Date: Wed, 17 Apr 2019 20:11:29 +0000 From: Derek HERFORTH Subject: The showings 4 The showings 4: My fuck-friend Henry takes me on board yet again, tells me just a bit about his buddy `Dr.' Malcolm, `MD', who's sure to appear in future installments. Feedback in good faith, positive or otherwise, will be gratefully received. I'm almost as interested in the attitudes that underlie erotica as in the erotica itself. If you are not submitting stories for publication here, might you not contribute in another form? It does not take a lot, guys, to keep us going ... If the site affords you pleasure, why not support it, even if only $lightly? http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html The showings: Chapter 4 Characters: Henry, black, 47, XXL; longtime fan of young white lads, low to high teen, and maybe a bit beyond (but teens are his faves) Kent (narrator), white, just turned 15; got himself semi-seduced by Henry at the urinals in the first episode. The two have enjoyed their first time in bed (Chs. 2, 3) at the home of one of Henry's friends, currently out of town. In this chapter, Kent gets to hear a bit more about Malcolm, black, 50, very generously endowed, much like his long-time buddy Henry: Malcolm's a successful businessman, but he has a very favorite, passionate hobby of all time, getting young white lads to let him "play doctor" with them. He'll make his first appearance in the next chapter, once we give Henry and Kent the space to get together a couple more times. End of Chapter 3: Henry drives me home from his friend Malcolm's place. We'd gone there to enjoy each other, for the very first time, while Malcolm was out of town, Henry house-watching for him in his absence. On the drive back to my part of town, Henry tells me for a second time he's going to mention me to Malcolm, but also says he wants to see me again at least once before Malcolm returns. "Any time, sir. You have my number, and you know when I'm most available to see you – after school, on weekdays." "You bet I do, boy!" Chapter 4: "How much longer can we use Malcolm's place?, sir; do you know?" "He's due back next week some time, he says, so we have a few more days." "I hope I can see you during that period, sir." "Boy, there is no way you're *not* going to be seeing me, as often as we can make it, ok? I'm gonna give you a call tomorrow, at the usual time, ok?" "Sorry, sir; I'm afraid that won't work. Tomorrow's Saturday, and my parents will be at home. It's gonna be very hard for me to see you again before Monday, sir." "Right, boy. Saturday's not that good for me either, now that you mention it. I work at the theater all day long, am only off in the evening." "And evening would definitely not work for me, I'm afraid. I couldn't get out." "Of course not; I understand. Let's meet again Monday, just like today, ok? But I'll call you at home before 3, just to confirm." "Oh, no need, sir. I'd rather not go home from school just to take your call, but meet you earlier instead, go straight from school, if that's ok." "Sure is. 2:45 at the same place you found me today, then." "Yes, sir; I'll be there. And, by the way, thanks for the ride today ... all four rides, sir." "Four rides, boy?" "Yes, sir: the rides to and from Malcolm's, and then the two rides we enjoyed in between, at your friend's place." (Henry had gotten himself into me twice during the two and a half hours we spent at Malcolm's that day.) "Hehe, you're a boy just born to be ridden, Kent. I think we found that out about you today." "I sure feel that way too. I thinking I'd love to be your vehicle, you in the driver's seat, for quite some time into the future, sir." "Now that's going to be quite alright with me here too, son. I think you can sense how much I enjoy driving, sitting in that fine driver's seat you provide, for as long as I can." "You're a mighty fine driver, sir. I felt that very deeply today ... very satisfying." "You are appreciative, lad. I think I may report some of this conversation to Malcolm on the phone next time I talk with him, if that's ok with you." "If you think he'd be interested, sir – why not?" "Interested he's sure to be, son; you just wait." "Does that mean Mr Malcolm is a driver too, like yourself, sir?" "That he is, Kent. And would that interest you?" "If he's anything like you, sir, it certainly would. You remember, I've already seen his pictures." "I'll tell him you like the photos you saw in his master bathroom, shall I? "It'd be the truth, so why not?" We're now back in the area of my school, so I get Henry to let me off at an inconspicuous spot down a side street. A quick walk and I'm home, 30 minutes before anyone else, and in enough time to get myself totally cleaned up, hopefully, before my parents arrive back. I am in a bit of a state, after Henry's two mountings. I go in and sit there for a long while, where I know I have to sit, gradually letting go of it, most, if not all of what Henry downloaded into me just an hour or so ago. The process takes quite a while, but it feels good to realize he left so much at such depth inside me. I feel it dribbling, hear gurgling, squishy sounds, and feel somehow quite proud that by taking total possession of me, he was able to make this heavy deposit of his seed within me. Already, I can feel what happened between us is something I want to continue happening between us, again and again. I want him to keep enriching me just the way he did today. When it finally begins to feel like I may have voided most of Henry's temporary gift, may have let it largely drool and dribble itself out of me, I suddenly recall his advice and, smiling, reach over to get myself some paper, fold it and gently dab myself, repeatedly, until I'm dry. It's pretty tender there, and the tenderness aches kind of intensely, in a way that doesn't feel like it's going to