Homeschooled

It was late Sunday evening. Cole was at his Mother’s, and I had the house to myself for the first time in a long time. Ever since the pandemic started, Cole and I have only had each other for company, thirteen long months. I love my son. He’s a great kid, but sometimes you just need space. I was relaxing on the sofa after a long soak in the bath—yes, I like baths—when the phone rang. I don’t mind saying I wasn’t overly happy for my afternoon to be interrupted.

“Hi, Diane. How have you been?” What a stupid question? I knew how she felt. I’d had eight years to get over my divorce. Diane, however, had only been separated for six months.

“Not too bad, considering. Thank you for asking Kyle.”

I recognised that tone of voice only too well. It’s the one you adopt with a fake smile to try and lie to everyone that you’re doing okay when in reality, you’re not. “That’s good. It takes time, but it gets better.” I remembered all those platitudes my friends would use, and they made my skin crawl. I know they didn’t mean to annoy me, but what else do you say? At that moment, all I could think of was that same laundry list of asinine comments, so I decided to divert the conversation immediately. “What can I do for you?”

There was a pause. I sensed Diane smiling. This time though, it was a smile of appreciation, one you only get when a person realises that their hollow words don’t help, and they revert to treating you like a normal human being and not some delicate flower that needs nurturing. “I just wanted to thank you. I don’t know what Jackson would have done this semester if you hadn’t been around. Things have been a little tight since that idiot left me. I hate to think what Jacksons’ grades would have looked like if he couldn’t participate in class these last few months. It means a lot.”

“Well, thank you, Diane, I guess. The truth is, I’m not sure what I did to help.” That was the truth. Jackson was a sweet kid. He had become Cole’s best friend from the first moment they met several years ago. So I’d watched him mature into the wonderful young man he is today. In many respects, I considered him my own. Over the years, more than one stranger had commented on how well behaved my “boys” were when we were out. Although to look at them, you may wonder how anyone could come to that conclusion.

“Don’t get all modest with me. If you hadn’t offered to lend Jackson your spare laptop, he would never have been able to complete the year. And his grades have never been higher. If he weren’t so damn good at football, I’d tell him to quit and concentrate on his studies. I’m just so proud of him. And we both have you to thank.” I was about to respond to reaffirm my ignorance of the whole matter when Diane continued. “I’ve made sure Jackson took utmost care of it for you. I was going to call you back in January, but Cole insisted that you didn’t use it and you would be happy for Jackson to borrow it. Judging by what Cole said, I know it’s been in a draw of your study for years, but still, it is appreciated.”

My heart sank as I hurried through the house to my study. I put the phone on speaker and placed it on my desk before turning and kneeling. I reached out to the drawers at the foot of the bookshelf and held my breath. Shit! I looked at the contents of the drawer to see it minus one laptop. Shit, Shit!

“Now I’m back to full-time work, I’ve bought Jackson a new laptop, so I’ve sent him over to yours to return it. No doubt he’s going to want to thank you himself. He told me it would be his pleasure and that he wanted to teach you what homeschooling was all about. I’m not sure he really understands adults sometimes, but he said you’d enjoy it.” I couldn’t speak. I remained kneeling in front of my drawers, quietly panicking. “Anyway. I’ll let you be. I just wanted to say thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

I managed to mumble a “yeah, you too” Before the phone went dead. It left me with a feeling of sheer terror.

Sat in the living room, in the fading light of the evening, I didn’t know what to think. Cole was right; he hadn’t seen me using it. That was the whole point. I didn’t even think he knew it existed. I was careful never to use it when he was in the house, except for very early mornings or late nights when I could easily hear him coming down the stairs. How the hell had he found it?

I’m not sure what time it was when the knock arrived, but it made me jump. It was suddenly very dark, and apart from the television, I had no lights on. I was also still only dressed in a towel. I stood up and glanced around the hallway. I considered, for a moment, running upstairs to get some clothes, but not wanting to delay the inevitable embarrassment to follow, I pulled open the front door to see Jackson facing me with a broad smile. “Hey, Mr Martin. How are you?” Any typical eighteen-year-old may have been a little shocked to see a man in their forties open the door with nothing but a towel covering them, but Jackson just walked straight past me. “Mind if I get a drink? It’s warmer out than I expected tonight.”

