Date: Wed, 16 Nov 2022 14:52:04 -0500
From: John Felton <feltonjohn316@gmail.com>
Subject: My Best Friend Marcus chapter 2

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I fell asleep soon after Marcus left my room. The combination of sexual
release and beer brought me into a deep sleep that lasted all night. I
awoke the next morning groggy with a sore ass and full bladder. I made my
way to the bathroom and as I pissed into the toilet the reality of last
night came crashing back in. The guilt of what we had done was there, but I
felt more guilty about the way I had reacted after sex. Marcus was my best
friend and roommate, and it hurt me that I had hurt him.

Marcus had heard me go into the bathroom, so he was standing outside of the
door when I opened it. "Hey man, I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean
to do something that would freak you out!"

"No, I'm sorry." I told him. "I shouldn't have run out like that and I
shouldn't have just left you. I was just overcome by guilt and I didn't
know how to feel."

He walked to me and pulled me into a bro hug. "Hey man, you don't have to
feel bad. You're my best friend, and I don't want anything to be between
us. I do think we need to talk about what happened, though." I agreed.

Marcus walked ahead of me into the living room, the start of our tryst the
evening before, and sat down on the couch. He patted the spot beside him
for me to sit down. I joined him on the sofa, and he began talking.

"I need to tell you something that I haven't told you before," he
began. "My friend at work, Dwayne, told me something a while back that I've
been thinking about a lot." Dwayne was another muscular black guy that
worked in Marcus' department.

Marcus continued: "I had noticed that Dwayne was always leaving work on his
lunch break, and one day I asked him where he went. He made me promise I
wouldn't tell anyone, but even though he had a good thing going with his
girl, he also had a white boy on the side that took care of his needs when
his girlfriend wouldn't." Dwayne had told Marcus that this white boy loved
to suck his dick, and they had even advanced to Dwayne fucking him on
occasion.

That conversation had made Marcus start thinking that it would be great to
have someone that he could go to when he had needs, without the
complications of a relationship. The only problem was that he spent most of
his time with me since we were best friends and roommates, and would find
it difficult to get away without arousing my suspicions. And then, having
those thoughts about finding a friend with benefits, and the added taboo of
finding a white boy since he was a black man, one day he had the thought
that maybe I could be his white boy. He quickly dismissed that thought from
his mind.

But the thought lingered, and festered. We spent so much time together. We
knew each other better than anyone else. What if we got to know each other
in a new way? What if we could take care of each others needs?

As Marcus was talking, it slowing began dawning on me that what I had seen
as an innocent game of chicken between best friends had really been Marcus
orchestrating an opportunity to place us in a sexually tense scenario to
see what happened. Like a moth to a flame, I let him kiss me and then
kissed him back.

Marcus had in fact seduced me. We were carried away in our passion, but he
had initiated our time together because he had been thinking about trying
to find a white boy to suck him, and I was the white boy that his attention
kept coming back to. It made sense: I was smaller than him, weaker than
him, but I was lean and fit. I was everything he would have looked for in a
sexual partner, and I also just happened to be with him most of the time,
therefore available. As I sat there pondering this new information, Marcus
reached over and rubbed my leg. "John," he said, "I should have told you
this before I tried to seduce you. We should have talked about it and let
it be a decision we made together. I'm sorry that I tricked you, but we
were both getting drunk and my inhibitions were down and I just thought,
what the hell, let's try it and see what happens. I'm sorry I tricked you,
but I have to be honest and say I'm not sorry for what we did. Fucking you
was one of the best sexual experiences of my life."

My mind went back to the night before. The memory of Marcus over me,
plowing into my ass, fucking me to orgasm, came rushing into my mind. I
blushed, both from his compliment and the memory of what we had done. There
was no going back from the truth: Marcus had fucked me. I had been
fucked. I had taken his cock. I had bottomed, he had topped me. And judging
from the way that he continued to rub my leg and had draped his other arm
around my shoulders, it seemed that he had the desire to fuck me again.

"Marcus," I said, "Thank you for telling me the truth. And I forgive you
for tricking me into the game last night. And I know that I expressed guilt
for what we had done, but I know that during the sex I enjoyed it. I just
can't do that again, though. It felt amazing, but I can't feel guilty like
that anymore. And I like girls. We can't do that anymore. I can't be your
white boy on the side."

Marcus kept his arm around me and rested his other hand on my leg. He
subtly shifted so that he moved closer to me, then reached up and took my
chin in his hand and turned my face to the side to look at him. He said, "I
understand, and I will not do anything you don't want. You're my best
friend, and it's more important to me to have you as my friend than as a
sexual partner. I don't want to mess us up, so we will leave last night in
the past and move on. Just know that if you ever need to get fucked again,
I'm ready, willing and able!" We both laughed, and Marcus pulled me into
him and we hugged it out.

