Girlfriend Leads Me to Bbc

(All characters are older than 18 years.)

-

I was getting fucked by another guy on my own bed. For a while now, I had been groomed and didn't know it until it was too late. I put myself in a position of complete servitude to John, a massive black man, who handled me as if I was a toy, he thrust himself inside of me; both of us acting oblivious to Bianca, my girlfriend; she watched everything, right beside of me. She was the one who arranged the whole 'threesome', and now she acted as if everything had been a bad idea.

-

I whined and bit my pillow as the thick cock with its bulging head entered me. Definitely too late now to have any regrets.

John savored me. There wasn't a better way to describe it. I was his meal, and he savored me. I asked for more, many times, but can't quite remember. I closed my eyes to avoid Bianca. My cock dangled, rock hard and abandoned for the greatest part, but still I cummed on my sheets inevitably; afterwards my cock lost the erection, it was quite funny how the pitiful little thing kept dangling with my balls while the bigger man kept putting in me. The erection returned after a while, no time to breathe.

'Feels so fucking good,' I cried, and earned a slap, the pain painted the image in my mind of his great palm on my ass. 'Shit,' I said like a whimp.

I looked at Bianca, whose face had become a deep shade of red. I instantly turned the other way and closed my eye, pretending I hadn't see it, otherwise I would be forced to face the man I had become, if it even could be called that; to admit to myself that it was wrong, when she clearly wasn't enjoying herself. In those moments, John's cock turned me into a big selfish whore. However, I at least tried to not moan out loud anymore.

At one point, John laid on top of my back, causing me to lay completely down, and kissed my neck; he fucked me calmly, not too fast, not too slow, and I had a moment to breath deeply, instantly getting overwhelmed by the smell of masculine sweat; the warmth of his breath on my neck, sending shivers through my body - my cock twitched and flinched, my balls tightened painfully and I cummed again. I had cummed twice.

John closed the distance between his lips and my ear, and told me that he never wanted to leave my tight hole; then he bit my ear softly, his hips started to bounce again rapidly, crushing me with his weight, and his cock.

I turned my face to the other side, suddenly burning with curiosity to see if Bianca was still watching. That's when I saw she wasn't there anymore.

She had left the room, when exactly I couldn't say, and shame and guilty crushed me so that I knew the fun was over, the night of discovery finally hit a wall. John slid his cock out of me, he must have sensed something, and yes, it had been so, because he looked at me and nodded, then left the bed and started to dress up. I did the same.

John left without saying goodbye to Bianca, she was in the kitchen, and didn't say anything in return. I closed the door, and went after her, but she rejected my touches and my words, closed her face, in doing so amplifying my guilt, my shame.

I was suddenly hit by the awareness of my unmanly shameful actions, the things I said out loud in appreciation of another man's cock, let alone the penetration, so powerful an effect it had on me that my body still trembled.

As I showered, I brushed my body hard to cleanse myself, but couldn't wash away the shame that still burned my mind in the form of my girlfriend's hurt eyes. To make things worse, John's creamy cum was still inside of me, I could feel as some of it was ejected from my anus, it made me so hard. I tried my best to clean myself there, my fingers reaching up, and that too aroused me to a point where I had to relieve myself, if only to be able to look Bianca in the eyes without being reminded of John.

Bianca came to sleep on the bed, her long black hair loose around her shoulders; but she turned away from me, still maintaining her silence. I said I was sorry, once and twice, but never said for what exactly, so my apologies carried no strength, and were to no avail. I was afraid that she would leave me, spreading rumors around of my emasculation, my weakness of character, my humiliation. People would laugh at me, and ridicule me. It was terrifying because deep down I still thought of myself as a complete straight man that was led astray. This thought was in direct conflict with my encounter with John, with him I had submitted to anal sex, long passionate kisses, and vulgar words that denigrated me to a sex object with no dignity - And, in all of it, I had delighted myself.

At morning, I was surprised to see my girlfriend's light humor, and we managed to avoid any awkwardness, as if nothing was wrong. I believed for a moment that maybe we could go on without ever remembering the previous night, but then breakfast came. From the other side of the table, she gave me a look, sighed, and I knew in my guts what would come next.