I thought about replying before realising that Jackson had already made his way to the kitchen. Not that I minded. Growing up, Jackson had probably spent more time at our house than his own during the Summer months; I liked that he made himself at home. I could hear the running water, but I didn’t follow immediately. I knew what awaited me, and my nerves were starting to make my hands shake. I closed the door and took a deep breath, and turned to the kitchen. When I finally joined him, Jackson was sat on a stool, sipping a glass of water with his bag on the seat next to him. He lifted the bag without stopping for air, placed it on the counter, and pushed it over to me. “Thanks, Mr Martin, you’re a lifesaver,” Jackson said before another gulp of water.

“You’re very welcome, Jackson,” I said, pulling my laptop from his bag and returning it to his side of the counter. “Not that I knew much about it.” I tried to laugh. Although Jackson hadn’t said anything yet, I was still far too aware of the potential embarrassment of the situation.

“It’s fully charged. I made sure of it before I left the house.” Jackson said, nodding at the grey box. “Fire it up. I did run a couple of updates for you, but that shouldn’t have messed anything up. I hope.” Jackson laughed.

Ideally, I had hope Jackson would have handed me the laptop, thanked me, then left, but considering my son’s long-time friendship, I couldn’t just turf him out on the street, so I did my best to play it cool. I raised the laptop screen and pushed the power button. “All looks to be fine.” It was still only halfway through its boot process, but I wanted this whole sorry matter to end.

“Cool,” Jackson said, craning his next to see the screen. “I’ll wait until you log in. Just in case.”

My brain was foggy. I couldn’t work out why Jackson was so concerned. I knew he was a conscientious boy but was I going to have to test it before he’d be satisfied?

I typed in my password, making a mental note to ask Cole how he had figured it out, and watched the screen burst into life. “Everything looks…” Before I could finish, the taskbar blinked into view, and a browser icon began flashing orange. I didn’t need to maximise the screen. I knew what it was. It was the last thing I was reading the last time I used it.

“I wanted to return it exactly as it was when you leant it to me.” My jaw hadn’t fully closed since the last time I attempted to speak. As I looked over at Jackson, my slack-jawed reaction must have told him all he needed to know. He smiled at me with an extra something behind his eyes. “I take it everything is as you remember it? That’s good.” Jackson stood up from the bench. On any other day, he made my five-foot-eight look small, but at that moment, his six-foot-five inch frame made me feel like a child looking up at a giant.

The flashing icon caught my attention again, like a caution alarm warning of impending doom, and my eyes flicked over the words the small button was able to show. The effects of interrac—

“I hope you don’t mind, but I gave that article a read. It’s fascinating. Do you think men are really affected like that? I mean, I know penis size can be a sore topic, and I see how shy some of my teammates can be; I try not to flaunt it when we’re in the showers together, but that can’t be true. Can it?” My head snapped away from my laptop as Jackson spoke, feeling the ground open up beneath me. I felt a massive wave of relief wash over me as I saw he was not facing me as he continued. “Eighty-six per cent of all porn searches include the terms Interracial Sex or Big Cocks, makes you think, right?” He was partially correct, it was Big Black Cocks, but I wasn’t about to correct him. Jackson pushed away from the sink and turned to face me.

He slapped his hands together and smiled at me. “I best be leaving. I can’t thank you enough for lending me that laptop.” Jackson strode past me confidently, just like he always did. I was dazed and more than a little numb. I turned with him and followed him to the front door.

“I feel silly asking this, but,” My voice seemed distant in my head as if I was outside my own body.

“I didn’t mention it to anyone; besides, it was an interesting article.” He pulled the door open and turned to me; his ordinarily deep voice softened. “It’s always good to broaden your horizons and educate your brain on how the world works. None of us would ever try something new if we didn’t, am I right?” Jackson’s usual expressive smile was gone. Instead, there was a gleam in his eyes that lit up his entire face. He turned to leave. “Ah, shit, I forgot. I sent a couple of emails from your account before I realised. I closed the browser down, and then I didn’t know your password to log back in and delete them, so you might want to delete them yourself—no need to open them. Just delete them. It’s for the best.” He rapped his knuckles on the wooden frame and closed the door behind him.

