Whiteboi goes to Harlem Pt. 09

Wall Street might never sleep, but Mitch eventually did. He woke up early on Wednesday morning and headed back to the office.

There was still no word from Trina. He assumed she was still sleeping in her friend Amanda's spare room. In a strange, unexplainable way, he missed her presence, but at the same time, he was glad she wasn't here. He needed to be alone.

Mitch was hyper-focused on work for the rest of the week. All he did was get up, go to work, eat dinner, and work some more at night. He was self-aware enough to know exactly what he was doing -- he was distracting himself from life. On Thursday night, he received a simple 'hey whiteboi' text message from Tyrone, but he didn't respond. He felt the need to mentally separate himself from everything, even if just for a few days.

He spent a quiet Friday night at home watching a basketball game as he sank a few cold brews. The Jack of Spades tattoo on his right ass cheek was healing up nicely. After the game, he reached deep into his sock drawer and pulled out his BBC dildo. He lubed his pussy up, loaded some interracial porn on his laptop, and fucked himself for the first time since he'd been inked.

He showered before sleep, still conscious of keeping his ass cheek clean. He made sure to wash his dildo thoroughly before putting it back in his drawer. He pulled the blinds closed before climbing into bed so he could sleep in tomorrow, undisturbed by sunlight.

In another part of town, Amanda took Trina out for dinner and drinks. Trina was still sleeping in Amanda's spare room, but as they sat at the bar that night, cocktails in hands, Amanda moved her bar stool closer to her colleague's. Amanda's hand resting on her work colleague's knee turned into deep kisses in the darkness of the cocktail bar, and later that night, Amanda fucked Trina in the ass with a strapon. Trina got her anal fix, but in a way she never expected.

Mitch didn't know about any of this, and even if he did, he wouldn't have cared.

*

Mitch rose for a late breakfast on Saturday morning. He studiously avoided the café he used to frequent with his wife. Instead of walking downtown, he walked uptown, and found a place that served all-day weekend breakfasts. He found a vacant table near the window before ordering a strong coffee and a plate of eggs on toast. He stared out the window, watching the people and traffic glide by. His coffee arrived and he took a deep slug. He tasted the sweet bitterness of the liquid beans on his palate and felt the caffeine begin to re-energise his system.

His eyes spied strangers walking by, but his mind was turned inward, deep in thought. He was snapped out of his mental trance as his waitress placed a plate of eggs on the table in front of him. He looked up with a grateful smile which the waitress returned, obviously hoping for a healthy tip when Mitch was done.

Mitch collected his cutlery and attacked the food, breaking his fast. He settled the check and left a big tip for the smiling waitress. Fuck, Mitch worked on Wall Street; he couldn't imagine himself working tables for minimum wage plus tips, and the least he could do was to help her out.

The coffee put Mitch in the mood for a brisk stroll. He walked west, crossing Madison and Fifth before entering Central Park. He wandered aimlessly through the greenery, glancing up through the canopy at the bright, warm sun. He walked until he reached the edge of the Hudson, and then, just for the hell of it, he caught the 1 train from West 96th all the way down to South Ferry. This was the southernmost reach of Manhattan, the spot where the ferries depart for Staten Island. He walked the short distance across to Bowling Green, where the obscure game of cricket was once played, before taking the uptown 6 train back up to his local subway station on 86th street.

He opened the door to his apartment. The room was warm, and he hit the aircon to introduce an artificial chill. He placed his keys on the kitchen counter as he usually did. Something about the counter felt different to when he left, but he ignored it.

There was plenty of beer in the fridge, and a variety of food delivery options were at his fingertips. His plan was to spend the rest of the day at home in airconditioned comfort.

He felt horny. He reached into his sock drawer to find his big black dildo. It wasn't there. This wasn't possible. In anxiousness, he pulled the drawer out further. It wasn't there. He stopped, deep in thought. He distinctly remembered washing it last night after his shower and burying it again at the back of the drawer.

He pulled the drawer completely out of the chest and placed it on the floor. He threw socks and undies all over the bedroom until the drawer was empty. It wasn't here.

Maybe he put the dildo back in the wrong drawer? He rummaged through all of them, throwing his neatly-folded clothes all over the floor. It definitely wasn't here.

