Sam Visits a Truck Stop
By Whiteboiwife.
He remembered the last time like a pulse behind his eyes: their strong hands, the way they made him feel small and filthy and treasured all at once. Two men–tall, broad, Black, and confident–who had dragged him into the shadows and given him the best night of his life.
Now he was back.
Same ratty hoodie, same trembling anticipation. He glanced down the alley. Empty. No sign of them. His stomach twisted with disappointment, but part of him still hoped. Maybe if he waited. Maybe if he looked the way he had that night–nervous, needy, aching–they might appear again.
He stepped in.
He took a few hesitant steps into the alley, shoes crunching softly on broken glass. The air smelled like old oil, piss, and something sweet and rotten. Trash was piled along the walls–black bags split open, soggy cardboard, bits of broken wood leaning like jagged bones. A pair of battered dumpsters loomed ahead, their rusted sides slick with something unidentifiable.
“Hello?” he called out, voice barely louder than a whisper. It bounced back to him, empty and flat.
Nothing.
Sam lingered anyway, wrapping his arms around himself against the chill. The city kept moving somewhere far behind him, but this alley felt forgotten–like time pooled here in dirty puddles and left you waiting. Hoping.
He shifted from foot to foot, glanced toward the street, then back into the gloom. Maybe they weren’t coming. Maybe it was stupid to think they would.
But he stayed.
Minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. Maybe more. His thighs were starting to ache from standing, his breath clouded faintly in the air, and still–nothing.
He sighed and leaned against the wall, the brick cool against his back. His skin prickled with a strange mixture of regret and defiance. He wanted to leave.
But he wanted them more.
His online fantasies had become real and once wasn’t enough.
It took him weeks for his body to heal from the rough fucking the pair had given him but as the wounds heals and his body became wall again so did the growing sensation of more black dick.
Instinctively his tiny three inch hard dick pulsed in his pants at the mere idea.
After two hours–of pacing, waiting, listening to every distant footstep with his heart in his throat–there was still nothing.
No voices.
No shadows.
No strong hands pulling him into darkness.
Just the cold. Just the stink. Just disappointment tightening in his chest like a fist.
Sam finally gave up.
He sighed, rubbed his arms, and trudged back to his car, the high from his memory now dull and heavy inside him. The street was even emptier than before. He unlocked the door, slid into the seat, and shut the world out with a soft click.
For a moment, he just sat there. Staring at the wheel. Wishing the night had gone differently. Wishing they had come back for him.
He turned the key. The engine rumbled to life. Headlights lit the alley’s entrance, making it look even more desolate.
He didn’t drive away right away.
One more glance. One more second.
But nothing moved. No miracles.
With a quiet breath through his nose, he pulled out, tires crunching the curb as he turned down the street. Home was thirty minutes away, but it felt like a lifetime from what he wanted.
The city lights blurred past his windows, neon smears in the darkness as Sam drove. One hand on the wheel, the other resting in his lap, fingers twitching with nerves he couldn’t shake.
His mind drifted–inevitably–back to that night.
It had been dangerous. Stupid, even. He didn’t know their names. Had barely seen their faces. He remembered one had a gold tooth that flashed when he smiled. The other had hands so big they wrapped completely around Sam’s hips when he was bent over.
He had been scared.
Not just nervous–scared.
Heart hammering, knees shaking, part of him certain he was in over his head. Two big strangers in a shadowed alley, pulling him close, murmuring filthy promises in deep, amused voices.
He tried to run but…
The way they touched him–rough but sure, mouths hot against his neck, bodies pressing him against the wall like they owned him. His own gasps and screams had echoed off the bricks. The sound of his skin slapping against theirs, the way his legs had trembled after–he could feel it still.
Sam could feel his pathetic dick pressing against the fabric of his pants. With two fingers he reached inside and tugged at the shriveled bump of skin.
How many times had her jerked off after being raped by those men? He’d lost count.
He’d told whiteboywife, on Twitter friend about it afterward, too. That long, fevered message at 3 a.m., fingers flying over his keyboard while he was still leaking, bleeding, still aching.
The online stranger just laughed. Of course he did. No one did anything but laugh at him. What else could they do? With his frail body and tiny dick he wasn’t good for much else.
A dull ache bloomed in his lower belly–familiar, urgent. At first he thought he was about to cum but then he realized he had to piss.
He almost laughed to himself. At this point his cum was so watered down it might as well have been piss.
“Shit,” Sam muttered, shifting in his seat. He hadn’t noticed it while he was standing there, adrenaline buzzing, mind elsewhere. But now, halfway home and finally coming down, he realized just how badly he needed to piss.
He spotted a faded blue rest stop sign and veered off the highway, tires crunching over gravel as he pulled into a nearly deserted lot.
