* This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or living persons is coincidental.
Personal experiences, from images to events, memories and words, flavor my writing, and while elements of this story may be (and often are) based in fact, the characters are entirely fictional.
* Unprotected sex is depicted. In real life, be safe! Don't gamble.
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GONE BLACK
By Colton Aalto
CHAPTER 6 – TALL TWINK ON DISPLAY
A week after Homecoming, the weather turned miserable. Saturday night was unusually cold for October, although that didn't stop me from venturing out, under the pretense of collecting something from my car, and `accidentally' running into Jeron. He was crankier than normal. I assumed he was pissed because of the cold or because I wasn't there exactly when he was ready to nut, but it turned out he'd missed a window to whore me out to a black daddy who would have paid him big bucks to deliver a tall twink tail to be bred. I was kinda bummed too, because after blowing Lee at the Homecoming dance, the thought of getting buttboned by a masculine daddy was intriguing. Jeron took his revenge by slapping me around more than usual and rutting in my ass longer than normal. I didn't complain about the punishment and certainly didn't complain about the butt banging. However, the damn metal picnic table was freezing as he pressed my bare chest against it while grinding his prick in my abused butt and spewing spunk and derogatory comments at me. The cold made me wonder how much longer Jeron would be hanging at the basketball court before disappearing for winter. Maybe there would be an alternative way to bump into him at my dad's apartment. There were always the filthy stairwells of the apartment building, although they weren't heated so they might not work.
By Sunday morning the city was deluged by a torrential rain. The wind was strong enough that the rain was blowing sideways, pelting the windows of my dad's apartment. Of course they leaked, so we dispatched an army of towels to soak up the mess. Cooped up, I was bored. Jason and I wouldn't be playing ball as usual because of the weather, and the had forced Jeron from his usual spot in the park, so it was looking like it would be a rare Sunday that the black stud wouldn't breed my ass.
I finished my homework and looked at enough porn to get frustrated but far from satisfied. With nothing better to do, I turned on the TV to watch a football game, but I wasn't really paying attention. I was fucking horny, and my one day not getting buttfucked in two months was causing withdrawal symptoms. I needed a shaft in my chute.
I couldn't help but think about Jason, his incredible body and his mammoth uncut cock. Maybe I'd see if he wanted to hang, but knowing him he probably already had plans to spend the rainy afternoon between the sheets, bonking some hot woman or drilling some hung dude. Or both. If he was around, I had little doubt that I could get him started on one or two of his sex tales, describing in detail how he'd fucked a foxy woman or dicked a hunky stud. That would get him horny, like what happened on the beach last summer, and maybe he'd repeat his suggestion that I surrender my ass so he could shove his horse cock up it and rut in it. This time, I was prepared to take him up on the offer.
Well, sorta. I was still uncertain.
I was about to call him when an advertisement on the TV caught my attention. It was for a restaurant's Sunday brunch and made me recall Sheila's comment about hooking up after brunch with Randol, the waiter at the restaurant we'd gone to on Homecoming. I wavered about hitting up Jason and chickened out.
Instead I checked the restaurant's hours, discovering it closed in 30 minutes. I had no idea if the movie-star handsome waiter would be working, but I figured what the hell? If he was at the restaurant, maybe I'd discover he wasn't bullshitting about plugging my holes and – I could still hear his voice as he said it – "making my boi pussy sing." Since school started I hadn't gone a day without having at least one hard cock in my ass, and I wanted it. Even if Randol wasn't at the restaurant, a trip would get me out of the apartment, although if I'd been honest it was also a way of giving into my nerves and putting off the possible scene with Jason. I told myself I could always call him later.
I drove to the restaurant and began to get cold feet. Randol might have other plans. He might have been kidding about hooking up. Even if he was up for boning me, he might not want to devote a Sunday afternoon to it. After all, I was a dorky high school kid and he was handsome enough that he could have any man he wanted. Hell, he probably had a hot stud or two lined up already. I almost chickened out but at the last minute decided I had nothing to lose.
The restaurant was mostly empty. Only a couple of tables were occupied, and the customers were paying and ready to leave; the weather had apparently deterred the usual crowd of diners. A woman met me at the front and told me they were closed, but I explained that I wasn't there to eat but to see Randol. She went to get him.
A few minutes later he appeared, looking even hotter than I remembered. He was perfect. Bedroom eyes, smooth tight skin, incredible body. The dude looked like he was a model fresh from a shoot. In my mind I still saw his awesome black cock hovering in front of my face as I sucked him off in the restroom. My dick throbbed a bit at the memory.
