Date: Mon, 28 Sep 2020 20:23:47 -0400 From: eric jones Subject: Before the Throne - An Episode of Kneeling Before the King (interr/author) *** PLEASE CONSIDER MAKING A DONATION TO THE NIFTY ARCHIVE, LARGE OR SMALL, OR BOTH! Your donations make this resource possible for all of us to enjoy! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html *** * This is a work of fiction. My experiences and likes influence all my writing, so there might be a nugget or two of truth somewhere within, but don't worry, it's carefully hidden... Any similarity with actual people or places is entirely coincidental. * This story involves interracial sex between adult men. There is lot of crude stereotyping, role play, nasty and demeaning language and other things that might be called kinky or just plain ignorant. If any of this offends you, please leave now. * If you are underage or if reading this is illegal where you are for any reason, please leave now. * Your feedback is welcome and appreciated. The author took a LONG break from story writing, but I do read feedback and I'm sorry to all those I may have missed responding to or responded late in the past. ------------------------------------- Clarity is comfort. Awkwardness can be the enemy of a good time. At least when it comes to sex. At least for me. Sexually I want to have fun. And I want to do a good job. If my mind is worried about my environment or preoccupied worrying about my next step, then I can't focus on doing my job. I can't focus on being the best cocksucker I can be. Focus is important. Focus demonstrates determination and dedication. It shows enthusiasm. And for a cocksucker, enthusiasm gets you halfway or farther to your goal. As I walked up the stairs, my mind was clear and my focus was sharp. I had received the usual text about 10 minutes out telling me exactly what to do and in what order. No knocking. The door would be unlocked. I was to walk in and get on my knees in front of the couch. He would lock the door and take his seat on the couch before me. Not a word would be exchanged. The instructions came in advance. Unequivocal. Clear. No one in that room would be the least bit confused over what we were there for, what we'd be doing. I would focus on sucking dick. He would focus on his pleasure. Words in his home would be a waste. What would there be to say? And I had better things to do with my mouth than chatter... As I walked along the landing to his door, I made sure to move quickly but quietly. No need to make a scene. I want to get in and out without attracting attention. I gently opened the door and walked in. I saw him standing there, but I felt his presence even stronger. I'm no little guy, but I seem so small next to him. Weed smoke hangs in the air, the smell permeating every particle of air in his home. I associate that smell with dick now. His dick. These days when I smell one I almost immediately smell the other. I take a breath and my throat starts to tingle. I know what's coming. My eyes are diverted downward as I enter. I don't look him in the face. I never do, coming or going. He never gave that instruction, but I felt it was the right thing to do from our very first meeting. I defer to him, in small ways as well as large. It comes naturally to me in situations like my visits to his home. I know my place. I want him to know that I know. To look him in the eye, man-to-man, as the saying goes, wouldn't fit the reality of our meetings. There's only one Man in the room when we're together. As I walk with purpose towards my spot in front of his couch, I take my glasses off and note mentally where I'm to drop to my knees. It's like there's a star on the floor in front of the couch, my cue for where to go and perform. I sink to my knees and wait. Allowing him time to walk in front of me, resisting the urge to touch him, or to get so close he has to brush against me. I'm not a hugger. I don't have a desire to embrace him when I walk in the door, or shake his hand. It's not romantic in the least. I'm not his friend and I'm not his lover. But when I'm on my knees the game has officially begun. The "you lucky faggot" idea starts to take over in my horny head and all I want to do is touch him. I'm drawn to his legs, to all of his lower body. Like a fucking magnet. As he walks by me and stands and pulls his shorts down I'm literally holding myself back. I don't want to appear too eager. I want to stay calm and not rush things. Let the man take his pants off and get comfortable, I have to remind myself. Stay cool and let him do what he wants to do. It's all I can do not to leap on his crotch and rip every shred of clothing off him. But I'm not just there to suck his dick. I'm there to submit to him, and that means prioritizing what I know he wants over what I may want. If he wanted me to grab his legs and rub him down he would have told me to do that before I got there. I have a job to do. I can fantasize about his body on my own time. His pants come down around his ankles and he takes a seat on the couch. As he maneuvers his shorts off one leg so he can spread his legs wide, I take time to really look at his dick. This is what I'm there for. The pot of gold. For now the monster is still sleeping. It lays there between his big legs like it hangs for so many hours of every day. It looks like a sculpture from a foot or so away. The even brown color of his skin carries all the way to his dick. From about a foot away, even on my knees, that black dick looks like art. It couldn't be more perfect if I carved it myself from ebony. My key has been wound up and I'm on a road I've been down many times before. I know the way by heart. I slowly lower my upper body and inch towards