be gone by morning. If I'm lucky, it may stay with me through the weekend, I think, maybe almost until I get to see Henry again on Monday. My parents will be home soon, but I can't help making my way to my room and lying down for a short breather. All in all, it's been a pretty exhausting afternoon, my first such! Twenty minutes later I'm awakened by the sound of Dad's car coming up the drive just under my window. I get myself up, and start what turns out to be a weekend of secretive, private recuperation, of dabbing and daubing, of an aching reminding me of what had gone through me on Friday afternoon, of sensing that ache begin gradually to fade away, a process of getting better, improving, an internal drama, known only to me, sensed only by me, never guessed at by my parents, not even in their wildest dreams. It was all about the gradual fading away of the profound physical effect Henry'd had on me, on my 15 year-old boy body. Several times during that weekend, I think, `I just wish I could call Henry and speak to him for 30 seconds, just to tell him I can still feel him `with' me.' On Sunday, I even consider making my way down to the theater to look for him, but I end up not going. Getting out would not be easy; I'd have to invent a fib that didn't sound like one, and I was not up to that. Also, Henry had not said for sure that he'd be at work there on Sunday; he'd only mentioned Saturday, I think. Making the trip all the way downtown and then not finding him – where in the cinema would I start looking? – would be pretty devastating. I think I'd probably decide to save myself the disappointment, even if I were able to get away. By Monday, the tender ache at the lower entry point into my insides has nearly faded away, but I'm suddenly beset by worries I half-know myself to be utterly foolish. "After PE, in the showers, locker room, is my boy-butt gonna somehow look different from the way it looked last week? Will anyone notice that that part of me is not the same as before?" Myself, I can feel, profoundly, "It's *not* the same butt; I know it's not, cos Henry's been inside it, twice". But, I sure don't want anyone to be able to notice it for what it is – a boy-butt that's recently been ravaged, twice, by intense black male lust. As I lay in bed on Monday morning, coming to full consciousness, I'm momentarily consumed by such silly fears, but, at the same time, I can turn my mind from them to feel overjoyed that it's Monday!, the day I'll have some time with Henry again. Getting up, sensing the persistent sphincter-ache's almost not there anymore, I know I'm going to be ready for another drive later in the day, after school, Henry in the driver's seat, for just as long as he wants to remain there. The school day lasts way, w-a-y too long, but finally, I'm on my way to our trysting point. I spot Henry's car waiting for me, hop in, he looks around to make sure no one's peeking, leans over in the seat and gives me a kiss. "Lovely to see you, boy ... And so prompt; I've only been here about two minutes!" "Well, guess I was feeling a bit eager, sir, to see you!" "Hmm, let's get going here, Kent, get this ride out of the way, so we can move onto others." "Love to, sir!" "You ready for your big black Driver again today, boy?" "I believe I am, sir ... been healing all weekend." "Hmm, that sounds kind of intense. How are you feeling down there now?" "Back to same as I was, sir. The pain's faded, leaving only the beautiful memory." I told Henry about my fears of being spotted in the showers as having a butt `different' from before. He chuckled and added, "Well you *are* different, Kent, but that difference is all on the *in*side, where nobody in your PE class or in the showers is gonna be able to spot it, ok?" "I guess that's right, sir", playing along, really enjoying the conversation. "There'd've been evidence, if we looked back there shortly after I pulled out of you for the second time on Friday, that's for sure!" "I don't doubt it, sir. What kind of evidence?" "Well, you felt the painful ache, right, right after we'd finished? That pain was caused by things I could probably have seen, if I'd looked. I'd've seen some gaping, I'm sure, your boy-hole forced open for a while, much wider than it normally is ... It would have been very hot for me to see that, what I'd done to you. But that change, the difference would have stayed secret, just between you and me. At school, in the showers after PE today, nobody, but nobody would've been able to see it, I guarantee you. Your moon-cheeks are tight, close, boy, and they don't have X-ray vision, ok?" "No, but will I ever get to see that?" "On yourself? -- for that you'd need a mirror, no? Did you take a look at yourself after you got home?" "No; how would I do that?" "You got a mirror that goes all the way down to the floor? Sit down right in front of it, then lean back, supporting yourself on your elbows and spread your boy-legs wide, splay `em. That'll show ya what's goin' on! If you can't see things clearly enough, spread those sweet cheeks, boy, with both hands, ok?" I giggled. "I'm definitely gonna do that when I get home later today, sir" "Hmm, good boy ... and I wanna hear about it, about what you see, yes?" "Will report to you, sir, as soon as you let me." Henry's big hand goes to my thigh, gives it a squeeze. There's a broad smile across his face. "We're almost there. I talked to Malcolm just last night and he's fixing on flying back here Friday so he can kick back, enjoy the weekend at home before returning to work on Monday." "Oh, back so soon?", sounding disappointed. "Yeah, it's his place, so not a lot we can do about that. Just one thing, though." "What's that, sir?" "Introduce you to him, that's what! You n me are gonna have one last time together at Malcolm's, probably Wednesday, day after tomorrow. Then on