Bianca surprised me again.

'I just wanna say I'm sorry,' she said. 'I know that you weren't trying to hurt me, and I shouldn't have... I shouldn't be mad at you. I've seen how you can become when...' Here she paused, but it was obvious to me she was referring to my anal pleasure. 'You enjoy it, I get that. I accept it. But no more other men. I'm not comfortable with that, I thought I was, but I'm not. Okay?'

'Okay,' I said, nodding automatically. But inside, I was disappointed. I guess I wanted more of John. Hopefully I hid it well.

I was already at work, locked inside an office, when I allowed myself to relive everything, every little sensation I came across yesterday, the first time I kissed a man, a real kiss with tongue and a lot of saliva, and was touched, touches with the strength of a beast and fueled by desired, that made me cry out or moan softly or sigh in desperation. I bit my lip, and smiled pathetically by myself in that little office, in spite of myself and my shame.

John chose that moment of weakness to send me a text:

John: are you okay?

Ignoring my job, I stared at the message, and wondered if I should answer it. Someone knocked on the door, and I put aside the phone and its forbidden message for a while, and I dealt with a load of paperwork, which tortured my mind with boredom and gave me an even bigger anticipation for John's text. What should I say? I wondered, not if I should, but what would I say. I pushed the guilt aside for now.

When I grabbed the phone - I was alone again - I saw that John had sent many other messages, resuming: he was apologizing for anything that he might have done wrong, he thought that Bianca was acting weird towards him, and also worried if he had hurt me.

I held up the texts in front of me for minutes, and finally I at least acknowledged some of his questions.

Me: I'm fine. You didn't hurt me.

But before I could put a quick end to the conversation, he followed up with some more questions.

John: so you enjoyed it? I know you did, but I want you to say it.

I felt the erection growing in my pants. I avoided the question, but he insisted with questions about how much I enjoyed. I was pulled into a quick exchange where he would ask - did you like when I did this to you? - And I answered - Yes. Sure. Definitely. I loved it - The conversation escalated so much that he started to send voice messages.

His deep voice sent me back in time. It was like he was right beside me. He growled at me with his words, and it shouldn't affect me, but it was, somehow it was working. John worked at the same job, the same building, with Bianca. What if she heard? I felt both thrilled and ashamed.

'Man. You have no idea,' John said. 'Can't stop thinking about sticking in your naughty hole; so tight, I wish I kept going all night. You kept begging for more, you so bad.'

So strange, to be talked to in such a way, so different from girls, so different from anything I've ever heard from other guys - it felt wrong, but the good kind of wrong, the kind that would give you shivers, erections and fever dreams. I grinned foolishly while I pressed the phone close to my ears and repeated the audio over and over; safely hidden inside my office, in my world of perversion, I wanted to please John so much.

'I went to sleep with your cum still inside of me,' I said.

I locked my attention on my phone and waited for him to answer to my damning confession, it vibrated again. I checked it quickly, expecting another voice message, needing it. But It was Bianca.

She was just warning me she left work early and was already home, so I didn't need to pick her up; a simple message, nothing alarming, yet it threw me off completely from the erotic frenzy, and I rubbed my face hard, slapping myself on the face, once then twice, and let all the depressing guilty wash over me again, the weight of that guilt overwhelmed me. What was I doing to my girlfriend?

In a sudden burst of courage, I told John to forget about me, to stop sending me stuff; and I proceeded to delete everything about him, contact, messages, even the pictures of his cock, the thick long cock which was the stuff of my dreams, I deleted all the pictured he sent me, deleted, deleted, goodbye John. I could only hope he would accept it. He did it. In the days that followed I would fool myself thinking that I was happy he accepted my departure so willingly, but I was very hurt. Sure, he only fucked me once, but we had been exchanging words for a longer time. I should mean something to him.

I'm not gonna lie that there wasn't a certain relief from being cut off from my temptation. I was able to focus on my girlfriend and my job, and that very same day passed fairly quickly.

By the time I got home, I was feeling weightless, confident that my life was going to come back to the way it was, and I kissed Bianca hungrily, took her to bed, and tried to regain a bit of my masculinity. I think it worked. At one point, Bianca's finger tried to reach that place that had caused me so much headache, and I pushed it aside.

