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Big Black Kinky Biker Stud - Part 1

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First, let me say that I am a shorter, blond-haired, blue-eyed white guy in my mid-thirties, but still young-looking, and a total submissive bottom. I have always liked the Ultra-Masculine: muscles, facial and chest hair, leather, cowboy gear, boots, gloves, cops, firemen, and military, but especially bikers; that look of a big strong man in his leathers with a powerful chopper between his legs is like an aphrodisiac, and a biker man revving his engine, so loud it hurts, is like a mating call to me. I have always liked white guys, but I joined the Navy a few years back, and during a stint in Iraq, I started fantasizing about Black men, which was a new experience for me.

So when I was stationed in San Diego, I was pleasantly surprised to receive an email on a site I go to from a Black Biker Man in Las Vegas. All Top, He was clearly also all Man, and let me know early on He would like me to call Him "Sir." Now I had no problem with that--I have always liked a bit of submission play, knowing my place was on my knees in front of my Man, seeing to His needs and desires. This Man was well worth serving, I thought. Well over six feet tall, handsome in His pictures with prominent cheekbones and a cleft chin over which He wore a fuzzy black beard which came up to the line of His sunglass earpieces at the sides--His head was shaved completely bald--He had a straight, broad nose and a brow which drew down menacingly over His eyes. His complexion dark as dark chocolate, He posed in His pictures sitting astride His Harley and going to various leather events, wearing a few variations of black leather outfits: a leather shirt with diagonal strap, a biker jacket over a vest, a vest alone which revealed full sleeve tattoos on both arms, a biker jacket opened to reveal a heavily muscled chest with curls of black chest hair and pendulous silver nipple rings, jeans with chaps, leather pants, engineer's boots, biker boots, and cowboy boots. Needless to say, I thought each picture sexier than the one before. I jerked my meat raw, and I was intoxicated with the idea of being with this Man, of feeling Him inside me.

Sir was a more hardcore Leather Man than I was, having a variety of interests that I was wary of. He warned me that He was rough. He wanted to tie me up, keep me tied up on His bed all night for His use, use electricity on my penis, piss on me, piss in me, and use my mouth as His urinal for pissing whenever He wished. At first I was repulsed, but could not stop thinking about what it would be like to be with Him. He warned me that He was huge. He sent me a picture that was from His waist down, and put in perspective with His height, the monster cock in the picture with the 00-gauge Prince Albert had to be over ten inches long and thick as a beer can. I was afraid, and my fear only served to heighten my desire. He was my Everest, and I had to have Him, even if He would cause me pain, even if He would choke me with His cock, even if He would fuck me to death. At least I would die happy!

I spoke to Sir on the phone to allay my fears, but that only served to confirm my concept of Him as the Ideal Man. His voice impossibly deep, He was bold and confident, and spoke of His desire to conquer and subjugate me sexually with a casual certainty, as certain He would have me as He was the sun would rise in the East. Soon I found myself driving to Vegas for a long weekend with a bag in the backseat containing my black leather short-sleeved shirt, black rubber pants, a few jockstraps, blue jeans and chaps I had had tailored to my slight frame, a box of the biggest Magnum condoms money could buy, and plenty of lube, as fear, desire, and trepidation warred within me all the way, a hard knot in my stomach to match the hardness of my dick. As I drove down the Strip in Vegas, I slowed not only for pedestrians, but to slow my heart and breathing. This was what I wanted. This was going to be the most amazing night of my life.

When I pulled into the driveway, Sir opened His screen door and stepped out wearing a white wifebeater, black leather pants with a large silver belt buckle on a wide black leather belt, and mostly red cowboy boots with black soles and uppers and silver toe-tips. Sir was better looking than His pictures, unbelievably tall with His long powerful legs, broad muscled shoulders, brawny tattooed arms, rounded package straining at the zipper of His leather pants, and a flat stomach beneath slab pecs like those of a Bodybuilder, but with thick sworls of wiry black hair peeking out the top of His thin white tank, which was straining to hold on to His massive torso. I looked up, and up, and up at Him, and had to squint at the sun reflecting off the ebony of His clean-shaven pate. The top of my head only came up to Sir's nipples. He broke into a broad grin to indicate He liked what He saw. "Get over here," He growled. I moved as if in a daze. My intoxication of desire had returned, with a vengeance! When I got within a few feet of Him, His arm darted out, faster than I could follow it, and went around my waist to pull me in for a kiss. He crushed my face up against His beard as He stooped to meet my lips, and His strong lips quickly pushed mine open to allow His thick tongue entry into my mouth, an intimate initial probe, tasting slightly musky and exotic, and slightly of lite beer, while He crushed me to His body. I had never been this close to a Black Man before, never kissed One, but now I was doing so on His porch in full sight of His entire neighborhood! In the Navy, we don't do displays of public affection, so I did not know whether to be enraged, embarrassed, or simply to give in. My body decided for me. I melted into His arms, and my hands came up to feel the terrain of His amazing physique, His lats, His chest with the 00 -gauge rings stretching the cotton of His A-shirt, the muscles of His lower back. His rough, calloused hands met mine, held on to them, and slowly, gently, brought them behind my back. But there was something else in His hands, something cool and metallic--something that snapped in place around both my wrists quite suddenly. I pulled back from the perfect kiss, the dream just as suddenly shattered.

