King Cock PT2 GayMaker
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No Way Was He Gay? PT2 Gay free porn video
I picked up a pizza and a couple of slurpees (there is nothing better than an all meat pie and a cream soda slurpee) and headed home resolved to assure Ben I wasn't mad, but we needed to talk.
I walked into the house and Ben, near tears, groaned, "I'm so sorry, Dad."
I handed him a slurpee and said calmly, "Apology accepted. Now let's both chill; we can eat and have a talk."
"Okay," he said, surprised by my calm. Truth is, I was a very calm person ninety-nine percent of the time, but when I exploded, usually when my favourite teams lost, I tended to lose it. No one yelled at the tv and the officials like I did (somehow thinking they would hear me).
Right now wasn't the time to lose it. Ben was already feeling horrible.
Now was the time to listen and understand.
We sat across from each other at the table and after we'd each eaten a slice in silence I reassured him, "I just have some questions, son. Are you gay?"
"No," he said.
"Bi?"
"Not really."
"Not really?" I asked, "Can someone be partially bi?"
"It's not that simple," he said, unable to make eye contact with me.
"Is he blackmailing you?"
"No."
"Bullying you?"
"No."
Now I was baffled. He had denied every reason I could think of for his being on his knees sucking Jamal. There was a long pause while Ben looked down and I scanned the ceiling, looking for ideas.
"I'm confused," I finally said.
"It's really hard to explain," Ben said, still unable to meet my eyes. "I don't even understand it myself."
"How long has it been going on?" I asked, thinking a bigger picture might help me to understand.
"Since January."
It was now May. "No way," I said, thinking, How could I not know this? How did he hide it?
"I'm sorry, Dad," he repeated, clearly worried about what I thought of him.
"Son, I'm not angry or disappointed," I said, trying to be as compassionate as possible, something Mary had been way better at being (God bless her soul). "Well, I can't deny I was both at first, you saw how I was. But now I'm just trying to understand."
Finally he said something that opened the conversation up a tad, as it seemed he spoke through his own disbelief, "I can't say no."
"No to what?" I asked, a bit dense.
"To Jamal," he replied in a whisper.
"Why not?"
"I don't know," he said, his tone conveying that this was a question he'd been asking himself for a while. "I just can't resist."
"Can't resist what? Him? Something about his superior attitude?"
Another long pause.
"No, just his cock," Ben finally admitted.
Silence.
I had no idea what to say to this.
I wondered what Mary would do.
Finally I asked, recalling Jamal's silly rationale, "Is it because it's big and black?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Have you ever sucked a white one?" I asked, this conversation way out of my comfort zone. Nowhere in the books about parenting is there any advice about this.
"No," he answered.
"Just Jamal's?"
"No," he whispered sheepishly.
"But just black?" I dug down, having already thought for some reason he'd sucked more than just Jamal's.
"Yes."
My thoughts briefly returned to Jamal's cock itself. I couldn't explain my fascination with it then, but I somehow kind of understood. Yet I still kind of didn't.
"Why?" I asked.
"Dad this is so embarrassing," he said, tears beginning to stream from his eyes... the first time I'd seen that since his mother died.
"I'm not judging you son, I'm just trying to understand," I said.
After a long pause he said, "I crave it."
"Crave what exactly, his cock or the act?" I asked, the image of Jamal's humongous cock popping back into my head. I added, trying to let him know I kind of understood, "he does have a pretty big one."
"They all do," he said.
"Who?" I asked, still being really dense.
"All the black guys."
"He doesn't make you suck off other guys, does he?"
"No, no," he shook his head, "I just... he doesn't make me... it's just... he doesn't have to make me... I just... I can't resist any black cock."
"Any?"
"Any at all," he confirmed.
"And this is all of your own volition?" I asked, still clinging to the notion he was somehow being coerced into this.
"Yes," he whispered.
"How often?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
"A few times a week," he said, before adding sounding defeated, "sometimes more."
I was speechless.
This still didn't make any sense.
"What about Amy?"
For the first time the entire conversation he looked up at me, and in terror, "She mustn't know."
"But you're still dating her?" I asked.
"Yes, I love her more than anything," he said, and then paused, sighed and added with a certain amount of despairing acceptance, "well... more than anything except sucking black cock."
"You can't hide it from her forever," I pointed out.
"I know," he sighed heavily.
"Think you can stop?"
"I've tried," he sighed again. "Every time I finish sucking one and I've left, I say it was the last time; yet a few days later, sometimes just a few hours later, I'm craving another one."