As he hugged me, though, I smelled his clean masculine smell, and my mind
was immediately back in his bed, remembering him over and in me,
remembering the ecstasy. I tensed up slightly and he pulled back to see
what was wrong. As he looked at me, he saw the lust in my eyes, and before
we really even knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me and we
were making out again. But this time, rather than being able to blame it on
surprise, or beer, I was just making out with him because I was completely
into it. I wanted to be with him.  He pushed me back on the couch and for
the second time in less than 24 hours, he was on top of me, making out with
me. My legs naturally separated and went around his waist. I wanted to feel
skin on skin again, so I began pulling his t-shirt up. He sat up on his
knees and took his shirt off, and then reached down, and helped pull mine
off too. We were suddenly animals, locked in a passionate embrace where we
couldn't get enough of each other's bodies. I felt his hard cock through
his flimsy shorts Ð he clearly wasn't wearing underwear. I reached down
and pulled the waistband down. Sensing what I was doing, he stood up off
the couch and dropped his pants. I was presented with the incredible
masculinity of my best friend. Marcus' body was as close to an Adonis as
anyone I had ever seen. His muscles had muscles. And the light sheen of
sweat that covered his body from our raw passion made him that much hotter.

Marcus then did something that will forever be one of the sexiest moves
I've ever experienced. He manhandled me around, lifted my legs and yanked
my shorts down and off my legs. I had never seen him look so powerful. It
awakened in me a need to experience his power, his raw masculinity. I
wanted this man. I was now naked, sprawled out before him on our couch, and
I was in this condition because he put me here. Holy shit, what a rush!

He saw the lust on my face, and said, "Oh, you like it when I take what I
want?" A moan escaped my lips as his words sank it. "Yes, Marcus. FuckÉ"

A devious smile crossed his face before he reached down, grabbed my hand
and pulled me up to him. I imagined a repeat of last night, but instead of
pulling me to his bedroom, he decided to take what he wanted. While holding
my hand to keep me in place, he bent down with his shoulder at my waist,
and then lifted me into a fireman's carry and began walking back toward his
room.  But instead of his room, he kept walking past it, and into mine. He
walked up to my bed, tossed me down onto it, and said, "Today we fuck in
here. I want your memories of me fucking you to be tied to every room in
this apartment. Today we christen your bed."

I only thought I was horny last night. His raw strength was intoxicating,
his authority unquestioned. He was in charge. I quietly submitted to him. I
was about to get fucked again.

Then he was on top of me, making out again. He broke off our kiss to attack
my neck with his mouth, and as he did, he was speaking in my ear. "Yeah,
baby. I love smelling you all around me while I get you ready to get
fucked." "You can deny it all you want, but I know you wanna be my white
boy. I know you want to help meet my needs." All I could do is groan out my
agreement. Yesterday, he had been gentle and loving. Today, he was a man on
a mission, a predator with the prey in his sights, a black king about to
fuck his white boy.

He sat up, grabbed my legs and flipped me on my stomach. I had never been
manhandled before, but found out I loved it. He wasn't wasting time with
sucking today. He spit on my hole, and I heard him spit again and rub it
onto his cock. He pulled me up on my knees and lined up his cock with my
hole. I felt the pressure of him as he pushed past my ring. I yelped from
the pain, fully aware of the soreness from last night's session. He kept
pushing, inching back in. I was in pain, but I wanted to please
him. Finally, I felt his balls press against mine as he was all the way
in. He held there fore a minute, stroking my back, saying soothing words to
get me to relax. When he felt me start to relax into him, he pulled most of
the way out, spit on his cock again, and then rammed it back in. The wind
was knocked out of me and I fell onto my stomach. He came down with me, and
began fucking me, fully resting on my back. I felt him kissing my neck, my
back. He brought his hand up and turned my head so that he could kiss me
from behind, all while fucking away at my ass.

Suddenly, he stopped and held himself in me. With his mouth right next to
my ear, he said, "Who does this ass belong to?"

"To you, Marcus." I answered. "It's yours."

"You my white boy?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm your white boy." He started fucking me again, long deep strokes.

As I said it, I knew it was true. He had turned me. I craved being filled
with his cock. I didn't know what this meant for my future, but I knew that
something significant had changed in my life. I didn't' just crave women
any longer. I also craved Marcus' cock, his body, his magnetism, his
ownership of my hole, his control over me.

As that realization washed over me, I came. I came while he fucked me again
as I realized that I WANTED him to be fucking me, I wanted to be used by
him. I tightened up as I came and with a roar he seeded my ass again. When
he was done he rested on my back, panting in my ear. He whispered, "Damn,
baby. That was even hotter than last night. I like you being my bitch."

"My bitch." I shivered as I heard those words. I couldn't go anywhere,
Marcus was still on and in me. "You ok?" he asked. "Yeah, just not sure how
I feel about you calling me your bitch."

"Baby," he said, "You took my cock, you took my seed, you told me your ass
was mine, and if you could get pregnant you'd be carrying my baby. You my
bitch." It was hard to argue with the truth.

He pulled out, rolled over onto his back and then grabbed me and pulled me
to him, cuddling my face on his chest. He grabbed my chin, lifted my head
and planted a soft kiss on my lips. "But there is no other white boy I'd
want to be my bitch than you." I laid my head on his chest, basking in the
afterglow of the best sex either of us had ever had, wondering what would
happen next.

To Be Continued...

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