Friday, I'm hoping to introduce you to him, him to you. He arrives back in the morning, I'm picking him up at the airport, so there'll be plenty of time for him to clean up, unpack, settle in and start to enjoy the weekend. Then at the usual time after school, I'll pick you up and take you over there to meet him." "Sounds fine, sir, but you know what? Friday's a school holiday for us. I mean, it really isn't, but I can turn it into one." "How so?" "It's the annual Sports Day. I can show up in the morning, have my attendance taken, then disappear. Nobody's gonna notice." "Sounds ideal, son, but we're gonna have to work the timing out, I think. Let's talk more about it in a bit, huh?" We pull into Malcolm's driveway, go all the way to the back, exit the car and prepare to enter the house via the rear door, into the kitchen. "I really like going in the back way with you, boy." Smiling, "Hmm, and you've been teaching me to like that an awful lot myself, sir!" "Good; we're gonna have ourselves some more lessons along those lines this very afternoon, son." "That's what I'm here for, sir!" Henry fishes the keys to the back door out of his pocket; unlocking it, he pushes the door open for us. With him just one step ahead of me, I catch a robust whiff of his intoxicating male-musk. I'd sensed it in the car, of course, as soon as I got in, but now, so close to him, at his back, it fills my young nostrils irresistibly. From the back porch Henry steps up into the kitchen, his feet briefly on different levels, opening a nice space between his thighs. Suddenly, I just can't resist the temptation, reach out and down, down under his fine hindquarters and between those thick thighs of his, to grope him from behind, seeking to fondle the pendulous penis I know is dangling down heavy in his loose boxer shorts. "Whoa, boy! Getting a little over-eager, are ya? Can't even wait til we're inside!" "Sorry, sir, don't mean to shock you, but I've been wanting to touch you there, and have you touch me everywhere, ever since I got home on Friday afternoon. That's three days ago now!" My own boldness kind of shocks me. What got me to do such a thing?, I wonder. Was it the pungency of his musk? I'd smelled it, deliciously, as soon as I got into his car; but being right behind him is different. He's very broad-shouldered, a huge area to his back, which in the car had been up against the seatback. Here, it's more or less in my face, releasing at close range the very arousing scent Henry already possesses for me, as I learned our first time together, at the urinal. Smelling it again at that level of potency for the first time in several days makes it all the more powerful. Was that what motivated my bold groping? Partly, no doubt, but then I remember ... I'd already been kind of checking Henry out in the car, out of the corner of my eye, cos when he's seated in the driver's seat, his crotch area just kind of balloons up. Something about his posture – maybe partly the design of the seat – just makes his genital area pouch up huge in his trousers and bulge something awesome. Sitting there in the car with him, I was very clearly reminded just how much he's carrying there between his thick thighs. I guess I was just overcome with utter lust – a feeling I'd never really encountered before, so didn't know quite how to deal with – overcome with desire to be totally with him again, close, completely naked, my smaller white body surrounded by his far more massive blackness, blocking off from the world a space just the two of us could enjoy in total intimacy ... me there, available to him, accessible, next to him, our bodies touching all over, me waiting for him, eagerly, to overcome me, to take possession of and use me, just as he saw fit. He'd already done that, and I know he's going to do it again today, in ways I'm not ever going to forget, ever. I can't explain this to him in so many words, but I feel he understands, intuitively. "You're pretty glad to see me, aren't you, boy?" "I've missed you so much, sir. I thought about going to the cinema over the weekend to look for you." "I appreciate the thought, son, but that's not such a good idea. Meeting up at the urinals like we did, that was a once in a lifetime coincidence. Anyways, I'm usually pretty busy at work there, moving around, tinkering with this and that, and I doubt you could have found me." "That's exactly what I thought, sir, and why I decided not to go in search of you there." "Good boy. I see us as on a different wavelength now, where you don't need to go there after me. We meet here, at Malcolm's place for now. That's how it should be, ok?" "Sure, sir; I understand." "How much longer can we come here?" "As I said earlier, we'll meet here again on Wednesday. After that, it'll be at Malcolm's convenience." "You mean when he's not around?" "Nope, on the contrary. He's gonna want to be around, I feel sure." "Really? Why's that?" `He's already told me that, based on my reports about you, he's gonna like being with you, boy; he's gonna want you coming over to spend time with him, whether I'm around or not!" "So he's kind of like you, sir, is he?" "That's right; he's a lot like me in that way. He'll want you for the same reasons I do." "That's so awesome I can hardly believe it! Will you be here as well, sir?" "I believe I will be; he tends to like it that way." "What way, sir? Two mature black men with one young white boy?" "Yup, you got it!" I fall silent, not knowing what to think, but the idea does sound intriguing, even though I was just beginning to get used to being with Henry. "C'mon, boy; let's get ourselves something to drink here – you thirsty? Then we can get down to business." "Ice tea for me, sir, please ... if there is any." "Yup, you got it, right here!", said as Henry pours me a glass from the fridge. He gets himself a glass of