The clock on Sam’s dashboard glowed 12:32 a.m.
Half an hour past midnight. The highway behind him was quiet now, the occasional pair of headlights gliding by like ghosts on black water.
He pulled into the lot of the rest stop, tires crunching over loose gravel and potholes edged in oily puddles. The building ahead was squat and ugly, all concrete block and faded paint, with a warped tin awning barely hanging on. One buzzing overhead light swung gently in the wind, casting long, stuttering shadows.
It looked like the kind of place that hadn’t been properly cleaned in years.
There were two other cars–old, beat-up things with dark windows–and three long semi trucks parked further off, engines silent, sleeping drivers likely dozing inside the cabs. One of the trucks had graffiti scrawled across its trailer. Another had a flat tire and looked abandoned.
A vending machine blinked red out front, though half its buttons were cracked or missing. A faded “MEN” sign pointed to the left side of the building, the letters nearly rubbed away.
Sam cut the engine. The night was cold and quiet. The only sound was the wind and the distant hum of highway traffic, miles off now.
He sat there a moment longer, then stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching under his sneakers. The air smelled like diesel, grease, and wet asphalt. Somewhere nearby, something was leaking–a steady drip, drip, drip into a puddle that shimmered faintly in the sickly light.
The place reeked of neglect. But something about it made Sam’s pulse tick up again.
There was something raw about a place like this.
Something that made the world feel looser.
Dirtier.
Open to possibility.
Sam pushed open the creaky metal door and stepped inside. The smell hit him immediately–stale urine, mold, and something sharp and sour that made his nose wrinkle. The flickering fluorescent light above cast uneven shadows across cracked tile walls and a floor sticky with grime.
He glanced toward the row of urinals. One was chipped and stained; the other looked as though it hadn’t been flushed in days.
He hesitated. He knew his dick wouldn’t reach far enough past his pants to piss. It was a common situation.
Instead, he moved to the stalls–hoping for a break in luck.
He reached the first stall door and tried the handle. Locked.
A sigh escaped him.
With no other choice, he shuffled toward the next one, pulled the door shut behind him, and locked it with a shaky click. The thin walls echoed with every small sound.
He dropped his pants and sat down, the cold plastic seat sending a shock through his skin.
Finally, relief.
As he let go, his mind spun back to the alley–the rough hands, the sharp breaths, the way his body had been both terrified and electrified all at once.
Even here, in the grimy silence of this neglected rest stop bathroom, he could feel the heat stirring again, a flicker of something that wouldn’t be quieted so easily.
As Sam sat there, letting the tension ease from his body, the scrape of the outer door echoed sharply through the small bathroom.
Footsteps–heavy, deliberate–approached.
The fluorescent light flickered more violently, casting brief shadows that danced across the cracked tiles.
Sam froze, heart kicking up a notch.
Then a deep, rough voice rumbled from the next room, low and angry.
“You think I’m fucking around?” the man growled, voice sharp and slow like every word was a threat.
Sam couldn’t see him, but he could hear the impatience–the simmering rage–clear as day.
“No, I told you, the shipment’s late. I don’t care what excuses you got, you get it here. Or I’m done.”
The man’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “You want to play games with my money? I’ll find you. And it won’t be pretty.”
Sam swallowed hard, eyes darting around the cramped stall.
Drugs.
This wasn’t just some random trucker. This was trouble. Real trouble.
The footsteps stopped near the sinks, and Sam heard the man slam the phone shut.
Heavy breathing.
The sound of a belt snapping open.
Sam’s pulse hammered in his ears.
He sat frozen, hoping the man wouldn’t turn toward the stalls.
Sam instinctively lifted his legs, tucking them close to his chest on the cold plastic seat, trying to make himself as small–and invisible–as possible inside the cramped stall.
His breath hitched, every muscle tight with fear.
From just outside, the man’s voice exploded again, louder and rougher than before.
“You better have that shit tonight, or I swear–” His words dragged slow, heavy with menace. “I’ll burn every fucking deal you’ve got. You think I’m bluffing? I don’t play.”
Sam’s heart slammed in his chest.
The man’s footsteps paced the bathroom floor, heavy and unpredictable.
“Listen, I’m not waiting around. You screw me over again, and I’ll fucking kill you! I don’t play around with white boys!”
The belt snapped open with a harsh clang, the sound cutting through the tense silence.
Sam’s pulse thundered, but he stayed perfectly still, hoping the man wouldn’t even notice the slight movement from the stall.
Suddenly, Sam felt his balance shift–a quick, terrifying tumble forward–and before he could stop it, his body lurched out of the stall, the door swinging wide with a loud slam.
His heart leapt into his throat as he failed about on the floor.
