Big Black Cocks Wanted

by Elephant List

Hi, I’m Harry. I’m twenty-two years old, five-nine, with short blond hair and a lean, smooth body. What I’m about to tell you happened just a few nights ago.

I work for a construction cleaning company in the Atlanta area. Most of my jobs involve cleaning newly built or renovated spaces before they are turned over to the owners—vacuuming up drywall dust, wiping down windows, and removing everything the construction crews leave behind.

Last week, my boss assigned me to an executive office under construction in Midtown Atlanta, near the Rockefeller Group tower. The daytime crews were supposed to be gone by the time I arrived, which meant I would have the place mostly to myself.

I pulled into the underground garage shortly before eight that evening. After loading my cleaning supplies onto a cart, I took the service elevator upstairs.

When the doors opened, the floor was quieter than I expected. Most of the overhead lights had been turned off, leaving only the temporary construction lamps glowing along the corridor. The air smelled of fresh paint, cut wood, and drywall dust.

I thought everyone else had already left.

I was wrong.

When I pushed my cart into the main office, I found four Black men still working. One was finishing the exposed pipes and wires above the ceiling, while the others touched up the paint and adjusted the large glass panels separating the offices. Their tools, extension cords, and empty boxes were scattered across the floor.

They all seemed to notice me when I walked in, but nobody said anything at first.

I put on my gloves and started picking up scraps of wire, plastic wrapping, and pieces of cardboard. After a few minutes, I glanced toward the windows and caught two of the men looking at me. They quickly turned toward each other and continued their conversation in low voices.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I had a feeling they were talking about me.

I tried to concentrate on cleaning, though I became very aware of the way my work pants tightened across my ass whenever I bent down to pick something up. A couple of times, I remained bent over a little longer than necessary. Each time I stood, I resisted the urge to look back and see whether they had been watching.

About half an hour later, one of them walked over to me.

His name was Andre. He was tall and lean, with a close-cropped military-style haircut and a playful expression that made it seem as though he already knew something about me.

“You cleaning this whole place by yourself?” he asked.

“That’s the plan.”

“Nobody coming to help you?”

I shook my head. “It’s a solo job tonight.”

Andre smiled and glanced toward the other men.

“All alone up here,” he said. “That’s a lot of work for one guy.”

“I think I can handle it.”

The answer made his smile widen.

Before Andre could say anything else, another man joined us. He introduced himself as Patrice. He was medium height but thickly built, with broad shoulders, a heavy chest, and dreadlocks pulled back from his face. Unlike Andre’s mischievous grin, Patrice’s smile was warm and relaxed.

“A handsome white boy like you shouldn’t be left alone on a construction site at night,” Patrice said.

Andre laughed under his breath.

I felt my face getting warm, but I smiled and bent down to collect another handful of debris.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, pretending not to understand what Patrice was suggesting.

The truth was, I understood perfectly.

I could feel both men watching me as I dropped the debris into a trash bag. Their attention made me nervous, but not in a way that made me want them to stop. If anything, I moved a little more slowly as I bent down again.

A few moments later, a third man emerged from one of the private offices. He was bald, taller than Andre, and much heavier than Patrice, with the kind of powerful build that immediately made the other two seem less imposing. He pulled off his work gloves as he approached us.

“Finally finished in there,” he announced.

Then he noticed me.

His eyes traveled over me without any attempt to hide it. Andre and Patrice exchanged a knowing look.

“Well,” the bald man said, his voice deep and confident. “What do we have here?”

He stopped directly in front of me.

“What’s your name, handsome boy?”

My face burned. For a second, I almost couldn’t answer.

“Harry,” I finally said, so quietly that he leaned closer to hear me.

“Harry,” he repeated.

The way he said my name sent a nervous thrill through me.

“I’m Laurence.”

He held my gaze for another moment before looking over at Andre and Patrice. Something passed silently between the three of them—something I didn’t understand yet, but definitely wanted to.

