscled arms swelling, and took a dollop of lube and pressed it on the skin of the boy's hole.

Terrence was startled but soon got into the gentle finger massage of the sensitive skin of his anus. He told the preacher he liked it and urged him to put the finger in.