Chapter 6
He had got as far as Camden High Street when he was approached by an African man of about twenty-six or twenty-seven.
"Remember me Paul?" The man was smiling but there was a hint of guardedness in his smile as if he half expected to be ignored by the white man.
"Good God, yes. Of course I do. You're Prince Bawana, aren't you?"
"Yes, oh, I'm glad you haven't forgotten me. I'm just here on a visit and I've been looking up some old friends' addresses, but they all seem to have gone. I'm at the Independence Conference." The tall, handsome negro smiled his most winning smile at Paul, showing two rows of perfect white teeth.
"Well, look if you haven't found any of your old friends here, why not come back to my place. I'm in Hampstead now. We can take a taxi."
"Oh, I'd like to. I had thought of looking you up in the phone book, but we only got here yesterday and I knew that I'd have time before the Conference ends. It will probably last a week or ten days."
They jumped into a taxi and were soon back at Paul's flat, exchanging news about their lives since they had been at Oxford together some seven or eight years before.
"Well, I see — or rather I guess from your bachelor quarters — that you're not married," said Bawana.
"I was, but she died," said Paul quietly.
"Oh, I'm sorry Paul," said the African obviously embarrassed at what he had said.
"Oh, I've got over it now, and my cock up to all sorts of things — young girls' cunts, well — you name it!" he laughed.
The African's eyes glistened as he heard Paul utter the last few words.
"Not — not opposed to a little homosexuality even?" he asked.
Paul had half-expected an asshole fucking and cocksucking session to happen When he invited the Prince back. He recalled the man's homosexual propensities and Paul had always fancied the idea of having his asshole reamed by him. Though not a homosexual, Paul had certainly indulged in homosexuality from to time, especially earlier on in his life, and above all, he had a weakness for Africans and negroes generally. He felt they were less obviously men — almost a third sex. It was impossible for Paul to imagine himself in bed with the commuter or clerk, but it was not difficult for him to feel some sexual response to a black whatever his class. He was so different. Imagine taking the thick woolly pants off a stockbroker's clerk, or kissing a bartender! It was only in the rarest instances that Paul felt any desire to be with a white man, but it was quite easy for him, to have sexual relations with an African.
And Prince Bawana was a strikingly handsome, clean limbed man, of great taste and fastidiousness. He could well see himself cupping the man's balls and perhaps sucking his big black cock off. As he looked back at Bawana through his sherry glass he felt he had gone one better than the Anomalies Club Where, after all, most of the members were a bit over-fucked and shopworn, sexually speaking!
"I've no objection. Let's have a few drinks and retire to my bedroom."
Paul drank a few more dry sherries while his friend finished off a third of a bottle of Scotch. Then the African disappeared to the bathroom and soon Paul heard him drawing water for a bath.
When he had finished, Paul himself went off for a quick bath. Meanwhile the African lay completely naked on top of Paul's bed.
It was not long before Paul came to him. The naked white man lay at the black man's side, and the latter took him in his arms, pressing his still flaccid prick against his thighs. Then the time large dark face of the black man searched Paul's and his lips closed on him. Paul felt the thick, African lips on his, felt the big tongue probing his mouth and he relaxed back on the bed feeling a sudden desire to be a woman to the African's average advances.
The African must have sensed Paul's reaction he half lay on top of him, took him in his arms and began to kiss him passionately as he fondled his penis.
He felt his prick hardening as the African began to move the foreskin backwards and forwards, occasionally taking his hand down the lengthening shaft and lightly touching and scratching his testicles. He looked into the African's eyes and saw the hump-lust, saw the urgency of the man's desire for his white body, and he was pleased.
His prick hardened to a complete stiff erection as the African continued to fondle it and he also felt the hard, fabulously huge black prick of the man against his body. And then he felt the African pushing his head down to his prick and soon he was half lying across the man's legs, his mouth against his prick.
"Suck me," groaned the African. "Suck my black cock, white boy!"
Paul now uppermost looked down at the huge black dong, at the mass of negroid pubic hair, and got the faintly pissy smell of the man's urine. But he bent his head and took the tip of the big cock gently in his mouth. Then he took it more firmly into his mouth, moving his tongue over it, and then worked it back and forth between his lips.
