The Craving Ch. 01

Roland shuffled into a more comfortable position on his knees, like a penitent man before his Idol, licked his lips and bent forward from the waist with his mouth agape, drooling expectantly over the visibly trembling cock-head. He took the shaft in one hand, the smooth swollen sacs in the other, and placed his lips lovingly on the moist tip in a tender embrace, wanting to let the stranger know how much he was looking forward to gobbling him up. A deep groan droned on as Roland squeezed the hot balls, changing up in tone when he churned them in the palm of his hand, slid his other hand down the shaft, and took the meaty head between his lips.

The big man grunted and jerked his hips forward, catching Roland unawares and stuffing his mouth too full, too soon, gagging him slightly. Roland gathered more spittle under his tongue and expertly rolled it up over the horny beast, easing it past his uvula with a minimal retching heave as his throat tried to refuse the order given by his lust-filled mind. A long sigh susserated in the musk-thick air around them and the black man pushed gently into the soft, wet hole provided for his pleasure, which Roland was more than happy to give to him. He almost purred in the back of his throat where the massive head was lodged, trying to slide further inside but needing more lubrication and a better angle for a successful adventure. Roland rolled his tongue round again and gathered more saliva, slickening the thick shaft further and bending his head back slightly to improve the angle for deeper penetration. For a few moments, it seemed to work but an over-vigorous thrust took it too far and abruptly choked off Roland's air supply, making him gag violently. Spittle foamed from the corners of his mouth and sprayed from his nose, flecking the wall around the hole and dripping from his chin. He drew back and plunged on rapidly, trying to force it down but only serving to make him retch more violently and almost vomit over the rampant tool.

Fortunately, Roland regained control in time to prevent his gorge rising further than the back of his throat and he took several deep breaths to ensure all would be well for him to continue. The engorged shaft twitched impatiently and a long groan resounded in Roland's ear as his tongue began to lap over the plump sacs once more, flipping one after the other into his mouth, smothering each succulent morsel with a loving balm before letting them hang loose, dangling pendulously beneath the shaft which swelled proudly in the face of such worship. He gripped the tumescent rod in both hands and fed upon the head like a humming bird seeking the sweet nectar buried deep down inside. A pungent heat, redolent with musk and cologne, swathed Roland's face; sweat dripped from his brow and rolled onto the gleaming black flesh, trickling down in a vain attempt to cool the masculine ardour.

A coarse, gasping cry bounced off the wall and Roland swallowed hard on another inch of hot flesh that almost burned his busy tongue. The black beast raged on inside the moist mouth which held it within a passionate embrace, promising a deep, dark pleasure. Roland moaned noisily and slobbered on the fat nob with lewd intent, eager for more of the creamy juices which seeped onto his tongue in a steady flow. Both hands stroked the rampant length, pulling it rhythmically deeper, matching each thrust of the hips with a carefully tempered squeeze which maintained the virility of the cock without bringing it precipitately to a climax that both yearned for but neither desired - yet. Each man was quite prepared to wait for the ultimate prize which bubbled just beneath the surface; a pungent, boiling magma; scalding hot and salty! The very thought of such sweet release gave added urgency to the black beasts rhythm and it pumped harder into Roland's mouth, bringing a choked cry of pleasure to his dripping lips.

On they went, back and forth, pushing and pulling, sucking and stroking until the hugely swollen scrotum oozed a thicker stream of precum onto Roland's flicking tongue. He moaned louder at every hot drop falling onto his tongue and down his throat with a practised flick. 'O, come, sweet essence', he thought and took the pumping nob in his mouth and sucked hard on the seeping slit, wiggling the tip of his tongue in the sticky discharge to loud groans of approval. He was close.

Roland could feel his own lust respond with increasing ardour, throbbing hot and hard between his spread thighs. He longed to take his cock in hand and stroke himself but dared not break the rhythm of his hands on the big black shaft, bursting with goodness into his mouth. His modest erection tingled pleasantly and he knew he would reach a climax sooner rather than later, and hoped he could make the big black beast cum at the same time.