Laurence kept looking at me, an amused smile slowly spreading across his face.

“So tell me, Harry,” he said. “Are you hairy, or are you smooth?”

Andre and Patrice burst out laughing. Even the fourth man, who was still working across the room, glanced over with a grin.

I blushed so hard that I could feel the heat spreading down my neck.

Laurence’s question was playful, but it didn’t sound mocking. There was something else beneath it, something deliberate in the way he held my gaze while waiting for an answer.

“Smooth,” I finally admitted.

“I thought so,” he said.

That made Andre laugh again.

Laurence walked over to a cooler beside the wall and pulled out a beer. He opened it and returned to where I was standing.

“Here’s to getting this job finished,” he said, offering it to me. “We might as well celebrate.”

I hesitated for a moment. I still had several hours of cleaning ahead of me, but one beer wasn’t going to hurt. More importantly, I liked the fact that Laurence wanted me to join them.

I took it from him.

“Thanks.”

He opened another beer for himself and tapped the neck of his bottle against mine.

“To a clean office,” he said.

I smiled and took a sip.

Laurence remained close enough that I could smell fresh sweat beneath the dust clinging to his work clothes. Andre and Patrice watched us with matching smiles, as though they were waiting to see what he would do next.

“Come here, Harry,” Laurence said. “I want to show you something.”

He started toward one of the private offices and placed a hand lightly on my shoulder as I followed him. It wasn’t enough to force or steer me. If I had wanted to remain where I was, I could have.

But I went with him.

The office was a nearly perfect square, with an entrance to a private bathroom set into the back wall. Unlike the unfinished areas outside, this room looked almost ready for use. The windows had been polished, the walls had received their final coat of paint, and most of the construction debris had already been removed.

“I just finished in here,” Laurence said. “Left it pretty clean for you, don’t you think?”

I looked around. A quick vacuuming and some dusting would probably be enough.

“It looks good,” I said. “You saved me a lot of work.”

“That was the idea.”

His hand was still resting on my shoulder. As he stepped closer, it slid slowly down the center of my back and stopped just above the waistband of my pants.

Every muscle in my body tightened.

Laurence continued talking about the room as if nothing unusual had happened. I nodded and answered him, although I was barely listening anymore. I was too aware of his broad body behind me and his hand resting only inches above my ass.

Andre and Patrice appeared in the doorway a moment later.

“Laurence showing off his work again?” Andre asked.

“He did leave this room unusually clean,” Patrice said. “Almost like he wanted to impress somebody.”

Laurence chuckled. His hand remained against my lower back, but he didn’t move it any farther.

“I’m just being nice to Harry,” he said.

“Very nice,” Andre added.

The three of them looked at me, and the nervous excitement I had felt earlier returned even stronger. I understood what was happening now. They weren’t hiding their interest, and I was no longer pretending not to notice it.

Laurence stepped away from me, leaving the doorway completely open.

“Maybe Harry will let us ask him for a favor in return,” he said.

The word favor lingered in the room.

“What kind of favor?” I asked.

Andre’s eyebrows rose, apparently surprised that I had asked. Patrice smiled at me, while Laurence took a slow drink from his beer.

“I think you already have an idea,” Laurence said.

He was right.

My mouth had gone dry despite the beer in my hand. Part of me wanted him to say it plainly. Another part needed a minute to work up the courage to hear it.

I finished the last sip of my beer and noticed the bathroom behind us.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I said.

Laurence nodded and moved farther aside.

“Go ahead. We’ll be outside.”

I walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Once I was alone, I set the empty bottle beside the sink and stared at myself in the mirror.

My cheeks were flushed, and my heart was beating much faster than it should have been.

I could still hear the men talking quietly in the other room, though I couldn’t make out everything they were saying.

I hadn’t gone into the bathroom to escape them.

I had gone in there to decide whether I was brave enough to walk back out and admit that I wanted exactly what they were offering.