"Is it the sucking or the cum?" I asked, really trying to understand this. I understood that gay men were attracted to each other... that made sense to me. I was attracted to a shapely pair of legs in nylons and other guys were drawn to big boobs: we all had different tastes. But not being attracted to the same sex and yet craving their cock didn't make any sense.
"It's everything," he answered, which told me nothing.
"Sorry if I'm not following," I said, "but what does everything include?"
"I can't explain it, but you know when I'm in the pocket and I just naturally feel at home because I know my exact purpose?" he began, using a sports analogy.
"Of course," I nodded, having had the same experience in my basketball career.
"Well, I get the exact same feeling when I'm on my knees with a cock in my mouth," he said, and then corrected himself, "or rather with a big black cock in my mouth."
"So you said they're all big?" I asked, for some reason that's what came out of my mouth.
"Well, usually, but not always," he nodded, seeming now to be more comfortable talking about cocks, "they tend to be longer and thicker than white dicks."
"But you only suck black ones?" I asked for clarification, as if that was the main issue here.
"Yes," he nodded. He then explained, beginning to get more comfortable with this strange conversation, "there's just something majestic, compelling and almost hypnotic about a black cock."
"So preferring black over white, yellow or red," I began as I tried to understand, Jamal's cock again popping into my head, "Is like preferring redheads over blondes and brunettes."
"Essentially," he smiled for the first time in this conversation. "But way stronger. Amy has this rich red hair and I love that about her. But I still enjoy checking out a hot blonde or brunette. But even though I can't resist a black cock, I couldn't care less about other ones."
"And the cum?" I asked.
"Honestly?" he asked.
"I love you, son and I want to understand what you're thinking and feeling. We're beyond keeping any secrets," I pointed out.
He paused as if gathering his thoughts.
"Well then, I love the cum," he said. "I think it tastes a lot better than pussy, and feeling cum splattering on my face is a major turn on."
"You get turned on from taking a facial?" I asked, this not an aspect I'd considered. That he received sexual pleasure from doing this, even though it should have been pretty obvious.
"Yeah," he nodded sheepishly.
"Do you get hard when you're sucking cock?" I asked.
"Always" he repeated, again feeling guilty about his answers.
"If you could choose between having sex with Amy and sucking a black cock, which would you choose?" I asked.
"At first I thought it would be Amy," he began, not looking up at me at all again, "but Jamal proved it would be black cock."
"How?"
"He texted me while I was at the movies with Amy, demanding I come suck him in the bathroom," he said.
"And you did?"
"Yeah," he nodded, and added, "and then once he texted me to come out and suck him in his car while Amy was in my bedroom and we were making out."
"Oh my."
"And he made me choose, white cunt or black cock, his very words, at prom," he finished.
"That was just last week," I said.
Tears were streaming down his face again when he explained, "That's when he took my anal virginity and had me wear his cum in my underwear for the rest of the prom. Then afterwards when she wanted me, I had to turn her down so she wouldn't feel my sticky butt and learn what I did."
"You really let him fuck you?"
He didn't say anything.
Sucking cock was weird, but allowing a guy to fuck you was definitely gay.
Wasn't it?
"And you let him cum inside you?" I asked, bewildered.
Still nothing. All that was on his face was shame.
"Did you enjoy it?"
Tears streamed down his face.
"Son," I said tenderly, trying to be motherly during this surreal conversation, and knowing it was the right thing to say. "It's okay."
"Dad, it's not fucking okay," he snapped, standing up. "Black cock is all I can think about. I can't push it away. I can't resist it. I can't say no."
"I can help," I said.
"No, you can't," he said, shaking his head violently. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I don't want you getting drawn into this too."
"I won't be," I said.
"Did you look at Jamal's cock?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.
"I saw it," I admitted, not revealing the humiliating fact that I'd gotten hard.
"No, I mean did you look at it? Did you find it hard not to look?"
"I was in a bit of awe at its size, fascinated even," I admitted.
"Then unless you stay well away, you're a goner, Dad. That's how it starts."
"What does?" I asked, not following his train of thought.
"Temptation," he said in a loud, frustrated voice.
"I'm not tempted," I said, meaning it. I was impressed by its size, but that was it. The same way I admire Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson. He's impressive, but he doesn't turn me on. (Yeah I know, that's the opposite of what I said a moment ago and it's classic denial, but this is what I was thinking at the time.)
"I didn't think I was either," he said, "but before I knew it I was sucking black cock in the football storage closet... two or three times a day sometimes."
"Two or three times a day?" I asked, unable to fathom that.
"You may as well know everything," he said, seeming to believe he was past being saved, and happy to finally be able to talk about this to someone, "I have at least a dozen guys at school I service, as well as Mr. Jones."
