Debased on Base

She opened the door to the apartment, and outside stood a huge black man in uniform.

“Evening, ma’m. I have something to show you. May I come in?” The policeman seemed keyed up, on edge.

Isabelle’s heart thumped. What did he want? Was Herb dead? She stepped back silently.

The man brushed past her, into her living room. “Well, you see, ma’am, the thing is…” he paused. “Are your children here?”

“What is it?” She asked anxiously.

The man hesitated, and she saw his eyes glide over her thin, trim body, sheathed in only her underwear and wrap, before he produced a package from his breast pocket.

“What?” she asked again, irritably. Then she saw. The man’s hand held a photo of her, naked, kneeling in front of Chuck, her married lover of late.

She wheeled. “I want you to leave!” she gasped, her breath coming in short, whistling breaths.

The man sighed. “Okay, if you say so, ma’am. But if I do, I’ll have to show this to my supervisor. And he’ll probably have to remove you and your family from the base. Adultery is a crime in base housing. Not to mention oral sodomy.” He walked to the door again. “I was hoping we could come to an agreement, but…” He paused.

“Wait…” she whispered.  “What…what did you have in mind? Money?”

He smiled slightly, shook his head, walked back toward her, and stood looking at her silently, gauging her. After a moment, he put his hand on her breast. “I think we could work it out.” He closed the door, and motioned upstairs. “Kids up there?”

“Yes.” She shuddered.

“Find a sitter. Send ‘em to the neighbors. Or the park.” His hand traced her hip through the robe, already taking inventory. As his fingers slid under fabric and touched her skin, she jerked away.  “How dare you…!” she spat furiously.

“Well, lady, if that’s your answer…”  he grinned at her, and turned as if to leave. “Better start packin’…”

“No… wait!” she called desperately. He stopped, and looked at her. “Come back in half an hour,” she whispered miserably.

Half an hour later, she knelt, naked, on the floor, exactly as in the picture. The cop’s trousers lay beside him on the sofa, and he smiled in anticipation, as she tried to figure out what she could do with the huge looping rope of oiled black meat which he held out to her.

She touched the tip of it with her tongue, and it leapt higher.

“Go on.” He urged, his lips twisted in sadistic delight. Her lips stretched wide, she took it in gingerly, as far as she was able, then pulled back. Impatiently, he pressed the back of her head, and  thrust himself upward. Her throat closed, and she choked.

Slowly, he pulled it back, and she gaped in fearful fascination as it passed, serpentine and shining, through her straining lips and between her clenched fingers, trailing a rope of her saliva. God. Had she really taken that much of him in…?

Then he abruptly reversed direction and  thrust it swiftly at her again, pressing into her throat at last. She gagged reflexively, her eyes bugging and tearing as he pressed in yet further, opening her throat. She gulped as he began to rock, his pleasure evident. Her vision blurred, as he pressed in ever deeper, and the burning sensation made her cough around his swollen dick. She sobbed as he thrust, tears mixing with the drooling saliva spilling down her chin and neck.

Then, after an eternity, he pulled free and rose to his feet, pulling her up after him. “Okay. Bend over, Mrs. Solomon,” he directed. “We better get it over before your man gets home from work.”

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “It’s WAYYYY too big…!”

He smiled gently. “You’d be surprised what you can do when you put your mind to it.” Firmly, he guided her to the position he wanted. “Now, just try to relax,” he instructed, sliding his finger across her vagina,  thumbing her clitoris. “The more you relax, the more fun you’ll have. The less pain.”

His thick finger sank into her  deeply,  probing, then he inserted another. And another.

Unwilling, she felt herself lubricate nonetheless.

He took his massive penis in one hand, and spread her wide, sliding the engorged tip in between her pale thighs, and rode the cushion of her juices up into her slit. She gasped as his warm, thick cock parted her forcefully and pressed up, up, up, like a bulldozer brushing her puny tissues aside. Her cunt closed tightly around the invader, she groaned in her throat, arching backwards. He grabbed her  breasts, squeezing, and she chirped in pain. “Please stop….” she sobbed brokenly.