I looked up at Sir again, and found that this time His smile had turned cunning and threatening. My breath caught in my throat. He stepped aside, grabbed the chain of the handcuffs, and walked me through the door in front of Him into the dark, slamming that door behind us. Panic welled up in my chest. Now I was trapped, and hadn't even made a sound. Had His neighbors seen how He had captured me? Was He a serial killer? Was He sane? I squashed those feelings as they arose in me. This was, after all, what I wanted. This was going to be the most amazing night of my life, wasn't it? The most amazing, or the last . . . maybe both.

I looked around. Sir's home had white stucco walls with arched entryways between rooms, tan carpets, and rich-looking, colorful furnishings. Only the way the blinds were drawn over the windows and the front door was closed behind me had made it seem dark. Sir waited for my eyes to adjust. "Do you want a beer or another type of drink?" He asked conversationally, as if He had not slapped handcuffs on me just a minute ago.

I shook my head No.

"Poppers?" He said this just as conversationally, but I caught the edge in His voice, the gleam in His eye, that said I might very soon want or need them.

I swallowed hard, thinking I might indeed need them, but I did not know enough about the Navy's drug-testing program, to know if poppers were included on the contraband list, so again I shook my head.

"All right," Sir said, coming to stand right in front of me, His chest in my face, so close I could feel the heat of Him. He rubbed the back of my neck, my shoulders, and my upper arms. Once again He bent down to kiss me, cupping my chin in His hand, a hand big as my whole head. His kiss was just as intense and intoxicating as before, and made my knees weak. The clean but exotic scent of His beard as it rubbed my cheeks, as His moustache rubbed my nose, seemed to overwhelm me. I felt like I was drowning in Him. I wanted to drown in Him. I felt something stir against my stomach as He broke the kiss and stood up to His full height. Looking down, I realized His black leather pants were tented out, stretched outrageously. I didn't know if a Hard-On could rip leather, but it seemed like this might be the moment I would find out. The crotch of His pants, plenty full before, was straining. It seemed as though the zipper would burst asunder, or the button shoot off through the ceiling into space as the silver rodeo belt buckle lodged itself in the wall. I looked up to see Sir eyeing me eyeing Him. He wore a knowing smile.

"You want that." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, Sir," I said sheepishly.

"Don't worry, boy, you'll get it, all right." The menace of Sir's growled voice made me even weaker in the knees, and with only a light push on the tops of my shoulders from Sir, I was on my knees in front of Him, at eye level with the bulge of His balls, looking up at His monstrous fuck-tool straining to get out, to get at me. I licked my lips nervously. Down here as well, He smelled mildly musky, exotically different from all the Men I'd known before. His dark hands came down and pulled the silver buckle out of the way. He sighed as the strain against His cock lessened. The button popped open with the slightest of tugs, and the zipper began to descend on its own because of the pressure behind it. It only went down half-way though. I was mesmerized by its motion. He and I both watched it stop. "Help it the rest of the way boy!" He instructed in His deep voice, an octave below that of any man I knew. I swallowed hard again, knowing this was it, sensing what He wanted me to do. If I wanted it, it was mine, but I'd have to work for it.