Inside the bathroom, I tried to prepare myself for what I thought might happen.

I had never been with a Black man before. Now three Black men were waiting on the other side of the door, and all three had made their interest obvious. I still wasn’t certain whether they were only teasing me or whether they genuinely intended to take things further.

The thought frightened me a little.

It excited me much more.

I washed my hands, splashed cold water over my face, and studied my reflection. My cheeks were still flushed. I took several deep breaths, but they did little to calm my racing heart.

Nobody had forced me into that bathroom. Nobody was preventing me from leaving the office. If I opened the door and walked back to my cleaning cart, the night could continue as though nothing had happened.

But that wasn’t what I wanted.

I dried my face, took one last breath, and opened the door.

The bright overhead lights had been turned off. The only illumination came from the bathroom behind me and the city lights shining through the enormous glass windows.

Andre, Patrice, and Laurence stood naked in the middle of the office.

All three were facing me, their cocks hard in their hands.

I stopped in the doorway.

For several seconds, I couldn’t move or speak. I had never been with a Black man before, and now three naked Black men were waiting only a few feet away from me. The sight was more overwhelming—and more exciting—than anything I had imagined inside the bathroom.

I looked from one man to the next, taking in their different bodies. Andre was long and lean. Patrice was thick through the chest and stomach. Laurence towered between them, broad and powerful, his eyes fixed on me.

None of them approached.

The office door remained open behind them, leaving me a clear path back to the corridor.

Laurence slowly released his cock and held his hands at his sides.

“You understand what we want, Harry?”

I swallowed and nodded.

“I think so.”

“Thinking so isn’t enough,” he said. “You can walk out of here right now, and nobody will bother you about it. But if you stay, I need to hear you say that this is what you want.”

I looked at the open doorway. I could have walked past them, returned to my cart, and finished the night as though none of this had happened.

Instead, I stepped out of the bathroom.

“I want to stay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” I took another step toward them. “I want all three of you.”

Andre’s grin widened. Patrice stroked himself slowly, but both men remained where they were.

Laurence held my gaze.

“Then come here and be a good boy.”

This time, I didn’t hesitate.

I crossed the room and stopped in front of him. Then I pulled my shirt over my head, making it clear that I was ready to join them.

Andre gave a low whistle.

“So he really is smooth,” he said.

The nervous laughter that escaped me broke the last of the tension. I dropped my shirt onto a clean section of the floor and stood before them with my chest exposed.

Laurence placed his hands on my waist. His touch was controlled, giving me time to become comfortable with the weight of his hands against my body.

Patrice moved behind me and rested his hands lightly on my shoulders. His body was warm against my back, and when he kissed the side of my neck, a shiver traveled through me.

Andre noticed.

“Look at that,” he teased. “Patrice found his weak spot already.”

“Maybe one of them,” Patrice murmured near my ear.

Laurence smiled and drew me closer while Patrice helped me with the rest of my clothes. Nothing was hurried. They paused whenever I tensed, watching my face and waiting until I deliberately moved closer again.

By the time my clothes joined my shirt on the floor, I was no longer wondering whether the men had been serious.

More importantly, they no longer had to wonder whether I wanted them.

I had opened the door, crossed the room, and chosen this for myself.

I stood naked in the middle of them, my hands moving from one cock to the next, tracing the differences by touch. Laurence’s was the heaviest, a solid twelve-inch shaft so thick my fingers couldn’t meet around his girth. The weight of him in my palm felt overwhelming. Andre was uncut, the skin gathered at the tip, and when I gripped him the hood pulled back to reveal the slick head beneath—thinner than Laurence, but still heavier than any average white cock I’d ever held. Patrice’s curved to the left, a long arc of rigid flesh, nine or ten inches, thick enough to fill my whole hand.

For a few minutes, that was all I did—palming their lengths, stroking their shafts—while their hands swept over me. Fingers mapped my chest, trailed down my stomach, closed over my hips. A grip found my ass, kneading, pulling me off balance. They handled me the way I was handling them: freely, deliberately, without asking.

