MN Manmacker's mansploitation
Now that he ain’t got Gerald to talk to, the girls got Malcolm distractory. He steeled his nerves and his faith with the power of Christ’s love, and he sturdyfooted outta that iniquitous interior. He went out the backdoor.
Now that he ain’t got Gerald to talk to, the girls got Malcolm distractory. He steeled his nerves and his faith with the power of Christ’s love, and he sturdyfooted outta that iniquitous interior. He went out the backdoor.
Gerald guffawed, and Malcolm smiled along, though remember, he was steady growing less appreciatory of this kinda bawdy talk.
Gerald guffawed, and Malcolm smiled along, though remember, he was steady growing less appreciatory of this kinda bawdy talk.
He was Christian enough that he ain’t like to witness Gerald fornicating willy-nilly like a dicking dandy. Malcolm ain’t always been a perfect boyfriend and soon-to-be husband with his darling Edwina, but he at least had the common courtesy to feel ashameous for it.
He ain’t admire for Gerald to cheat on that fine Nubian female waiting at home for him. Malcolm weren’t a committed Christian at the time, but he was Christian enough that he ain’t like to witness Gerald fornicating willy-nilly like a dicking dandy. Malcolm ain’t always been a perfect boyfriend and soon-to-be husband with his darling Edwina, but he at least had the common courtesy to feel ashameous for it.
Interracial Dubcon in Baltimore
Chapter One: The Ex-Con and the Robber
Chapter Four: The Parole Officer
Avery had six months of parole, and he was looking forward to it. He had been assigned to Gerald Richards, a buff black P.O. and ex-drill sergeant. Avery had had to pull a few strings to make sure he was assigned to Mr. Richards’ caseload.
He had asked for that because, according to street rumors, Mr. Richards was known to force his parolees to jerk him off.
He had a great mustache. Avery was a sucker for a black guy with a mustache. He wanted to suck the hairs right off his upper lip. And he had big broad shoulders that shook as he filled out a form with Avery’s personal information on it.
“So you work as a writer? A freelance writer?”
“Yep.”
“That don’t sound like a real job. I want you to get a real job,” Mr. Richards said.
“Yes, sir,” Avery said. He wasn’t going to do that, but he wanted to agreeable.
“Do you have any skills?”
“Just-“
“Don’t say writin’, man.”
“Then no. Sir.”
“Alright, I can hook you up with a job at Taco Dell. I know the manager there. I like the way you called me sir without me…” He looked Avery up and down and sucked on his lower lip; the mustache on his upper lip quivered. “Without me makin’ a big deal out of it.”
Damn it. That was it, Avery thought. If Avery hadn’t called him sir, Mr. Richards would have made him throat dick, he was sure of it. That was what the look on his face said. Damn it!
“Oh, uh…” Avery blushed. He quaked. Had he gone through all this for nothing? He was entranced by Mr. Richards’ big muscles, his biceps bulging from the rolled-up sleeve of his stained and faded button-down shirt.
Mr. Richards wordlessly filled out his paperwork. “You do drugs?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re gonna do a piss test next time,” he said. He glanced up and made eye contact with Avery. “What? You look mad. What?”
“It’s just…” Avery took a deep breath. He decided to be blunt with him. “I heard a rumor about you, Mr. Richards.”
“What? I don’t like rumormongering. I don’t condone it. A man should stand behind the shit he says,” Mr. Richards said.
“I heard… you sometimes make guys jerk your dick.”
Mr. Richards glowered at him. His dark eyes were expressionless. “What? You insinuatin’ I force my parolees into somethin’?” He watched Avery pop one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on it. “Motherfucker, you think I’m a pervert?! That is fucked up. That ain’t no kinda thing I would ever do,” Mr. Richards said. “And I resent you for bringin’ up that kinda scurrilous accusation.”
“Oh, I’m sorry-“
“Shut ya lie-hole, pansy. Ain’t not a soul make no kinda accusation of that sort. Sometimes motherfuckahs be beggin’ for a way to prove how much respect they got for me. Y’know… sometimes, motherfuckahs be thinkin’ callin’ me sir is the worst thing I could force ’em to do… only the trick is, I can’t force ’em to do that. I can’t pull no words outta someone’s mouth. So I gotta focus on gettin’ respect out of ’em through some other means. Ya feel me?” He stood up and came closer to Avery. He grabbed him by the chin and played with his lower lip. “You wanna jerk my dick?”