Although his entire admission was shocking, I asked, "The janitor?"
"He has the fattest black cock of all," he said, as if this were sufficient reason.
"He's in his sixties," I pointed out, still not able to comprehend this.
"Yeah, it takes forever to get him off," Ben said.
"I'll deal with him on Monday," I said firmly, standing up.
"NO! You won't!" Ben said firmly.
"Say what?" I asked, not accustomed to my son arguing with me. "We can't have Hector Jones going around getting students to suck him off."
"I'm a cock sucker," he declared. "It's my choice to suck his cock. He doesn't approach me, I go to him. I actually beg him to let me do it."
"Ben!" I said.
"No," he said, on a roll. "This conversation has made me accept something I've been trying to deny, and yet deep inside me I knew the truth. This isn't anybody's fault, I just love black cock."
I was speechless.
"Thanks Dad," he said after a pause.
"For what?" I asked, still overwhelmed and again wishing Mary was alive to guide me through this.
"I've been sitting on this for months," he said. "It's very lonely being a cocksucker for BBC. It's not like I can tell my buddies all about the nice cock I sucked the night before."
"Son, I don't think this is a healthy acceptance," I said, thinking I'd failed epically if this conversation were to end with his accepting he was a cock sucker.
"You accept me for who I am, right Dad?" he asked, a sudden vulnerability on his face.
"Of course," I said.
"And I can tell you anything?" he asked.
"Of course."
And you won't judge me?"
"Now that I've had some time to think it through, of course, son," I said, pulling him in for a hug. I would have to do some research. Have to see if there was a way to help with his addiction. There was help for alcoholics, d**gs and even sex addicts... there also had to be a way to help him out of this addiction.
"Thanks, Dad," he said. "I still hope you don't get sucked in as it can happen in a flash and there is no going back, but you've helped me see that all the stress I've been going through is because I've been fighting who I am. If I crave BBC all the time, it's not as if I can't get any."
His sudden acceptance was shocking. This wasn't the purpose of the conversation for him to accept he is a cock sucker for BBC. It was to save him from it.
As I tried to figure out how to nicely say this still wasn't a healthy lifestyle choice je added, "I love you Dad."
"I love you too, son," I said, tears beginning to well in my eyes. His reaction was so far from what I'd intended, but if he was happy... I don't know.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
He said, "That's Amy. We were going out to a party tonight."
"Great," I said, hoping Amy could keep his focus on her.
"Thanks again, Dad," he said, before heading to the door.
I walked into the house and Ben, near tears, groaned, "I'm so sorry, Dad."
I handed him a slurpee and said calmly, "Apology accepted. Now let's both chill; we can eat and have a talk."
"Okay," he said, surprised by my calm. Truth is, I was a very calm person ninety-nine percent of the time, but when I exploded, usually when my favourite teams lost, I tended to lose it. No one yelled at the tv and the officials like I did (somehow thinking they would hear me).
Right now wasn't the time to lose it. Ben was already feeling horrible.
Now was the time to listen and understand.
We sat across from each other at the table and after we'd each eaten a slice in silence I reassured him, "I just have some questions, son. Are you gay?"
"No," he said.
"Bi?"
"Not really."
"Not really?" I asked, "Can someone be partially bi?"
"It's not that simple," he said, unable to make eye contact with me.
"Is he blackmailing you?"
"No."
"Bullying you?"
"No."
Now I was baffled. He had denied every reason I could think of for his being on his knees sucking Jamal. There was a long pause while Ben looked down and I scanned the ceiling, looking for ideas.
"I'm confused," I finally said.
"It's really hard to explain," Ben said, still unable to meet my eyes. "I don't even understand it myself."
"How long has it been going on?" I asked, thinking a bigger picture might help me to understand.
"Since January."
It was now May. "No way," I said, thinking, How could I not know this? How did he hide it?
"I'm sorry, Dad," he repeated, clearly worried about what I thought of him.
"Son, I'm not angry or disappointed," I said, trying to be as compassionate as possible, something Mary had been way better at being (God bless her soul). "Well, I can't deny I was both at first, you saw how I was. But now I'm just trying to understand."
Finally he said something that opened the conversation up a tad, as it seemed he spoke through his own disbelief, "I can't say no."
"No to what?" I asked, a bit dense.
"To Jamal," he replied in a whisper.
"Why not?"
"I don't know," he said, his tone conveying that this was a question he'd been asking himself for a while. "I just can't resist."
"Can't resist what? Him? Something about his superior attitude?"
Another long pause.
"No, just his cock," Ben finally admitted.
Silence.
I had no idea what to say to this.
I wondered what Mary would do.