At this point, Mitch's main concern wasn't sexual. He knew he'd still get himself off one way or another. His plastic BBC was a bonus, but temporarily misplacing it wasn't the end of the world. But as he slowly repacked his strewn and looted drawers, he still couldn't work out where his dildo had gone.

He remembered the kitchen counter. He remembered something was different. He paced out to the kitchen and discovered a handwritten note from Trina:

'Hey Mitchell. How are you? I came back to grab a few more things of mine. You weren't here, which is why I'm leaving you this note. I'm still sleeping at Amanda's place, giving you some space to work through stuff. Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed something of yours. I promise I'll take good care of it, and I'll return it soon. I love you, Trina xxx'

Mitch now knew exactly where his black plastic cock had gone.

"You hypocritical bitch," Mitch seethed to himself as he screwed Trina's note up and threw it in the trash. In frustration, he kicked the trash bin.

Mitch needed a big black dick in his ass as soon as possible.

He texted Leroy: 'hey'. As soon as he pressed send, he regretted it. He felt horny, but there was way too much stuff on his mind, and he still needed more time to think.

He waited for a few tense moments, hoping Leroy wouldn't reply. If he did, Mitch's plan was to apologise, claiming he sent his message to the wrong contact in his phone. As it turned out, there was no need, because Leroy didn't respond anyway.

Mitch put his phone to one side. He jacked off to some hot interracial porn, spilling his weak whiteboi load all over his handpussy, but his ass remained empty.

He ate his watery nut before turning the lights out. It didn't really taste of anything.

He rolled over onto his side and was asleep within minutes. Outside, the city sweated, but Mitch's air conditioner blasted the room cool.

So much for a hot Saturday night in the big city.

*

Mitch slept deeply that night. He dreamed he was in a room. He didn't recognise the room; wherever it was, he didn't think he'd ever been here before. He didn't feel captured or trapped, but at the same time, he wasn't quite sure how he arrived here. In his dream, he tried to remember, but the dream wouldn't relinquish its secret.

The room was brightly lit, but Mitch couldn't work out where the light was coming from. The walls were painted a crisp, pure white, amplifying the sensation of brightness. The floor was white, as was the ceiling. Despite the sensation of blinding light, Mitch felt quite comfortable and completely at ease. Even though all six faces of the white cube he was inside were identical, he still knew which way was up and which way was down.

He looked around the space. There was nothing of interest on the walls, there were no mirrors in the room, and he seemed to be the only person present. He explored the room, examining the walls closely with his eyes and fingers. He couldn't find any doors or openings. He didn't know how he could leave the room, and he couldn't work out how anyone else could possibly enter, but nonetheless, he felt calm.

The cool air felt still and quiet. Mitch felt comfortable and warm.

Time seemed to pass, but Mitch didn't feel bored or restless. He wasn't sure why he was here. He would've liked to know, but he didn't feel inquisitive enough to try to find out. Whatever it was he was here for, he didn't mind waiting, and he didn't have anywhere else he needed to be. He had a vague sense of hunger, or possibly thirst, but he couldn't distinguish between them.

In the real world, empires could've risen and fallen. In his dream, Mitch waited in the blindingly bright white room.

In the real world, Mitch's chest rose and fell with his sleepy breath. In his dream, he was awake, patient and still.

Time passed.

Silently, a door opened in a corner of the room. A wedge of white wall gave way to blackness on the other side. Mitch was sure he'd checked that particular corner of the room. In fact, he'd checked all the corners. He thought there was no way in and no way out, but he couldn't deny what he was seeing -- a door had appeared, and it was open.

For the first time in the dream, Mitch considered his own physical form. He was naked. He looked down at his chest and noticed he had breasts. They were small and perky, but there was no doubt they were breasts. He ran a finger lightly across one of his nipples. He gasped, discovering how sensitive it was to his touch. As he squeezed each nipple, he felt his mouth yawn wide open in pleasure as dopamine flooded his system.

He dropped his hands down by his sides before exploring his genitalia. He didn't have a penis. Instead, he felt a tiny, sensitive clitoris. He couldn't find any vaginal opening, but he couldn't feel any testicles either. Just a clitty. Mitch wasn't sure which gender he was, but the question didn't bother him.