I leaned forward, setting my teeth around the zipper, and pulled down. This was harder than I thought, and involved resting the left side of my face against Sir's humongous engorged cock, which I could feel pulsing with His heartbeat through the material of His jockstrap. But I wanted it, more than anything I'd ever wanted in my life, and I pulled with my teeth until the zipper was at its lowest point across Sir's ballsack, and the tenting jockstrap with its encased sausage loomed large in my vision, in my worldview. As Sir's masterful Man-meat continued to grow, the jockstrap receded and the cockhead sprang out toward Sir's belly button. I got my first look upward at the Object of my desire. Sir's powerful cock was uncut; the foreskin, so dark it was nearly black, was rolling down away from the head as His hard-on stretched to its maximum. More and more of a huge silver Prince Albert, a thick ring with a ball on it, became visible as the foreskin receded, until Sir's cockhead was fully exposed, a plump round dark brown knob bigger than a golf ball surmounted by that impossibly large-looking silver ring. At this point the foreskin was merely a few purplish folds around the base of Sir's cockhead. I'd never seen a cock this big in real life, and maybe not even seen one this big in porn. I hadn't known for certain that cocks this big existed. My mouth watered.

"Don't stop there, boy," Sir said. I wanted to get my mouth around that cockhead, to put my tongue through that silver ring and pull it into my mouth. But Sir was so big, with me on my knees before Him, my nose was at the level of His scrotum, and His huge member towered above the top of my head, so there was no chance without His help that I could hope to suck Him. He clearly knew this, and pressed His sack, still encased in the jockstrap, to my face. I was in Heaven. His musky scent was stronger here, akin to being in a locker room where Olympic-caliber athletes like gladiators gathered to shower after a big showdown, where their sweat lingered, but it was not at all unpleasant. Sir pulled the leather pants down a few inches, to allow His ballsack, wider than my chin, stretching the fabric of the jockstrap, full room to breathe. I breathed deeply of Him myself before opening my mouth and bathing the distended jockstrap with my lips and tongue, caressing and wetting the precious cargo. I worked up and down each side, feeling Sir's coarse pubes against my cheeks as I did so, amazed all the while at the size of Sir's balls as they stretched the ribbed material outwards toward me. Each one was larger than the large-size eggs you'd get at the grocery. I wanted to take each one in my mouth, but could not get my mouth open far enough, especially against the tightly-stretched white cotton of the jock, now wet with my saliva. I peered at that fabric. Wet, it showed more of what it contained: folds of dark skin covered in small wiry black hairs, enough skin that I suspected Sir's nuts must hang a third of the way down His thigh. I wanted to be closer to those nuts, so I pushed my tongue around the edge of the jock, lodging it against the deep mahogany flesh of Sir's sack, licking back and forth to touch as much of Sir's flesh as I could. Then I got the great idea to pull the annoying material out of the way. Just as I sank my teeth into the ribbed edge and started to pull, Sir growled, "Wait. First show your Sir the respect due a Sir from His boy by polishing My boots."

I loved cowboy boots, and Sir's two-tone red and black cowboy boots, huge to fit His feet, were fucking sexy as Hell, so I said "Yes, Sir!" as I gladly bent to my task. I lost my balance and fell on my side on the floor, but His carpet was soft enough, and my face was next to Sir's boot, longer than my head and radiating the rich scent of expensive leather, so I went to work, bathing the toe area just behind the silver tip, the top where the red leather crinkled when Sir's foot flexed as He walked, and the part of the ankle where the bony knob stuck out to cause a permanent tenting of the leather, where the red met the black running up Sir's leg. I licked along the edge of His leather pants where the pant leg met the boot. I ran my tongue along the edge of the sole, where there was a light dusting of dirt from Sir's porch and front walk, from the toe to the heel, and slipped my tongue under the shank of the two-inch heel to clean the underside of His boot where I could. I mused that it was demeaning to lick up the dirt from His boots, dirt from I knew not what sources, for a Man I barely knew, but I was after all here to worship Him, to venerate Him, to make Him feel like a God if He found me worthy, so this was a part of my service, my worship. For me, His boots were like the altar where His Godhood approached the earth, and I, a mere mortal, lapped up that earth that accrued to Him in His passing.

After I had sufficiently cleaned both His boots, Sir thanked me and stooped to grab me by my shoulders and raised me to my feet. He looked me over appraisingly, and ran His hands over my upper body again, this time lingering on my chest. He peered disapprovingly at my T-shirt, which while the handcuffs remained behind my back would be impossible to remove. He took the cotton of my T-shirt in both His fists and ripped it clean off me, dropping it like a spent carcass on the floor. He smiled a tight, knowing smile, and appraised me again. He ran His hands liberally across my chest and abs, as if inspecting a side of beef He might wish to buy, then lowered a hand to cup my package, and felt my raging hard-on pulse against His wrist. His middle finger stretched to push against my sphincter through my jeans, applying a pressure that promised of things to come, as His smile widened, and He leaned over my shoulder to gaze down the length of my back and gauge the plushness of my butt. His finger at my hole wiggled as if to see if He could enter me through my jeans, to probe deeper. I was in awe of the strength inherent in that finger, and for a second entertained the thought that it might just succeed at entering me. My asshole flexed open instinctively to clasp at the sensation of that fingertip.