“It’s always good to broaden your horizons…” That wasn’t how I expected this to go. On the scale of one, I had remembered to close the browser, and Jackson never saw a thing, to ten, he would tell everyone about my fascination with interracial porn and the effects it causes; I was happy with his reaction. I chalked it up as a two out of ten. I let out a sigh that might have ranked as one of the longest and deepest in history if I’d been measuring, but the relief was sublime.

I stood in the hallway staring at the door for several seconds before turning to flee back to the kitchen. My bare feet skidded on the tiles, and I came to an abrupt stop when my belly hit the edge of the counter. Any pain I felt was fleeting after I danced my finger over the flat black panel and double-tapped it over the orange icon.

The words shone out in a large font. The black type against a white background was impossible to miss and probably easy to read from fifty feet away. The effects of interracial porn on white men—strapline—Is it turning them gay for Big Black Cock? I swallowed hard and sighed again before slamming the laptop lid down.

Being a self-employed architect had become invaluable during the pandemic. It meant I could afford to isolate myself in safety, but it also allowed me to decide my own work hours. Needless to say, after the events of the previous night, the following morning was unproductive. I soon realised that I couldn’t concentrate, so I called the day early and collapsed in front of the tv in search of something good to watch.

I must have lasted twenty minutes before my brain wandered back to my run-in with Jackson, and the entire affair, including my nervousness, was rekindled. My laptop was still on the breakfast counter in the kitchen, so I retrieved it and parked myself at the desk in my study.

The website leapt up to greet me once again, so I moved the mouse to close it before changing my mind and bookmarking the article first. I sat staring at a blank search page before reading the words ‘Gmail’ and remembering what Jackson had said to me before he left. I’m not sure why I felt it necessary to follow his advice, but something drew me to his sent emails. The page loaded, and I navigated my way through the labels to find the Sent items folder. The dates alongside each entry clearly showed which were Jackson’s and which were mine. I selected all five emails and hovered my cursor over the bin icon, but I didn’t click. My eyes darted back and forth, transfixed by the entries in front of me, and I felt that familiar twinge of curiosity inside.

Each of the five emails appeared as one stage of a conversation between Jackson and some mystery person at [email protected]. Reading in order from the bottom to the top only served to spur me on, they read as follows; Preview, Now that I have your attention, There’s more, Can’t resist can you?, and When you’re ready, call me. If there was one constant in my life, it’s that my curious nature has never been kind to me. It’s never caused me any harm, but it’s gotten me into all kinds of situations; this was about to become the most difficult of all.

Click. That sound echoed in my ears as the email opened and its contents displayed. Another benefit from my chosen career is the necessity of having a high-speed internet connection, allowing me to copy my large work projects easily. However, when you’re opening something you shouldn’t be, you have zero chance to change your mind and click the back button before it loads. The result of my latest regretful decision was facing me on the screen.

In all honesty, it took me thirty seconds to realise why the subject Preview might accompany the photo, but once I’d seen it, there was no unseeing it. The image was of a man wearing jeans. They were dark blue, distressed and ripped in places, but otherwise, they were regular jeans. The photo centred on a man’s crotch. I could tell it was a man because he had a very noticeable bulge that forced the button fly out quite substantially. If that were the only prominent part of the photo, I could easily have ignored it and preceded to delete all five of Jacksons’ emails; however, the curiosity gods weren’t playing nice that day.

I was seconds from clicking the back button, but as my cursor travelled off to the left and began to climb, both my hands leapt from the keyboard as a sharp intake of air caused something between a gasp and a scream to escape my mouth. As my eyes retraced the image, it suddenly looked completely different. The bulge was evident, but the shade of his jeans obscured its shape unless you really focused. Needless to say, I was now fully focused.

Apart from fighting against the jeans’ buttons, the bulge stretched off to the left-hand side of the photo towards the right pocket. In itself, that was nothing special. However, two inches past the right pocket was a vertical tear about three inches long. The result, which I could have easily missed if my cursor hadn’t drawn my eyes there, was a small dome of bright pink flesh poking out. It couldn’t have been more than five millimetres, but it was unmistakable.

Once I managed to pull a hand from my mouth, I quickly flicked the back button to return to the sent items folder. The five emails stared back at me, and my eyes settled on number two. Now that I have your attention. That’s a fucking understatement!

