French Boy on an Independent Island

Hi, I am Samuel. Last year, I was a normal 21-year-old straight man. The son of two Lawyers with a degree in finance. I had just received a job offer from BNP Paribas in Paris and was looking forward to starting a new life in Europe, to settle down with a wife and a couple kids. Today, I am the husband to a stronger man. I man I have come to love, a man I live to submit to. This is my story.

We knew something was coming. It had been two years since St Piere had declared independence from France and racial tensions continued to grow. Simmering resentment led to open calls for deportation or Haitian style violence. Many French people had fled, packing up their possessions, selling their homes for a fraction of its fair value, and running back to the Metropole. My parents refused, they had built their law firm from scratch and believed themselves impervious. That was until that day.

President Lurel had signed the "reconciliation and reconstruction act". It gave non-blacks two options: abandon your home and leave the island within two months; or face five years in jail. My parents immediately took it to court. By the time that two-month deadline was up, they were up to their necks in paperwork as the police banged on our door. Hauled before a judge, they were immediately sentenced to hard labour. I was given another option. Turns out that there was another clause. At the judge's discretion, young men and women were allowed to stay if they agreed to be wed to a local.

I knew what this meant, I was going to be married off to some government bureaucrat. As I agreed, I pictured the minister for families, a young black woman with long curly hair that went down for her petite butt. I wouldn't mind being her husband, I thought.

The bailiff ushered me into a small room with a large mirror on one side and a metal table in the middle. He threw me a duffle bag full of my clothes and urged me to get ready. I am 170cm, on the slimmer size, with blonde hair and, despite my short, neat beard, people always think I'm younger. I go to the gym, but not enough to build up any serious muscle.

After putting on a shirt, smart trouser and putting on aftershave, I was ready to meet my future wife. I heard a knock on the door and a man entered. He was 195cm, late 30s, and strong. He introduced himself. Marcus, the minister for education, was going to be my husband. I was presented with my options again: hard labour or Marcus.

Now this is where I confess that I wasn't as straight as I had presented. It all started on Pornhub, where I realised that as great as the girls where, a big cock added something extra. So, I started seeking it out and began to stare more and more at the men. I began to empathise with the women. I began to fantasize about being in their place. On my knees as a real man unloaded the sticky treat that I had worked hard for.

Maybe it was my curiosity or my repressed lust, but as soon as his big paw grasped my small hand, I knew I was going home with him. We walked out the room together and got into his waiting car, a new black Audi. On the short ride to our home, he introduced himself. He is a former history and gym teacher, a gym rat and the owner of an entrancing smile. He is charming and kind. He likes to hike, sail, and, despite his penchant for younger men, he is very traditional. He explained what he expected from me. I am to clean, cook, iron and do pretty much everything else a 1950s housewife would do. Of course, he explained that there were other, more carnal, commitments had to perform as well, "wifely duties" he called them. He went to university in Bourdeaux, and there he fell in love with white boys, he professed. It was seeing a French man squirm in pleasure as he had his insides re-arranged that made him feel truly satisfied. A satisfaction that I would soon feel too.

Shortly enough, we arrived at his apartment, a modern flat with a contemporary kitchen-dining room combo/living room area, and a separate bedroom with a large ensuite. As his stomach growled, I set myself to cooking dinner. I quickly put together a cassoulet, a sausage & bean dish my mother taught me to make. After wolfing it down, we opened a bottle of red wine and began discussing the past and the future. By the second bottle, I had professed my love for large cocks in porn, which brought a smirk to his face.

By bottle three, we had moved to the sofa, and I realised that I was gazing longingly; up into his eyes and at his full lips and down towards the bulge growing in his trousers. I felt my face move towards him, propelled by some internal force, until my lips touched his. His soft pillow lips wrapped around mine and our mouths opened. I felt his tongue end my mouth, exploring what was now his.

His suddenly withdrew and stared deep into my eyes, full of lust. His lips connected with my exposed neck. Planted three slow kisses there before returning to my mouth. Eventually we emerged from the soft clashing of lips and intertwining of tongues as a stared down at our next step.

I reached down to a belt I quickly unbuckled and the zipper which swiftly was unzipped. His trousers were now down by his ankles and his previously obscured bulge had grown into a large weapon sticking out of his pants, waiting at attention for my hands to grip it. I pulled down his pair of white boxers to reveal his cock. If was large, at least nine inches, and thick, my hand can't quite wrap around it. I looked up into his eyes and back down at his member. My hand, hesitantly, reached out and touched it. Immediately it felt right. I pulled back his deep black foreskin, revealing a lighter brown crowned by a drop of pre-cum. I sat there with another man's cock in my hands, marvelling at the weight and girth. Absorbing the texture, so similar to my own yet somehow different and unique. My hand started slowly moving up and down his shaft. He soft moan passed through his lips that had gone back to kissing mine. A few minutes went by with his penis fully hard; I knew what I had to do next.

I broke his kiss and climbed off the sofa and on to my knees, between his legs. Marcus got up and removed his trousers, pants, and t-shirt, and I did the same. I returned to my place between his legs. I looked up into his eyes and down at his cock, which was now looking me straight in the eyes. I leant forward, puckered my lips, and placed a soft kiss on his dickhead, savouring the salty taste of his pre-cum. A planted one more kiss on his shaft. I opened my mouth, covered my teeth with my lips and tongue, and took him inside me. While he felt big in my hands, I only appreciated my husband's size when he was stretching my lips. I felt his head slide along my tongue before it halted at the back of my mouth. I withdrew it from my mouth, a string of split linking my husband's cock to my mouth. Admiring my handwork, I plunged it back into my mouth and I began bobbing up and down. I felt his shaft moving between my mouth. I pulled him from my mouth and planted a kiss on his plump hairless balls and began sucking. I heard him moan and squirm in pleasure. "Good boy," he purred. I continued to suck him with pride, moving between sucking his balls, licking his shaft, and feeling his head in the back of my thought.

He stood up, breaking my meditative trance, and announced that he was going to come and that I would be receiving it into my mouth. Still in my knees, with his tip touching my tongue, he began jerking his cock. I stared up at him with wanting eyes as his left hand moved to cup the back of my head. I white spurt came from his cock, coating my mouth with a sticky salty substance. Staring up I showed him my open mouth before swallowing. A dribble of cum escaped my mouth before being caught by his finger which led it back into my mouth.

"Thank you," I professed. He lifted me up and led me into the bedroom. Despite my first gay experience, I was still fearful of what his penis would do to my tight, virgin asshole. "I am not ready for the next step" I protested, "I am so sorry, daddy." He put my mind at ease by explaining that I would need to train. Tomorrow, we were going dildo shopping.