"Sir likes what He sees, but wants you out of your clothes," He told me.

"Yes, Sir," I said. Surely He knew I could not undress myself with my hands cuffed behind my back!

Pulling His hand from my crotch and crack, He lifted me by my waist and easily threw me up over His shoulder, to carry me into His bedroom. I was exhilarated to be this close to Him, and to get so visceral a demonstration of His strength. From this vantage point, looking down the perfect form of His back as He walked, I was in awe of the "V" shape of Him that the white tank clung to, the outward-jutting slabs of His shoulder blades, the bunching of individual muscles, and the perfectly round tightness and plushness of His butt cheeks under His leather pants. I did not see much of His home as we passed because I was mesmerized by His movements. He laid me facedown on the soft comforter facing away from Him, and reached under my stomach with both hands to undo my belt and jeans. He leaned back, pulled off my biker boots, which He dumped unceremoniously on the floor, then pulled off my jeans and underwear in one long motion, dragging my socks with them, dropping them as well in a heap at the foot of the bed. I was now naked except for my watch, a wide leather band with silver studs and a silver and black watch face I wore on my right wrist to indicate I was the bottom, or submissive, partner, and the handcuffs He had placed on me. Again I quailed at what might become of me. It was cooler in Sir's bedroom, and I shivered at being so suddenly exposed, but my erection did not diminish in the slightest. I looked back over my shoulder to see Him climbing onto the bed to straddle me. His shirt was now gone, and I could clearly see the definition of His pecs and abs, the swirl of His chest fur framing silver-dollar black nipples bearing heavy stainless steel rings, each one with a silver ball set in it, and the thinner dusting of black hair on His abs and lats. Sir's cock jutted up out of His jockstrap band like a railroad spike, a warning to anyone who made it this far into His domain of what was to come. A stern smile with a lustful edge to it remained on His face. I felt Sir's hands run up my legs, across my rounded bubble butt, and across my lower back. One of His hands lodged between my ass cheeks, and His powerful fingers rubbed at my hole, probing the opening to my most private area that soon would be His: His pussy, His playground, His fuckhole. He let out an "Mmmmm" in anticipation as He leaned forward to get a closer look. The fingers in my ass crack quickly darted into His mouth, and returned a second later, moist with His saliva. They rubbed across my rosebud more insistently now, then His middle finger pushed inside without warning. I inhaled a sharp breath as He rubbed that thick, rough finger in and out of me. His other hand was tracing out my tan lines; I tanned in a Speedo, so I was tan above the waist and below the briefs line, but my ass was untanned, almost pasty white. I could feel His calloused hand tracing that area as His other hand was anchored to my hole by the finger inside me, and I knew He was fascinated by what He saw, judging by His concentration on tracing out those tan lines. Meanwhile that finger forced its way deeper, down to His last knuckle. I let out a little whimper.

Sir pulled His finger free and then set His mouth where it had been. The feel of His scratchy beard agains my inner thighs and the tender base of my ballsack was intense and overwhelming, as was the knowledge that this Paragon of a Man was this close, that Sir chose to put His mouth to my unworthy asshole. His hands pulling me open for His inspection, He licked up and down my crack and across the opening to moisten me up, then very quickly, the intense sensations at my bunghole multiplied, as Sir kissed my hole, then French-kissed my hole. My eyes rolled back in my head and my hips involuntarily rose toward Him as His tongue darted in and out of my hole, then pushed with greater insistence, and soon was as far up me as He could get it. "Mmmmm," He said again. I moaned in pleasure, and spread my legs as far open as I could to allow Him greater access to my insides. Before long, He was tongue-fucking me and rimming me like a Champ, and I wondered at how I had not previously known these exquisite sensations. I don't normally cum without great effort of masturbation, but my head was in the clouds from this attention to my asshole, and I thought I might very well cum without touching myself. Just the thought of this huge Stud doing this to me was turning me on beyond my comprehension.

All of a sudden He stopped and pulled back. "You like that, boy?"

"Yes Sir, absolutely; that was amazing!" I replied. In truth, I didn't want it to end.