Before I even knew what I was doing, my cursor selected the email, and my finger tapped twice, and the email opened. That same gasping scream erupted from me again. This time the jeans were open and around his hips. The camera had pulled out a little, showing a pair of taut abs. His boxers were white, and I found myself marvelling at the contrast they cast against his ebony skin. However, my reverie was short-lived as my eyes continued to trace the line of the cock beneath the fine white fabric. With the jeans removed, the shaft’s girth was clear to see. The cloth of the white boxers was drawn tight by the sheer size of what they contained. I don’t know how long I studied the photo, but it wasn’t seconds, it was minutes before I returned to the folder of sent emails, and my cursor immediately fell to There’s more; there was.

The image appeared in a flash. This time I didn’t make a sound. My entire body froze. The photo looked like it might have been taken at the same distance and angle as the previous one, only with one significant difference. His boxers were soaked. The jeans were now out of the picture, and the top of two thick thighs was in view. Like some girls gone wild wet t-shirt competition, his shorts were practically see-through. The shade of skin beneath that white fabric shone through clearly. Whatever cloth was there clung to the skin, outlining every sculpted ridge, bump and vein along the length. It was beautiful, and I felt my cock react. It hadn’t been a coincidence or mistake that my browser had been on an article about the effects of interracial porn on white men because I had started to have real concerns. My porn tastes had been changing, veering off towards larger, darker cocks satisfying women in ways I could never imagine. I had had some of my most brutal orgasms over the last year, and nearly every single one had been watching some creamy skin girl getting railed by a black cock. I was fascinated by them, and here I was facing one of the most beautiful BBCs I’d ever seen. Fuck! That’s when it suddenly dawned on me. This is Jackson!

My hands were shaking terribly as I quickly clicked from There’s more to Can’t resist, can you? I felt my stomach spin in place, not a nauseous feeling, but one that only a beta man like me can experience. It’s similar to the feeling that could be described as “a sinking feeling”, except this is one of pure humiliating excitement. The image appeared, and I felt my heart race, my jaw felt like it hit the desk, and my cock throbbed painfully. The boxers were gone this time, and the view was now in portrait allowing for the extra room. Plastered across the screen was a huge ebony idol. It was thicker than my wrist, and as I drank in its impressive length, I picked out the ruler from my pen caddy and held it up to my eyes. It measured ten inches. I looked at the ruler, then back at the screen. I stood up and used the ruler against myself, trying to work out how far down Jackson’s thigh the huge cock reached. Fuck! At least ten, if not more.

I slumped in my chair and clicked back to return to the sent items. I stared at the five emails for a long time before selecting all five. I quickly applied my private label and clicked the Archive button, and watched the emails vanish. My clicking soon delivered me to the same destination, and I was faced with the five emails once again. I thought about taking another walk through the first four. However, I had already turned my attention to When you’re ready, call me. There was something about that sentence that made me shiver. Cocky, confident guys had started to affect me in weird ways. It wasn’t an attraction. That was something I was pretty sure of; I didn’t find men attractive. I don’t have any hang-ups admitting that a man is handsome or sexy; I’m just not physically drawn to them. It’s their attitude that always gets me, and this statement screamed at me louder than any photo, but especially so, now I’d seen his pictures. So, I opened it.

555-8412 You liked what you saw. We both know you can’t resist, so call me and tell me what you want. I wasn’t sure what to think. I recognised the number, and it was Jackson’s. I laughed out loud. “That boy has serious game.” I flopped back into my seat, and my towel fell open. My little cock sprung free, still erect. Fuck! I opened the fourth image once again and looked down. Fuck! Jackson was at least three times my length and probably three or four times as thick. Before I knew it, I spasmed and shot my load over my stomach, my eyes never once leaving that thick, black, eighteen-year-old cock. I licked my fingers and laughed. “Well, I’ll never be able to look at him the same again.”

I’m not sure what time it was, probably around 2 am when I awoke suddenly. My breathing was laboured, and I could feel a fine sheen of sweat all over me. The last image I saw before waking was still clear in my mind; Jackson’s cock. I collapsed back into bed, trying to regain my breathing as my heart pounded. I closed my eyes, and instantly, my mind was filled with those glorious images of that massive cock.