red wine, and then leads me to the tv room and onto the sofa. He sits himself down, and at his bidding, I lie down with my head in his lap, my face in his loins, so I can breathe in his intoxicating musk, inhaling it through his slacks. "Why do you smell sooo good to me, sir?" "I like that you like that, boy, and that I can feel your boy-breath on my tool-kit." He leaves me there for a couple minutes, but then can't resist getting me to remove my head briefly so he can unzip and get himself out. My head returns to his crotch, but this time, it's my face against his huge black penis. He pats me on the head, looking down, "It's all yours, boy. I want you to play with it, as you like. Go play with your big black Daddy and what he's got for you. Use your mouth, boy." "Yes, sir!" ... no further encouragement is necessary. I play with aligning my face and head with his penis in different ways. First, I lay my cheek alongside his shaft, so that his man-length extends all the way down, the cockhead reaching my shoulder, easily. Then I move the crown of my head to it, brushing the shaft up and down, gently, with my hair. Finally, I lie with my head in his lap, face up, the underside of Henry's penis draped over my eyes, nose and mouth. My tongue comes out to start licking, very lightly at first, up and down the thick `sperm-tube' on the underside of that heavy black shaft. "Go for it, boy; lick your Daddy's Big Black Cock for him!" "Hmmm, my favorite kind of fun with you, sir!" "Is it really your favorite? I'm gonna have to teach you some more tricks, I think." "Hm, maybe not my absolute favorite, sir, yes ... but it's sure one of them!" With a chuckle, Henry picks me up in his arms and carries me into the downstairs bedroom, his huge cock dangling down, semi-engorged, out of his fly. I reach down to fondle it as he transports me to the guestroom ... This is not the bedroom where we played last time; that was upstairs, Malcolm's own master suite with bath-shower. But here, in the guest room (also with ensuite), I find further photos of Malcolm, some of them of him in swim-wear, most of it Speedo-style. "Sir, Mr. Malcolm looks almost as impressive as you, sir!" "How do you mean, son? He is about two inches taller than me." "Well, ok; but I meant more in the basket department. Looks to me like he's really packing it in there! Does he really go to public venues in that kind of swim-wear?" "Well yes, sure – at certain types of public venues, he's always more than welcome, son. I think some of those photos may have been taken at special pool parties, though. Can tell you more about them later, ok?" "Really? What was special about them, please. Can you tell me a little bit about them now?" I've been set down, gently, on the bed. Henry leans over to kiss me, on my young mouth. The tip of his tongue darts across my lips, hinting at a desire to go deeper, but he does not. Instead, he licks my mouth, my upper lip, then raises his mouth to my nose, which he takes in, sucking the air from my lungs. It's literally breathtaking, to be deprived of air like that, before you intended to release it by exhaling yourself. The feeling of having one's breath controlled makes me feel like I've melded into Henry, started to become nothing more than a part of him, no longer fully independent from him and all his bodily functions, an appendage, maybe. I feel totally in thrall to this big black man standing over me, who has now taken near total control, it seems, over what my young body ordinarily does completely naturally, without thinking ... Through his nose, Henry first exhales into the space around us "my" breath, then inhales afresh, finally exhaling that fresh in-take through his mouth into mine. I can't believe it; suddenly, we are sharing "life-support", we are melding into one, a single multi-functioning system, two interlocking, interconnected bodies, our respiration in concert. My arms go up, under his, up near his pits, to wrap themselves, involuntarily, around his large torso. I cling to him, just the way a baby gorilla does its parent. My Poppa-gorilla's musky scent, his body-warmth both allow me to feel so *at-home*, so secure -- "this is where I'd love to remain, forever", I sense, in the deepest pit of my being. "You're a very demonstrative, loving boy, you know that?" "Sir, it's quite amazing. You let me feel at ease with myself, able to express what I feel, and what I feel is just wanting you to have me for whatever purpose you see fit. I've never felt as lovely as I do when we're together like this." "Hmm, I can dig that, boy!" "Tell me something about those pool parties, Daddy, please?" "Yes, boy; I've been to a number of them and they can be a whole lot of fun." "Sounds nice! Who comes to them?—black men like Mr Malcolm and yourself, sir?" "Yes, but that's not all, Kent." "Well, who else, then?" "White boys, like yourself." "Ohh, lots of us?" No, I'm afraid there are not lots of you to be had, unfortunately. You are always outnumbered by the black men on site." "Really? How many to how many?" "Well, it varies, but usually, say, a dozen full-grown black males and four, maybe five white lads much like yourself." "Oh, wow! That sounds pretty challenging for us!" "Indeed, it can be so, son." "Do the black gentlemen compete for our attention?" "A bit, yes. But it's all done in play, not taken too seriously – just harmless flirting, that's all." "I see; that sounds lovely. But so what happens in the end?" "Sharing, son. You white boys form the smaller group, so you are shared by the members of the larger group, that's us black gents. You understand?" "Oh yes, sir; I think I do!" "And how does that sound to you, Kent?" "I think I might like to experience such a pool-party, sir, but only if you were there at my side to guide me." "Don't worry; I'd be there, to introduce you to the