"Sir's just getting you warmed up." With that He went away for a few long minutes, during which I wondered what might be next, as I lay face down, nude and handcuffed, slightly chilled, my ass wet with my Sir's saliva, on His bed.

When I heard Sir come back, I looked again over my shoulder and was astounded again at His appearance. He wore tight black leather chaps, and His jockstrap was removed. I was correct in thinking His balls would hang a third of the way to His knees--they did, and they were huge, grade A large eggs hanging low in a sack of very nearly black leathery Man-flesh. He also wore black leather biker boots, the kind with the squared-off toe, a pair of black leather gloves with gauntlet shafts that laced up the insides of His forearms, and a black leather harness around His upper torso with a horizontal strap across His pecs. The main difference, however, was from the neck up. He wore a Master's cap of black leather with an octagonal top like a stop sign, a shiny black visor, and a predatory-looking silver eagle over that visor. He had seven silver loops going up the outside of each ear, as well as one through each of the tabs of flesh that jutted out toward the ears from His sideburns, and an impressively large silver ring through His nose like a bull's, through His septum, a silver ball on each of these piercings, as on His nipple and penile piercings. The nose piercing in particular made Him look fierce and dangerous. His physical form was still magnificent, and His cock swayed out in front of Him like a serpent looking for a victim to strike, its Prince Albert ring swinging pendulously.

Without preamble, Sir put first one biker boot, then the other, up on the edge of the bed so that I might show Him deference by licking them clean. I did as good a job as I had with the red and black cowboy boots, working hard to get my tongue up under the straps that ran across the front and back of each boot and under the shank. He seemed pleased, and without comment, pulled me over to where I could lie on my back with my head lolling off the edge of the bed, and, grabbing a few pillows, propped up my back and legs to situate me a little higher, and to keep my weight from applying pressure to my manacled wrists, and squatted to set His nutsack upon my face. It was so large, the excess flesh covered my whole face. I could lie like that with one of His testicles resting in the hollow of each of my eyes, the rest of His scrotum splayed out across and covering my face, but not for long, since I would need air. I licked, kissed, and caressed the loose flesh of His sack to the best of my ability, trying not to miss a single spot, and rolled His balls around with my tongue. I finally succeeded in getting first one, and then the other in my mouth, opening my jaw as far as it would go. I resolved to commit the taste of Him to memory to rekindle the passion of this moment one future night when I lay alone. I rubbed each testicle as I had it so cupped in my mouth with my tongue, feeling along its spongy surface and the ridges of blood vessels and folds of scrotal flesh, but I did not know if Sir could feel such an expression of Man-worship.

With a ponderous sigh, Sir took a step back and looked down at me sternly. I feared I had done something wrong. "You did good, boy, and I'm about to reward you. Open that mouth up wide!" He exclaimed. He grasped His semi-hard shaft in His gloved hand, and started feeding it into my mouth. His stainless steel PA glanced off my front tooth, but I did not care. I was finally getting what I had come all this way for--the cock, Sir's own Manhood, the object central to my worship of Him! He seemed determined to ram that cock full-speed into my throat, and I gagged as His head pushed past my teeth and caught against the entrance to my throat. His cold penis ring lodged against my tonsils and would go no further. Sir stopped and reversed direction half an inch. He looked down at me and grimaced. "You do want to take this cock, don't you boy?"

"Mmm-hmm," I made the affirmative-sounding sound from my throat, since I didn't want Sir's cockhead dislodged from my mouth in order to be able to speak. I was now aware of the folds of flesh of His foreskin nestled against my lips and teeth, and the locker-room muskiness I had smelled before was now seasoned with a bit of the saltiness of His pre-cum, and something else, a patina of the flavor of Sir's head-cheese that lingered there even though He was clean. This was the taste of Sir's Manhood, and I didn't ever want it to be absent from my mouth again. My heart hammered in my chest for fear that I would displease Him and He would pull out.

"Have you ever actually had a jawbreaker cock like Mine and swallowed it before boy?"

"Hmm-nnnn," I made the negative-sounding sound from my throat.

"Okay boy, just relax and Sir will teach you what you need to know." He gathered His thoughts. "Lean your head way back so I have a straight shot in, relax your throat muscles, nothing to worry about here, and remember that you want this, boy. This is what you have been hungry for, isn't it?"