It was no use; I couldn’t sleep, at least not without picturing that thick veiny ebony snake. Not that I was complaining. I’m not sure how much Jackson suspected after seeing that article on my laptop, but things had changed drastically inside my mind. I’d stopped looking at the sexy girls in porn a long time ago. I’d lost all interest in satisfying a woman sexually. At least, that’s how it felt. It had started small, like a lot of men. At first, I could cum at the mere sight of porn. Then I had to wait for the woman’s moans as she was fucked. Then I needed to see the cumshot. I lied to myself, of course. I would tell myself that watching some big stud wielding a thick cock cumming all over some pretty girl was a way for me to fantasise that it was me doing it and not him. It soon became unnecessary to watch the whole scene. I’d watch the preamble, maybe, focusing a lot on the initial blowjob and her technique, but as soon as the pussy eating started, I’d skip ahead to the end. That soon changed too.

Far too many scenes ended without facials, and in the end, that’s all I wanted to see. I would search for facials, or cumshots, or thick loads every time. I wouldn’t last long. However, soon my curiosity sparked, and I began searching for big cock, or huge cumshot, and found a varied array of videos that often didn’t have women in them. Men would stroke their big, heavy cocks out onto a table, and I’d end up cumming while I watched thick ropes of cum splatter across a worktop. Gloryholes would always work for me. However, once I discovered the glory hole fakes, I was hooked. Do you know the ones? Where a guy visits a glory hole, but instead of a girl on the other side, it’s a guy. Needless to say, when I pictured myself in that situation, I wasn’t the guy standing up.

My emotions flowed this way and that as I lay in the dark, moving from awe to denial to guilt to jealousy to bargaining in seconds. What a beautiful cock—It’s not affecting me—Stop it, it’s Jackson—Whoever he’s messaging is one lucky girl—Just one touch won’t hurt, I’ll do anything. It was like some sensual version of the seven stages of grief, only for cock. I tried, but within thirty minutes, I was back at my desk with my shorts around my ankles, jerking off to that teenage god’s cock.

I did finally get some sleep, but my mind wasn’t any clearer. I still dreamt of Jackson, and the new light I saw him in was a lot to handle—no pun intended. I needed to clear my head, so I went for a run, only clearing my head might not have been a wise move.

I’d reached about five miles when it hit me. As much as I was trying to forget about what I’d seen, I couldn’t. However, instead of dwelling on it, my attempt to clear my head only brought the whole thing into focus. I stopped dead in the middle of my run. Thankfully no one was around to hear my exasperated outburst. Oh, fuck! My pace quickened. I darted through every shortcut I knew to get home as fast as I could. I flung the door open and dashed to my desk. The little cursor danced around the screen, and I found myself back in my mailbox. jdeggplant03.

“Jackson Davis… Had he sent them to himself!? That sneaky fuck. But why? He sent them to hi… for me.” My head may have cleared during my run, but my thought process had only managed to go so far before it stopped midflow, preventing me from reaching its inevitable conclusion. He sent them to himself. His comment at the door was supposed to make me look. Jackson wrote those email subjects for me. “FUCK!” I slammed the lid of the laptop down and recoiled away from it like it was on fire. Not knowing which way to turn or what to think, I ran upstairs for a shower.

When the knock at the door came, I was still in the shower, where I’d been for the last thirty minutes. I sat on the floor of my shower, too shocked to move. The knock echoed through the house again, and I managed to shrug off my confusion just enough to stand. I turned off the water, grabbed a towel and made my way down the stairs. I arrived at the door just as the postman was writing a ticket to post through my letterbox. Also, making it the second time in two days, I would answer the door to a man in nothing but a towel. “Ah, didn’t mean to disturb, but this one needs a signature.” The postman waved the small box in the air.

I reached up with my free hand and took the parcel from him. “It’s fine.” The postman held out his pen and handed me the clipboard. “I just got back from my run.” I turned to the hall table, put the clipboard down, and quickly signed it.

“Hey, I hear ya. If this past year has taught me nothing else, it’s that you’ve gotta take these little moments when you can, am I right? Hell, me and the wife have already planned our next three years holidays. Ya can’t take life for granted, not anymore. Carpe Diem, that’s what I say. If you want something, grab it, am I right?” He smiled and snapped off a cheery salute before turning and walking off down my driveway.

“Yes, you’re fucking right.” And I want it bad.

I ran back upstairs and changed into some sweat pants and a ratty old t-shirt bubbling over with a nervous energy that I can’t remember feeling since my first date with Cole’s Mother. This entire situation was entirely different.

