BBC: Like Son, Like Father

"Don't worry," Jamal said, stroking his cock, "your Dad will soon be on his knees begging for this."

The video ended.

I lay there paralyzed.

My cock ached.

Fuck, why am I hard?

I'd just watched my son be humiliated.

Yet what was etched in my head was Jamal's big cock.

Fuck!

I flipped open my laptop and searched pornhub for black cock videos.

I pressed play on one and watched as a white slut bobbed on a big black cock... a BBC.

In the past I'd always focused on the girl, but this time I couldn't help but focus on the BBC.

It was so majestic.

It was so long and thick.

It was so black.

I watched her head bobbing on the BBC.

I looked at the glistening shine from her saliva as she stroked the fat cock... so fat she couldn't even wrap her hand completely around it.

I watched in awe as he exploded his load all over her pretty face, but instead of watching her expression and her face getting coated, I watched the black cannon blasting out rope after rope of cum.

I clicked on another clip... then another... choosing between thousands of clips of white women sucking and getting fucked by big black cock.

During every video I was transfixed on the black cock.

Not the black man.

The black cock.

And sometimes on his firm, dominant voice.

When a black man guided a white woman onto her knees, my cock flinched.

When a black man face fucked a white mouth, I got excited.

When a black man shot his load, I watched in transfixed awe.

I also discovered a website called Blacked, where every scene was one or more white women sucking and fucking black cock, and although the plots were usually atrocious, I didn't care because all my attention was on the black cock.

I spent over an hour and a half watching black cock before I couldn't take it any longer, and went back to watch the video of my son's humiliation again.

I took in his desperate hunger.

I heard Jamal's smug confidence.

I watched my son begging for cock.

I stared at Jamal's big black cock.

I came... hard... and in my imagination my cum had become Jamal's spurting cum, and I was the one on my knees sucking that BBC. I was the one taking that load down my throat or all over my face, shooter's choice.

It was then... as I came like a pathetic faggot... that I realized I too was a submissive... just like my son... just like all those other white men.

I knew without a doubt if I was put in that situation again with Jamal, I'd succumb.

Fuck!

I had to control this weakness.

I had to be strong not only for myself, but for my son.

It was no life to be addicted to BBC.

It was no life having to be humiliated like my son.

It was no life to be at the whim of a black man and his black cock.

Fuck!

I cleaned up my mess, logged out and showered again.

I went downstairs for breakfast and was pleasantly surprised to see Amy at the kitchen table, having bacon and eggs with Ben.

I greeted, "Morning."

"It's actually afternoon, Dad," Ben said, pointing to the clock.

12:10.

Fuck, how long did I watch those BBC videos?

"So this is what it's like to be you and waste half the day away," I joked.

"Refreshing, isn't it?" he smiled, showing no hint of the video he made last night. One, I assumed, he had no idea was being filmed for my benefit.

"It kind of is," I laughed.

"I made extra bacon and eggs for you, Mr. Barry," Amy said in her sweet voice as she got up and went to serve me a plate.

"Thanks, Amy," I said, unable to fathom a world where Ben would choose black cock over her, as I admired her long legs and tight ass in a pair of short shorts. (I'm not complaining, but I've never figured out why women's trousers often hug their asses like a second skin while men's don't. Think it's on purpose?) Yes, she's my son's girlfriend, but hot is hot. "But don't worry, I can make my own plate."

"I'm already up," she pointed out.

"She isn't going to stop," Ben advised me.

"Just like your mother," I laughed as I sat down. Mary had always made sure to prepare a big breakfast, as she believed it was the most important meal of the day.

I, on the other hand, always believed supper was.

"So how was last night?" I asked, wanting to see Ben's response.

"Great," Amy interjected. "It was a pretty crazy party."

"You two behaved?" I asked.

"Just the usual crystal meth and teen orgy," Ben quipped.

"So the normal?" I went along, but Amy scolded Ben.

"Ben, don't be ridiculous."