"Mmm-hmm!" I made the affirmative-sounding sound an exclamation. I did what He said, and remembered this was what I wanted, I had come all this way to worship this Man-meat and swallow it. Little by little, I ushered the problematic penile ring past my tonsils, relaxed my throat muscles as Sir pushed, and welcomed His cockhead and foreskin into my throat. That was when I realized the other problem. I would still need to breathe! Sir continued to slide into me a moment after I realized I was not breathing, and panic welled up in me again. He was only halfway in, and I might asphyxiate before He got all the way down my throat, assuming that was even possible. But suddenly He reversed direction and His cock head popped back out of my throat into my mouth. I drank in the fresh air through my nose eagerly.

"That was very good, boy, you did as Sir said and didn't gag this time, and allowed Me inside," Sir praised me warmly. "But you thought I'd forgotten you needed to breathe, boy?" He asked sardonically.

I just lay there a moment, my mouth still stretched around the folds of Sir's foreskin with His PA against my tonsils, breathing the air through my nose. I felt a tear roll from one eye down my temple and across the top of my ear. Sir gently pushed back and forth in my mouth, communicating His eagerness to fuck my throat some more. I took in a big breath, knowing I'd need it to continue this odyssey. I relaxed, opened my throat, and stretched my neck in the direction of Sir's crotch to get the ball rolling, so to speak, and once again that huge head with its jewelry slid down my esophagus, and Sir, needing no encouragement, pushed harder and deeper. Quicker than before, He slid home toward my waiting stomach, the halfway point of His dick crossing my lips before five seconds had passed, and His balls hurtling toward my eyes rapidly. I had swallowed three-quarters, then four-fifths, of His cock before I marveled at the possible disproving of the unlikelihood that it should all fit. A second later, it was all in me, Sir's nutsack was against my nose and His rough pubes rubbed my face, and I was ecstatic. I could feel Him all the way down the inside of my chest, at the core of my very being. He pulled halfway out and plunged back in before pulling out into my mouth to allow me a breath. I had not even panicked; I would gladly have allowed Him to choke me if it meant I could die this happy, with my Sir balls-deep inside me. After a shorter breath break, Sir was back at it, and we were developing a rhythm: all in, fuck back and forth, breath break, then all in again. Harder and harder He came at me, more and more mercilessly as He fucked my throat raw, as His hips pushed His sack against my face, and sweat broke out upon His chest. A drop rolled off Sir's pec and landed on mine. His cock, spongy at first, was becoming more rigid, thicker, harder to take, and my jaw ached, but I would not disappoint Him. He was becoming worked up, His head rolling from side to side. I was so rock hard I thought my dick would burst at the seams from the pressure inside it. I was pleasuring my Big Black Kinky Biker Stud Sir! When He at last came, He forgot to pull out to let me breathe, and His body rocked and thrust hard as He roared and growled like a savage Beast. I felt Him jetting His juice straight into my stomach, and as overjoyed as I was, I was also scared to death. I could not breathe, and I was turning red, turning to blue from lack of oxygen. My head swam with dizziness. Then Sir looked down, realizing His oversight, and pulled back into my mouth, leaving a trail of His jizz coating my throat, unloading the last few spurts into my mouth. I gasped much needed air, as He still shook, and I inhaled some of His spunk. I choked and coughed.

He pulled the rest of the way out apologetically, leaving a filmy white trail across my lips. He knelt to see if I was okay. I had not only swallowed His seed, but inhaled it too, and He cupped my head and body forward until I recovered, cradling me gently and lightly stroking my shoulders and whispering encouragement. Minutes passed, and I coughed and spluttered, Sir's life-giving fluid in my lungs paradoxically trying to deprive me of my life. Tears ran from my face, but eventually calm returned. Then He kissed me passionately as though to thank me for my eager service and what it had cost me. The trail of His cum on my lips was ground between us, into His beard and moustache, and I knew He tasted the salty-sweet flavor of His essence in my mouth just as I did. Sir's gloved hands held me upwards at my shoulders, His leather-and-steel harness ground against my chest, and His cold metallic nose-ring felt odd as it rubbed against my nose and upper lip, a drop of His jizz clinging to it, but He was kissing me, and I was His now, so nothing else mattered. He had claimed me by putting His full Manhood into me, and cumming inside me, so I knew I was His. I did not want this kiss ever to end. But all things must end, and eventually He pulled back to look into my eyes, and wiped the drying cum from His mouth with the inside of one elbow. "You know what this means, don't you boy?" He said ominously.

"Sir?" was all I said, not trusting that I knew what He was driving at.

"It means that now it's time for Me to open that ass up." Sir grinned evilly.

To be continued . . . This story was a fictional account based on a fantasy. Please let me know what you think. submarineboy2005@yahoo.com

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