I once again planted myself in front of my laptop and carefully lifted the lid. I tapped the keys lightly as I logged in and watched my inbox appear on the screen. My eyes instantly found the words, When you’re ready, call me. Instead, I clicked open; You can’t resist, can you? I picked up my phone and hovered my finger over the speed dial of Jackson’s number. “This will change a lot of things.” I knew this already. The thought had gone through my mind more than once over the last few minutes, but there was something definite about hearing yourself say it. Say it out loud if you mean it, then commit, don’t back down. “He’s Cole’s best friend. He’s like a son to you. You’ve read him bedtime stories. You’ve tucked him in. Is this wrong?” Just think of his cock.

I punched the button, and the phone began to hum. One ring. Two rings. Three… “Hi Mr Martin, everything okay?” His voice was stronger than I remember it. He suddenly sounded more of a man.

“I’m r—ready.” If you’d asked me, I would have told you that I was clear, loud and audible, but in truth, the words came out in no more than a whisper.

“Sorry?” Jackson was smiling, I could tell. He had heard me and knew I had fallen for his trap. His voice was soft, and his words came slowly. “I think you should say that again, louder this time.”

“I’m ready.” I barked. My voice jumped from one extreme to the other and caused Jackson to let out a small laugh. “Sorry, I mean… I’m ready.”

There was a long pause, which caused me to wonder if I’d got this whole thing wrong. The urge to end the call was building as my embarrassment reached its height. “What are you ready for, boy?”

Boy? Did he just call me boy? “You know.”

“I want to hear you say it, and don’t be polite. Say it as if you mean it.”

I felt light-headed. I thought about sitting down until I realised I already was. All at once, every porn video I had ever watched came flooding back to me. The crude dialogue ran through my brain like a dictionary of explicit phrases. “I’m ready for your…” my heart pounded, drowning out my thoughts. “… your big black cock.”

The line was silent for a long time. I was about to ask if Jackson was still there. “I think you mean, Sir. Now repeat it, and no pausing this time. I want to hear the whole thing clearly. From start to finish.”

Hearing Jackson finally speak was a greater relief than I expected; I smiled. The submission I was displaying didn’t phase me, even if I had noticed. The whole situation just made my body tingle. “I’m ready for your big black cock, Sir. I want it. I need it. I’m yours.” I wasn’t expecting that last part, but for some strange reason, it felt natural.

“Good boy. I’ll be there in twenty.” The call ended. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I had just said something to a man more than half my age that I would never have imagined I’d hear myself utter. He was someone I had seen grow from a young boy to the strong man he is, and I’d just begged him for his cock. No. I’d begged him to use me. What did that even mean? I had given him more power over me than I was comfortable with, but that very fact was why it thrilled me so much.

I stood up and walked to the living room. I poured myself a drink and downed it. The vodka burned on its way down; I needed it. I felt my nerves calm for a brief moment; then, they flared back to life, so I poured myself another.

I was still stood by the drinks cabinet, holding my fourth in my hands, when the knock on the door came. Shit! I swigged it down quickly, feeling my nerves build more ferocious than any time before. I put the glass down and turned to walk down the hallway. The frosted glass panel, inset in the door, ran from the floor to the ceiling. But even if it weren’t frosted, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything because a dark shadow was utterly obscuring the light. I’d never appreciated Jackson’s presence before, but now I saw his immense stature in a new, menacing light, one that wasn’t wholly unpleasant.

“Hi, thank you for coming,” I said, pulling open the door. Jackson was wearing the same sweatpants and dark hoodie he had been wearing the night before. As he walked past me into the house, I reckoned they must have been either double or triple XL, unlike my small and medium versions of the same garments.

I followed Jackson into the living room, losing track of the situation. My eyes began roaming up and down his body. Even though Jackson’s clothing was thick, you could tell he was well built. When they were younger, Cole and Jackson would hang out at my pool all the time. But, when Jackson started with the football team two years ago, and both of them having to take up summer jobs, it didn’t leave them much free time. I had hoped they could spend some downtime this past summer before they went off to college, but then the pandemic hit. That delayed a lot of plans for a lot of people. I found myself picturing the half-naked Jackson I would see running around in my garden and comparing him to the man in front of me today. They were two vastly different images. I worked back through the years trying to work out when I last saw him like that and decided it must have been when he was still fifteen. Now at eighteen, he was a whole different person. Jackson had grown at least seven or eight inches, and his training had certainly paid off. I suddenly doubted my choice of words.