Finally I asked, recalling Jamal's silly rationale, "Is it because it's big and black?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Have you ever sucked a white one?" I asked, this conversation way out of my comfort zone. Nowhere in the books about parenting is there any advice about this.
"No," he answered.
"Just Jamal's?"
"No," he whispered sheepishly.
"But just black?" I dug down, having already thought for some reason he'd sucked more than just Jamal's.
"Yes."
My thoughts briefly returned to Jamal's cock itself. I couldn't explain my fascination with it then, but I somehow kind of understood. Yet I still kind of didn't.
"Why?" I asked.
"Dad this is so embarrassing," he said, tears beginning to stream from his eyes... the first time I'd seen that since his mother died.
"I'm not judging you son, I'm just trying to understand," I said.
After a long pause he said, "I crave it."
"Crave what exactly, his cock or the act?" I asked, the image of Jamal's humongous cock popping back into my head. I added, trying to let him know I kind of understood, "he does have a pretty big one."
"They all do," he said.
"Who?" I asked, still being really dense.
"All the black guys."
"He doesn't make you suck off other guys, does he?"
"No, no," he shook his head, "I just... he doesn't make me... it's just... he doesn't have to make me... I just... I can't resist any black cock."
"Any?"
"Any at all," he confirmed.
"And this is all of your own volition?" I asked, still clinging to the notion he was somehow being coerced into this.
"Yes," he whispered.
"How often?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
"A few times a week," he said, before adding sounding defeated, "sometimes more."
I was speechless.
This still didn't make any sense.
"What about Amy?"
For the first time the entire conversation he looked up at me, and in terror, "She mustn't know."
"But you're still dating her?" I asked.
"Yes, I love her more than anything," he said, and then paused, sighed and added with a certain amount of despairing acceptance, "well... more than anything except sucking black cock."
"You can't hide it from her forever," I pointed out.
"I know," he sighed heavily.
"Think you can stop?"
"I've tried," he sighed again. "Every time I finish sucking one and I've left, I say it was the last time; yet a few days later, sometimes just a few hours later, I'm craving another one."
"Is it the sucking or the cum?" I asked, really trying to understand this. I understood that gay men were attracted to each other... that made sense to me. I was attracted to a shapely pair of legs in nylons and other guys were drawn to big boobs: we all had different tastes. But not being attracted to the same sex and yet craving their cock didn't make any sense.
"It's everything," he answered, which told me nothing.
"Sorry if I'm not following," I said, "but what does everything include?"
"I can't explain it, but you know when I'm in the pocket and I just naturally feel at home because I know my exact purpose?" he began, using a sports analogy.
"Of course," I nodded, having had the same experience in my basketball career.
"Well, I get the exact same feeling when I'm on my knees with a cock in my mouth," he said, and then corrected himself, "or rather with a big black cock in my mouth."
"So you said they're all big?" I asked, for some reason that's what came out of my mouth.
"Well, usually, but not always," he nodded, seeming now to be more comfortable talking about cocks, "they tend to be longer and thicker than white dicks."
"But you only suck black ones?" I asked for clarification, as if that was the main issue here.
"Yes," he nodded. He then explained, beginning to get more comfortable with this strange conversation, "there's just something majestic, compelling and almost hypnotic about a black cock."
"So preferring black over white, yellow or red," I began as I tried to understand, Jamal's cock again popping into my head, "Is like preferring redheads over blondes and brunettes."
"Essentially," he smiled for the first time in this conversation. "But way stronger. Amy has this rich red hair and I love that about her. But I still enjoy checking out a hot blonde or brunette. But even though I can't resist a black cock, I couldn't care less about other ones."
"And the cum?" I asked.
"Honestly?" he asked.
"I love you, son and I want to understand what you're thinking and feeling. We're beyond keeping any secrets," I pointed out.
He paused as if gathering his thoughts.
"Well then, I love the cum," he said. "I think it tastes a lot better than pussy, and feeling cum splattering on my face is a major turn on."
"You get turned on from taking a facial?" I asked, this not an aspect I'd considered. That he received sexual pleasure from doing this, even though it should have been pretty obvious.
"Yeah," he nodded sheepishly.
"Do you get hard when you're sucking cock?" I asked.
"Always" he repeated, again feeling guilty about his answers.
"If you could choose between having sex with Amy and sucking a black cock, which would you choose?" I asked.
"At first I thought it would be Amy," he began, not looking up at me at all again, "but Jamal proved it would be black cock."
"How?"
"He texted me while I was at the movies with Amy, demanding I come suck him in the bathroom," he said.
"And you did?"