Patrice leaned in and kissed me. Not a hard kiss, not a demand. His lips pressed against mine with a slow insistence, and when I opened for him, his tongue slid inside, tasting me. He was the nicest of them, the patient one. That tenderness undid me completely.

I couldn’t resist. My knees buckled, and I dropped down in front of them.

Laurence pinched my lower lip between his thumb and finger, holding my mouth open. My hand stayed wrapped around the base of his cock.

“You’re a black cock sucker, aren’t you, white boy?”

I nodded against his grip.

“You’re going to suck our cocks dry and you’re gonna love it, aren’t you?”

I nodded again.

I dropped my gaze to his cock. I tilted it upward and dragged my tongue flat from the root, over the thick vein, all the way to the ridge of the crown. Andre and Patrice were just watching us, their hands moving lazily over their own lengths.

I licked him a few more times, tongue tracing the shape of his shaft, then stopped at the head. I flicked my tongue over the slit and tasted the first salt of his pre-cum.

I opened my mouth wide and took the head in. It stretched my lips, pressed heavy against my tongue. Laurence groaned above me.

Andre and Patrice moved closer, flanking me. I wrapped a hand around each of their cocks, stroking them in rhythm while Laurence gripped my head in both hands and drove his hips forward, fucking my mouth in deep, wet strokes.

He pulled back and slapped my cheek with the wet head of his cock.

I turned my head and took Andre into my mouth. His foreskin slid back against my tongue as I worked the head free. He swelled on my tongue, thicker and thicker in my mouth. I sucked him for minutes, my hands never stopping on Laurence and Patrice.

I shifted to Patrice. His cock was long and curved, the angle pressing deep into my cheek. I felt him twitch, tasted the first bitter warning of his cum. He pulled my head away with a sharp tug, his breath ragged, and guided me back to Laurence without a word.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by the three of them, their cocks bobbing in front of me. I took them in no particular order—mouth on one, hands on the others—until Andre and Patrice pressed the heads of their cocks together and tried to feed both into my mouth at once. I opened as wide as I could, but they didn't fit. My jaw ached at the stretch.

I kept moving between them, tasting salt and skin for minutes. Andre groaned loudest when I dropped my mouth to his balls, sucking each one in turn, then dragging my tongue up the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. I already knew what made each of them groan, what made their thighs tense.

That was when I saw the fourth guy push through the door and strip. His name was T-Bone. He crossed the room already stroking himself.

“Well well, what do we have here?” His voice was low, amused. “Can I join the party?”

Laurence answered without looking away from me. “You’re more than welcome to share our bitch.”

He grabbed my chin and turned my head toward T-Bone. T-Bone’s cock hung thick and half-hard, ten or eleven inches of dark vein and smooth skin, the head a deep purple. The darkest of the four. I reached out and touched it first—warm, heavy in my palm. I stroked him a few times, feeling him fill and stiffen at my touch. I leaned in and licked the tip. He let out a breath, a low moan. I licked down his shaft to his balls, then back up, slow, tasting the salt on his skin. He gripped the back of my head with one hand and guided the head of his cock to my lips with the other. It slipped inside me, the weight settling on my tongue. It filled my mouth just right. I worked him, hollowing my cheeks, feeling him pulse.

T-Bone loved it when I alternated—sucking his balls clean, then licking a wet line back to the crown. Pre-cum beaded on my tongue. I sucked him while my hands kept moving on Laurence, Andre, and Patrice. After a few minutes of that, I let his cock slide out and went back to the others, taking whoever was closest.

Then T-Bone’s hand slid between my cheeks. His finger pressed against my hole. I moaned into the cock in my mouth. He pulled his finger back and I knew what he wanted—I opened my lips, spat onto his finger, then went back to sucking. He pushed the wet digit into my ass, slow. One finger, then two, working them in and out, scissoring. By the time he added a third, my hips were pushing back against his hand. The whole time I stayed on the cocks in front of me, stroking, sucking, never stopping.