“Easy,  baby, I’m only half way in…” he thrust gaining another inch or two.

“Unnnhhh.!” She grunted, as the red-black bar of steel impaled her even more deeply, boring inexorably into her midsection. She swore she could feel him in her stomach, the dull ache of her organs being rudely repositioned as he made his way determinedly upward and inward.

Then, with a mighty lurch, she felt his swollen testicles touch her buttocks. “There!” he said triumphantly. “All the way in.” He rested,  panting, his scrotum swinging gently against her straining ass. “How’s it feel?” he asked curiously.

“Like a stabbing,” she said, crying softly. “Please, don’t make me do this. You’re hurting me…” she choked off.

He laughed, and began slowly to fuck her, his cock depressing and releasing her tissues at will. Gasping at sharp pains that caused in her abdomen, she stood, bent double, her hips touching the back of the couch, moaning whenever he pulled out completely before surging into her again. Like a brutal machine, he rode on, his penis a piston, her vagina a cylinder whose walls quaked with the strain, needing lubrication.

Then, roaring, he exploded inside her, his semen feeling like molten lava in her deepest recesses, and she screamed, bucking as he thrust brutally deeper in his excitement. Pain blossomed in front of her eyes, red flashes, furious flowers of white-hot pain. Bracing, she braved his ramrod thrusts as he finished spurting his bullets inside her violated body, until at last he pulled free to spew a last sticky shot across her tensed back. Shaking, every muscle overloaded with fatigue, she sagged forward across the couch, and he fell with her, breathing raggedly.

“Please,” she croaked, ” let me up?”

Groaning, he rolled aside. She got gingerly to her feet and tottered into the bathroom. A backward glance; he lay sagged across the couch, his eyes closed, chest heaving. His twitching penis lay on his thigh, diminished but still reaching halfway to his knee. She ducked through the door, and sank onto the toilet, where she remained until she heard him leave.

Then, eyes glazed, she began, slowly, to massage vaseline into her reddening cunt, gingerly touching the abused, abraded tissues, grimacing with the pain, until she suddenly, unexpectedly, found herself coming furiously, humping helplessly up and down on the toilet ring, crying with frustration and shame.

Untitled musings, pt. 1

…then he stuck his two fingers up inside me, and played around, kind of silly and high school-ish, but sexy at the same time, touching some good spots in there, like he knew what he was doing.

I just wanted his cock inside me. It didn’t matter where, in my pussy, my mouth, my… ass…

I just wanted to feel it pulsating inside me, pushing its way insistently inside my body, taking me over and bending me to its will.

That’s the way I think of it — Its will. Not his.

He’d said being stoned made him want sex. He mentioned it in passing, just explaining to me why he was so hesitant to smoke weed when with a group of friends. I like weed, but it has very specific uses for me. It’s good for creative writing — alone. It’s good for playing music, also alone. Or with a band, improvising. It helps if everyone else is stoned. And it’s good for sex.

He grinned, blushed.

Hmmm… so if you was to get hard right now, it wouldn’t be because you found me sexy, or because I was down here on my knees getting ready to blow you, it would just be the weed, right?

You… want to blow me…

You damn right.

He chose my cunt.

Oh, God, I knew you would feel like that.

Like what?

Like… you just fit everything inside me, just perfect. Like we’re perfect mirrors of each other in reverse.

When later, he chose my ass, it felt much the same way.

I told him he was my first.

It’s good, baby, I said in response to his anxious watching face, looming above mine. He’d insisted we do it this way if it was my first; less painful, he said.

It did feel good, despite the discomfort of having my legs on my shoulders. He didn’t compare in size to my father’s friends, but I hadn’t been very big back then either; both organs had changed in size and length, but they somehow still fit much better, tighter, created more friction.

Later I found out that the tissues inside a woman’s vagina swell when she’s really aroused. That explains how his cock felt in my cooter, but in my booter…?