His eyes snapped up–and locked on the man standing just a few feet away.
The man was black, with a strong, firm jawline softened by a hint of scruff. His hair was pulled back tight in neat cornrows, slick against his scalp.
He was muscular–solid and powerful, but not overly bulky. His open button-down shirt hung loose, revealing firm abs flecked with light body hair.
His sagging basketball shorts sat low, exposing the waistband of black boxer briefs beneath.
The man’s dark eyes narrowed, studying Sam with a slow, assessing intensity.
Sam’s breath caught, caught between fear and something else–something raw and electric that zipped straight through his nerves.
His eyes couldn’t help but drift over the man standing above him–taking in the firm jawline, the way the scruff framed that strong face, the tight muscles visible beneath the open shirt.
There was something magnetic about him, something raw and powerful that made Sam’s chest tighten for reasons beyond fear.
His breath hitched, a flush creeping up his neck.
He swallowed hard, trying to focus, but every word from the man’s rough voice sent a strange pulse through his body–part warning, part invitation.
He wondered if he could get to his feet and out the door before the man grabbed him. He knew there was no chance of that.
His heart beat faster, caught somewhere between dread and desire.
For a heartbeat, the room was heavy with silence.
Same refused to move from the floor. The ground reeked of piss and dirt but he wasn’t about to move.
Then the man spoke–his voice low, controlled, but carrying the edge of danger.
The man’s eyes darkened as he stepped closer, voice rising like thunder.
“Were you listening?” he demanded, harsh and loud, the words cutting through the thick air.
Sam’s heart hammered so hard he thought it might burst.
His voice trembled as he stammered, “N-no, I didn’t– I didn’t hear anything. I swear.” Sam’s voice was lost.
The man loomed over him, jaw tight, nostrils flaring. His breathing was heavy, each word sharp and dangerous.
“You better be telling the truth, kid,” he barked, inches from Sam’s face. “Because if you’re lying…”
Sam’s eyes flicked frantically, searching for a way out, his mind racing.
He swallowed hard, barely able to meet the man’s gaze.
“I’m sorry. I just–I was just here to use the bathroom. I don’t want any trouble.”
The man’s glare held for a long, tense moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back, folding his arms.
“Get the fuck up, whiteboy!” The man said with a groan.
Sam scrambled to his knees, fumbling awkwardly, unable to bring himself fully to his feet.
The man’s dark eyes bore into Sam’s, fierce and burning with anger at first–like he was ready to snap at any moment.
But slowly, almost imperceptibly, the rage began to soften.
The sharp crease of his brow eased.
His lips twitched, curling into the faintest hint of a smile–a slow, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but held something dangerous and teasing all at once.
What was going on? Sam was afraid to move.
That was when he realized how cold his lower body was.
His breath gave way as he realized his pants were still around his knees. He’d never pulled them up when he fell of the toilet!
“What the fuck is that?” The dark-skinned man said. The tone of his voice had shifted from anger to the hint of a laugh.
Sam quickly scrambled awkwardly to his feet.
“I’m sorry… I thought… I… I fell…” Sam’s voice cracked as he reached for his pants. He could already feel his tiny inch pin dick starting to harden.
“Whiteboy!” The man shouted. His voice bounced off the pale tile walls engulfing him, “I didn’t tell you to put your pants back on, did I?”
Sam hesitated, not sure what to do. Looking into the man’s dark eyes, he let out a small whimper. For a moment longer, he hesitated before letting his pants fall back to the grungy floor.
“Are you getting hard, faggot?” he asked, grinning now, eyes gleaming with something new. Not rage anymore. Amusement.
Sam’s face burned, deep red crawling up his neck and cheeks.
He reached down instinctively to pull his pants up again, but very quickly the man’s eyes turned from humor to anger, and Sam froze.
“I know white boys are small but damn!” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching. “How small are you?”
Sam couldn’t speak. His heart was racing, his body caught somewhere between fear and humiliation–and that flicker of heat in his belly that wouldn’t die.
“I asked how small you are, Bitch!” The man shouted.
“Three inches hard, Sir.” Sam felt his entire body wince at the sound of the man’s demanding voice.
The man laughed again, low and rough, full of disbelief and something like pleasure.
“Don’t move.” The dark-skinned man shifted his weight and positioned his phone toward the man. His fingers moved with practiced ease as he brought up the camera.
Sam’s eyes widened instantly, panic surging in his chest.
“No–wait, please don’t–” he stammered, his voice cracking. Quickly he covered his hardened dick, “Please, don’t!”
But the man’s expression had already changed.
Gone was the laughter. The smile faded like a switch flipped. His jaw clenched, and his eyes went hard again–burning with that earlier fury.