“How could I say no to such a lovely invitation.” He crossed his arms in front of him and, taking hold of the hem of his hoodie, pulled it up over his head. “After reading that article, I took a look through your search history.” My heart sank. “I never thought you’d be one of those pussy boys. You’ve always seemed more like an Alpha to me. I used to look up to you.”

“What do you mean, used to?” I said, concerned.

“You’re right. I guess I still do, at this very second, but by the end of the night, that’ll change. It’s hard to respect someone when you’ve choked them with your dick. You know what I mean? Nah, I guess you don’t.” Jackson let out a loud, derisive laugh. The content of his words hurt me, but the humiliation I was feeling by being spoken to in this way was far more potent than anything I had felt before. As he continued to talk, my spirit sagged, but there was no avoiding the fact that he was turning me on. He stood above me, arms crossed, accentuating his thick biceps and forearms. His t-shirt was taut across his chest, leaving no doubt of his well-sculpted torso.”I have to admit, part of me didn’t expect you to call. I certainly didn’t expect you to call after less than a day. You must really be desperate.”

“I couldn’t help it. It’s just so beautiful.”

“What is?” Jackson’s face was one of confusion, but we both knew he knew what I meant.

“Your cock, Sir, your Big. Beautiful. Black. Cock.” There was no escaping it. I’d called Jackson here. I’d begged him to use me. It was time I accepted what was going to happen, what I wanted to happen. “You’re such a stud. That cock is huge; it’s the biggest I’ve ever seen. I want it.”

A crooked smile crossed his face, “Music to my ears, boy. Now strip.”

I tilted my head to one side in a questioning gesture, but Jackson only nodded down to my clothes and kept his arms crossed. In a similar fashion to Jackson, I slowly peeled off my sweatshirt and draped it over the back of a chair. I made eye contact with him and, bending at the waist, pulled my sweatpants down to my ankles, stepped free and kicked them to one side. I didn’t cover myself. The time for modesty was over. My four-inch cock stood out proudly from below my waist, and the moment Jackson saw it, he let out a deep, booming laugh.

“Shit, no wonder you want this so badly.” Jackson grabbed a handful of his pants and shook them in my direction. I quickly realised that the bundle he was holding wasn’t his trousers but the cock beneath. It bounced in his large hand, lewdly swinging and bobbing draped in black. “Turn round, let me see that ass.” Without pausing, I turned on the spot and faced the wall. “Damn! I always loved those summers here. Watching you get out of the pool in your wet shorts was a thing of beauty. I knew you had a fat ass, but fuck, toned too. I’m going to enjoy this.”

I spun around and held my hands up. “Wait, I can’t do that. You can’t fuck me. That thing is too big.”

Jackson’s expression went blank; then he began to smirk. “Okay, but let me ask you something. And be honest, because I’ll know if you’re bullshitting me, got it?” I nodded slowly. “Ever tried a plug?”

I felt my cheeks flush as I shook my head.

“Want me to go through your things, or are you going to stop lying to me?” Jackson’s tone dropped an octave, and any hint of a smile was gone.

My eyes dropped from his body for the first time since he’d arrived. “Yes. Yes, I have. I’m sorry.”

I felt one of his large fingers under my chin. Slowly, he tilted my head to meet his gaze again. “That’s okay, baby. I know you’re nervous, but you’ll learn. I’ll always know when you’re lying.” As I stood there looking up at Jackson, he crossed his arms in the same fashion as before. Pulling his t-shirt free of his pants, he pulled the white fabric over his head. I couldn’t help but gasp. He let his arms fall to his sides and smiled at me. “Like what you see?”

I could only nod. Words just weren’t coming to me, so I stood there silent.

“How big was it?” Jackson held his hand up in the shape of a letter cee.

“five inches.”

“Diameter?” I nodded. “Then, why are you worrying? Sure, you’re gonna be a little tight, but I’ll go slow. I can make it fit.” The entire house was quiet. We just stared at each other in silence. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. “Come here.”