'You don't have to. No more of that... Never again' I said. I was surprised by the security in my voice. Bianca too, I thought, her face flushed, her eyes gleamed, and much more avidly she bobbed on my cock. I held her hair, and pushed her down on me.

Sleep evaded me that night; I faced the harsh truth: it would be hard to forget John, he plagued my mind. I didn't even get the chance of doing him twice, or more. Just once. It seemed unfair. It was unfair too that I wouldn't even be able to give me a consolation with toys, because after experimenting John's meat, how would I ever be satisfied. I think that was the real reason I rejected Bianca's fingers earlier. It was like after cumming inside, he marked his territory, and nothing could invade me but him. My hole was his. Nobody else could get it.

Eventually, as anyone who has an addiction knows, my resolve weakened and my bravado all but disappeared, and I dreaded my future, either for the lack of gay action, or the fear that I would get that action anyway. I couldn't win. It was horrible to wake up knowing that I had to lie to my girl, to look Bianca in the face as we spent time together; in public, I had to keep appearances, at parties and meetings with my guy friends; I suffered the most with them, guys that I had known forever, now I couldn't be too close without being too aware of their smell, the smell of men, either their perfume or the natural smell of sweat, I would stare at their mouths when they weren't looking, or check their bulges. Some of them might even have realized, I noticed Paolo, a brown hunk, looking at me weird. He looked a bit like John, so I couldn't control myself. But hopefully, he forgot about it.

That same day I locked myself in the bathroom for a bit, and because I had deleted his contact, I looked for him in the social medias, and sent him a DM. It pained me so much to admit my weakness, but the prospect of black cock seemed better, my heart beat rapidly with excitement, my face was sweating, and leg anxiously tapping the ground. I guess I had expected, somehow, that he would answer right away. How wrong I was. I felt humiliated day after day that John didn't respond, to the point where I regretted the DM completely, or so I told myself.

'Are you okay?' Bianca asked. She finished her dinner, brushed past me, hugging me by my neck, kissing my head. I nodded. The smell of her hair didn't affect me as before, I told myself sadly.

I couldn't possibly tell her what was wrong with me. So I lied.

'Just a bit of stress,' I said.

'Holidays are coming up, at least,' she said. My parents had called her and begged her to come home for Christmas, and she agreed. Now I had to look my father in the face too and lie, pretend that his boy was a man, and not a cum slut.

That moment the phone vibrated in my pocket, causing me to tense up. Bianca didn't notice. She kissed my head again, she smelled of sweet perfume, and her soft hair brushed my bare back. They didn't do anything to me. God, I was so fucked. Might as well get fucked.

'Yup,' I said. I returned to my food, and she left me to go read a book in the living room.

Feeling secure, I slowly took my phone and looked at my new notification. It had been more than a week since I DM'd John, and finally, he had talked back.

John: what's up?

My pride was already hurt, so why not a little bit more?

Me: I've been thinking about you.

I hid the phone, feeling dirty, but also a thrill deep in my veins.

I anticipated that he would take a long time to answer back and I was ready to wait, such a little whore that I was; this thought surprised me, thinking myself a whore, at least for John, seemed plausible and even desirable. He had talked dirty to me, I think he would like this if I told him. John answered quickly - it made me a happy boy - I went to my room, where I could read without worrying that Bianca would come behind me.

John: yeah it's been a long time

I could sense his coldness, and understood. But at least now he was talking. I didn't know what I wanted here, I began to worry about the regret that I was sure would come later.

I kept talking. John answered promptly, and our conversation started to flow, we talked about trivial things, mainly about how things were going for both of us in a general way, nothing too specific for now. John said he was dating some guy. Okay. At least, he was still talking to me.

Suddenly, he cut straight to the chase.

John: why you talking to me now, benji? you told me to not ever talk to you again

Me: yeah, I know. I just

I sent the incomplete text, because I was taking too long to answer, and was feeling very foolish.

John: what about bianca?

Me: she doesn't know

John: how you been doing with her?

Me: fine Me: you know

John: sure

Me: what about your guy? what's his name?