“I’ll get some lube,” T-Bone said. He left the room and came back with a pot of Vaseline. As an electrician, he had it to help pull cables through conduit. He flipped the lid, scooped a fingerful, and worked it into me while I dropped to all fours, presenting my ass to him. His fingers pushed deeper, knuckle-deep, twisting. I kept moving between Laurence, Andre, and Patrice—the taste of their cocks, the smell of their sweat and pre-cum, filled my head. I knew I would never forget it, the musk and the salt.

T-Bone was fixated on my ass. He worked me open with four fingers, stretching my rim, the Vaseline slick and warm. My little smooth hole yielded to him, ready for what came next.

Laurence was fucking my face with a steady rhythm, his cock thick and heavy on my tongue. I could tell he was getting off on it, the way his hips rocked forward, holding himself deep in my throat for an extra beat before pulling back.

When it was Andre’s turn, he pushed his balls against my lips. I took them into my mouth one at a time, sucking the heated skin where they hung from his body, licking along the crease. The taste of him was raw and salty, and I worked my tongue over every inch of him until he pulled away.

Patrice’s curved cock came next, the hook of it dragging along the back of my throat every time I swallowed him down. He leaked the most pre-cum, thick and opaque, oozing steadily from his slit. It coated my tongue, bitter and slick, and I couldn’t stop myself from swallowing every drop.

A shift in the weight behind me told me T-Bone was preparing. I felt a finger push deep into my ass, working me open. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw him with the jar open, his hand slicking Vaseline over his cock from the root to the flared crown. The wet sound of his palm sliding down that thick shaft made my thighs tremble.

I turned back and took Laurence deep into my mouth again, bracing myself on my elbows, waiting.

Patrice gripped my ass with both hands and pulled my cheeks apart, exposing me completely. I felt T-Bone step into the space Patrice opened for him. The head of his cock pressed against my hole, blunt and demanding. He nudged, searching for my entrance, and I felt the slick tip catch on the rim of my asshole.

He pushed. The ring of muscle stretched wide around the crown of his head, a sharp, burning pressure that spread deep into my abdomen. I felt him pass through the tightest part of me, felt my body open to take him.

He pulled back, just the head, then pressed forward again. He did this several times, working his cock in and out, stretching me open, making my ass accommodate his size. My breath was ragged around Laurence’s shaft.

He pulled out completely. I heard the sound of more Vaseline, his hand slicking his cock from the tip to the thick base, making sure every inch was coated.

When he pushed back into me, it was slow. The head popped past my opening, and then he kept pressing forward, inch by agonizing inch. I could feel every ridge and vein of him sliding into my body, stretching my insides to their limit. The sensation of being opened so wide, of having my ass claimed by something that thick, was exactly what I wanted.

He stopped when he was about halfway in. The girth of him inside me was overwhelming. He flexed his cock—a deep, deliberate pulse—and I felt the full length of him ripple inside my body. The feeling was so intense that my mouth went slack around Laurence’s dick. I just knelt there, panting, my entire awareness focused on the thick length of black cock buried deep inside my ass.

He started moving again, a slow, steady thrust that pushed him deeper. Each stroke went a little further until I felt the solid weight of his pelvis press flat against my cheeks. He was buried completely inside me. Eleven inches of him, filling me so fully I could feel the pressure of his cock deep in my stomach.

He pulled his entire length out of me in one long, slick slide. The sudden emptiness made me gasp.

Patrice’s fingers were instantly there, pushing into my ass, exploring the wide, gaping hole T-Bone had left. He worked two fingers into me, then three, stretching the loose rim of my asshole open even more.

They switched places. Patrice was behind me now, the head of his curved cock already slick with Vaseline. He didn’t hesitate. He guided his cock into my stretched entrance and pushed. The curve of his shaft slid along my inner wall, pressing against my prostate in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through my whole body.