He nodded slightly and opened his mouth to give me a slight grin. Sort of a I-know-why-you're-here smirk. "Hey."
"I uh, was driving by and I thought I'd stop and see if you were here."
"Yeah." His reply was a mix of, `sure you were,' `that happens all the time' and `I knew you'd show up.' He didn't come off as happy to see me, but instead sorta bored. I feared my idea had been a mistake and was about to claim that I only had a minute because I was due someplace else when he asked, "You hungry? After the restaurant closes the cook fixes meals for the staff."
"Uh, sure!" I wasn't particularly hungry since I'd eaten lunch, but what high school jock can't eat? The food had been great when Sheila and I ate at the restaurant. "I mean, if it's okay since I'm not part of the staff."
"It's okay. C'mon."
I followed Randol through the restaurant to a big table at the back that was already filling up with wait staff and busboys. He put my order in and we sat down at one end, with our backs to a big window.
Nobody paid attention to me, which was fine because I was nervous as hell. Everyone else at the table was black, but between basketball, school and where I lived, I was used to that. However, I was also younger than anyone. Most of the crowd were old enough to be my parents. Randol and a couple of waiters and busboys were the youngest and even they were ten or fifteen years older than me. I felt like a kid at a grownup affair, as if I was at one of my parents' infrequent dinner parties when the only time I engaged in conversation was if one of the adult guests made a point of asking me something.
The food arrived and as the group ate I felt more and more awkward. Randol hadn't exactly thrown his arms around me and said how happy he was to see me. He wasn't even talking to me. I didn't say anything to him either, not wanting to interrupt the conversation around the table.
I finished way before Randol or anyone else did; it was clear the group wasn't in a hurry, treating the meal as a leisurely end to their day. I decided I might as well split. I was out of place and the whole idea of hooking up with the handsome dreamboat had been crazy. He probably had no intention of doing anything with me and only invited me to eat to cushion the blow of letting me down.
But things changed in an instant. Randol slid his hand onto my leg and I about choked on the water I was drinking. He caressed the inside of my thigh through my jeans for a couple of minutes. It was incredibly erotic and my plan to leave went out the window. It wasn't something that I would have thought would have been a big turn on, but the fact he was doing it surreptitiously while the rest of the crew carried on their conversations drove me crazy. I sprouted a boner in no time. It was a good thing I wasn't part of the conversation because I don't think I could have said anything coherent.
Things got more intense. He leaned over and whispered, "Unzip your jeans."
Holy shit! I looked at him in surprise, but he didn't meet my eyes, instead keeping his gaze fixed on one of the other waiters, who was talking about some theater production. A minute later, he leaned over again. "I said, unzip! Do it!"
I was nervous as hell but followed orders. In no time he'd pulled my cock and balls out through the fly of my boxers and began stroking my pole. If I was unable to speak when he first started feeling me up, now I was unable to move. I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights, not that anyone else at the table appeared to be paying attention.
My dick was soon precumming like crazy. Damn. I wasn't that far away from climaxing and Randol kept working me. I tried to hold back, distracting myself by thinking about school, basketball, anything. Even though he was jerking me in a slow and deliberate way, I was losing the battle.
I was on the verge of cumming when he pulled his hand off my rod, wiped it on my jeans and whispered, "Jack your cock." I hesitated but he grabbed my hand and wrapped it around my dick. He took my other hand guided it to his crotch.
I was relieved that I was in control of my own tool and could stroke it without the risk that I'd blow my wad. Well, without too much risk. I was hugely turned on and there was no guarantee I'd avoid cumming, particularly not when I had a hand cupped around his manhood and big balls. I felt up his junk through his pants as he talked to one of the waitresses about some arty movie that was in the theaters. I was on edge, worried that somebody would realize my cock was out of my pants and I was jacking it while feeling up Randol, but I had no intention of stopping either.
Without warning, he got up to clear his plate and I fumbled with my jeans, stuffing my boner inside before belatedly following him, carrying my plate low to hide my bulge and the wet spots from my precum. We rinsed our dishes and left them for the dishwashers, who were finishing up. One of the crew came into the kitchen and Randol talked to him, but he didn't introduce me, putting me back to feeling awkward and out of place. It occurred to me he didn't even know my name, unless he'd seen on the credit card slip and recalled it, neither of which seemed likely. Why would he have bothered?