“I said don’t move!” he growled, stepping closer, “Remove the hands, NOW!”
Sam flinched, every muscle going still. His knees ached on the cold tile, pants still tangled around them. With a whine he removed his hands from his dick. He’d taken plenty of humiliating pictures of his baby dick under his Twitter name, SmelborpA but never with his face!
The phone clicked.
A quick, sharp shutter sound that echoed too loudly in the tiled bathroom.
He did it again. Another angle. Deliberate.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, breath trembling, shame and heat crawling across his skin in equal measure.
The man said nothing for a moment. Just looked at him. Like he was still deciding what to do next.
Sam stayed frozen on the floor, legs stiff, body burning with shame. His breath came shallow, chest tight, eyes fixed on the man’s phone as it disappeared back into his pocket.
He couldn’t stop the spiral in his mind.
What if he posts them?
What if someone recognizes me?
What if they end up online–some porn site, or worse, sent to people I know?
His mouth was dry. The fear of being exposed–of having this moment, this humiliating, vulnerable image turned into something permanent–gnawed at his gut.
Everything about the encounter had gone sideways. He had wanted a thrill. He’d chased danger. But now? This was real. Tangible. A photo that didn’t care about his intentions.
The man was still standing over him, quiet now, his expression unreadable.
Sam looked up, voice small, cracking:
“What are you gonna do with them?”
The man didn’t answer at first. He just looked down at Sam, lips curling into something unreadable–half smile, half sneer.
Then he shrugged.
“That’s my business,” he said coolly, tapping his pocket where the phone now rested. “Maybe I’ll post them. Maybe I’ll share ’em with a few friends.”
He tilted his head, watching Sam squirm.
“Maybe I’ll delete ’em. Who knows?”
Sam’s chest tightened. He shook his head quickly, voice rising, cracking.
“No–no, you can’t do that. Please, I didn’t do anything wrong. Just–just don’t. Please.”
Something snapped. The man’s smile vanished.
He stepped forward hard, his footfall echoing like a gunshot in the tight room.
“Don’t tell me what the fuck I can or can’t do.”
His voice was a growl now, low and coiled with fury.
“You think you’re in control here, whiteboy?”
He jabbed a finger toward Sam’s chest, not touching, but close–close enough.
“You showed up half-naked in some piss-stained bathroom in the middle of nowhere, crawling out of a stall like a little white bitch with a shrimp dick, hard by the way–and I’m the problem?”
Sam flinched but couldn’t look away. His throat worked around a breath he couldn’t quite take in.
Without warning, the man’s hand snapped out.
CRACK.
His palm struck Sam hard across the cheek, the sound sharp and brutal in the confined space.
Sam’s head whipped to the side as his body tumbled backward, the cold tile stinging against his back as he slammed into the stall door, which banged open behind him.
A hot flush of pain bloomed across his face–shock, fear, and something darker flooding his chest in a dizzying rush.
His ears rang. His breath came fast and shallow.
Run.
The thought screamed through his mind, raw and immediate. He could scramble to his feet, bolt for the door, risk the night and whatever lay beyond that dim truck stop parking lot.
But he stayed frozen, limbs trembling, every muscle caught between flight and collapse.
The man stood over him, towering, chest heaving. His hand still hung loose at his side–relaxed now, like the slap had drained something out of him.
The man stared down at him, his jaw tight, chest rising and falling with slow, dangerous breaths.
Then he spoke, voice low but sharp as glass.
“Get the fuck on the ground, bitch!”
Sam was stunned. He felt his body back up towards the stall. His tiny pin dick shivered as he moved.
The man held the silence a moment longer, like he was letting the weight of the threat settle in.
“Did you not fucking here me, faggot?” The man said in an almost whisper, “I said get on the ground before I fucking KILL you!”
Sam let out a small cry and he lowered himself to his knees.
“Please,” Sam whined, “Please don’t hurt me!”
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with you, whiteboy!”
Sam watched in horror as the large black man’s knee collided with his balls. The white man let out a loud bellowing groan, and his head fell back. This couldn’t be happening! Not again!
“Aren’t you a complete and utter worthless piece of shit? It’s unbelievable that you’re pleading with me! Men, real men don’t beg, bitch boy!” He stared down at Sam, “But I knew that you weren’t a real man from the second I looked at that tiny little white dick you’ve got.”
The white scrambled back, pressing his spine to the cold door of the stall he’d just been in.
“You want to see a real man, faggot?” The man asked. His voice sickening and firm.
Sam let his ears perk up at his words, but didn’t dare respond. He watched as the taller, more masculine man grabbed at the massive bulge hidden behind the fabric of his shorts, giving it a squeeze.