He’d been the first since I was a kid, so that was some kind of virginity prize, I think.

He filled every crevice there just right, too.

I think he took it back, erased things, made it mine again. It didn’t belong to my daddy’s drunk friends anymore, back in the islands. Is that possible?

I think this is all I ever want again. I’ve had a thousand, but this one was made for me.

Is that possible?

My Old Lovers, pts 1 and 2

Dave

He wasn’t hard, so it was difficult to tell how big he was. Thick, it appeared, but even that was hard to judge.

“What do you like, Dave?” I asked reading the name tag on his T-shirt. He still wore it, standing there in his sweats with it hanging out the front, trying to look casual, clutching his glass with both hands while all the others, couples in various gender combinations and shades, went at it all around the house.

“I… I likes fucking white boys,” he stammered, lisping softly. Tall and chiseled, he’d have been mobbed if he hadn’t put out this air of nerdiness and fear that was so off-putting.

What the hell, I wasn’t having a great time here anyway. Might as well welcome Erkl to Swingworld.

I sank to my knees and took him in my mouth, moistened his geek willie, peeling back the dun-colored foreskin to kiss the chocolate egg of his glans. It stirred very slightly but not much. He wasn’t getting hard, not the way I was used to. He clutched his glass and gulped half of it, then grabbed a bottle at random and refilled it. I began to wonder if booze wasn’t half the reason he wasn’t rising above quarter-staff. The heat of my mouth alone should have caused more reaction than this.

I sucked a bit more and he responded with awkward thrusts but nothing was doing. I took him deep in my throat just for the hell of it; it was easier to do when his cock was still so soft. I closed my throat muscles around it, milking him. He gasped and pulled out, then moved back in with more assuredness. But long before he’d hit that rachet-hard phase of erection that would guarantee he wouldn’t lose it until he was done with me, he suddenly pulled away and moved behind me, into position. I was wondering what he was going to manage without a bit more steel, but I let him go.

His finger slid across my anus, swiping Vaseline, and then he slid his thick finger in. Ummm… Maybe that would be enough; it was thick and a lot harder than his joint just now. He rooted around enthusiastically, and my cock responded, but pulled out soon and I felt his soft glans press into my lubed crack. I was surprised when he managed, somehow, to penetrate.

With a sigh, he grabbed my hips in his greasy hands and begun to thrust, his soft willie somehow making its way into me, and still not getting much harder. I’d never had this happen before, and if he hadn’t managed to get in, it would have been embarrassing and irksome.

But as it was, the feeling of being fucked with a soft dick was beginning to grow on me. He was doing all the usual things, thrusting, grunting softly, telling me in his stammering, lisping voice how tight my ass was, how much he liked fucking me, but there was no pain of pushing past the resisting sphincter until it managed to relax and adapt,  no pressure like when a hard cock went deep and seemed to bounce off the end of my colon. All I felt was a soft presence, a sense that he was inside me, and the kiss of his thighs against my cheeks as he moved, enthused but restrained in his thrusts.

Deep inside my bowel, I relaxed more deeply. This wasn’t going to be the usual brutal fucking black men usually gave me, where I had to brace myself and use all my skills to avoid internal injury. I felt his soft cock slip deeper into me, and his thick balls slap my rump.

He was beginning to lengthen a bit, too, his girth expanding, but not painfully. Now it was clear there was a cock in me, but I could still feel the silkiness of his glans as it parted me again and again, sliding out and reentering. His thrusts began to pick up and his cock leapt a bit more in response, but he wasn’t yet pounding me like so many guys do; he restrained himself and pressed me like a lover, slipping deeply and gently into me as his soft lips brushed my shoulders and neck.

Now I could feel his arousal building, the thickness of his cock swelling inside me, opening me from the inside rather than slamming its way in, and I heard him moan as we both began to move in rhythm. “Yeah, baby,” he crooned said softly in my ear. “Show me how much you like my lovin’.” His lisp and stammer had disappeared along with the folds in his penis.