One of the waiters stuck his head into the kitchen and said, "Hey, Randy, you ready to leave?"
Randol replied, "Yeah. On my way." He turned to me, gazing at me for a long second, and with a tilt of his head asked, "Coming?"
"Uh, sure," I mumbled. I followed him to the parking lot and we got in the back seat of a car as two other waiters climbed in the front. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I belatedly remembered my own car. I stammered, "Uh, maybe I should bring my car?"
"It's not going anywhere," Randol said nonchalantly. I wondered what I was getting myself into.
Fortunately, we didn't go far before pulling into the driveway of an old Victorian house. I could always walk back to my car.
Nervous and on edge, I followed the three men into the house, where two couches and several side chairs were crammed into a big room. Three muscular black dudes were sprawled out watching football.
One of them glanced at me and asked, "What's with the tall twink, Randy?" He had massive arms that were the size of my thighs. Maybe bigger.
Randol smiled. "He's with me, Ron." He left little doubt about what he planned by slapping my ass and grabbing it. His sneering look was challenging, as if daring me to object, but objecting was the last thing on my mind.
"Well, duh. We know you into twinks. But what's he doing here now? The game's gonna be on."
"Bro, twinks were made to get fucked, and I'm doing my part to see that happens, one tight boi hole at a time. Football and fucking go fine together." Randol squeezed my ass cheeks as if he owned them, giving me a leering smile. I stood wide-eyed, surprised at how open the talk was, but my dick swelled in anticipation. I'm not certain it had ever gotten completely soft after Randol played with it under the table.
Another dude said, "Randy, you need to save some twink ass for the rest of us."
"Bros, I keep telling you, it's there for the asking. Hell don't ask. All you gotta do take what you want. With twinks it's like shooting fish in a pond. Fuck, you can dump a load in a tight boi butt before the little cum dump even realizes what's doing down. Tell you what. After I'm done with this one, he's all yours. This boy has a bubble butt that is gonna be mighty nice to fuck. Look at this fine specimen." He spun me around and there was silence as six pairs of dark eyes assessed my ass.
"You never offered to share your twink hos before, Randy, why now?"
"I'm feeling generous! Plus, this boy's a slut. Sucked me off in the john at the restaurant and barely a week later he was back and beating himself off while we ate. He's begging for more. Begging to take it up the ass. That right boy?"
One of the waiters looked at me like, "You've got to be kidding," while the other one's look said, "I thought so." As embarrassing as it was to admit to the blow job and the hand job, both were entirely true. And as for wanting it up the ass, well yeah, I did. I sorta nodded to Randol, causing him to chuckle.
"Yeah, he's a slut. White twinks who've gone black can't help themselves. They're hos for black cock. Can't stay away."
The crowd seemed to be warming to the idea of getting their rocks off.
On waiter filled a plate with food and observed, "The twink's ass is nice."
Another man added, "Might feel real good sliding the bone in that bubble butt."
Ron snorted. "After the game! We'll see if Randy's still serious then."
Randol protested, "I'm serious! Everybody scores once the game is over. This is a top line twink ass, especially for a white boy. Prime boy butt. He's a little tall, but with his legs in the air you won't notice. Face down and ass up you won't notice. Strapped in a sling you won't notice."
Ron snorted. "Stop yammering! Get yourselves a beer. The game's about to start." He was focused on the TV. The two waiters grabbed drinks and food, flopping in front of the TV as the conversation turned to football.
Randol cocked his head toward a hallway and said, "C'mon. I'm gonna change." I dutifully followed him into a bedroom, eager to get a look at the stud's body and thinking that, despite the talk about letting the other dudes fuck me, my fantasy about spending the rainy afternoon rolling around in bed with Randol might happen.
It didn't quite turn out that way.
I watched with interest and a growing boner as he stripped and hung up his suit. His body was as beautiful as his face. Perfectly proportioned, with lean, ripped muscles and smooth, tight skin. He even pulled off his underwear, revealing a soft cock and low hanging eggs that looked amazing. My mouth was watering.
"You too, hot stuff," he said. I dropped my clothes in record time. I debated whether to lose my boxers along with the rest of my clothes, but Randol had dispensed with his underwear so I doffed mine too.
Randol gave me a lazy smile. He stepped forward and grabbed my dick, which about as close to fully erect as it could get. "Nice to see you're excited about getting your butt fucked. I like my boys horny. Mindlessly horny. Insanely horny. That you?"