“That’s what I though, whiteboy. This is the cock of a REAL man!” In one quick move, he dropped the thin fabric of the basketball shorts to the tiled floor.
Sam’s breath disappeared.
The sight of the pulsing beast hanging in front of him made Sam gasp. In seconds, the faggot had scanned the entire shaft with my eyes, and it seemed to go on forever. The man’s enormous cock head was almost as big as Sam’s kneecaps.
The black man gripped his cock at the base with his right hand. He loudly slapped his sensitive shaft against his thighs as he swung it from side to side. “Do you still think you’re a real man, loser?” He questioned, chuckling to himself a little.
Sam never thought he was a real man. As far back as he could remember, he knew he had a useless manhood and, worse yet, wanted the real ones in whatever hole he could get them into.
“I…I…” There was nothing Sam could say. All he could think about was how this man managed to grow a cock that big while he was stuck with a three incher.
“Speechless? Yes, my horse cock affects white losers that way!”
Sam was unable to even focus on what he was saying. He simply watched the black shaft bounce through the air, transfixed.
“Ho… How… big is it?” Sam finally muttered.
“It is roughly ten inches soft. But just wait when this monster gets hard. If I’m horny enough, I can get it up to 14 inches!” He grinned abruptly, as though a brilliant thought had just occurred to him. “Why don’t I get this beast hard so you can really be impressed?”
“Wh… what?” Sam choked on his words.
He began to rapidly jerk off his flaccid dick, as Sam watched in wonder. It seemed as though the plump, supple dark meat had a consciousness of its own and wriggled in the man’s palms.
His cock began to swell directly in front of Sam’s face, and he stared, still on my knees.
It grew thicker and longer the harder he jerked it. His already enormous cock was growing by the inch. A few moments later, Sam saw that the black man’s fingers were no longer even touching. The man’s enormous hands were unable to fully grasp his monstrous cock.
He abruptly took his hands off his cock so the white man could see the monster in all its glory. Sam stared blankly at the 14-inch horse cock in front of him, his jaw dropping. The pulsing shaft was dotted with large, bulging veins.
“I…It’s unbelievable.” Even the two men in the alley didn’t look like this. This was the largest cock Sam had ever seen in real life.
“You’ll really think it’s impressive once you feel it for yourself.”
“Oh…” Suddenly, Sam’s blood ran cold, “I… Sir… I don’t think I can handle that.”
“Grab it, faggot.” The black man hissed.
Sam wanted this. He wanted it BAD! But he was afraid of this man, and afraid of the monster staring directly back at him. Suddenly, he didn’t know what he was doing! Why did he go back to that alley? Why was he here? Oh, fuck!
At last, Sam reached up and closed his tiny hand around the shaft, applying a firm squeeze to his massive manhood. When he grabbed his dick, Sam’s fingers were even more spaced apart than the black man’s. He couldn’t decide between the girth, which was as thick as his wrist, and the horse-sized length as the most remarkable form of measure!
Instinctively, Sam ran his hand over the length that seemed to reach on forever.
“How can anyone ever fit this thing inside of them?” Sam said allowed, the thoughts he’d meant to keep inside. Still, his hand moved over the enlarged manhood.
“It finds a way.” With a witty smile, the dark man said. “The better question is: how will you find a way to make it fit?”
“I can’t.” Sam said with an uncomfortable laugh, “It’s one thing to admire and touch, but this beast can’t…”
It was too late. The words had already been said. In a blinding fury, the man’s show collided with Sam’s nuts again, and the pale-skinned bag fell back. This time, there was no stopping. Impact after impact of the man’s show against his crotch forced tears from Sam’s eyes.
“The fuck did you say, faggot?” The black men shouted. His voice ran off the tiled walls as Sam’s body slid further and desperately back towards the urinals on the wall.
“Fuck! I’m sorry! Sir, I’m sorry!” Sam cried out as he felt his balls caving in. he desperately tried to reach for the man’s foot, but he couldn’t fight back. There was no way. “What do you want me to do!” He screamed.
With that, the stranger’s foot stopped its onslaught.
Sam grabbed at his shrinking dick as balls. Through tears, he could still see the massive black meat bouncing and waving above him.
“Now, bitch, that’s more like it. Open that useless white mouth!” The man demanded.
The tip of the black man’s enormous cock dangled in front of Sam’s face, and he opened as wide as he could while still trying to fight back the pain radiating from his groin.
Grabbing his cock at the base, the black stranger placed the bulbous head directly against Sam’s lips. The girth of the head alone was marginally larger than the largest the boy could open his mouth. As the enormous head began to open my mouth even more, Sam let out a little groan.
“Bitch, don’t worry. We will make it fit!” The man cackled.
The man continued to press as firmly as he could until his head was wedged into the white man’s mouth.