the gap between his legs. My mouth is open and watering. My body is making itself ready for a welcome invasion. He's a man - he wants to stick his dick in a wet, warm hole. My body does what it knows it must and his hole for the next 15 minutes or so is getting wetter on demand. I know he wants me to take that black snake into my mouth while it's only semi-hard. This instruction was clear from way before we first met. I get his meat to come to life in my mouth. Dick wakes up when it's found a warm, soft, wet home to grow. My mouth is open as I lean in. The closer I get the dick in front of me starts to change, as does my perspective. I told you that He is a big dude. Tall, like 6'5" or something close. He has a natural, athletic build. Far from skinny but not covered with oiled up muscles. He has a man's body, plain and simple. Not prissy like a gym freak or twinkie like one of these feminine looking kids. He is hairy. His lower body is covered with even, dark wiry hair. Legs, belly, everywhere. When I see his thick, muscular, hairy, masculine legs spread open I don't know any other way to say it but I'm just in awe. I feel like I'm the luckiest whore in the world cause I'm about to get as close as a slut can get to the center of the universe. And I told you I could feel his presence when I walked in the door. You can literally feel him standing there, even when I'm not looking his way. This is a motherfucker that everyone knows is in the room, even in a crowd. Well when I'm there on my knees before him, whether he's standing at the beginning or sitting back with those legs spread as I'm going to town on his dick, to say you can feel his presence doesn't come close to describing it. When he stands above me and lowers his shorts he looms over me like a fucking giant. I feel so small kneeling before his standing hulk. And I like that shit. Any cocksucker would. And when I say change in perspective as I lean closer to his dick, I mean he literally becomes the only thing I can perceive. His dark, hairy thighs are thick. When I open my mouth and take his big black dick in my mouth he is the only thing I can see, smell and hear. He is literally the center of the universe. You don't get that blowing some skinny kid in a bathroom stall. I know the taste and smell by heart now. The taste of his dick is hard to describe if you've never sucked dick. It is distinctive from man to man, but the difference is so minor that only a connoisseur could tell the difference. Like a wine expert, I know the variation is his taste like a sommelier knows the difference between two neighboring French Bordeaux's. A little bit of salt, a little bit of sweat, a little bit of piss. For a cocksucker he tastes like magic. Only a cocksucker knows. And he smells like a man. Period. No fancy perfumes, no overpowering cheap soaps. As I get between his legs he smells like a man should. Now anyone who knows me knows I get off on things that peak all my senses. And smelling a man in a place that only a handful of people will get to experience is a freaking turn on for me. I've got my face pressed against a part of his body that most never get to see, touch and smell. Cocksucker heaven. It's like I know a secret few will ever even have a chance to know. That makes me proud as fuck. I'm getting to do this, not some other. So his semi-hard dick is slowly expanding in my mouth. I'm drooling internally, trying to get as much moisture and warmth from head to the base. Semi-hard, I can easily get the whole fucker in my mouth, and I take advantage of it. I let my tongue explore the tip and underside of his cock, savoring the flavor and the growing heat. Hardening dick and wet mouth and a little friction makes for a fire in my mouth - all that heat multiplying and intensifying the act. And let's be frank, cocksuckers don't get a lot of opportunity to suck on a semi-hard dick. Usually if you end up with a semi-hard dick it's a drunk dude who is never gonna get hard, or it's after he busts a nut and you know it's about to be yanked out of your mouth. Semi-hard is not something I usually get to savor. So He is a special case. I make sure to take advantage of it. Plus, at the start I can do what I want. I'm not in danger of gagging. I can take the whole pole in my mouth, and press my face against his crotch. I can press my face against his body. Again, all I can see, smell or feel. It's not only a warm up, but my one chance to kinda do my own thing. In minutes I won't have that freedom. As he's growing in my mouth, my natural instinct kicks in and I start to move up and down. It just happens. My mouth becomes a wet version of the hand that all dudes discover at puberty. I'm moving up and down, sucking and licking and building up that heat and friction. It's the oral version of starting out riding his dick, where the bitch is literally fucking herself on a man's dick. A dick is supposed to go in and out of a hole and if it's not being pushed and pulled by its owner it just comes naturally to move my body to imitate that rhythm. A dick wants to fuck, but a hole wants to be fucked just as badly. It only takes a few minutes before I feel one of his hands on the back of my head, slowly and tentatively at first, but clearly pulling me in to him. Any cocksucker knows that's the beginning of the next round. The beast is awakened. Now every cocksucker knows that all men want to grab a bitch's head and fuck their face. At the most basic level getting head is getting fucked, you're just getting a different hole plowed. A man's instinct to plow deep and hard and fast takes over. Any good sex in any form is about natural, animalistic urges. A man just instinctively wants to dig deep and plant