I nodded.
What happened next stunned me. He pulled my head down and planted his big lips on mine, kissing me and thrusting his tongue into my mouth.
I'd been on a nonstop sex voyage – sucking, getting sucked, fucking, and getting fucked – ever since that day on the beach with Jason, so kissing shouldn't have shocked me. However, despite all the sex I'd never snogged a dude. The only person I'd kissed was Sheila, which, as I thought about it, was kinda bizarre. I'd been ready with Ben, but it never happened. And it would never happen with Jeron or D'Marcus; I harbored no illusions about them wanting to suck face.
I melted, loving my first kiss with a man.
It seemed to go on forever and ended far too soon. My heart was thumping as Randol pulled back, traced a finger across my lips, and said, "I think you liked that." Hell yes I liked it. If he had any doubt about whether I liked it, it was dispelled when he dropped his hand to my boner and squeezed, giving me a laughing smile.
I was convinced we were about to fall into bed and fuck, but he said, "The game's on. Let's go." I watched in disappointment as he turned away, took a T-shirt and a pair of shorts from his closet and pulled them on. At least the T-shirt was a tight, compression shirt that highlighted his ripped chest and abs.
I reached for my clothes but Randol grabbed my hand, stopping me and shaking his head. "Nope. That bubble butt is far too nice to hide. It stays bare." He gave me the same challenging look he'd given me before and said, "Let me see what I have for you." He dug around in a dresser drawer, producing what looked to be a handful of bright red straps and tossing them to me.
The straps were a tight harness that encased the shoulders and chest and a skimpy singlet that attached to the harness. It was ridiculous. The singlet was mostly thin strings connected to a tiny red-lace pouch that was totally see-through and would do nothing to hide an erection. The back of the singlet was designed to wedge into an ass crack.
Randol smiled. "I did a modelling show for Andrew Christian a year ago and they gave me a bunch of stuff. Hadn't found a use for this – until now." It dawned on me that he actually meant for me to wear the ridiculous costume and nothing else. I was horror-stricken.
"I can't wear this!"
His smile faded and he clenched his jaws. "What's your name, boy?"
"Collins."
"Sit the fuck down Collins!"
Taken aback by his sudden change in temperament, I sat on his bed, feeling awkward being naked while he was clothed. He peered down at me with his jaws clenched. I felt like I was about to get chewed out by my parents, the school principal or my basketball coach.
"Let me explain some basic facts of life, Collins. You're a smart boy and a quick study, so pay attention. I don't plan to tell you this again. You're here to suck cock and take it in the ass. You know that right?"
Well, yes; I'd figured that much out. I nodded dumbly.
"You've sucked me off before. Didn't hesitate and opened your pretty twink mouth practically before I pulled my dick out. You fucking wanted it. Slurped down my nut without even being told to swallow. You fucking loved it!
"Then at brunch you never hesitated to pull your prick out and stroke it under the table. Jacked yourself while everyone was eating. I bet you would have shot, too, if I hadn't gotten up from the table."
Not exactly the way I remembered it, but any differences I raised would have been quibbling.
"A week ago, at dinner, you would have spread your ass crack and let every waiter, cook, or busboy breed your white boi pussy if I had told you to. You would have stayed in that stall and let every one of them breed your boi butt until it was leaking spunk for a week."
Well, yeah, I would have, at least if I hadn't had to worry about Sheila and my curfew.
"You delivered an okay blow job. You wouldn't be here if you didn't. But you can do better – much better – and today you're gonna give me some incredible head. You're gonna knock yourself out on my cock. I'll reward you by shooting a tasty nut down your throat. You're gonna swallow, lick your lips, and beg for more.
"After I jizz your mouth, you're gonna get fucked in the ass, because twinks were made for fucking and that's what you are. That butt of yours was made to take cock. You're gonna spread your muscular jock ass cheeks as far apart as they'll go and plead with me to ram my rod into your tight little twink hole. I'll do it and fuck your brains out. When I'm done with you, I'll give your holes to the five bros out there, if they want to get off. No complaints, no objections from you. You're here to service black cock. My bros like a tight ass now and then, and this afternoon is the `now' part of `now and then.'