Sam’s mouth was already aching. Like a chipmunk that has put too many nuts in his mouth, he could feel my cheeks being pushed to their limit. No more space was left for any of the man’s dick. Am knew if only his dick head alone filled my mouth, he could never be able to blow him off.
“Please…” Sam groaned around the dick, “I can’t take anymore…” His gag reflex began to kick in as he pleaded.
“I figured with all the bitching you do, you’d have a much bigger mouth!” As he pushed as much of his shaft into Sam’s mouth as he could, he laughed to himself.
Every nook and cranny of the white man’s mouth was filled with the man’s succulent, silky cock head. Oh God, but it tasted incredible! Sam moved his tongue as best he could over the base of the head, trying to enjoy it, even for a moment!
The black man rolled his eyes.
“I guess I’ll just have to make do with your tiny little mouth.” He started pushing the head of his cock in and out of Sam’s mouth while moving his hips forward and back. The force of his push caused the shaft of his cock to bend upward each time he reached the back of the man’s throat.
Sam gasped and wheezed. His arms instinctively rose up, reaching for the man’s thick, dark thighs. He tried to push the man back, but there was no way.
“Don’t fucking touch me white bitch!” The man howled. With one solid thrust, Sam’s had slammed back against the porcelain urinal.
Sam felt his vision disappear for a moment as the ringing washed over his head. He had no time to gather himself. The black man didn’t give a damn if he lived or died.
With each thrust, his speed increased as he ruthlessly slammed into the white man’s mouth. Sam did my best to suppress his gagging each time the man filled his mouth.
Pressing Sam’s head firmly against one of the urinals, he bent his knees and began to fuck his mouth like a pussy. Strings of saliva and spit dripping out of Sam’s mouth, mixing with the tears that still clung to his face.
Sam could feel his own cock getting hard again. Without thinking, he grabbed his tiny tool with two fingers and began jerking it off frantically.
Sam was shocked this man was actually allowing him to choke on a cock four times the size of his own while jerking his tiny dick. It was amazing! For a brief moment, he wondered if he had actually died when his head collided with the urinal next to him.
After stroking for approximately two minutes, Sam started to feel the urge to cum rising within of him. That was all it took.
“I’m…ugh…gonna…mmm…cum” Sam gagged around the massive black tool that some how seemed to be disappearing down his throat inch by inch.
Small trickles of pale white semen leaked out over the tiny head of his dick. The watery fluid fell over his shriveled balls and very quickly disappeared.
The black man suddenly ripped his cock free of Sam’s mouth. The man leaned forward, gasping for air. He reached out desperately, for nothing in particular, just as much oxygen as he could get.
Without warning, the taller man grabbed him by the ai,r dragging his face over the rim of the urinal.
“Lick it, bitch!” The man shouted.
As if in his complete control., Sam began desperately licking the porcelain rim. He immediately began gagging and choking as the taste of days old dried piss and the musk of dirty water overtook his senses.
“Your little white mouth is only useful for choking on a massive nigga dick and cleaning piss stained toilets!” The black man called out.
Huge mounds of drool poured out of Sam’s lips and down his chest as the man guiding his head pressed him even harder into the porcelain bowl. Finally, with a yank of his hair, he slammed Sam’s skull into the side of the bowl.
The white man fell back against the floor, his senses being knocked out of him. He didn’t understand how he was still conscious. Instinctively, he felt his body moving towards the sinks of the room and the exit of the bathroom.
“Please, please, please stop!” Sam begged. His head was ringing. Ropes of sit and precum expelled from his mouth as he begged, “I…I…I have a tiny little dick. I’m sorry for being white! I won’t tell anyone…”
Same reached for anything he could find to appease the man. Even through his blurred vision, he could see the tall black man lumber towards him. Suddenly, he was gripped by his hair again.
“Where do you think you’re going, little white bitch?” The black man practically lifted Sam up by his hair, “Tell me you want my nigga dick!”
Sam gazed up at the enormous, pulsing piece of meat in front of him. It practically cast a shadow over his face. He could still feel thick strings of saliva falling on his body from it.
“I…I want that big black cock.” Sam muttered through his pulsing head. In addition to his obsession with its size, Sam had never cum so strongly in my life; the mere act of placing that solid piece of dark meat in his mouth caused him to cum in a matter of minutes.
While no one would have ever known that was his biggest watery load in months, it was!
“Please…” Sam tried his best to pull his vision back together, “Please feed me that big, fat nigga cock!” In order to make his mouth as wide open as possible, Sam reached a couple of fingers inside and tugged at the sides.
The black man began to laugh.
“Sure thing faggot!”
