Adventures of a White Cocksucker by Joseph White
My name is Joseph, but only my mother calls me that now. Friends call me Joe. I go by other names sometimes, like White Slut, Cocksucker, Faggot, Bitch, but I'll get back to that. I'm a 30- year-old GWM. Half Irish, half-unknown. That's what I always put on my profiles. I'm the product of a rape. It's such a sensitive subject for my mother that I have never asked her who her rapist was, if she knew, or what he looked like. I've always had the feeling that in the act of violence that impregnated my mother somehow my father raped me as well. That may be why I've always sought out rough, dominant men for sex. I stand at 5 feet, 10 inches and weigh 165 lbs, with reddish brown hair, mustache and goatee; blue eyes under thick brows and very fair skin with freckles across my nose, prone to burning quickly in the sun. My ears stick out like jug handles, a zircon in one, and a silver hoop in the other. Don't have a six-pack anymore, but my stomach is perfectly flat and my waist is slim. Hairy armpits, hair across my chest with a trail of hair down the center of my belly to my bushy crotch, and my legs are hairy. My nipples aren't big but almost always hard, ever since I had both pierced with silver rings. I hesitate to describe my cock to you, because I'm ashamed of it, but you won't be able to picture me unless I do. It's only 6 inches hard and skinny with a small head and small, low-hanging, hairy balls. I won't bother to give its length when soft and shriveled. On the other hand, the rest of my body is not a total waste. My bubble butt is small and tight; and my arms, shoulders, and chest are well developed from doing daily pushups and occasionally playing with dumbbells since I was a 15. That was also was the same year I started having sex. I have 15 years of stories. This is one of them.
His name was Tunk, or at least that's what they called him on the street. Why, I don't know. He was a few years younger than me, but loomed over me like a giant. He had coal-black skin, wide eyes, a broad nose with large flaring nostrils and big lips, nappy black hair, sometimes stubble on his chin. He favored LeVar Burton from Roots, only Tunk was six-foot two or three with a hard, lean, naturally muscular physique, reeking of masculinity. He walked & talked like a cold ghetto-thug, even though he came from a nice home in the leafy suburbs.
The first time I met him was on a hot August night when I was loitering around the park downtown looking for sex. I was sitting on a bench along an obscure path through the park, a spot overlooking the river, concealed by trees and bushes. I had a brown bag on the bench beside me that held two six packs of Colt 45. I was drinking one. It was safe to drink in this park. Cops never patrolled through here. I was out for game. Malt liquor and a pack of Newport were all I needed to hook up with black and Hispanic men passing by at night. Some were straight or bisexual cruising for sex, some were straight guys staggering home drunk or high from a party, taking a short cut or needing to take a piss against a tree.
If they weren't drunk already, a few cans of Colt usually did the trick. I would take the conversation from bullshit to sports to sex. By the time a few Colts were inside them, I could usually get them to talk about the women they've fucked, to tell me about orgies they've been in, what was the strangest sex they ever had. More often than not, the guy would tell me the strangest sex he ever had was the time he let another guy go down on him. Sometimes the other guy is a hustler in a drag that he didn't realize was a man until after the deed was done. Sometimes the other guy was a fag. It never ceased to amaze me how many black and Hispanic men have had a blowjob from a fag at one time or another. By the time a guy has told me this, he's usually figured out when I'm after and playing along until we get down to business.
That's how I met Tunk. I was drinking a Colt 45 on the bench when he came sauntering along, obviously drunk. His shirt was off, giving me a good look at his hard muscular chest and ripped abs. His baggy jeans drooped from his narrow hips, with his boxer shorts on display.
He asked for a cigarette, which I promptly provided. "Damn, that beer looks good," he said. "You got another one of them cold ones, yo?" It was not like he was asking. I felt small and helpless before him. He knew that I had beer and he was having some. It was as simple as that.
He told me his name and after a few more beers, he was the one who brought up the subject of sex. It came at the conclusion of rambling story about how his mother passed away and his dad kicked him out of the house when he turned 18; and how today was his 21st birthday which was why he was drunk, and how all his friends didn't want to have anything to do with him because he sometimes smoked crack; and that the one thing he wanted for his birthday was to be with a woman, but the only bitches he knew were whores and it would be a cold day in hell before he paid a bitch for sex. In fact, bitches should be the ones paying him.
