Breakfast for Sir

(This is a story set on a gay cruise ship where I am the Cruise Director and Tom is one of our regular customers. It may or may not be an extract of a larger story, depending on whether my real Lit friend Tom and I get inspired again.)

I watched you leave after another rambunctious evening in the ball room. It is only day 3 of the cruise and already you are proving something of a star. Swapping butt plugs on stage was inspired. Especially using the go pro and the big screen to let everyone in the room see what was going on.

But even you get tired, Tom, and you stumbled out of the ball room with those two Trinidadian guys in tow. Ferdie and Opie. The waiters. You wiggling your ass with Tyrone's butt plug hanging out. He's way too big for you, Tom, but no one tells you what you can and can't push up your ass.

I retired to my cabin with Siwan and Tae, my favourite little Korean guys, who fingered and sucked me into a deep, refreshing sleep.

You are nowhere to be seen when I cum down to the pool deck next morning. I left Siwan and Tae on my bed by the open window. They are off shift this morning so I let them sleep. They looked so cute and hot, lying there naked, their smooth little bodies intertwined on my soiled sheets. I pulled on my speedo, the yellow one with the one inch sides which is fully transparent when wet, and kissed their limp cocks. They both stirred and stretched, but didn't wake.

Tyrone is working this morning. He is naked except for the collar and bow tie uniform of the breakfast waiters. The white collar glows against his jet black skin, itself reflecting the low morning sun. He has placed freshly squeezed orange juice on the table beside my sun lounge. I enjoy it while I watch him ass fuck another early riser. It's the guy from Seattle, 50 something, fit and tanned, enjoys big black cocks inside him, like you do. Tyrone has him bent over a bench, his hands on the guy's hips, pulling his ass up to him. The Jamaican is so strong that even Seattle guy is being used like a soft toy, just some lump of white sissy flesh for Tyrone to pound and then discharge his black man seed into.

Tyrone makes eye contact and I raise my glass to him. He knows he has an appointment with you next.

He unloads into Seattle guy, who cries out in pain and ecstasy. Tyrone lets him slide off the cock and onto the bench. I shake my head. Tyrone knows not to let the guy clean him up. We have spoken. I want Tyrone to wake you up with another guy's ass fluids still running off his cock. I want to see just how filthy and depraved you really are, Tom. Although I think I know after watching you clean all those butt plugs with your mouth last night.

I rise, walk inside and Tyrone follows. Don't worry about the coffee, I say. Ferdie and Opie are awake when I enter your cabin. They are beautiful interracial men, black, white, South Asian, who can tell what mix? Shorter than Tyrone, smooth chested, neat facial hair on their upper lips and under their chin. They have no clothes to collect in your cabin. I shush them so as not to wake you, and they sidle out past Tyrone, smiling and rubbing their cocks awake for the morning show.

Tyrone and I don't need to speak. We have agreed that he will wake you with his cock in your mouth. I know how disappointed you were yesterday when you couldn't quite swallow him all the way down. He is big, even for a six foot Jamaican. Big and broad like a tree trunk. Like a snake. I tell him with my eyes to stand close to where your head is lying at the base of your bed. His cock is hardening. I've told him to take the tablets. A double dose. You are going to take his cock inside your mouth this morning. Inside your throat. All the way down. Lubed by the inside of Seattle guy's ass.

I wake you gently. Tom, I say. Open your mouth for me. I play with your cock and finger your ass. You stir, groaning a little, stretching your arms and then your legs, easing my access. Your ass is dry but caked in cum. Ferdie and Opie have obviously used you in the night.

You open your eyes. I can see how your whole field of vision is filled with Tyrone's cock, the great uncut head, the black shaft, the enormous balls, the neatly trimmed triangle of frizzy pubic hair. You can smell something. Seattle guy. You can sense that this cock is used. Soiled. Unclean. Slick with the aftermath of a long, deep ass fucking. And all that cock, all that throbbing black flesh, all that greasy ass juice is going inside your mouth.

I don't let you think about it. I put my fingers between your teeth and pull you open. You don't fight it. Tyrone follows me in. Without ceremony. This is no love act. There is nothing slow and sensual about what happens to you. Tyrone and I wake you by raping your mouth. It is hard and deep, limit testing. Immediately the black waiter is deep inside you. You have no time to adjust or breathe or prepare. Your violation is utter and complete. The cock fills you, overwhelms you, like a great black snake devouring you from the inside. I watch as the slick shaft slides into you, Seattle guy's fluids creaming on your lips, dripping down your chin. You are coughing, gagging. Your own fluids are spraying around the cock. You are drowning. For a moment as Tyrone goes all the way into you, way deeper than yesterday, I wonder if we have gone too far.

But you ease into it, Tom. You are too good for us. He's big, but you are bigger. Choking on Tyrone's cock yesterday when he was only three quarters down your throat was just a trial run. And maybe you were fazed by being mouth fucked in the breakfast room with an audience. Today it's just you, me and Tyrone, and his greasy cock. You know what to expect. You know your limits. You know what to do.

Even Tyrone is surprised. I watch his face contorting. You are in control of this. You are raping him now. Feeding on his slimy cock, devouring his manhood, turning this giant Jamaican adonis into a pussy as he tries to pound you with everything he's got.

He can't go on much longer. Tyrone is struggling not to orgasm. Not to succumb to your manipulation, to the sheer hyper-sexual delight of being sucked off, being enfolded by your throat, being milked by a desirable, older man.

Tyrone sighs. I know he is done. The great snake-cock twitches. His body jolts. I imagine him unloading inside you, the cock slit blinking, opening, the creamy semen pulsing into your throat, into your guts, spraying into your cavities. I watched Tyrone cum on your face yesterday. We all did, gathered around you in the breakfast room. I can only imagine what is happening inside as he drains himself into you. All that man milk...fuck!

And when Tyrone is spent, I see the fear in your eyes, fear that he is going to withdraw too quickly. How come you haven't gagged, puked? How is it possible that you want him to stay there, to go limp in your mouth? He knows he must wait for your permission.

And then you smile. Just a hint of upturned lip around the hole where that massive organ is spearing into your face. I see you nod, and Tyrone withdraws, the black snake slipping out of you, the shaft and then the foreskin, until the slimy cock head appears, a drop of semen bobbing at the end, poised again at your open mouth. You extend your tongue and gather the drop, tongue tip to cock tip. I am hard watching you.

You sigh again as Tyrone stands, then leans down to kiss you. I imagine the taste of you both, and Seattle guy, on your lips.

What's for breakfast, you ask.

Coffee and fruit, sir, Tyrone says, turning to walk naked into the corridor.

Coffee and fruit, I say. With a semen dressing. Sir!