Aiming his harden dick right at Sam’s mouth, he let out a low guttural moan and a massive stream of hot piss shot forward blasting the white man in the mouth. Unexpectedly, Sam dropped his lips and tried to pull back, but the stranger still had him by the hair.
“Open back up, faggot!” The man shouted.
Sam didn’t as he was ordered. Opening his mouth, the golden stream began to fill his mouth and run over the sides of his stretched-out lips.
“Swallow it, whiteboy!”
Slowly, Sam began to swallow. The hot, musky stench overtook his body as the fluid began to fill his stomach. Time and again, Sam gagged over the pungent piss. The man’s bladder seemed to go on forever as the stream never let up.
The white man’s body convulsed.
“I think I’m finished with your face hole!” The black man announced. Almost at his words, the stream began to subside and he let go of the faggot’s hair. Strangely Sam found himself pulling forward, his tongue grasping for the few drops of piss that fell from the bulbous head. “A lot tighter hole is what I’m aiming for.” The taller man gave a cunning grin. Sam knew immediately what he meant.
The realization was setting in.
“You’ll rip me apart!” When Sam finally realized what was going to happen next, that in fact this man was going to keep going, he tried to squirm away from the black man by scratching on the chilly tile floor but slipped in the man’s rank piss.
The black stranger took hold of Sam’s ankles and pulled him back toward him before Sam could move an inch. Leaning down, the black man firmly put both of his hands around my neck. Sam’s air was immediately cut off.
“When will you white boys learn no matter how big and strong you think you are…you will always pale in comparison to superior niggas.” Still holding Sam by the throat, he moved to the long-running vanity sink. He flung the man face down on the porcelain, covered in residual slime and soap.
Finally letting the man’s throat go, Sam gasped for air. Looking to his right, the white man could see the black stranger towering over him in the mirror. The man grabbed Sam’s right leg and threw it up on the counter, spreading his ass and exposing his soft pink hold.
The stranger put his hands on Sam’s ass cheeks and began pulling them apart. The white man heard him fill his mouth with as much spit as he could. Leaning forward, he soaked the man’s puckered asshole with a massive stream of saliva. The majority of it slid down his skin and ran into the sink.
He knew that wasn’t going to be nearly enough.
“Please…I’m begging you…” Sam looked into the man’s eyes with conviction through the mirror. He watched a wicked grin moved over his dark skin, revealing ceramic-like white teeth.
“Begging me?” He said with a small chuckle, “Okay, if you really want it that bad.”
“NO! I didn’t mean this!” When Sam felt his asshole extending out like never before, felt his voice disappear.
He watched the black man gripping his cock in the mirror, and the large purple head slowly and painfully disappearing into his hold.
Sam’s body jerked up on the sink as the sharp, fiery pain overtook his hole. He could feel the whole head tearing into his one tight hole.
The strange man laughed as he watched Sam jerk a mouth. Spit flung from his mouth as he wailed into the room. His frail voice sounded like a child screaming in agony.
“Whiteboy, don’t get too thrilled just yet!” The dark skinned man continued to force inward, “Only the head is there! I still have a ton of nigga fuckstick here!”
That was just the head! Every nerve in Sam’s body was screaming. He tried to pull away from the black man, but with a firm grip on the small of his back, the taller man easily held him down.
“Fuck… fuck fuck!” Sam screamed
Inch by inch, Sam could feel what little masculinity he had being ripped from him. He was unable to resist groaning and whimpering like a bitch in heat.
“You must really love getting your ass blown wide open, huh faggot?” The black man laughed.
Much to Sam’s surprise, the pain began to give way to a strange sensation. A pulsing, almost overwhelming sensation. It wasn’t exactly a pleasure but a strange awakening of the senses. The pain… the pain was still there.
Sam knew his entire cock has made its way in the moment he felt the man’s massive, hefty balls slap against his ass.
Oddly enough, the white man was no longer in pain. The burning subsided, and a sense of fullness had come over him.
“Tell me how much you love getting fucked.” The black man looked down at him in the mirror.
“Well…I…ugh…” Sam was unable to comprehend what was going on with him. The pain was still very much, still there.
The black man annoyingly rolled his eyes. Leaning back the man easily extracted his entire cock from Sam’s ass, he gave it a single, hard thrust to put it back in.
“FUCK!!!” the white man let out an agonized scream as the pain returned.
“I said…tell me how much of a faggot you are!” His tone swiftly changed from sensuous to aggressive and irate.
Sam finally recognized the reality as his horse cock began to pulsate furiously into my bowels. He had no idea that he could find pleasure in the sections of himself that his monstrous dick was hitting.
Sam’s entire body shivered at every pulsating vein on his shaft, every inch of this stranger’s cock tore apart another piece of his ass, and every strong thrust almost sent him flying into the mirror.