He fucked me with long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. He liked to take his time, burying himself deep and holding there, letting me feel every inch of his curved cock dragging against my insides. While he fucked me, I sucked on whatever cock or balls were pushed into my face. Laurence’s thick shaft, Andre’s heavy balls—I opened my mouth and let them use it, tasting skin and pre-cum while Patrice worked himself deeper inside me.

Patrice kept that deep, grinding rhythm for a long time. I lost all sense of minutes. There was no thought left, only sensation: the taste of salt and sweat in my mouth, the weight of Patrice’s curved dick dragging over my prostate again and again, the wet sounds of our bodies moving together, the heat of four men surrounding me, using my body, filling every hollow part of me.

Finally, Patrice slowed. He stopped. He pulled his cock out of me slowly, the head dragging against the sensitive rim of my ass before slipping free.

Andre lowered himself onto his back on the carpet, slicking his cock with Vaseline from his palm. He looked up at me and said, “Sit on it.”

I didn’t hesitate. I got to my feet and swung one leg over him, turning my back to his face. His hands came up and grabbed my cheeks, pulling them apart. His finger pressed into my hole, slicking more Vaseline around the rim and then pushing inside, working it deep into me.

I felt the head of his cock nudge against my opening. I guided it into place and began to sink down. His cock spread me open slowly, inch by inch, every ridge and vein dragging against my inner walls. The angle let me use my full weight, and I pushed down until I was sitting fully on his pelvis, his cock buried completely inside me.

The other three moved closer, their cocks hard and waiting. I leaned forward and took Laurence into my mouth while my hands closed around Patrice and T-Bone. I sank down again, rolling my hips, riding Andre’s thick black cock in a steady rhythm while I worked my mouth and hands on the others.

That was when I came for the first time. Hands-free. The orgasm caught me off guard, my body clenching hard around Andre’s shaft, my mouth going slack for a second as I shuddered through it. I could feel him pulsing deep inside me. I stopped moving, panting, trying to catch my breath.

Laurence must have noticed. He asked if I was okay.

I told him I wasn’t done yet.

I started riding again, pushing myself down onto Andre’s cock, feeling it fill me completely. I was back on Laurence’s dick, pulling him deep, tasting the salt of him. My hands found the others, my mouth moving to their balls, sucking and kissing the heavy skin, working my tongue over them while I stroked their shafts. I was taking all of it: the smell of their skin, the sight of their bodies surrounding me, the sounds of their breath and the slap of my ass against Andre’s thighs—every sensation I could get, I let myself drown in it.

Laurence pulled me up, cutting off whatever I was doing. “Now it’s my time.” He guided me onto the carpet, back on my hands and knees.

His cock was the heaviest of the four, visibly thicker than the rest. He grabbed the Vaseline and slicked his shaft thickly with it, then his fingers found my hole and pushed in, spreading the jelly around the rim and deep inside me. I stayed there on all fours, my face to the floor, my white ass raised. The other three stood around us, watching me being opened up by Laurence’s thick fingers.

He pulled out and I felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against my hole. Gentle. He knew what he had. The others watched, silent, probably wondering if I could take it.

He pushed. The head was too wide. It wouldn’t slip past.

I dropped my chest to the floor, spreading my legs wider, arching my back to give him more room. He understood. He climbed over me and used his weight, bearing down. The head pushed past the tight ring of muscle and lodged itself deep inside me. He held still for a long moment while I adjusted to the girth of him. Then he forced a little more and I felt his cock sliding deeper inside me.

The burn was deep and immediate, mixing with a rising pleasure.

“Don’t stop.”

He pushed deeper. The thick length of him fed into me inch by slow inch, spreading me open wider than anything had so far. When he was more than halfway in I could feel the pressure of him against the deepest part of my gut. There wasn’t room for any more, but he kept going until I was packed full of him.