The African's prick was soon pulsating and throbbing and the man began to force it by lifting his black buttocks to the back of Paul's mouth, pushing it against his throat and very tonsils. Paul was now very thrilled at the role he was playing and began to anticipate that soon he would be taking the man's hot sperm into his mouth. But after a while, during which the African played with Paul's prick and balls, he got up from the bed and said to Paul: "I want to fuck you. Get something to lubricate your asshole with."
Paul was at once terrified and fascinated by the man's request. He would be giving his ass to the man for his lust, just as a young girl gave her cunt to an older man. But he wanted it and he knew at once that however painful it would be to take the enormous black prick up his anus he would go through with it. Paul wanted to be fucked. He wanted it desperately.
Paul got up from the bed and went to his dressing table where he found a tube of white vaseline.
Back on the bed he asked his African seducer to put the lubricant into his anus.
Lying face downwards Paul waited for the touch of the man's fingers. It was a moment of excitement — of a kind he had not experienced for a long time, certainly not since he was an adult man. He felt strange at the role he had adopted, a strange and wonderful thrill to be frigged just as if he were a girl.
The man's finger was pushing the vaseline into his asshole. Oh, what a wonderful feeling, thought Paul as the finger probed and penetrated, working the lubricant into his rectal passage. And then the man stopped and Paul lay there in anticipation, his own hard prick pressed against the bed.
The man was parting his legs now and getting between them.
Paul's moment of utter submission to another man had now come.
The man bent down and guided his tremendous black prick towards Paul's ready-lubricated and almost avid anus. Paul did his best to spread his asscheeks: it would facilitate the African's entry into him and it also gave him a feeling of submissiveness.
The top of the black African prick touched the crinkly anus of the white man, and then Paul felt the black prick forcing its way into him as the man lowered his body onto him, his belly against Paul's ass. And then —
Then the lust which had been building up in the African reached boiling point and he suddenly rammed his prick all the way up Paul's asshole regardless of the pain it gave him. Paul screamed in agony: but too late. The prick had savagely probed him, pushed aside the membranes, tearing them as it did so, and was now hard up against his upper rectum. Paul almost fainted with the shock of the huge cock completely up his hole and lay inert on the bed under the man's weight as he tried to accept the burning pain that filled his whole being.
The man waited for a while and then he slowly pulled his prick down, down as far as Paul's rectal ring of muscle. And then he slowly pushed it back, back up to the very top of Paul's anus.
In and then down again and then back up again with the tempo gradually increasing as Paul lay under the man, submissive, waiting for it and wanting it, suddenly unaware of the pain, only aware of the strange thrill of being fucked, of the load of desire building up in his balls and at the head of his prick, the desire to be fucked and to achieve an orgasm with the man who was fucking and using his white body for his own desire and black lust.
The African had placed his hands under Paul's chest and was feeling for his nipples, trying to bring them to their full size as he began to ram his cock home with ruthless efficiency. And Paul squirmed in pain and delight as he felt the huge prick penetrate him, penetrate to his very vitals, invade his most secret, private asshole ... The African's hot breath was on his neck, and he heard the grunts of pleasure as the man approached his orgasm, his sweat lubricating their skins so that the man easily slid up and down on his asscheeks.
In and out, the cock rammed itself home. And the grunts of the man grew louder as he felt his climax approach. And then Paul, almost reaching a climax from the feeling of submission, the moving cock in his anus, and the friction of his own cock against the bed, and then Paul suddenly heard the man roar his delight and simultaneously he felt the hot sperm hitting against his lower asshole — the man was ejaculating in him, spunking into his white body, using it as if he were a woman with a ready cunt. Paul was amazed at the amount of boiling sperm being shot up his asshole by the negro.
The man's prick slipped from Paul when it became flaccid and after a while the man took Paul's cock in his mouth and sucked him beautifully off to a climax. Paul lay back fully satisfied when he felt his spunk jerking into the man's mouth, and then he had the thrill of knowing that the man was swallowing every drop of his semen that he would suck him bone dry ...