I stepped forward, and Jackson placed a hand on my shoulder. He began to apply pressure, and I knew what I needed to do. My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor. Still, our eyes remained locked. “I’ve never done this before, not on a real one,” I said quietly.

“Then we’ll go slow, at first. Now, what do you think you should do next?”

I broke eye contact and stared at Jackson’s crotch. I glanced up briefly, then raised myself into a kneeling position. Hooking my fingers into the waistband of his pants, I swallowed a dry swallow and began to pull. I felt the band vibrate as it twanged over his hard ass cheeks, and I bent forward, pushing his pants down his legs to the floor. I paused for a moment. My fingers didn’t feel the material of boxer shorts on my journey over Jackson’s thighs. I knew what that meant. Jackson didn’t want anything in the way, he was expecting this to be a quick affair, and he was going to remove all impedance to what he wanted. Pausing for a moment, I took a deep breath and straightened up.

“Holy fuck, Jackson, you’re huge.” My mouth fell open in a similar fashion as it did the first time I opened his pictures, except I only used one hand to cover my mouth. I looked up at Jackson, and he was smiling down at me with a broad smile. He winked and nodded down. I gasped again when I realised why he was smiling. Only one hand had covered my mouth because the other had immediately taken hold of his cock, and was now slowly stroking it.

“You’re a natural baby. When I read that article, I stroked myself hard thinking of you on your knees in front of me, just like this. I’ve wanted you for years; you’re pretty for a guy.” Jackson stroked my hair, brushing my long fringe off my forehead.

It wasn’t the first time someone had referred to me as “pretty”. More than a few exes over the years had made jokes that I was prettier than they were. I always put it down to harmless leg-pulling. It wasn’t until I turned nineteen when a man approached me in a nightclub that it hit me. After that, I’d become hyper-aware of the looks I’d get walking around town, and I always made sure to wear outfits that screamed “I’m a guy!” but the advances didn’t stop. Being called Baby wasn’t new to me either. The first time happened when I was twenty-two. He was a colleague of my Father’s and drunk. It was Christmas time, and my Father had thrown a party at our place. It was late, and I was upstairs on the landing when I heard him coming up the stairs; I remember the sheer size of him overwhelming me. “Hi Baby, fancy a rerun of last year, that idiot of a husband won’t know a thing.” A moment later, he realised who I was, and he appeared to sober up on the spot. Lord only knows what they had done the year before. “Oh hey boy, sorry, I thought you were your Mo—someone else.” He looked me up and down. I was ready for bed, so I was only wearing a small pair of boxers. I turned to walk away, trying not to focus on the dirty liaison he had in mind, but I wasn’t ready for what came next. “Damn, Baby, you’ve got a better ass than your Mother. If you ever want to break it in, let me know.” Looking back, I don’t think I truly appreciated what he’d said to me, but deep down, I think my curiosity about Black Men started that very second.

And here I was. On my knees, holding the biggest cock I had ever seen, and it had me transfixed. My hands slid up and down the shaft rhythmically. I watched as the head enveloped by the thick rolls of his foreskin, reappearing a moment later on the downstroke. I looked up at Jackson. My eyes were glassy; he smiled and gave me a knowing wink. I opened my mouth, never once looking away from those stony dark eyes, and leant forward. My tongue lapped at the large purple head, swirling around it like an ice cream cone. I let out a soft hum as I watched a bead of precum form at the slit of his cock. I paused for a moment and watched the little clear ball grow. My brain tried to process this moment, trying to document it. The moment my life changed. I pressed Jackson’s cock to my tongue and tilted my head back, dragging my tongue up and over the crest of his cockhead. I felt the viscous fluid coat my tongue, and a shiver rippled through me. Out of pure instinct, my eyes shut, and I purred as I pulled my tongue back into my mouth and tasted Jackson’s essence.

“That good, Baby?” Jackson sounded relaxed. My eyes opened to see his soft smile. All I could do was nod my appreciation. With our eyes locked again, I bent forward and kissed the tip of his cock several times. Moving from one side to the other, kissing all over his cock head. I lifted his large cock and pushed it flat against his taut abs. Leaning forward, I lapped at his big balls, marvelling at the rough texture, but at the same time, realising that they were holding a lot of cum. It was something I hadn’t contemplated until that moment, yet, I found a new sense of wonder and anticipation to find out.