members of the group, guide you around. I'd look after you, so you'd be fine, I'm sure. And you could come to me to ask about other guys there, guys who look especially inviting to you, or who are showing interest in you, either way. You'd ask me what they're like; I know all the bruthas who come to those parties, and could give you the lowdown on any or all of them. You can trust me, Kent." "I know I can, sir, but you seem to be suggesting that some of those men are `better', or `preferable' to others, I think. Are some better stayed away from?" "They are all good men; if they weren't, they'd not be there, we'd not include them in our shared fun. But not all of them are looking for exactly the same thing from a young lad. You will have to learn about such differences in what black men want from a white boy like you. That's why I'm eager to introduce you soon as possible to Malcolm. I'd like you to take your next steps with him, now that you and I have started seeing each other." "I see, sir. And will you be along, when I'm with Mr Malcolm?" "I fully expect to be, yes, at least for the first while, if not semi-permanently." "Does that mean you're looking to `share' me with him?" "That's precisely what it means, Kent --- yes!" "And does Mr Malcolm know that already too?" "Indeed he does, and I can tell you, he's plenty interested." "And you, sir, you think I'm ready to be shared, when the two of us have met only these few times?" "Today is what? – our third of fourth time together, depending on how you count, right?" "Correct, sir." "And we will meet again before Malcolm returns on Friday." "I hope so!" "Five or so meetings between us should put you in good shape to meet Malcolm, together with me, in my company, of course. Does the idea scare you?" "Not at all, sir; in fact, it quite interests me, as long as you remain with me, sir." "Glad to hear it, son. What I've shared with Malcolm about you quite interests him as well. I think the two of you are going to get along fine. And don't you worry, I'm gonna be along for the ride as well, you'll see." Henry is on the point of providing Kent with further details about what could sometimes transpire at those pool-parties: how sometimes, when two of the black men get together and decide they want to be super-naughty, they pick the randiest young white boy there that day, the one who's flirting indiscriminately with everybody, itching to get out of his Speedos, and the two of them end up sharing that lad in full view of all present, all the other black males and the few white lads, ... and how such sexual play on display, such open-to-view interracial fucking, can trigger an all-out orgy, starring all present, each of the small number of white boys getting himself used, re-used and re-re-used by several black men, before it's all over for everybody. But then Henry thinks better of the idea and restrains himself, not wanting to reveal too much to the young boy the very first time he hears about that special-interest group and its gatherings. From interacting with Kent just these first very few times, Henry already senses intuitively that Kent is going to grow into such "group activities" relatively quickly, effortlessly, given that the lad already seems quite curious about getting himself shared by Henry and yet-to-be-met Mr Malcolm. And those intuitions of Henry's, about young boys and the strength of their sexual curiosity, are founded on, rooted in, long sexperience and close observation of many white lads, including the ones who always want to be included in any pool party. When it comes to estimating the sex-drive of a white teen boy, Henry is an absolute past-master, with an unusually high success-rate of well over 90%. He knows Kent is already on his way to "coming round" to the same powerful lust for the sexual company of black males he's seen develop and then personally enjoyed in so many other white teen boys. Henry and I spend the rest of the afternoon together. Climbing onto the queen-size bed, Henry lays himself back, head on pillow, and spreads his thighs wide, his right leg extended down on the sheet, his left cocked at the knee, sole of his foot on the sheet. He has me rest my head midway down his right thigh, then draws it up a bit further, towards his genitals, encouraging me to pleasure him. "Lick me there, boy. There's lots for you to look after." "Yes, sir ... a whole lot!" Guided by his gentle hand on the back of my head, I start by licking the thick root of his cock, my tongue getting rasped a bit by Henry's crinkly pubes where the root joins his trunk. "Yes, boy, that's good!" But not long after, I feel drawn a bit further south, to his testicles. It's from there that I can sniff out his richest fragrance as it reaches my nostrils, perhaps even from back behind his testes as well? Henry has enormous, ovoid balls. They awe me, when I approach them, such is their size. Just seeing their hugeness makes me want to pay them homage. Henry stretches his thighs apart further, allowing me plenty of access to his scrotum. "Lick there, boy; go enjoy yourself. I know you know how." "Hmm, I do, sir, especially when you provide me with so much to enjoy!" My tongue travels over Henry's capacious scrotum, loving how hugely flabby his ball-sac skin is, how much of it there is. By the time I reach the spot where his ball-sac melds smoothly into his trunk, the place at the base of his scrotum, where I started to lick, has already gone dry. Each of his testis presents a challenge for my boy-mouth. I can only take one at a time ... Henry appreciates that, I'm sure ... I look up to see him very kicked back, enjoying the show. "Can you take both my balls in your mouth at the same time, boy?" "Hmm, I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think so, your balls are so huge!" Each testis gets licked, lovingly, then