"True, there was no crystal meth," Ben smirked, his usual playful sarcastic banter on full display... no hint of what had actually happened last night, or what had almost happened.

"I remember those weekly orgies," I said, sounding reminiscent.

"You two," Amy shook her head as she placed the plate down in front of me.

"So a good night overall?" I asked.

"It was a blast," Amy said, which gave me a visual popup in my head of a BBC shooting cum.

I shook my head to get the image out of my head.

"You okay, Dad?" Ben asked.

"Yeah, yeah," I nodded, "just still a little tired, I guess."

"You should have slept until two," Ben said.

"Hurry up, Ben," Amy said. "We have to leave soon."

"Where you two off to?" I asked.

"Shopping for bikinis for the lake next weekend," Ben said as if he was being tortured.

"Don't pretend you don't love watching me model bikinis for you," Amy teased, giving him a shoulder rub.

"The first fifty, yes," he said playfully.

"I don't try on fifty," she said.

"Sorry, seventy," Ben corrected.

"Be good," she teased, "or I'll buy a one piece."

"God, no!" Ben gasped.

"Young love," I laughed, thinking how normal this conversation was. Just two teens in love. No evidence that my son would rather suck a BBC or even take one up his ass than watch her try on bikinis... which for the record, I'd find fucking hot.

Shit, I really do need to get laid.

They left; I finished breakfast.

I did the dishes.

I did the chores: laundry, cleaning the house and an oil change for the car.

By the time I was done it was supper... indeed the day is shot when you don't get up until the afternoon.

I texted Ben, who said they were going out for supper, so I barbequed a steak for myself, had a beer and then sat in the backyard and enjoyed the summer sun approaching the horizon.

I opened my ipad and checked my emails and was about to open a book when I felt myself instead googling more BBC stories.

I knew I should push the temptation out of my head, but before I knew it, I was reading tales of white men sucking black cock.

One that really stood out was the silly titled 'Becoming a Cock Slave Ch. 01' by John Hamilton. It was a blunt story of a black teen hitchhiker who convinces a white older guy who picked him up that all white men are cock suckers, and before you know it another straight white man is a cock sucker for BBC.

In the heat of the moment, I wanted just that.

To be forced to suck cock.

I didn't want to do it on my own accord.

I wanted to be dominated.

To be forced.

To be turned into a cock sucker for BBC.

Yet, I knew I couldn't... knew I shouldn't... I already saw the impact such a decision had made on my son's life.

I couldn't be at the whim of black cock.

I especially couldn't be at the whim of black teen cock.

Yet I kept reading more stories until I received a text.

I checked it.

Another blocked number.

If you're getting hungry for BBC, which we both know you are, go to pornhub and search BBC hypnosis videos and begin your training to be the good submissive white cock sucker you were born to be.

Born to be?

Fuck you.

His words only doubled my resolve to be strong.

I closed my ipad.

I went inside and turned on a sports channel.

I was watching a ballgame and as I did, a thought popped into my head as I watched a black batter waiting for a pitch. I wonder how big he is.

Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

What the hell is coming over me?

My cock was getting hard from watching baseball.

I grabbed myself another beer and focused on the game itself.

The game ended and I was now a little drunk and before I knew it I was in my room, on my laptop and clicking on the pornhub search Jamal had sent me.

Why?

No idea.

Could I control myself?

It seemed not.

So I searched exactly as I'd been told and found quite a few videos.

I clicked on one.

Girls getting fucked by black cock.

Messages flashing by about obedience, submissiveness, and something called sissification. (I later did a side search and learned it was about men making themselves as much like women as possible, but without hormones or surgery, just costuming, makeup, wigs, and most of all, feminine behaviour. Basically it was psychological, but often very immersive and heavy on the obedience, submissiveness and degradation.)

By the time the first video was done, I was rock hard.

In truth, I was rock hard the moment black cocks started popping onto the screen.

I clicked on another video called BBC Sissy.

So many big fat juicy black cocks flashed on the screen.