"Bitches go crazy-shit over my dick," he bragged. "They take one look at me and they know my snake is long as hell! Dayumm, yo! This shit is wack! I can't even get a fuckin' blowjob for my birthday! All I fuckin' want is to get my dick sucked and I can't even get that!"
Tunk jumped up from the bench and paced. He pounded his angry fists into a tree trunk so hard that I thought he would rip the skin from his knuckles.
"Hey, be careful," I said. "You'll hurt yourself."
"What are you, a faggot?" he asked, looking at me sharply. Again, not a question, but an assertion. "Yo, maybe I am gonna get my dick sucked tonight. You ever suck cock, Joe?"
"Yeah, I've messed around with some guys before."
"You wanna suck my dick right now? That's what I'm lookin' for, man. C'mon, suck my dick right now. Come over here and get it."
Tunk leaned back against the tree and unbuttoned his pants. He pushed them halfway down his thighs, along with his boxers. His flaccid cock was as long as mine erect. A beautiful long black snake, thick and uncut. Almost no pubic hair. His smooth balls were the size of walnuts.
I dropped to my knees took the head of his dangling cock between my lips.
"Oh, yeah, just like dat," he moaned. "Take it all, man. Yeah, suck my dick. Make it get hard in yo mouth."
I worked that African spear all the way down my throat, tonguing it and licking his nuts. I gagged as it stiffened into a nine inch pipe, but I was able to take it. I've sucked a lot of cocks in my day and know how to relax my throat to take even the biggest tool.
"Yo, you ever been with a black guy before?"
I nodded as I continued sucking his cock. His hips began to thrust.
"Then you know what it's all about, man. It's all about that cash, know what I'm sayin'? You gotta help a brother out. How much you got on you?"
Tunk held my head down on his crotch with one hand, impaling my throat, his balls banging my chin, and with the other hand he reached into my pants pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar.
"You got any more?" he demanded.
I shook my head no. My eyes must have been wide with fright.
"That's okay, it's all good. Keep suckin' that dick. You paid for it, baby. Enjoy it all you want. You like my dick, don't you. You ever had a dick this big?"
I shook my head no.
"Then this is yo lucky day, Mikey. I'm gonna let you suck the juice right out of my dick. Yahhhhh, suck it like that. Dayummm, you a good cocksucker. Do all white boys suck cock like this? Sheee-ittt, that's what I thought!" he roared when I nodded yes.
Tunk came in my mouth after about fifteen minutes of steady sucking and deep-throating. There was still come on my lips as he zipped up his pants and grabbed my smokes from the bench along with another beer.
"We gonna do this again sometime, boyeee," he said, walking away with a smirk on his face.
The next time I ran into Tunk was a few weeks later. I was coming out of the liquor store across the street from my apartment, when Tunk came up to me for some change. He didn't recognize me at first. He was wearing a stained white sleeveless undershirt tucked into low-hanging cargo pants with a torn knee.
When I reached into my pocket for a quarter, I pulled out a twenty by mistake. Our eyes met. His face lit up with recognition and a sneaky smile.
"Yo, is that you, Joey? Wazzup, man? I been wantin' to run into you again. Man, that was some great head you gave. Hey, where you headed? Let's hang out, man."
To make a long story short, I took him back to my apartment. It was against my better judgment letting Tunk know where I stayed, but my hormones were calling the shots, and besides, with Tunk hanging around the liquor store he would see where I lived anyway and be knocking at my door in no time, so I figured what the fuck. We drank some beer
"You got any porno mags?" he inquired, in the same tone that I remembered from the night in the park. He wasn't asking if I had any porno magazines, he was telling me to fetch them at once. He added with a snicker, "I might be needing another of one yo professional blow jobs!"
I put a porno tape into the VCR and turned on the TV. Not to mention I set a stack of Hustlers & Penthouses on the coffee table. Tunk made himself at home. He complained that the beer was doing anything for him.
"You got any chronic we can smoke? What you got else to drink? You got any rum?" I obediently fixed him a Baccardi & coke, extra strong the way he wanted it, and rolled the rest of my stash into three thick joints. When he noticed I hadn't poured myself a drink, he insisted that I join him.
"Shee-itt, I ain't drinkin alone, dude. We gonna party all night long!"
His undershirt and pants, wrinkled and reeking of sweat and tobacco, were folded neatly over the back of the sofa, where he sprawled in his red and white striped boxers and dirty white athletic socks.