“Yes!” Avery immediately moved to grab for his crotch, but Mr. Richards slapped his hand away.
“I ain’t say you could. I was just doin’ a survey like, for gauging general interest among the populace,” Mr. Richards said. He pointed to a spot on the floor. “Get on yo’ knees.”
Avery did as he was told. His heart thumped. He was going to get to do this after all.
“You know our meetin’ is done, right? I ain’t keepin’ you here no more? I’d rather you leave, to be honest,” Mr. Richards said. He unzipped his slacks and pulled out a massive cock. When Avery went for it, Mr. Richards slapped him. “I ain’t consent to you throatin’ it. I’m still makin’ sure you know I don’t like you, and I don’t want you throatin’ my dick. This ain’t how I get off. I ain’t like that. Strikes me as unbiblical,” he said. “That ain’t the parole department’s opinion, mind you, that’s a personal thought and I gots a right to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think this is a tool,” he said. He flopped his limp dick over Avery’s face. Avery opened his mouth to lick, but Mr. Richards slapped him again. “Get that tongue back in yo’ mouth, boy. This here is my tool, not ya lollipop. It’s a tool I use to insert respect back into mouthy motherfuckahs who lost they respect in some tragic accident. Ya feel me? It ain’t yo’ personal plaything.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I am gonna ram you in the throat cuz you asked me nice and I like the way yo’ lips is all soft and shit,” he said. He rubbed Avery’s lips with one callused finger. “Don’t you dare be spreadin’ none of them falsities ’bout how I make men jerk me off. I don’t do that. That’s against regulations.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You seducin’ me right now. You turnin’ this office into a hostile work environment ‘gainst me, boy. I oughta cite you for that,” he said. He chuckled throatily as he spread Avery’s lips with his fingers and rubbed his limp dick over Avery’s gums and teeth. “You may open ya mouth.”
Avery did so, as wide as he could, and he swallowed Mr. Richard’s dick down to the root. He looked up at Mr. Richards’ surprised face — he probably didn’t normally get dome from guys who could deep-throat like Avery.
Mr. Richards held onto the back of Avery’s head and plowed into him, treating his mouth like it was a pussy. His balls slapped against Avery’s chin.
“Alright boy, no spillin’ my nut, that ain’t respectful,” he said. Then he chuckled. “What am I sayin’? I ain’t gotta tell you that. I bet you love swallowin’ nut.” His chuckling broke as he orgasmed.
He slammed his dick all the way in. Avery could feel him orgasm in the throbbing of the vein on his dick, which pulsated against Avery’s tongue. But Mr. Richards’ dick was so deep in his throat that Avery didn’t taste the actual cum at first, just the precum that already coated his shaft.
“Hmmm… boy, you drainin’ me, that’s good…” His voice was low and rumbly like velvet sandpaper, and he bucked his hips, making sweet love to Avery’s throat. He gripped his hair tightly, rubbing his crotch and balls all over Avery’s face.
Finally, he pulled out, and the taste of salty-sweet cum assaulted Avery’s senses. He moaned and swallowed every drop, even as his belly contorted and his lungs cried out for oxygen. He slathered Mr. Richard’s dick with spit and cum as he let it slowly plop out.
“Goddamn, boy.” Mr. Richards said with a chuckle.
Avery gasped for air. “Hmmm… You taste so good… I love your dick, Mr. Richards, I-“
“Hush. I don’t need you to talk,” Mr. Richards said. The mustache on his upper lip quivered. He sighed and leaned back. “Shit…”
“Hmmm…” Avery smacked his lips and wiped his face off. “I didn’t spill any, I promise.” He quickly put his own clothes back on. It was always best, he thought, to leave them wanting more, so he intended to leave right away.
Mr. Richards nodded. “Hey, boy.”
“Yes, sir?” Avery headed for the door.
“I take back what I said about my dick not bein’ your personal lollipop. You can come back and jerk me off whenever you want,” he said. He handed his business card over, with his home address written on it. “Okay?”
“Yes, sir!”
Interracial Dubcon in Baltimore
Chapter One: The Ex-Con and the Robber
Chapter Four: The Parole Officer
Interracial Dubcon in Baltimore
Chapter One: The Ex-Con and the Robber