his seed where it can't escape, where it has no choice but to take root and leave his signature forever. But some dudes hold back. Their cocksucker may not like gagging. They may not want to disrespect the partner who is taking their dick in the mouth. Or a dude might just want to lay back and feel that mouth massage and let a bitch do its thing. He isn't a romantic in my world. He likes a good blow job, but if he just wanted a gentle, loving head job he would have a chick do it. And he probably does... He is straight. As a fucking arrow. Even before we talked and he learned I was a sub and I learned he was an alpha, his being a straight black man told me one thing every white man who sucks black dick learns sooner or later: sex is about power. It may not be the only thing, but at some point or in some way, having a dude, even a fag, suck their dick is a show of power, of taking rank over another. A man submitting to another man inflames the masculine warrior impulse that even a laid back dude can find. A sub can bring that out even more. Now I'm sucking his dick and he is guiding me with the constant, unescapable pressure of his hand pulling me down, slacking off for a minute and then pulling me back. He controls the rhythm. The timing. The pace. The thing about being a sub for an assertive straight man is that crazy, magical mixture of pleasure and pain. As he takes control, my mind and body recognizes my position and starts to react. My instinct to survive is making sure I breath and my gag reflex is trying to stop an invasion from going too deep. But there's a part of me that is turned on by losing control. In that moment, having your ability to breath and control your own body in the hands of a man who has you impaled on his dick. I can't scream, I can't object. I can push him away but in my position in the back of my mind I'm always aware I couldn't overpower him. If he wanted to keep me balls deep on his cock until I literally choked to death, there isn't really a hell of a lot I can do to stop him. He has all the leverage - and he's in charge because that's what he wants, and I let him take over. He loves good head, though, so he lets go of my head and lets his personal slut worship his dick. Seconds after he lets go of my head I am immediately in dick worship mode. Even before I've caught my breath from the last time he gagged me on his big dick, I instinctively go into pleasure mode, making sure he knows I love his dick and put his wants above my own. He just literally tried to choke me on his dick, and as soon as I know I'm not gonna die, my first reaction is to show him appreciation for using me like the cocksucking whore I am. As my mind processes what I'm doing and what I'm thinking, the paradox of willingly submitting to an assault on my throat keeps my head spinning. I don't know why I love it, but I can't help it. I can't see inside his mind, but from what I've heard from him in writing and from my experience with other straight or alpha men, all of these things are feeding his dominance and ego. My body, like all bodies, has ways to defend itself from attack. The gag reflex is there to prevent a big pole from injuring your throat. And he's pushing the envelope, trying to make my body go a little bit farther than it wants to, just because he wants me to. Pussy is made for a dick. Any man who's fucked a girl will tell you. God made pussy for dick - it's biologically designed to facilitate getting fucked. It's nature. A mouth, on the other hand, was not designed to hold a big black dick. To get it in and keep it there, the dick has to fight its way back and keep punching. The roles couldn't be any more stark or distinct. The minute I let him put his dick in my mouth, I've been punked. Game over. I take time though to try and do a good job. To show my appreciation. To show him honor. I lick and suck the head of his dick, tasting his precum and feeling him shift his body in pleasure and moan and grumble expressions of pleasure under his breath. His reaction is impossible to miss, especially if you're keyed to providing him pleasure. I amp up my efforts to lick and kiss and pay attention to any point that elicits a sign of pleasure. It's positive feedback, and the sub in me responds by keeping up the pressure. I'm only on my knees to pleasure him, to be a tool to get him off, so when I know something's working then I grab it and run. Moments later he reminds me who's calling the shots by grabbing my head and pulling me down as he shifts his body upward, literally gagging me. My eyes begin to cry and my whole body tenses up at the threat his dick represents. But at the same time I'm desperate to keep that dick in my mouth. I'm trying to cope with the struggle between breathing and worshiping his dick, but the sub in me always wins and I have that dick in the back of my throat before my analytical side can object. I'm NOT going to give up. I knew he was going to choke me with his big black pole over and over and yet I happily drove there knowing what was ahead of me. I want to struggle to submit to him. He seems to want to see, hear and feel me struggle. I've never been an aggressor. I am a confident, successful guy, but I'm not the alpha type. Sexually, it's the alphas I crave. I get off on being submissive sexually, so the alpha men with that natural masculinity just captivate me. He is that masculine ideal. There isn't one tiny shred of femininity about him. That's why I feel like I'm where I was born to be when I'm kneeling before him with his dick planted in my throat. The sub in me craves the natural dominance of a masculine man using me, but what really kicks that into overdrive is when the dominance comes so