“I’ve been reading your stories,” he writes.
It’s an 18 year old black guy. His profile picture has him looking up seductively from a pillow.
“Which one did you like?”
“I like them all. Can I see ur pics again?”
We met once about eight months ago. It had to be on campus, because he was between classes.
“I’m on campus could I come” he asks.
It’s almost 6pm. Those pesky janitors will start to poke around the washrooms soon. “Sure, I’m around.”
“Kk.”
I continue reading some stuff online. I get about two minutes into it when I see the message.
“I’m here. In the washroom.”
Shit. I scramble my stuff together and run to the nature building. My favourite washroom is in the basement of the nature building. It’s where I did my second ever BJ, and many since. It is usually pretty safe. But now, I can see the cleaning staff’s supply cart is already wheel out and waiting.
I knock quietly and the door opens by itself, to an empty washroom. When I walk in, he is tucked behind the door.
The youth is tall, and wearing a gray hoodie. I stare at him while I take off my coat and shirt and set them on the diaper change table. I can’t stop staring at his face. His brown skin glows with the youthfulness of a teenager, and his lips are plump and inviting. Yet he is tall and strong. I can’t believe I get to suck his cock.
His hands are large, and he unbuckles his belt with long jointed fingers. “You want me to piss in your mouth?” he asks.
He really has been reading my stories! “Sure!” I tell him, kneeling down. He lowers his black underwear and pulls out his dick, which must be 8” long, and points it down at the floor. I get down and put my mouth on it and wait.
Right away, he puts a hand under my chin and yanks my head up to look at him.
“When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”
“Yes sir.” I kneel before him and wait obediently. In the silence, I can hear the sink dripping. I stay perfectly still, just waiting and ready to take his stream.
“It’s too hard, so just suck it,” he says.
I obey, wrapping my mouth around it and suckle it like a popsicle.
He grabs my shoulders with his large strong hands and shoves me against the wall, leaning into my mouth so much that he rests his knees against my triceps, and then he face-fucks me.
He grabs my hands in his, and places them on his butt. Then he slaps his ass with my hand. The slap echos in the bathroom, and I fear it could be heard outside the thin door. Still, when he takes his hand away, I slap him again, and squeeze his butt cheek, rolling it in my hands. In response, he shoves his dick further in my mouth.
He stands up and I stay there obediently, letting his dick plop from my mouth. In response, he grabs my chin and makes me look up at him. “Don’t stop,” he commands. “Don’t ever stop for anything.” When I nod my head, he uses his other hand to pick up his massive dick and shoves it into my mouth once again.
I comply, bobbing my head back and forth between his body and the concrete wall.
Then I feel his hands caress my shoulders. They slowly move up my neck, caressing my skin. His hands are so large they can wrap all the way around my neck with no effort. Suddenly they start to squeeze. My windpipe is being compressed by his grip. I am being strangled. I look up at him, eyes wide, and see his face. The world slows down for me. His lips move: “Don’t stop.” he mouths soundlessly. My blood is pounding in my eyes and I am afraid. My mind is racing. He digs his two thumbs painfully into the side of my windpipe. Every detail of his face is burning into my brain now. His plump lips glisten in the bathroom light. His left ear has small a gold star earring. I even notice his eyebrow hair, one errant black strand juts out longer than the others. His eyes are deep brown staring into mine with cold fascination, as he squeezes the life out of me, because nobody every let him do this before. We are intimately connected; we are aggressor and victim. I can see his thoughts and I am scared. The sound of blood rushing in my ears is deafening as he continues to squeeze.
At last he lets up and I gasp for breath, sucking in air around his dick which is even harder now. Don’t stop, I tell myself, and bob my head up and down. He reaches down my back and pulls on the back of my underwear, giving me a wedgie, as he bends forward it becomes difficult to move, my cheek is mashed up against his abs, and I struggle to flick my tongue against his giant throbbing cockhead. Still, he keeps on pulling up, and I can hear the first of many seams of my $35 pump underwear ripping. He relentlessly pulls, and I wince as I hear each stitch rip apart. I feel the fabric bunch together into a tight thin rope and it digs into my anus. My ass is exposed to the cold bathroom air now. That’s when I feel his hand slap my ass. The slap rings out in the bathroom. Again, he slaps me, five, six times, each harder than the last. I cry out in pain, but my cries are muffled against his thigh.
It just makes him hornier. He stands there before me, cock jutting into my mouth and watches while I suck him. “Slower,” he says. I slow down, almost stopping. Too slow. He grabs my head and moves it for me, showing me what he wants.
“I’m gettin’ close.”
I slow down again, obediently, almost stopping.
“No, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” With that, I feel his hands reach around my neck again, his large hands closing around my windpipe. This time, as he tightens his grip, he starts to fuck my mouth. I look up, trying to see his face again, but this time he has not bothered to move his shirt, and all I can see is the thick fabric of his hoodie. The blood rushes to my ears, and I begin to notice things. The zipper of his hoodie, the gray and white fibers of this fabric, stitched into microscopic triangles. Time slows down and I can no longer breath, or move in his strong grip. His thumbs stab my throat painfully and he thrusts deeper each time. Although seconds have passed I feel like I can’t breath and I am filled with dread… I am not going to be able to take another breath until he is done with me. My eyes feel huge, like they are going to explode in their sockets. My mind circles in panic. Can he even think straight like this? What if he squeezes harder? Every sense is heightened. I can even taste the subtle saltiness of his pre-cum.
After an eternity, it happens. He grips my neck not releasing it and gasps as his cum courses through his massive penis. With each pulse, his grip slackens and soon I am gasping, sucking in life-giving air so fast I accidentally choke on his thick cum.
“Sorry about the underwear,” he says.
“That’s OK, I have lots,” I tell him. My voice is hoarse.
“Good. You better fucking write a story,” he says, and the door closes behind him.
I immediately lock it so the janitor can’t come in, and look in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot and my hair is wild. My neck has two blotches of red skin where his thumbs were. I lean over the sink and splash some water over my face, run my fingers through my hair. It has never felt so good to be alive.