BBC: My Best Man Ch. 01

[Warning: Racially inappropriate words and derogatory slurs are used in this story. If uncomfortable with certain words like 'nigger' or 'faggot', DON'T read any further. I don't condone the actions in this story. If you're okay with that though, enjoy!]

_____________________

I came to my senses, heaving and grunting like an animal. Sticky sweat covered my entire body despite the cool, breezy air in the hotel room. I wanted to completely remove the thoroughly messed-up tuxedo I was wearing, but I couldn't move.

He was still choking me. My lungs grew heavier by the second. The lack of air inside my blood was prominently clear even to my hazy mind; I felt my limbs twitch repeatedly as electrifying shocks ran through them, numbing my nerves, but also somehow introducing me to a higher pleasure.

If I were to compare it to a commonly known sensation, it was like a brain freeze--except this one was spread out over my whole fucking body.

The mind-fucking sensation was giving me my fourth orgasm of the day as I struggled to take deep breaths over the choke hold Jason had on me--I was fucking cumming. Again. The corners of my lips uncontrollably rose as the chemicals wreaked havoc in each and every fucking nerve in my overloaded brain. My second dry orgasm from black cock. Shit, it felt so painfully good. My gasps came in hitches as I tried to deal with the overwhelming pleasure without nearly enough oxygen to do so.

I helplessly gripped at the strong, thick arms tightly wrapped around my neck as they threatened to thoroughly crush my windpipes. I tapped it repeatedly so as to plead for release as well as the simple permission to breathe. A basic human right.

Mercilessly, they stayed on my throat like a pretty necklace, denying my requests for air. To top it all off, Jason slapped my face and spat on me, probably rubbing the fact that I had no choice but to gladly take whatever he dished out. I cried out in indignation--well, tried to, but they all came out as whimpers. The man's dick continued to roughly fuck me in prone bone as he continued degrading me.

Of course, it did nothing but amplify my orgasms.

"Fuck! Shit, you feel so good. Been keeping this shithole tight all these years, huh? Your ass feels like it's constantly cumming--oh, yeah!" That's because it was. I wanted to tell him that, but I was struggling enough to barely even breathe, let alone speak coherently.

I heard him continue, "I'm fucking close. Wanna take it in your face, pretty boy?" I bit my lips. There it was. That nickname. I've been called that for as long as I could remember. Everyone said it as if it were a good thing at first.

But then the ostracization happens. Especially with men. Terms like faggot, pretty boy, and pouf were commonly thrown in my face. I realized then that being a beautiful man was never a blessing in a society that prized its men to spit on something as impractical as beauty. In fact, it was partly why I worked out and built my jacked, masculine body during my teenage years--not that it stopped anything though. Sure, the excessive name-calling stopped but in school? I was still "pretty boy". At that point, it was connected to every degrading term I've ever been called. I didn't like it one bit.

I used to be haunted by the term until Jason said it in that party years ago--during the first time we ever had sex.

The first time I tasted black cock.

Obviously, I felt demeaned and absolutely livid when he called me that. It's like I had a flashback to every single mean thing that was ever said to me. Yet, somehow it felt slightly different than usual too. I was disrespected, sure, but the sensations of his cock made it seem so...liberating at the same time.

I was pretty sure I was straight before then, but that experience really called my whole sexuality into question.

I liked women, but I loved sex with Jason. I loved the feel of his body as he pinned me down on the wall. I loved the heat of his arms, supporting me.

Most of all?

I loved his cock.

The craving in my ass that week turned into this whole mental spiral and self-hate. I hated that it did, because that brought me to the question I never EVER wanted to face.

Were they right? Was I really a faggot?

Feeling the black cock up in my ass, I grimaced. Here I fucking am, proving that I was always, in fact, a faggot.

Still, I couldn't help it. Jason called me "pretty boy" again. After all these years too; I haven't been called that in a very long time....and boy did it feel great.

Instead of shame and irritation, I now felt profound gratitude. Gratitude for being pretty enough to have my face fucked by a big, black cock. Thankful for being born beautiful enough to attract uncaring black men with big dicks. I snapped out of my thoughts as Jason unwrapped the arm choke he had on my neck. Oxygen immediately filled my heaving lungs and I was lightheaded. I felt him pull out, my ass quivering out of confusion from the sudden lack of cock.

"Well? Answer, bitch! Do you want my cum on your face or not?" I heard him ask behind me.

I turned my body towards him and obediently knelt as I got in position to offer my face as a canvas for his cum. I looked up at him, still disoriented from the intensive, adept asphyxiation. Breathless, I said, "I do."

Jason smirked and held my hair as he pushed his cock through my lips.

"You like nigger dick, don't you?"

I mumbled around the cock in my mouth, "I do."

"Say it."

"I like nigger dick."

He grinned and started to face-fuck me. Hard.

I couldn't exactly remember what happened after that; the next few minutes were a complete fucking blur to me. You can't really blame me. Every thrust that jabbed at the back of my throat seemed to render my mind completely incapable of thought.