Over the next two hours Tunk downed several more Baccardi and cokes, and made me keep pace with him, while we chain-smoked the joints. He leafed through the porno mags, keeping one eye glued to the fuck flick playing on the TV screen.
I was starting to get pretty wasted. I could tell the liquor and pot were getting to Tunk too, making him talkative. He went on about the sex we were watching, especially Sean Michaels ploughing a white girl up the cunt or feeding her his really big cock.
"You got some cash, dude? I'm horny as hell!" he announced. "See how my man is laying that pipe?" Sean Michaels was grabbing the blonde by her tresses and savagely raping her mouth. I couldn't believe she was taking his long dick down her throat like that. He was skull-fucking her mouth like it was a pussy." "That's how I wanna pump you boyeee, just like dat! Come up wit some dead presidents, and we gonna git busy, yo!"
When I offered him a $10 bill, he said, "Naw, man, be for real. That ain't enough. This ain't no ten dollar dick. You know dat!" I ended up giving him $25. "Now we doin' business, boyeee," he said, pocketing the cash. "Now give me one of them cracker blowjobs like before."
Tunk put his hands behind his head and spread his legs as I got down on my knees between them. His nine-inch black cock stuck straight up in the air. He watched the fuck film while I went to work. His cock was so big that I didn't need to grip it between my lips. It stretched my mouth open as far as it would go. True to his word, he held my head between his hands and worked it up and down. His cock never once left my throat. After 10 minutes of pumping me hard, he bust his nut and shot a load of hot, creamy sperm straight into my esophagus.
Tunk got dressed and asked if I was going to be home later on in case he stopped by.
Around midnight my doorbell rang insistently. I crawled out of bed and answered the door in my gym trunks and undershirt. Tunk strode in without being invited. With him was another other black guy, whom he introduced as Shorty, a stocky, homely if not outright ugly black man in his early thirties. We shook hands. A strange smile flickered on Shorty's lips, but the look on Tunk's face was an unreadable mask.
"I told my man Shorty you was cool," said Tunk. "Got some rock, man. You wanna smoke dis shit wit' us? What you got to drink? Let me get one of them Newports." He helped himself to my cigarettes on the coffee table and handed one to Shorty. While I fixed rum and cokes for the three of us, Tunk got undressed. "It's hot as hell in here. You need to get some air conditioning, yo. We gonna get comfortable, okay?"
By the time I returned from the kitchen, Tunk's dirty clothes were again folded neatly over the back of the sofa where he was sitting. I could see the outline of his cock beneath his boxers. Shorty sat in the armchair across from him. "Go ahead, get comfortable, man," said Tunk to his buddy. "Joe don't mind, do you Joe."
Tunk placed a small glass pipe, wrapped around the middle with a thick rubber band, and a plastic vial of crack cocaine on the coffee table. Shorty peeled off his sweatshirt, revealing a thick chest with kinky curls of hair in the center and a ribbon of fur on his belly. He kicked off his dirty work boots and stripped down to his boxers. Shorty's body wasn't nearly as muscular as Tunk's. His midsection was flat, but no six-pack. There was a noticeable bulge beneath his boxers, but I couldn't make out the shape of his cock.
We watched a porno video while Tunk prepared his pipe and took a lungful of smoke. Shorty took a hit of it and offered it to me. I was nervous about smoking crack for the first time, but Tunk told me to try it, so I put the glass pipe between my lips while he set a small white pebble into the other hand and lit it for me with my lighter.
"Hold it by the rubber band or you gonna burn yo fingers. Pull on it slowly," he instructed. The strange, metallic-tasting smoke went into my lungs and I coughed. Tunk and Shorty laughed. "Yeah, you got it," said Shorty. "This yo first time smoking dis shit?"
I admitted it was.
"You gonna like dis shit," said Shorty.
The pipe went around again. This time I took the hit into my lungs without choking. A rush of sensation flooded my brain. My head tingled. I felt good, better than I ever felt before. We smoke some more. I was totally relaxed. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world, sitting in my living room in my gym shorts with two black men in their boxers, watching a porno movie.
Then, Tunk stood up and asked me if it was okay if he took a shower. He knew where the bathroom was so I was left in the living room with Shorty, until Tunk called to me from the bathroom.