I reached back and took his balls lovingly into my hands and cupped them. His cock thickened more and the head pressed deep inside me. His breathing came faster and he began to pick up his pace, his cock now respectable in size, banging into my tight hole.

Then he reached around and began to stroke my own cock, keeping perfect rhythm with his thrusts, still gentle even as they became more substantial and began to fill me. No man had ever jerked me off while he fucked me before and I began to feel myself getting close to coming.

“You’ve got the nicest, tightest little hole,” he said. “Tell me how much you like my chocolate rod, baby.”

“Oh, Davey,” I said with an exaggerated moan. “Bury that big cock in me, please.”

He suddenly became thicker, and I realized he was all about the words.

“My ass likes your big, thick, dark… rod,” I added.

It did, especially now. With each thrust, he was getting more substantial, certainly as big as I’d ever had, but he was still going gently, gentlemanly in his sodomizing.

“Fuck me hard, studman,” I begged. ‘Wear my poor ass out.”

He picked up the pace, and now he was reaching so deep I was moaning in earnest, his cock stroking across my prostate gently but firmly. The wide rounded shoulder forced itself in, opening my rectum and sending waves of pleasure. I could hear his breathing hissing in my ears now as he neared his climax.  His plum-sized balls slapped my own, and the tip burrowed ever deeper. I sensed a good ten inches of him buried in my ass now, and he was still growing.

Then I heard him whisper “Oh, Jesus,” and he was spurting hot semen into me, pushing me over the edge. I came begging, “Oh, Dave, ride my ass, baby.”

Michael

 It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to let him fuck me. I knew Michael wasn’t gay, or even really bi; I don’t even think he really desired men at all. He just fucked them because their women sometimes asked him to and sometimes that was the only way to get to the hot women. Not to mention the pleasure he got out of having the men humiliated in front of their women: first, by having a much smaller cock than his, beside which most guys’ pricks looked like toys, and second, seeing how much their wives loved his cock and knowing they’d never please her as well as they had before, and third, getting their asses reamed by the big cock may have seemed like a very hot thing, but he hadn’t signed on for being considerate; brutal was his style, even with their women. When he fucked men, he was punishing.

Lots of men with big cocks were brutes, I had discovered; they had grown up with a weapon they were too immature to learn to use properly, and they got away with it because big cocks are in demand. Every single well-hung man I know has a problem with gentleness and subtlety; they have one speed and it’s pile-driver.

But damn, his cock felt good in my ass. Even when it was being applied without finesse, with the sole intent to cause pain. I knew he wanted to hear me scream. It was so big it took my breath away, burning its way past my involuntarily clenched sphincter and filling every crevice of my colon. His heavy balls spanked my ass. His dun-colored dong had this massive head that was shaped like a mushroom and about the same color, and it bent to the left, with a turn that looked like a badly mended bone.

It felt like a bone, actually. Hard and thick, it pried me open like an oyster and banged its way into me, his hands grasping my hips as he grunted and pounded. Once he came out of me and slammed forward again to get back in and for a second he missed, his cock thrusting insistently into the side of my cheek. It felt almost like he was going to tear a new hole if he didn’t find one already.

But he did, and it was well-lubed and ready for him. His huge glans pried me open and he slid in all the way to the hilt, his pear-sized nuts thumping my cheeks. He grunted with satisfaction and began to fuck me brutally, making me cry out about every other thrust. His cock came free and he bludgeoned his way back in, opening my sphincter with a powerful thrust, stretching my colon like an accordion about to burst.

Then I felt his orgasm coming on, his already-mighty cock thickening and lengthening even more, swelling inside me, sparking mind-blowing sensations of pain-laced pleasure, before he exploded inside me, a volcano of searingly-hot lava filling me.

“Take that, you tight-ass homo whore,” he grunted.

At the words, I came, came hard, the semen bursting out of me like bag that had been punctured. “Oh, Jesus,” I heard myself say. “Oh, Michael.