taken into my mouth. But, before I move on to the second, the first has to be released. There is just no way I can manage to deal orally with both of Henry's balls at the same time – together they are way too much for my young mouth at this stage. "Hold each one there in your warm mouth, boy, yeah, just like that. I need you incubating my honey-seed for me. Warm my sperm-factories, make them more productive. ... hmmmm ... And now swing your boy-butt up this way, son. I want to have a look at it." Henry is below me, as I swing myself into 69. But my compact trunk makes me much smaller, so, to access my butt, he has to pull me towards him, dragging my face from his testicles. If he's going to insist on having oral contact with my boy bottom, my own mouth will only be able to reach his Penis. Henry seems content with that, my knees on either side of his trunk opening me up wide. What he seems to go for is having my hindquarters spread open like that right in his face, the openness a totally natural result of my posture. "Hmm, boy. You're looking so good to me here, up this end." With that, he begins to chow down on my boy-butt, licking the crack luxuriously, from bottom to top, but always passing very quickly over my hole, so I gasp with sudden pleasure when he does so. "I hear ya, boy. Enjoying yourself?" "Oh yes, sir! No greater pleasure!" Gradually, Henry begins to concentrate his oral attention on my rear entry-point. I feel him licking me there, licking my anus, over and over again, caressing it with the blade of his moist, sweet tongue. "Boy, you taste so good. I know I could eat you alive, if you let me!" "You're welcome to, sir, but not before you put your penis way up inside me, please. Eat me after you do that?" "Hmmm, even more delicious, boy, with my thick n sticky male honey oozing out of you, drooling out, cos you just can't keep it all inside, no way ..." His huge cock is already towering erect, pulsing magnificently with the extra blood-flow high sexual arousal brings to a penis, no matter how hefty – Henry's has got to be at least 9", with about 7" girth at the base. From the look of things, he seems totally ready to mount; but the proud Owner is not quite ready to deploy his Instrument, not quite yet, I feel. I sense he wants to delay penetration a bit longer, so I continue to lick his penis for him as best I can. That long, thick ebony shaft, I lick it up and down, down and up, my tongue going back into my mouth to retrieve more saliva there, more moisture to spread all over his shaft. Through my tongue, I can actually sense the blood surging and pulsing through his magnificent cock. He pats my young blond head, looks down to see my pink tongue darting out to lap at his massive ebony cudgel, the two colors in such obvious contrast – his dark, smoky genitals and the mother-of-pearly-pink licker darting out of and then back into my mouth. "Hmm, I just love looking down to see a young white boy hard at work with his mouth on my BBC. That just looks so right to me! Now try giving my foreskin some attention, will ya, boy?" I switch to focusing on his thick foreskin, getting my tongue all over its bumpy unevenness, soaking it with my saliva, where it's all bunched-up behind the flange, the projecting corona of his cock-head. I use my teeth to pull gently some of the looser skin free of the shaft so I can nibble on it, my lips wrapped over my teeth; I tease the loose flesh with the tip of my tongue. Finally, I turn my attention to Henry's massive, strawberry-shaped cockhead, licking it everywhere, slobbering my 15 year-old saliva all over it. But, it's just too big to fit into my mouth all at once. What Henry's got is a true "jaw-breaker", the like of which I've very rarely seen since. He seems to be totally relaxed, enjoying my services, not nearly as excited as he was the first time we got together. His mouth is everywhere, all over my backside, butt-cheeks, thighs, hips, always returning to my anus, grunting with pleasure as he licks and gently sucks on it, sucks it out some more, getting my sphincter to go slack, all for him. "We gettin' you ready to get yourself fucked good here, boy." I know perfectly well that's what he has in mind and why he's working away so sweetly to arouse my honey-hole to a state of profound need. "Hmm, sir; there's nothing I would love more from you!" "Atta boy; knew you were up for it again. You gonna be even looser for me this time? You were real, *real* tight last time, remember – made me cum so quick that first time, like a rabbit!" "I do remember that; second time was much better. I'm gonna try my best for you, sir. I can see I need your frequent training." He smacks me on the side of my butt, "Now I want you to turn `round and face me, boy." We try something for the first time. I sit up and shift my body around to face Henry; i'm on my knees again, crouched low over his stomach, so I can feel his heavy cock extending itself up my spine, reaching a good ways up my lower back. "Now boy, lift yourself up some on your haunches. I'm gonna get my big black penis in position for you, cos I want to have you sit yourself down on it today." "Oh, sir, will it hurt even more than last time?" "Of course not, boy! You sitting yourself down on me means *you* control all the activity, all the movement; you go exactly as fast or as slow as you feel feels right. Nobody's gonna be pushing himself into you, willy-nilly, see? I'm just gonna lay back here and let you take me into yourself at your own sweet pace, ok?" I'm not sure I understand completely, but it sounds like it might work for me, so I just follow Henry's directions. He places his mega-strawberry-head right at my anus so I can feel the viscous pre-cum he's already started oozing. "Now I want you to back up on that cock, boy, like you're aiming to sit all the way down on