Laurence began to move, sliding in and out. I reached down and grabbed my own dick, stroking in time with his thrusts. The friction of him fucking me made me moan. He heard it and drove into me harder, faster.

I came for the second time. He didn’t stop. The others stroked themselves, watching.

I was spent but I wasn’t done. I wanted more black cocks. I started pushing back against him, rocking my hips, working him deeper. He grabbed my cheeks and fucked me with longer, harder strokes, until he pulled out completely.

“Suck it,” he said. “I’m coming.”

I turned and got onto my knees. He stepped forward and put his cock into my mouth. I curled my tongue around the head and began to suck. He held my head in both hands, keeping me in place as he came. I felt his cum hit my tongue, spurt after spurt, flooding my mouth. It ran down my throat and leaked from the sides of my lips.

I loved the feel of his cum flooding my tongue, the weight of him pulsing between my lips. I swallowed what I could, and when he was finished I kept my mouth on him, sucking the last traces of him clean.

Andre, Patrice, and T-Bone closed in around me again, their cocks at my lips. I started sucking. I took them in my mouth one after the other, licking, stroking, kissing—working each shaft with my tongue and lips until I had their taste on my breath.

Patrice came first. His cock, long and curved, sank deep into my mouth. He warned me, pulled out, and I opened my mouth, looking up at him. He came across my tongue and my face. I swallowed the fresh cum, then took his cock back in my mouth, drawing it deep into my throat for one last suck before releasing him.

I turned my attention to Andre’s cock, my mouth around him while I stroked T-Bone with my hand. Andre loved when I sucked his balls. I lowered my mouth to his sac, licking and sucking the soft skin while he stroked himself.

“I’m coming,” he said. “Do you want it in your mouth?”

I opened my mouth. He unloaded thick ropes of hot cum onto my tongue. I swallowed it all, then finished him by sucking and kissing his balls again.

Now it was T-Bone’s turn. Just me and his cock. The other three men watched. I paused, letting myself take it in. I wanted to remember this moment. I looked at his cock—dark, veined, nearly eleven inches long, beautiful. I touched the head with one hand, massaged his balls with the other. He liked that. I kissed his balls, then licked from the base of his shaft all the way up to the tip. The smell was unique—musky, thick, unmistakably his.

I licked a few more times, then took the head into my mouth. He moaned, grabbed my head with both hands, and started fucking my mouth. I felt his cock pressing almost to my throat. Then he slowed down, enjoying the rhythm, fucking my mouth in slow motion. He kept that pace for a long minute, then picked up speed. I reached for his cock, but he pushed my hands away. I understood. He wanted only his cock and my mouth. I put my hands behind my back and let him fuck my mouth—pounding the walls, nudging my throat.

He was moaning, moving faster. I felt the first hot spurt of his cum inside my mouth. He kept fucking me while he came, his body shaking with spasms. His cum flooded my mouth; I swallowed as it ran down my throat. He didn’t stop until his cock was empty. Then he kept moving slowly, in and out, enjoying my mouth full of his cum. I circled the head with my tongue. He trembled. Cum dripped from my chin. He kept his cock inside me until it was half‑erect.

Finally he pulled out and released my head.

I was in ecstasy. I looked at him, licked my lips, and swallowed the last of his cum. I wiped the sperm from my face with my hands, smearing it across my chest, then licked my fingers clean.

I relaxed and tumbled onto the floor. I was full of joy. My ass had been fucked and stretched by four big black cocks. My skin was covered in drying cum. I had come twice while being fucked by four different men. My mouth still held the bitter taste of their sperm. What else could I dream of?

They surrounded me again. Laurence said, “That was good. Did you enjoy it?”

I looked at him and smiled. “I can’t complain.”

They left the room and started packing their stuff.

I remained on the floor for half an hour, recovering. Remembering their smell, their taste, the feeling of their cocks stretching and pounding my ass, their cum flooding my mouth.

I was completely satisfied, but I already wanted more.

Wanting more big black cocks.

The End.