The black man was giving Sam the kind of pleasure he thought he could someday give someone as a man, but that was never to be. He didn’t know how much he would disparage himself or what he had to say. Sam just knew he required more!
“Please, tear my ass apart with that monster horse cock, you big dicked nigger!” Sam shouted, his voice ringing off the interior walls.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about, bitch!” The black man put both of his hands on Sam’s shoulders and started riding his ass even more forcefully. “Tell me how much you need this nigga dick, faggot!”
Sam felt his face pressed against the mirror. He hadn’t realized his body had crawled that far up the sink, but he didn’t care.
“I’m just a little dicked faggot who needs a real man to fuck him!” At Sam’s words, the stranger appeared to quicken his speed.
Sam got what he desired at last. His ass was being plowed at breakneck pace by a black man. The bathroom seemed to reverberated with the loud, booming sound of his baseball-sized nuts hitting Sam’s ass. His strong thrusts had the white man slipping against the mirror.
“I’ll do anything! Don’t stop fucking my faggot ass, please!” The discomfort had fully subsided by this point. The most amazing sensation Sam had ever had in my life swiftly took its place. He was ecstatic as 14 inches of veiny, rock-hard horse cock tore through his guts.
“God damn!” The black man growled. Grabbing Sam by the hair he firmly shoved his face into his reflection in the mirror, “This fucking white hole! It getting worn the fuck out already! Get on your knees, faggot, and drain every last drop of my nigga jizz out of me!”
Suddenly, he slammed Sam’s face into the mirror, bringing him back to reality.
He tore his cock from the white man’s aching asshole. The sound of Sam’s ass fluids leaking onto the floor was audible anyone.
Trying to keep his composure after the collision with the mirror, Sam stumbled to the ground. He could feel the anguish pulsing through his asshole with every movement of his body. All of it ached. Through the wild sensations, Sam could still feel how wide and exposed his hole now was.
The black man’s shoes, Sam’s shriveled nuts, causing the man to almost fall back. “Open your fucking mouth, faggot!” The stranger straightened his cock so that it was pointing straight at the white man’s. Sam stretched his mouth wide, trying to ignore the aching in his crotch.
The black man began to breathe heavily. His massive nutsack tightened toward his cock, and he began to grunt and moan in a uncontrollable manner.
Suddenly, a massive torrent of cum shot out and directly hit the back of Sam’s throat. It struck him again, so hard he almost fell backward. The white man noticed how amazing it tasted with each jet of cum that came out. The musky salt was overwhelming. The taste, the smell, the color, all of it so potent compared to his runny jizz. He had never tasted anything like it in his life!
Losing the ability to control himself, Sam simply lost the ability to control himself, sprang forward and pressed the black man’s enormous cockhead on his lips. Each climax splashed straight into his throat. Using both hands, Sam grasped the throbbing shaft and jerked it back and forth, extracting as much semen as possible. The faggot’s stomach started to feel full, but the black man’s baseball-sized nuts didn’t appear to be emptied yet. Cum began to shoot out of the edges of Sam’s mouth
As the white man attempted to shove the black cock as far into my mouth as he could, he could hear thick pools of sperm slopping down the floor for what felt like an eternity.
The black stranger groaned and pushed me into the floor after the last drop of sperm flew from his cock.
Cum and spit began gushing out of Sam’s mouth like a fire hydrant as soon as the stranger removed the head of his cock. His thick, hot jizz soaked Sam’s chest.
“Didn’t I tell you not to fucking touch me, faggot!” He groaned. With a solid kick, his shoe collided with my nuts. The kick was so powerful, he moved Sam’s body back towards the stalls.
The white man grabbed for his pulsating dick. For the briefest moment he thought he might cum again but instead all there was, was pain. He watched the tall black men reach for his shorts that had wound up along the far wall.
“You breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll blow your fag brains out, you hear me?” the man hissed.
Sam just nodded. He slumped against the stall, his back pressed to the cold metal, arms wrapped around his aching stomach. His body was in so much pain. His breathing was shallow, uneven, and every breath made his insides twist.
“Get your faggot ass cleaned up, white filth.” The dark-skinned man hissed.
Sam looked up just in time to see the man–silent now, unreadable–glance back over his shoulder. That same calm swagger, as if nothing had happened. Then he walked out of the bathroom, the door creaking shut behind him.
Gone.
The room fell into silence, except for the dull hum of the flickering overhead light and the faint ringing in his mind. Sam stayed there, stunned, trembling, his tiny dick aching, the whole space feeling warped and distant, like a bad dream.
Such a wonderful bad dream…
He couldn’t make sense of what just happened… but he knew he’d be jerking off to it for a long time to come.
The End.
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