it, ok? You can go as slow or fast as you want, I'm not gonna care, cos I'm on my back and not in control this time. I can't really control you from this position, can I?" "No, sir, perhaps you can't." "Well, in fact I can, boy, but we're not going to show you that today. One of the beauties of letting you sit yourself down on me ... it can all be controlled by *you* from start to finish, not me, yeah?" "I see, sir; I understand you now." I begin to push my rear parts down, from the hip, exerting some pressure on Henry's cockhead; but it seems stuck there, too big to make its way comfortably into my young moistened hole. "I want you to reach back with both hands and spread those lovely boy-cheeks, son. Open yourself up for me now, ok?" "Yes, sir." At first, the strategy seems to work, but when only about half of the strawberry has made its way in past my sphincter, I experience a bit of a seizure, clamping down spasmodically on the part of Henry that was already inside me, almost as if I wouldn't be able to take any more. It didn't hurt much at all, surprisingly; it was just a brief spasming there in my sphincter, I guess. "Sir!" "Everything's ok, boy; you're just experiencing an anal spasm. It'll pass in a minute or two. Relax, stay right there; don't move me either in or out, ok? Just sit pat where I'm at." "Yes, sir. It's quite different from me on my back with you over me, or on all fours with you behind me." "Exactly, boy. That's why I wanted you to have me this way this time – teach you new tricks, see?" "Of course, sir." "Now, when the spasm passes and your anus calms itself, you'll be able to continue sitting back down on more and more of me. If you find you can't, or you feel clogged up, just wriggle your butt some, swing it back and forth; that'll help us find the best angle, path for you to keep wadding me into you without too much discomfort. As your hole relaxes, you're gonna be able to take in more and more of me, ok?" "I understand, sir." The advice to wriggle and swing my butt proves enormously helpful. Because I'm taking in humongous Henry this way for the first time, a fair amount of butt-wriggling is required. Henry sure appreciates that, I can see. When I have to stop and wriggle, he smiles and says things like, "Take your time, boy. Just find the right spot there in you for me, the best angle for you to get me into you, so it doesn't hurt or feel uncomfortable. You see, the advantage of this position is you can take all the time you need to wriggle me in, huh!" "Absolutely, sir; this position is really very kind to the bottom boy!" "Hehe; we're gonna get you to like all the positions, boy; not just this one, ok?" "You've yet to teach me one I didn't learn to like right away, sir!" "Just keep sitting yourself down on me, son, slowly there, `til you feel you're totally stuffed and can't go no further." "I'm ok, sir; don't feel full yet. You think I can go for your whole hog this first time, sir?" "Course, you sure can try for that, son, but I don't mind telling you that it's never happened so far with your Daddy here and a boy your age n size; seems like there's just too much Daddy for all of him to get fitted in, I guess." "You do present a boy with an awfully big challenge, sir!" I keep descending, squatting down on Henry, lower and lower, but very, very slowly. It feels so lovely, to be squat-down on my boy haunches and, at the same time, to feel Henry gradually slipping up into me. Suddenly, I have a funny thought: `this is like the reverse of a real feel-good dump!', but I decide not to share that rather private impression with Henry. Again, I'm breathing the way he's taught me too: l-o-n-g on the exhales, expelling all the air from my lungs. He can hear that, and I see him smile. Never before has my anal sheath felt so chock-a-block, not even on my previous occasions with Henry, when we were not, of course, in this position. It's exactly the same BBC I'm working with – Henry's not changed in the slightest! – but today it just somehow feels like he's filling me up noticeably more and at greater depth. "You're awesome, boy, you've already got yourself half-way there and I haven't even seen you wince even once!" I reach back to feel him, and yes, there's at least four more very thick inches of black cock still remaining to be taken in – Henry's so fucking huge, I can hardly believe I'm doing this! "Well, sir; I'm just following directions here. You showed me how to breathe when we do this and just now you taught me to wriggle my butt to get you into me more comfortably. Both are working awesomely well for me here, sir." "Ok; nice to hear. I'm gonna start pumping myself in and out of you just a bit now, real slow; fucking you gently open a bit more is gonna help you relax, ok?" "Please do as you want, sir. That's what I'm here for ..." "Hmmm, boy ... I'll say!" The slow pumping starts, a gentle thrusting in, maybe just a couple inches, then the pull back, withdrawing the same length of cock, repeated, repeated, again and again. It feels pretty miraculous, in that I can feel it loosening me, getting my sphincter to go slacker, for the both of us! [There is a contrast involved too, but one I would only learn to appreciate later, once I'd got myself nicely fucked by a couple of cut penises. Having a generous helping of foreskin on the top *does* make a huge difference to the sexperience – more perhaps for the top, but it's still not negligible for the bottom, either!] "Push your pussy out for me, boy; that'll help you loosen up even more." I comply, pushing. "Hmm, I can feel you slackening out down there." "Yes, sir; I am. I'm pushing for you, almost like I'm trying to enjoy a nice big solid dump." "Atta boy; that's exactly how you should be doing it." I feel my anus somehow accepting him, willy nilly, even though, in another dimension, it