My mind drifted away, singularly feeling the sensations in my throat.

Then, Jason suddenly pushed and buried his whole length inside my windpipe as he forcefully hammered my head towards it, bringing me back down from fucking wonderland. I was gagging and I could tell he enjoyed that. He didn't care about my comfort as he humped at it deeper and deeper. I couldn't fucking breathe again. I felt his cock jerk and spasm deep inside my throat as my own dick constantly twitched in response.

Somehow, I felt joy and pleasure under all the panic I was starting to feel.

I couldn't believe I fell this hard. If anyone told me this was going to happen in the most important day of my life, I would've merely scoffed at them before completely ignoring it. That's how unbelievable this was to me. I couldn't believe I was capable of kneeling so subserviently, offering my face and dignity for someone else to fuck.

What's worse is that I did it so gratefully, as if I was the one who was somehow bestowed with a favor. As if I was inevitably supposed to say, "Thank you," for having been throatfucked. As if this was my rightful place, as his follower, slut, cum-disposal.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden smack on my face as he continued to choke me on his dick.

I felt high. You know how it feels when you satisfy a food craving? Or listening to good music? Or watching a great movie where the hairs in your body stand up and an itch in your brain gets scratched?

This felt like that. I was having the fucking time of my fucking life. The rough treatment bordered on abuse and I was a BBC slut loving every single minute of it. I kept mumbling nonsensical hums and praises on the dick until he stopped thrusting. I knelt there in confusion; I didn't want him to stop. To be honest, it was pretty much the last thing I ever wanted. I looked up at him. Jason's normally calm face was now grinning from ear to ear as he looked at the mess he made out of me. I shuddered. The sight must have looked so pathetic; me staring up at him like a dog, wondering why he wasn't giving me a bone.

But why, indeed? I've been good. Obedient. I followed every order like a good, pretty boy, so why? I breathed in deeply. God, I got so used to the choking that his cock seemed more appealing to me than fucking air. Why wasn't he fucking my face? This was my reward.

My reward for what exactly though?

I was doing a terrible thing. Terrible things don't deserve rewards. God, what WAS I doing? I feel my mind constrict as I struggled to maintain my emotional state. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I couldn't believe it. Not having his cock in me was giving me a panic attack. My guilt towards betraying everyone I love by doing this was attacking me from all sides. Why wasn't he giving it to me? I needed it. Doesn't he know I need it to fuck my thoughts away? I need it to escape this fucking guilt constantly chasing after me. The cock was my ride from the wave threatening to drown me. My breaths unconsciously hitched in periodic pauses. I was good, right? Why wasn't he fucking his good, obedient slut in the mouth--

I felt him brush off his black dick lightly on my lips. I paused completely as my mind settled. That was all it took.

That was all it fucking took to empty my thoughts and calm me down.

The monster cock stood erect just a few inches away from my face. I closed my eyes and breathed in the intoxicating scent of his big black cock as deeply as I could. I opened them with a renewed vigor. If I wasn't good enough, then I'll simply work harder knobbing on this dick. That's all. It was that simple.

The breather he gave me brought a bit of clarity to my cock-drunk mind. I only realized now that this cock was just inside my ass a few minutes ago.

Ass to mouth; I remembered this was one of his favorite ways to inflict humiliation on me. Before, I used to passively let him do so. I wasn't fond of sucking cock that had just been in my ass. In fact, I typically rejected it as much as possible.

Now? I licked circles around the raging, bulbous, purple head out of my own accord while I locked eyes with him. I planted kisses on the tip before licking, nay, slurping the fluids that covered the surface of the whole thing; was this how I tasted like? I pondered deeply. I leaned in deeper this time and took it inside my mouth. It tasted slightly different than what his cock-meat usually tasted like, though the addicting base flavor inherent to black dick was still there.

Fuck! It tasted so good, I thought as I ran my tongue over it with zest. My breath hitched at the long-awaited taste of his member in my mouth. It's been years since I inhaled black dick. His tasty, tasty black dick. Mmm.

How Jason's creamy, chocolate-colored cock could taste this good, I never actually found out. Sure, you might argue that it was just mental. Purely a trick of the mind; BIG BLACK COCKS don't really taste any different than normal dicks. Well, that doesn't change anything, does it? It's mind over fucking matter anyway. Whatever it was, it was fucking real. At least to me.

That was all that mattered.

I sucked the oxymoronically hard, yet soft dick as I licked circles around the head. The taste was overwhelming, yet somewhat hard to describe; there simply wasn't any precedent to compare it with. It was a flavor of its own-- black cock.

My fucking favorite.

"Fuuuck..! It tastes so good," I said right before diving in, sucking him off as best as I could.

I knew I wouldn't get sick of this anytime soon in the next few years or phases of my life. Honestly, who could ever say they got over black dick and mean it anyway? I took it off of my mouth, making a "pop" sound, as I looked at it reverently. Somehow, I craved it in my throat again. I grabbed onto his thighs and forcefully gagged myself on his dick, my eyes tearing up. I let it drip to my lips to serve as extra lubrication. After twenty whole seconds of self-abuse and deepthroating, Jason ferociously tugged my hair, effectively pulling me back from the painful thrusts I eagerly issued on my own throat. Breathlessly, I looked up at him with anticipation. The man grinned. He put his big, fat, heavy, black cock directly on my face like I was a weighing scale as I panted.