Being sucked.

Fucking.

Jerking.

Exploding.

It was complete hypnosis as I was drawn completely into the ultimate pendulum... a big cock swaying and pumping.

Glistening with saliva.

Standing erect with determination.

Pointing directly at me as if saying, Get on your fucking knees sissy, and suck me.

There was a voiceover spoken by a sexy feminine voice as if to brainwash me that this was normal... and I was captivated by each spoken word... every one... all while a plethora of black cocks paraded before my eyes.

Worship me.

Bow down to me.

Become the cock sucker you were born to be.

It's in your DNA.

It's who you are.

A cock sucker.

A cum bucket for BBC.

A sissy.

A faggot.

A bottom boi for BBC.

You suck cock.

You take it in the ass... your pussy... your boi hole.

You swallow.

You take facials.

You take bukkakes.

(I also had to look up what that term meant, and it only made my cock ache more at the idea of loads splattering endlessly on my face.)

You love black cock.

You love black cum.

You obey black men.

You worship black dick.

You live to serve BBC.

Say after me: I am a cock sucker for superior black cock.

Robotically I repeated the words verbatim, staring at a black cock swaying like an elephant's trunk: "I am a cock sucker for superior black cock."

I was born to be on my knees worshipping big black cock.

I mindlessly repeated the words as I watched a cute blonde bobbing on a fat black cock as if her life depended on it, and I wondered if perhaps it did: "I was born to be on my knees worshipping big black cock."

I am a white sissy who loves black cum on my face or in my mouth.

The term sissy meant the results of sissification, dressing as a girl etc., and the idea of wearing pantyhose turned me on (something I'd done a few times back as a teenager, but never since), I was fascinated with the idea of feeling cum hitting my face or landing tastefully (not in the normal sense of the word) in my mouth. This idea, of course, was enhanced by the plethora of black cock cannon blasts onto pretty girls' faces or into pretty girls' mouths. So as I watched BBC after BBC explode their white creamy treat (did I just call it a treat?), I repeated the required words: "I am a white sissy who loves black cum on my face or in my mouth."

I then paused the video.

I went to my wife's dresser drawer, which hadn't been touched since her passing, and found a pair of pantyhose.

I got undressed and put them on... which is a bit of work. Stretch them out a bit first, roll the first stocking up to the toes making sure it's lined up right, then slowly pull the stocking up adjusting at the knee, then do the same with the other leg. Slowly pull both sides up to your waist to cover your ass.

These were a bit tight... not surprisingly my wife had been thinner than me... but they did fit. My cock was pressed perfectly against the sheer hosiery.

I moved my hands up and down my legs, always loving the sheer feel of nylons... something I'd done to my wife at some point almost every day of our life together.

God, I missed her.

But I also missed the relaxing, cock-pulsing pleasure of rubbing my hands on nylons... even if they were on my own legs this time.

I went back to the video and pressed play.

I crave black cock.

I repeated, staring at five massive black cocks all being stroked in front of a chubby girl: "I crave black cock."

I crave BBC cum.

I repeated the simple phrase as I watched all five of those cocks explode all over the closed-eyed, opened-mouthed girl: "I crave BBC cum."

I crave being in my natural submissive position on my knees.

As two girls knelt before a lone but mighty BBC I repeated the words, wondering what it would be like to be in that position myself, so I got down on the floor and knelt on my knees as I continued watching the video: "I crave being in my natural submissive position on my knees."

I am a cock sucker for every BBC.

I watched as one by one, dozens of BBCs flashed before me, each of them so captivatingly enticing as I repeated the words as ordered: "I am a cock sucker for every BBC."

Because I am inferior to BIG... BLACK... COCK.

At the moment that was exactly how I felt. It seemed every BBC was much longer than my five-inch cock, much thicker than mine, and completely inexplicably, it was the most beautiful sight in the world. I know I sounded gay, I sounded like a faggot, but that was how I felt as I admitted my current truth: "Because I am inferior to BIG... BLACK ...COCK," as I paused for a couple of seconds between each of those final descriptive words.

