I'm naked, on my knees. The young black man in front of me is lithe and glistening. He's half my age, but I'm kneeling submissively, waiting for instructions. His enormous cock hangs at half mast, just inches from my face.
"You want my cock, don't you?" he says quietly. I simply nod. I only speak when I'm invited to.
"Beg for it, cocksucker," he says.
"Please may I suck your cock, sir," I mumble meekly.
He lifts my chin and looks straight into my eyes.
"You're going to lick my arse, suck my balls and take my cock down your throat. You keep going until I'm ready, got it?"
He's clearly enjoying my subjugation. I think it's the fact I'm married and officially straight that turns him on. He knows I can't help myself. His muscular legs, powerful thighs and long, thick, black cock stir something in me that would revolt me with anyone else. I want to feel it in my mouth. I want his cum in my belly.
***
Three months ago I was just getting on with life. I'd recently turned 50, was happily married, or at least, as happy as can be expected after 20 years. Kids all left home. Just running my marketing business from my little office just off the High Street. The office was my haven. I'd been working on my own for two decades and I loved it. I had everything I needed here: a nice, discreet, self-contained office away from the world. I had some great clients and the work was easy. And when it wasn't too busy, I could watch porn and have a nice long wank. I wasn't getting much action at home so it was a naughty little release from time to time.
And when I felt like skipping a day, my favourite haunt was the golf club. Like the old saying goes: even a bad day on the fairway beats the best day behind a desk. I tried to get a game in every week or two, pairing up with a few of the regular club members for a day out with a relaxed lunch between rounds, or grabbing a quick 9 holes as a 2-ball with whoever happened to be lurking around the clubhouse. That was how I met Mike.
"You look like you need a playing partner," I chirped across the bar. I hadn't seen him before so assumed he must be new. He looked up and scowled.
"My partner's a no-show," he grumbled. "Bloody annoying!"
"Happy to buddy up for a round. I play off 9 if that helps." I was quite proud of my handicap, given that I didn't get on to the course as often as I would have liked.
"Twelve," he replied. "But who's counting!" We laughed and shook hands, introducing ourselves formally. As we wandered out to where our clubs were perched, a couple of young lads appeared. Looked like they'd been smoking around the corner. I caught the distinctive whiff of weed.
"These two were supposed to be caddying for us. You OK with that?" said Mike. He looked a bit nervous. I didn't usually bother with a caddy but it seemed churlish to refuse, so I handed off my bag to the taller of the two and he introduced himself as Dom and his mate as Vince. They were both black and quite muscular, which I suppose is to be expected for young men in their 20s who are lugging bags of clubs around all day. I was slightly envious to be honest. My days of being slim and ripped were long gone.
It was a great afternoon stroll across the course. Mike was a mediocre player at best and I thrashed him by 16 shots. Even allowing for the handicap, it was a bit of a massacre. But hey! We all have bad days. He took it well.
"Thanks for the game," he said generously. "I'm new to the club and it looks like I've a lot to learn!"
"We're all friends here," I replied cheerfully as we hit the changing rooms and peeled off for a shower.
I'm not shy when it comes to being naked with other men, but as is usually the way, we turned away from each other as we undressed, aiming for shower cubicles at opposite ends of the room. Just as we were stripping down, Dom and Vince wandered in, glanced across at Mike and started stripping. I didn't know caddies were allowed to use the members' changing room, but thought little of it. Plenty of cubicles.
"You lost," said Dom suddenly and I realised he was talking to Mike. Mike glanced nervously in my direction.
"Could we do this later..." he started but the lad interrupted him.
"You lost," he said again firmly, peeling off his boxers. "Bet's a bet. On your knees."
My brain processed the words I'd just heard. Did he just tell a club member to...? As I turned, Mike was sinking to his knees in the cubicle. He looked at me and blushed then simply dropped his gaze to the floor. Dom stepped in beside him, stark naked, and I caught a glimpse of an enormous engorged cock hanging between his legs. It disappeared as he pulled the curtain across the cubicle and switched on the shower.
I stared in disbelief. It was pretty clear what was happening behind the curtain. I could see Mike's legs under the curtain, kneeling, Dom's legs casually spread in front of him. There was no doubt where Dom's cock was going, but in case I had any doubts I heard him grunt over the noise of the shower.
"Nice and slow, cocksucker."
I was still reeling slightly from the knowledge of what was going on behind the curtain when Vince brought me out of my reverie.
"You want some too, mister?" he said. I glanced at him. He was holding his cock in his hand, stroking it gently. It was almost as big as Dom's. A part of my brain admired it for it's size and girth.
"Usually only the loser sucks, but if you want some of this, you're welcome," he continued, waving his manhood in my direction.
"Er... no thanks," I muttered. "I'm married. And straight."
"They're always married and straight," he barked, grinning. "Your prick says otherwise."
It was at that point that I realised I had a hard-on. Fucking hell, where did that come from!? I quickly turned away and stepped into my cubicle, dowsing my ardour with the lukewarm water of the shower, trying not to think about what was happening on the other side of the room.
"Suit yourself," grunted Vince from behind me and with that he walked across to Mike's cubicle and stepped inside.