A shiver ran down my spine, staring at the monstrosity dangling in front of me. A silver sheen covered every fucking inch of his beautiful cock. The fluid slowly gathered to one point, threatening to fall. The moment it was going to, I went under it.

The mixture of fluids dripped down on my face. I couldn't stop the corners of my mouth from lifting; I flashed a genuinely thankful smile at him for allowing me to look, fuck and suck his cock on the most important day of my life; I'll never fucking forget this moment. Of course, the irony wasn't lost on me. I was the one sucking and I'm the one grateful?

Oh, if only you could understand.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not one for inequality in relationship dynamics, but I genuinely think this one is an exception--and rightfully so--simply because I had had the honor of taking this beautifully crafted cock in my mouth and ass DESPITE knowing for a fact the things I could offer him back were significantly less. When the output is inequal in value, dynamics would naturally exist. It couldn't be helped. There are probably thousands of 'straight' guys like me who'd line up just to inhale this massive black cock. Millions even; it honestly wasn't a stretch considering the amount of men on the internet fantasizing about it--and that number might not even include the women. Meanwhile, there was only one of this; this gigantic, beautiful phallus.

The wonderful shape, size, color. The distinct scent. The way it bends. The way it feels, fuck. Sure! BBC exists all around the world (thank god for that), but they're all different. They're all wonderfully unique. God, I feel like a slut fanboying over big, fat black cocks. I mean, I am but still. I can't help it. It's a subject I can passionately talk about for hours on end.

Back in our day, Jason made me suck three cocks in total; they respectively belonged to a white man who was married, a black man who was divorced, and his recently legal teenager kid. Until now, I remembered exactly how the big, fat cocks felt in my mouth and tongue--except the white one. He was monstrously big too so size wasn't really the issue.

It just wasn't black. That's all.

I couldn't get over the fact that it wasn't black. I didn't like that it had a different flavor from scrumptious black dicks. I didn't like that it didn't feel the same. I just sucked him off because Jason asked me too. I didn't want to disappoint him at the time so I almost always obeyed his whimsical demands. That was when I found out that for some reason, I was repulsed by non-black dicks. I hated sucking men of a different color. I'm exclusively just for black. Black. Black. Black.

I fucking craved being buried under a blur of multiple black cocks. Was that racist? Maybe.

But I couldn't help it.

I stared in awe of this dick in front of me. No matter how many years it's been, I still felt the same giddiness I felt the first time I ever ogled at one. He laughed; he must've found the sight of me, a grown man panting and cross-eyed--looking reverently at his cock, funny. I buried my face under it.

It wasn't funny to me. I was fucking in love.

He lightly placed his huge, black balls on my puckered lips as our gazes locked into each other. I knew what Jason wanted, and I was going to give it to him. My lips parted as I took his testicles gladly inside my mouth. I smiled at the sight of his face melting in pleasure. If he stared back down at me, he would've seen the same thing.

I fucking lived for this after all.

Tonguing his scrotum, I fucking bobbed my head on it like there was no tomorrow. I couldn't help but lovingly nuzzle my face against it, inhaling the scent wafting on it. I held that position for awhile, relaxing. The salty taste, the emanating heat, and the feel of his heavy cock on my face--this is where I fucking belonged, right?

Because why else would it feel this GOOD?

"Use your hands, you nasty, ball-sucking slut."

Obeying like a good boy, I continued worshipping his hanging testicles while sensually pumping his thick, beautiful dick with my soft hands. I knew he liked it when I rub the head of his cock with my thumb. So I did.

I nudge my face all over his length needily like I couldn't live with his cock. I knew he liked that too. He especially liked it when I lightly flick my tongue on his frenulum during. So I did just that. Meanwhile, I never took my eyes off of his as I performed olympic-level gymnastics with my tongue--not even for a second. His gorgeous face on top of his gorgeous body, moaning how pretty I looked as I suck the soul out of his cock the way he taught me and more? That's what fucking fulfills my sexual appetite.

That's honestly what fucking fulfills my life.

The cock pulsated in my hands. I felt the liquid streaming inside, slowly preparing to spurt from the mechanical pathways of this heavy black machinery. Jason was coming. I quickly pointed his dick right at my face as I slowly closed my eyes in anticipation for his tasty, hot, creamy cum. I heard him grunt and felt the liquid hitting my face the next second. Fuck, it felt just as good as it did years ago. Recollections came to my mind as he came on my face, spurting thick globs continuously for about ten seconds before stopping.

I was drenched, covered completely in his tasty cum, enjoying the aftereffects of my mental submission to the MAN in front of me; my best man.

You may be wondering how I got here, on my knees, on my wedding day. It actually started off fairly simple.

It started about seven years ago.