easily and naturally. He uses my face like it's been his property forever and never breaks a sweat or strains himself in the slightest way demonstrating his rank over his whore. That same natural instinct that has me lovingly sucking his dick head seconds after he was just fucking my face and making me choke, has him pushing further and forcing me to bend to his will, because he gets to do what he wants to me, and he knows I will let him. I keep my hands to myself, bracing my body over him, planting my hands on the floor in front of me or the sides of the couch. I know to keep my hands off because he's told me to do that in a text on the way there. The last meeting I got a little too faggy and let my hands roam all over his sexy, manly body. I've told him I think he's got a fucking hot body and I would lick him from head to toe if I had the chance, but in a moment of weakness I forgot to stick to what he wanted. He clearly didn't like or feel the need for me to feel him up while I was sucking dick, so he made the point in his instruction for me and I fell in line. The rules were clear from the beginning. I'm not there to enjoy myself. I can enjoy myself later when I'm gone. When I'm sucking a straight dude like Him, it's all about the pleasure of one. And both of us know who that one is. After he's gagged me a few times and made it piercingly clear that he can and will do what he wants with HIS mouth, at some point he sits back and lets me work my magic on his dick. Slow and fast. Deep and just the tip. I gag myself a few times. I lick from end to base, rubbing his streaming hot black cock across my lips and face, making sure he knows his dick can go where it wants. I hear those groans and soon thereafter I get in my zone. My body slacks back to a settled position so I can give some consistent rhythmic head, knowing that I'm going to have to put in some work to get my hot, creamy reward. I love that rhythm, where my body and face and lips are moving almost on their own, keeping up a steady pace. I just make sure I try to keep my teeth out of the way and just focus on the up and down and up and down and up and down of blowing a man. I get dizzy and it's hard to know anything else is happening in the world. It's just spit and heat and taste and this powerful man before me getting closer and closer to release. I start to hear those occasional whispered or grunted phrases. I'm listening hard but sometimes I can't hear them all with dick eclipsing everything else around me. I hear "keep going" or "just like that" or "don't stop" and that's all a bitch like me needs to keep going. I'm doing my job. I can literally feel his dick getting harder. If I have my hand on his balls I can literally feel them swell and rise. I feel the occasional tremble, like a tremor before an earthquake. The breathing picks up. I hear most of what he says, but most of the time I register that it's not important I hear exactly what he says, as he's not saying most of it for me. He's getting closer, a moment when even the strongest man loses a little bit of control. Even an idiot knows what's coming. I'm eagerly awaiting the reward that is literally moving its way from his balls through his long, stiff shaft. I always know when you get to the point of no return. That point where the volcano is going to erupt and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it. I just stick to the path I've been on the whole time and keep sucking the dick that owns my face and shows it. So yeah, there's an eruption. Every dude has them. Ever dude can cum. But then there's Him. This man comes like a volcano for real. I mean shot after shot of thick nut. He warned me the first time, but I didn't really believe him since every dude says he shoots big loads. When that shit filled my mouth and started shooting out of my nose I knew to take him from his word from that point forward. He grabs my head, not hard, but he holds on and makes it clear that he's going to cum in the hole he just spent the last 15-20 minutes fucking and for me just to hold on. I try to move my body around and breath and get as settled as I can for the explosion. I can move anything I want, but my head isn't moving off his dick. He's going to keep spraying until the last drop is out. I know this now. I learned my lesson on day 1. I end up with a mouth literally full of cum. His cum. I got my reward. All that work. The choking. The chapped lips. The sore neck. The tears streaming down my face and the smell of his dick painting my face. If you've never had your mouth literally filled with a man's cum you can't imagine. It's one of the most moving experiences. It's a concrete and impossible to ignore symbol of his potency. It soaks in every pore in my mouth, dripping down my throat and sometimes pushing up to my nose. He coats my mouth. And then I swallow. All that precious seed. I got it. I feel like the lucking bitch in the world. HE just bred my face. He taps my shoulder and I take the cue and I'm up and out the door in less than 10 seconds. I'm literally wobbling as I descend the stairs and approach my car. Cum drunk as I drive away and back to the main road. Still all I can taste and smell. I feel his hot seed still coating my throat and tongue and lips. It makes me feel dizzy. Cum drunk, literally. And when I'm home, all I can think about is his taste. His DNA in my belly. I rub my face and smell my hand, remembering his lingering scent. In summary, he really is a literal king on his throne. He doesn't have to try. He just inspires me to obey. All I can think about for days is the next chance I get to take the spot I was born to be in - between his legs, sucking on that big black dick. Fingers crossed...