I was rubbing my cock through my pantyhose... getting close to coming... when my phone brought me out of my submissive trance.

I paused the video.

I answered the phone.

It was Dave, one of my best friends.

"Hey!" I said, coming further back to reality.

"Hey, yourself. Where are you?" he asked, as I realized I was supposed to be at his house.

"Shit, I lost track of time," I said, which was the understatement of the year.

"Get your ass over here," he said. "And bring along a case of beer for being such a dumb ass."

"Yeah, yeah," I agreed putting my pants on over the pantyhose before I realized it. "I'm on my way."

"Hurry the fuck up," he said, hanging up on me.

I left the pantyhose on, threw some socks on to hide them, and headed out... thinking this call had been fate.

I had to man up.

I was late for Saturday's poker night because I was watching BBC porn.

I had to control these inclinations that were getting so intrusive in my life.

I drove to the liquor store.

Picked up the beer.

Arrived at Dave's house, where I was razzed and had to shotgun a beer and bolt two shots to catch up.

And for a couple of hours, I forgot about my weird weekend.

I drank.

I played poker.

I shot the shit.

It was a typical boy's night.

I was reaching for some chips from a high shelf when Dave asked confusedly, "Are you wearing pantyhose?"

"Um, yeah," I said, instantly embarrassed.

"Why?" he asked.

I came up with a good lie, impressive since I was quite drunk, "This may sound weird, but it's a way to still feel close to Mary."

"Oh, yeah, okay," he said. I'm not sure if he believed me or not, but it wasn't something to argue without looking like a dick. "How are you doing?"

"Ups and downs," I said, that being the truth.

"We should do a Vegas trip," he suggested.

"Yeah, we really should," I agreed, something we did yearly... just the boys... but hadn't since Mary's death.

"Give me a date, and I'll make it work," he said.

"Will do," I nodded, and then added, "but enough of this touchy-feely stuff. I've got to make my money back."

"Well, that ain't going to happen," he said, punching my arm.

"I just need to break even," I persevered.

"Good luck with that," he laughed as we headed back to the living room.

A beer later I poker-faced my way up to a large pot with a full house, and indeed did break even. But I was getting really tired and decided to call an uber to get home since I was quite drunk... when I noticed my phone had a couple of messages.

Worried they were from Jamal, I headed to the washroom, since I had to take a piss anyway.

I closed the door and checked the messages while I pissed (see, men can multitask too).

I somehow knew it wold be from Jamal.

The first was simply a picture of a BBC.

The other was a question: Hungry? If so, I expect you at my house at 1:00 AM. Backyard. In case you're worried... it will be our secret. Just a new cock sucker discovering his purpose.

I sighed.

Fuck!

As I finished pissing, I began to get hard again.

Fuck!

I mindlessly went back to his dick pic.

Fuck, it looked appetizing.

Being drunk only made my resistance weaker.

I was instantly horny.

I pulled my pantyhose, I mean my wife's pantyhose, back up and washed my hands as my phone buzzed again.

I looked at the message: COCKSUCKER! I know you are probably dithering right now. But let's make this simple so you don't procrastinate. Be at my house at 1:00AM or I'll never give you the privilege of servicing my cock. EVER!

Fuck!

My cock flinched in my pantyhose.

I clicked on the uber app and asked for a pick up... entering the street Jamal was on. Unsure of the exact address.

I pressed send and got a four-minute pick up time. Not much time to change my mind.

I went downstairs and said, "Sorry, guys, I really need to get home."

"Got some new pussy?" Andrew, the dumb ass of the group, asked.

"Andrew!" Dave and Jerry both scolded.

"What?" Andrew said oblivious to why that was insensitive.

"Next week you host," Dave reminded me.

"For sure," I nodded as I checked my phone. The uber was two minutes away. "I'll come by with Ben tomorrow to get the car."