John: freddy

John then began writing another message, thought about it for a long time, , then stopped. My anxiety grew. Finally:

John: he doesn't make the same noises you do John: he's too quiet John: you loved my cock so much John: I could tell by your squealing John: I want to bury my cock in you so much John: hear you begging

He knew what I wanted to hear, words that sent a powerful surge through my body. I was suddenly back to when he smashed himself against my back, going all the way inside, his balls hitting my ass. It had been so long.

John: I cant forget you Benji boy. John: I was so glad when I saw you talked to me

Me: I'm so happy you answered, man. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I miss you.

John: How are you going to make it up to me, Benji boy?

Me: name it

Suddenly, I heard Bianca coming this way, and panicked.

Me: Bianca. Talk to you later.

I silenced my phone and hid it away below my pillow, and pretended to be asleep. Bianca came and lay beside me. She misunderstood my erection when her hand felt me up below the blankets and I had to please her... It felt wrong. Still, I was forced to do it.

The next morning - a Friday - was the usual, a couple who loved each other, understood each other, and lied to each other. I had just left Bianca at work, then headed to mine, locked myself in my office, eager to go through my messages. I apologized to John about cutting our talk so short, and was pleased when he quickly answered me. He understood. Now he came back to the point where we left off, and his words sustained my erection through out my job hours. How he was able to do that? He pushed all my buttons, and his compliments pleased me more than any my girlfriend had ever given me. I assumed the role of actually being his and only his, denying Bianca completely, a denial of a part of my life that seemed the most important not a few months back, and now I could only wish I was on my knees, worshiping this huge man and his beautiful black cock. This man who seemed utterly interested in me, in his own words he wanted to fuck my ass until my hole was so wide I wouldn't be able to close it for hours, fill it with his warm cum, and make me leave it there for hours.

I masturbated; my friends and colleagues close by, working, while I jerked off to those dominating words, which made me feel so used, so satisfied. Pure delirium. When I came, I ate most of my cum, so I didn't have to make a mess to clean it. I was sweating profusely, trying to catch my breath. And days followed in which I had to calculate the time precisely to not be interrupted or caught in my little office while I touched myself, at John's command, and I reported to him because he was the boss of me, and I admitted so, I wanted him to tell me what to do, to be told that I was a good boy with a big asshole.

I devoted my time and energy to John solely, which rendered me unfit to please Bianca in her needs as a woman, and she made it clear. I apologized, blamed my work, stress, anxiety, whatever. The truth was simple: I was John's boy, I cummed only for him. Incredible how we hadn't even met in person yet, and I was so swayed, seduced by his words. Even if John was gay, he was much more of a man than I was.

Bianca complained in subtle ways about my inefficiency to satisfy, which I couldn't do because I was spent. More and more my mind and body hungered for the touches of a strong hand, arms bulging with ebony muscles; hungered for physical contact - a man's physical contact - for John.

I admitted my shame to John - at that point we had exchanged contacts again and we were talking - how I couldn't please Bianca anymore; I felt so vulnerable, and entrapped inside John's power. I couldn't even hide that sad fact, I couldn't satisfy my own woman. John was glad, he told me I was a good boy, that I belonged to him, and each time he said it, I believed it more.

I sent him pictures of my ass from my work office. At any moment, someone could knock on the door, but I obeyed and would partially take off my pants and take many pictures. I told John the name of all my friends who worked there, and he provoked me, repeating their names while I jerked off, asking me what would they say if they really knew me. Once someone did knock, and I barely had time to get off my table and sit down, my pants were still open. It was one of my friends, he noticed my flushed skin, and walked around the table to look at me, while I tried to avoid getting caught, to no avail. He saw me, and laughed, but promised he wouldn't tell anyone. My cheeks burned hotly, I was buried in shame, but he couldn't have known what I had been doing, he probably thought I was just jerking off. This friend of mine had a nice body, a nice bulge. Maybe if I stared hard enough, he would understand and even let me have some of it. No. I was John's. That was decided. My friend left and I could breathe again. John laughed at me too, but he also comforted me with his soft words that melted my frustration and I nodded to him, as if he could see me. I thanked him, my John. I wish I was close to him to have some release, let him fuck me in all the ways that he wanted, be his boy and let him cum inside of me, to own me like an domestic animal.