The man's enormous scrotum bulged dangerously behind the steel ring enclosing his lusty length and another tremor rippled along the rugged shaft, promising an eruption unlike any seen by Roland before. A viscous flow of creamy juice flowed faster from the distended slit, coating Roland's tongue in salty sweetness. It increased in speed and consistency as he stroked the pumping tool faster, harder, squeezing just behind the virile head where more juice poured as though eager to seek pastures new.

Roland provided every drop with a warm, loving environment and nurtured the source into giving up more nourishment by rolling the full, ovoid nuts in his soft hands, stroking and squeezing expertly to make them yield more seed. The huge, horny helmet blushed deeply and a snow white plume bloomed at the very tip, spread its creamy petals wide and, like a dandelion clock blown upon the breeze, drizzled down towards Roland's waiting tongue. His hot breath wafted upwards and enveloped the dark, tender meat in a loving cloud that rained salty drops on the fertile plain of his cheeks and he swallowed convulsively as the creamy fountain began to discharge a cornucopia of cum over his face, onto his tongue and into his mouth where it slid down his throat with an exquisite lack of haste.

It seemed that an internal tap had been switched on as the virile phallus pulsed under the pressure, jerking a regular flow of juicy spunk onto Roland's face, streaking his rapt expression with fresh adoration and adorning him like some crazy birthday cake. He'd never witnessed such a masculine display of sexual power and control, and it brought his own orgasm to the boil, triggering a spontaneous combustion of fresh spunk from his more modest balls. He caught a little of the juice and rubbed it into the beating black meat until the shaft gleamed like the well oiled mahogany clock in his study where he often sat and secretly fantasised of moments such as this. Another burst fell into his open mouth and fed him more spunk than he'd ever seen in his whole life.

While most men had a palliative of choice to ease their burden; be it drink or opium or any number of pharmaceutical drugs, Roland knew that this was the only substance he could ever get addicted to. 'If this man ejaculated opium,' he thought, 'I'd surely overdose on such a quantity!' He grinned, losing a thin stream of spunk from the corner of his mouth in the process. He groaned, cursing himself silently for such a lapse of concentration, closing his mouth a little around the spurting slit to ensure he wasted none of this prime quality cum-shot.

Hot spunk bubbled merrily from the bloated balls in an increasing torrent, blessing Roland with more than he could hope to eat – but not for the want of trying. He gargled on a mouthful of creamy goodness in trying to swallow with his mouth open and enabling the juicy flow to run unhindered down his throat, lost a little more through an involuntary reflex where his lips closed in gulping the saucy stuff down, and quickly opened his lips again to catch the next gushing burst, licking his lips while taking the fresh load deftly on his tongue, and flicking it back down his throat. A thick white flash burst quickly behind that, splashing his face, his hair, followed by another which left him gasping in awe at the sheer quantity – and quality – of the seed being sown on such fallow ground. It really ought to have been spread within the red-hot fire of a woman's passion, bringing pleasure and the promise of new life within the lusty gush of scalding, white hot, spunk. Each new surge was announced by a lewd grunt or an obscene groan, giving Roland plenty of time to adjust the angle of his head and ensure much of the delicious bounty fell upon his face and into his mouth. There was, however, so much it was impossible to contain it all in so narrow a focus and the front of his shirt soon became drenched in sticky streaks, soaking through to his skin beneath.

Roland hadn't planned to visit the sauna tonight but was now left with no other choice. He would have to spend time there to avoid awkward questions at home while his clothes were discreetly cleaned by a private service, leaving him free to enjoy more male company. He wondered if he dare ask this ebony man-mountain to join him there – his spunk was the tastiest Roland had ever had the pleasure, and privilege, of tasting.

A deep, drawn out groan told of approaching closure and he watched the last drop hang in suspense, swinging to and fro under the weight of expectation beneath and the pressure of satisfaction behind, falling gently on Roland's tongue-tip with a gentle 'plop'.

Another one done, the night was young, and the craving was as strong as ever.