feels like I'm about to be split in two, right up my backbone. His BBC is parting the two halves of my body, left from right, so I might eventually fall apart, into two equal pieces. "Sir?" "Yes?" "I feel you have the power to split me open." "I am big for you, boy; so you feel like you're being split right now?" "I do, kind of, sir, feel like I'm getting split wide open, right up the backbone." "But it's not uncomfortable, is it? Can you enjoy it?" "I can, sir, ... you're just so fucking huge, and I'm getting myself so fucking stretched open, it feels like I'm being split up the middle!" And, with that verbal cue, Henry begins to fuck into me with much, if not all, of his 9" length, a sensation so deep, I can't really describe it. I've certainly never felt anything like it before. I feel my insides being plumbed to their depths. "Agh! Sir, you are truly getting into me, deep." "That's the point, boy ... making demands on you to find out how much of me you can take." "You are super-huge, sir ... but, I want to take it all, if I can. Please give it to me." "You're a good boy, son ... If not this time, well then, another time, in future." "Am I accommodating most of you now, sir?" "You are indeed, like the good boy you are. Very few have done so well, the first time they sit down on me." "Glad to be able to please you, sir." With that, all conversation fades away, dissolves into his fucking of me. Eventually, I manage to loosen up enough to sit all the way down on him, my boy-buttocks coming to rest solidly on his bristling pubes. This produces in Henry "Ah, jesus-fuck, boy ... you have taken me all the way – you've reached rock-bottom!" "Yes, sir; I can feel you somewhere up in my stomach area." "Left yourself off me slightly, so I can fuck you silly." I comply, and he follows through on his promise. I feel my anus being fucked so wide open, I'm afraid I may no longer be able to maintain control over it. But then I remember our first time, when I felt the same way, but was told `it's just a sensation similar to dumping; it doesn't mean you're going to fall apart'. I let him continue to fuck me as I crouch over him, my boy-butt just a couple inches above where he's pounding in and out of me. He sure as hell does know how to fuck! "Raise yourself a bit higher, boy; I want to give you a real thrill." I do, and he begins to exploit his full length, withdrawing til his huge cockhead is just right inside my sphincter, then plunging in again somewhere deep, to where it gets lost up inside my rectum. "Ugh, arghhhhh!" I note the smile on Henry's face; he clearly knows he is cock-enriching me, anally, in a way I've never been enriched before. This is one of his missions in life: to teach young white boys what it is to enjoy a very large ebony penis way, way up their backsides. He continues to fuck me with his huge penis. What with me crouching a-squat over him, receiving and accommodating him from above, he's in no hurry. He could probably fuck me like this for an entire hour, if he wanted to, if only my thighs could hold out for that long! I begin to bounce gently, up and down, on his cock, in counter-rhythm to his movements. "Atta boy, you know exactly what to do without being told, fuck-boy – jesus!" I can tell seeing me move my smaller body up and down, up and down on his monster cock makes Henry pretty damn happy. "You're a good boy, you know? You can make me cum like this, when I see you bouncing up and down on me!" "Can I, sir? Will you please cum deep inside me, so I can feel it?" "I'm gonna spray all over your rectum, boy, gonna whitewash it with my Daddy honey." "That's what I want most of all, Daddy!" I hear Henry beginning to grunt, from deep down inside ... he's getting ready to cum, as I continue to bounce up and down on his huge cock. It's embedded deep within me, but my boy-anus has now been opened up enough to deal with it, no problem. He realizes that, feels it, and it makes him feel so awesome to know he's fucked me wide open, for himself, for his own pleasure. He's conquered yet another white-boy pussy, taught yet another white teen-boy to submit, render himself accessible, to Black Penis, whenever Black Penis needs him and seeks him out. Henry gasps, grunts and shoots himself deep up inside me. His orgasm lasts and lasts, from beginning to end, well over a minute ... Finally, the spasms die down, and, as I sit myself back down on his pubes, his penis continues to quiver inside me for a time. He leaves it there, waiting for it to shrink down a bit, and finally start to slide out of me, of its own accord. I cummed myself, all over Henry's tummy, when I sensed his climaxing. It was so intense, I didn't even need to touch myself to achieve orgasm. The work he'd done, and continued to do, nudging and caressing my prostate with his penis, was more than enough, together with feeling him in me, seeing the intense pleasure engraved on his features, to set me off. I spurted my white boy-seed all over his black torso. Henry seemed more than pleased. "Super-good one, boy!" "Yes, sir. I felt I had everything you've got inside me this time. It was awesome!" We rest in each other's arms for a while, dozing off, dreaming, recovering. Then Henry and I shower together, him bathing my anus for me, tenderly. We get dressed and he drives me back to school, promising to pick me up at the same place two days later. "The last time we get to meet alone, son, maybe." "Why's that, sir?" "Cos Malcolm will be back end of the week, and he's sure going to want to meet and then spend time with you, and with me, together, the three of us." "I see, sir. I'm a bit apprehensive, but with you along, I guess everything will be ok." "You betcha, boy. There's absolutely no need to worry. I can guarantee, you're gonna like Malcolm a lot, which is exactly the same way he's gonna feel about you!"