In the bathroom I found Tunk leaning against the sink with his dick sticking straight up. "Suck my dick, yo," he whispered, as if he didn't want Shorty to hear us. I got on my knees and went to work for a few minutes until Tunk pulled his long hard dick from my mouth and pushed me away. "That's cool, for now," he said. "I just had to feel yo sweet pussy mouth again. Rock makes me horny. How you feelin, yo? It makin' you want to suck some dick, aint it."
He was right. I never felt so horny in my life. A cock never felt so good in my mouth as it did right then.
"Aiighht, now git outta here. I don't need no faggot watchin me while I take a shower. Go see what you can do for Shorty."
Returning to the living room, I found Shorty puffing away on the glass crack pipe again, practically drooling at the fuck scene on TV. Jake Steed, perched on the edge of a swimming pool while a big-titty black girl in the water was giving him a blowjob.
"Nice flick, man," he said. "Tunk was tellin' me you know how to take care of a nigger. Think you can take care of this for me?" He pulled his juicy, brown, uncut cock from his boxers. It looked like a cigar, not as long as Tunk's, but fatter.
I licked my lips and went down on him. He took another hit off the pipe and handed it to me. He told me to exhale the smoke onto the head of his dick.
Tunk walked back in, naked, his cock swinging, toweling dry his upper body. He laughed seeing me at work on Shorty's cock.
"Yo, didn't I tell you this white boy knows what to do for a nigger?" He asked how much I'd given Shorty for the privilege and ordered me to take care of that right away. I fetched two twenties and gave one to both men. Tunk said, "Aiiighht, now we can down to business. Suck on this, boy."
Shorty handed Tunk the pipe. Tunk had me blow smoke on his cock too. Apparently it kept their dick steel-hard, heightening the sensation without bringing them to orgasm. For the next hour, they took turns letting me suck their cocks while they continued to smoke and worked the remote control, freezing scenes, rewinding and forwarding.
Shorty wanted to fuck me in the ass. Tunk said, " Bitch, you don't mind if my man fucks you in the ass do you?" Not a question. An order.
While I took Tunk's cock down my throat, Shorty got behind me, gobbed spit on his cock and slowly pushed it into my rectum. Shorty fucked me slow at first, then speeded up. He smacked my ass a few times with his open palm. "Harder!" said Tunk, egging him on. Shorty spanked me so hard I cried out.
"Yaaaahh," said Shorty, enjoying my reaction. "Whiteboy got a sweet marshmallow ass, man," said Shorty. "Sure you don't want none of this? It's fine, man. Aint fucked a white boy since I was locked up."
"Naw, man, I don't fuck no faggots. Go on, tear it up. Fuck dat pussy. I'm think' of putting a skirt on him and pimpin' his punk ass. Make us some money, yo!"
"How much you think dis bitch can pull in?" asked Shorty.
"Sheee-ittt," Tunk exclaimed. "I figure if he blows five brothers a night, $20 each, that's $100 in our pocket."
"Yeah, but no brother gonna pay a fag to suck his dick."
"Yeah, dats why we gotta dress him up like a girl."
They made me shave off my mustache and goatee to see how feminine I looked without facial hair. Then I had to shave my chest hair and stomach. They stood by me in the bathroom and watched as I applied the razor to my body. Tunk took a shit while I shaved my legs. Shaving my hairy body in front of them was more humiliating than anything I had done before. The one part of my body they didn't order me to shave was the hair on my crotch, since they figured no john would see that anyway.
"Naw, I liked his face better when it looked like a pussy," said Shorty.
Tunk concluded I probably wouldn't be worth much as a hooker in drag. For a few hours more I continued to suck their cocks. Shorty pumped my ass until it was sore. At some point I must have passed out.
When I woke, it was morning. I was lying on the floor, naked. Tunk and Shorty were gone. So was my TV, VCR, gold chains, CDs and porno tapes. I found my gym shorts and tee-shirt lying in a pile, soaked in piss. That's when I realized they had pissed all over me as well. The urine had dried from my body, but I smelled like the bottom of a urinal. I did the only thing I could do. I jerked off.
For the next week or so, my entire body itched as the hair slowly grew back on my chest, stomach, and legs. I had the locks changed and never ran into either of them on the street again. I have no regrets. It cost me a lot, but they gave me a night to remember for the rest of my life. I would do it all over again.