"Your pretty mouth is gonna have a whole lot of black cock shoved into it. And your tight white asscunt is gonna get ripped apart by some big black tools. You're spending the rest of the day with dick in both holes. You were made to be fucked and I'm gonna bone you like you're a cum slut whore. Those motherfuckers out there are gonna do a number on your ass once they get going. You're here to shut up and put out. That's the only reason you're here. You'll wear whatever I tell you to wear. You'll wear ladies' lace panties if I tell you to. You'll wear them on your head if I tell you to. Or you'll wear nothing. You'll suck me and whoever I tell you to suck. You'll take my dick in your ass anyone else's who I tell you to service. You'll bend over or spread your legs for anyone I say. You're a toy. A sex toy. And I'm in the mood to play.
"Suck cock first, take it up the ass second. Get with the program or get out. You've already demonstrated you have a hungry mouth and I like the look of your bubble butt. I like this outfit. It sorta says, `white twink ho.' Totally you. You're wearing it. Understand?"
I nodded numbly. He said, "Good boy. What are you going to do?"
I took a deep breath, looked Randol in the eyes, and swallowed. "Wear red. Suck, swallow and spread. Blacks on white night."
It wasn't the romantic rainy afternoon in bed with Randol that I'd contemplated, but yeah, I was prepared to give it up to the handsome dreamboat on his terms. The rest of the men ranged from bald, hunky daddies to slim, wiry fuck sticks, and I wouldn't complain about getting it on with any of them.
A smile lit up his handsome face and he chuckled. "I like that. Blacks on white night. I told you that you're a quick study. I'm glad you picked up on the swallowing part.
"I like you, Collins. I like the way you suck dick and I'm damn sure I'm gonna like your ass when I'm balls deep inside it." He bent down and grabbed my jaws with one hand while he planted a French kiss on my lips, sinking his tongue into my mouth. The kiss was different than the first one. He might as well have been raping me with his tongue. He was in control and we both knew it. I was his sex toy and he owned my fucking holes.
We sucked face for a long time before Randol pulled away and hissed, "Now put on the singlet and the harness and swish your tight bubble butt for me." I fumbled with them. The anticipation of how ridiculous I would look in the costume had one positive result. My cock deflated. Well, somewhat, only to plump back up as I tried to work it into the pouch of the singlet.
Randol detected my struggle. "So, that pouch has a C-ring inside. Stuff your junk through the ring. It's like a built-in cock ring. Designed to make it your cock and balls very, very obvious. I see you don't need help with that little project, but I like my boys hard when they give me head, harder when I take their asses, and hardest when I seed their asscunts."
I managed to get my tool and sac inside the C-ring. It looked downright lewd, but Randol was happy. "I like it," he nodded approvingly, cupping his hand under my junk and lifting it up like he was weighing it. "The whole outfit. It's you. Slutty tramp, whoring for cock, taking it in your holes. Red is totally your color. But there is one thing you don't have. A boy in a harness needs a collar." He opened another drawer and I saw an array of dildos, gags and sex toys. He produced a studded leather collar that he fitted around my neck and locked shut, and then attached a heavy chain to it to complete the getup. He was all smiles.
He plopped on his bed and said, "Now gimme that swish, boy. Work that booty." I wanted to die of embarrassment, although given the costume, things couldn't get much worse. I dutifully complied, turning around and wriggling my ass.
"Boy, you can do better than that! Much better. Work it baby!"
Fuck. He wanted a go-go dancer. I shimmied and gyrated, imagining I was on stage and trying to sell my ass. I admit I sorta got into performing for him, trying to seduce him into wanting me. I gave him a couple of sultry looks and generally advertised my wares, bending over and spreading my ass cheeks at the end. Randol reacted with a whoop, rising to his feet, swatting my bare ass with his hand and making it sting.
"That's more like it," he exclaimed. "You and I are gonna have one helluva fun afternoon, baby. I do love a tight twink ass. And I love a hungry whore."
He headed to the door, announcing, "Game time, baby!"
Damn. I was really going to wear the ridiculous getup in front of the group of men outside. And get fucked in the ass.
TO BE CONTINUED...
My plan is to post chapters every two weeks, so stay tuned for as Collins' wild senior year of high school continues. Feedback appreciated! Email me at ColtonAalto@gmail.com.
Read my other Nifty stories, which can be found in the author index (listed as Colton) using this link: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#colton. You can also locate them by searching for "Colton Aalto" using the Nifty Archive Search button, or by following this link: https://search.niftyarchives.org/?keywords=colton+aalto&sort=Relevance (I like this link better). I jump around in different Nifty categories, so you'll find a bit of everything. Enjoy!
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