"Yeah," he nodded, and added, "and then once he texted me to come out and suck him in his car while Amy was in my bedroom and we were making out."
"Oh my."
"And he made me choose, white cunt or black cock, his very words, at prom," he finished.
"That was just last week," I said.
Tears were streaming down his face again when he explained, "That's when he took my anal virginity and had me wear his cum in my underwear for the rest of the prom. Then afterwards when she wanted me, I had to turn her down so she wouldn't feel my sticky butt and learn what I did."
"You really let him fuck you?"
He didn't say anything.
Sucking cock was weird, but allowing a guy to fuck you was definitely gay.
Wasn't it?
"And you let him cum inside you?" I asked, bewildered.
Still nothing. All that was on his face was shame.
"Did you enjoy it?"
Tears streamed down his face.
"Son," I said tenderly, trying to be motherly during this surreal conversation, and knowing it was the right thing to say. "It's okay."
"Dad, it's not fucking okay," he snapped, standing up. "Black cock is all I can think about. I can't push it away. I can't resist it. I can't say no."
"I can help," I said.
"No, you can't," he said, shaking his head violently. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer, but I don't want you getting drawn into this too."
"I won't be," I said.
"Did you look at Jamal's cock?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.
"I saw it," I admitted, not revealing the humiliating fact that I'd gotten hard.
"No, I mean did you look at it? Did you find it hard not to look?"
"I was in a bit of awe at its size, fascinated even," I admitted.
"Then unless you stay well away, you're a goner, Dad. That's how it starts."
"What does?" I asked, not following his train of thought.
"Temptation," he said in a loud, frustrated voice.
"I'm not tempted," I said, meaning it. I was impressed by its size, but that was it. The same way I admire Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson. He's impressive, but he doesn't turn me on. (Yeah I know, that's the opposite of what I said a moment ago and it's classic denial, but this is what I was thinking at the time.)
"I didn't think I was either," he said, "but before I knew it I was sucking black cock in the football storage closet... two or three times a day sometimes."
"Two or three times a day?" I asked, unable to fathom that.
"You may as well know everything," he said, seeming to believe he was past being saved, and happy to finally be able to talk about this to someone, "I have at least a dozen guys at school I service, as well as Mr. Jones."
Although his entire admission was shocking, I asked, "The janitor?"
"He has the fattest black cock of all," he said, as if this were sufficient reason.
"He's in his sixties," I pointed out, still not able to comprehend this.
"Yeah, it takes forever to get him off," Ben said.
"I'll deal with him on Monday," I said firmly, standing up.
"NO! You won't!" Ben said firmly.
"Say what?" I asked, not accustomed to my son arguing with me. "We can't have Hector Jones going around getting students to suck him off."
"I'm a cock sucker," he declared. "It's my choice to suck his cock. He doesn't approach me, I go to him. I actually beg him to let me do it."
"Ben!" I said.
"No," he said, on a roll. "This conversation has made me accept something I've been trying to deny, and yet deep inside me I knew the truth. This isn't anybody's fault, I just love black cock."
I was speechless.
"Thanks Dad," he said after a pause.
"For what?" I asked, still overwhelmed and again wishing Mary was alive to guide me through this.
"I've been sitting on this for months," he said. "It's very lonely being a cocksucker for BBC. It's not like I can tell my buddies all about the nice cock I sucked the night before."
"Son, I don't think this is a healthy acceptance," I said, thinking I'd failed epically if this conversation were to end with his accepting he was a cock sucker.
"You accept me for who I am, right Dad?" he asked, a sudden vulnerability on his face.
"Of course," I said.
"And I can tell you anything?" he asked.
"Of course."
And you won't judge me?"
"Now that I've had some time to think it through, of course, son," I said, pulling him in for a hug. I would have to do some research. Have to see if there was a way to help with his addiction. There was help for alcoholics, d**gs and even sex addicts... there also had to be a way to help him out of this addiction.
"Thanks, Dad," he said. "I still hope you don't get sucked in as it can happen in a flash and there is no going back, but you've helped me see that all the stress I've been going through is because I've been fighting who I am. If I crave BBC all the time, it's not as if I can't get any."
His sudden acceptance was shocking. This wasn't the purpose of the conversation for him to accept he is a cock sucker for BBC. It was to save him from it.
As I tried to figure out how to nicely say this still wasn't a healthy lifestyle choice je added, "I love you Dad."
"I love you too, son," I said, tears beginning to well in my eyes. His reaction was so far from what I'd intended, but if he was happy... I don't know.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
He said, "That's Amy. We were going out to a party tonight."
"Great," I said, hoping Amy could keep his focus on her.
"Thanks again, Dad," he said, before heading to the door.
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