His eyes focused on the open door, and for the first time in the dream, he realised he was on his knees.

A naked man walked through the door. Mitch noticed his dark skin, his full chest, his tattooed skin, his strong thighs, his thick neck, and the length of his enormous BBC.

The man stood silently in front of Mitch and placed his hands on his hips. His huge dick waved in front of Mitch's face.

Mitch looked up at the man. He received no sign, no signal, and no gesture, but he could smell the delicious black cock in front of him, and he sensed a response from him was required.

He placed both hands on the thick black shaft and began stroking it. He opened his lips and sucked it onto his tongue. The vague sense of hunger and thirst he felt became clearer, and he knew what he needed. He felt the shaft begin to thicken and expand in his mouth.

The man remained standing there, in front of him, hands on hips. No words were spoken.

Mitch sucked and stroked until the big black cock filled his mouth with a thick load of sweet semen. He swallowed, but his senses of hunger and thirst only accentuated.

The door in the wall opened again, and another naked man stepped forward. Again, Mitch couldn't help noticing how beautiful his chest was, how dark his skin was, and how enormous his erect black dick was. Mitch gazed lovingly at the man's balls. They looked full and heavy, and he desperately wanted to taste what was inside them. His sense of thirst grew.

Mitch looked up at the man submissively before tenderly reaching out to touch his fat black anaconda. He stroked it with one hand, cupping his juicy balls with the other, before opening wide. He sucked the shaft as deep into his throat as he could, and within minutes, his efforts were rewarded with another fat load of sticky cream.

The door opened again, and this time, two men entered. He stroked them both, sucking them in turn before feeling them both explode all over his face at the same time.

Mitch gathered his breath. A part of him sensed what was about to occur.

An entire football team walked through the door looking like they'd just trained and showered. Some were wearing towels, but most were naked. Mitch was surrounded by ten, twenty, thirty, fifty, a hundred black men, each as muscled as the next. Each man tugged his massive black penis.

Mitch was the girl at the centre of a massive interracial blowbang. He jerked, licked, sucked and kissed every BBC in the room until he brought them all to climax. He looked up at the white ceiling and walls as black cum rained down upon him from all corners of the room. It got in his hair, drenched his perky tits, and splattered relentlessly across his pretty whiteboi face. "Give me your fucking cum," he pleaded. He was so fucking thirsty for BBC nut. No matter how much cum poured down upon his face and into his mouth, he couldn't get enough.

The room was slowly beginning to flood with sperm. Droplets of semen on the floor morphed into puddles, and before long, ripples of hot black nut were starting to lap at Mitch's knees.

He suddenly became aware that the room was empty again and the door in the wall was closed, though he couldn't work out where the battalion of black studs had gone. He looked up and found the room was suddenly empty. The only person in the room was Mitch, though the floor was still streaked with puddles of cum.

The door opened again, and for the first time, Mitch recognised the two men who entered.

Tyrone wore a ballcap and a Chicago Bulls basketball singlet. His sexy dreads cascaded down his muscled back. Mitch noticed the tatts that sleeved each of Tyrone's arms, and in his dream, he knew that each of Tyrone's sexy nipples was pierced.

Leroy wore a tight black t-shirt, with gold bling dangling around his neck. His forearms were strong and muscly, and the backs of his hands were thickly tattooed. His thick lips were juicy and kissable, and Mitch noticed a silver hoop piercing adorning Leroy's right nostril.

Mitch's clitty twitched uncontrollably. The desire he felt was indescribable. He knew his face was a mess, but he wanted more.

Tyrone waved his BBC in front of Mitch's face. Leroy did the same. Mitch gasped as he saw their cocks were two feet long.

Even though the pungent scent of spent sperm, Mitch could smell the delicious slabs of meat being offered to him. As he looked up at the two thugs towering above him, he salivated.

"Go 'head," said Leroy. These were the first words spoken in the dream.

"We know you want us bad, whiteboi," Tyrone nodded, slapping his long flaccid dick on Mitch's face, "an' that's OK. Yeah, we know you want these BBCs in yo' mouf. We know you' hungry as fuck, whiteboi, an' we' gon' feed you now."

Mitch took Leroy's delicious penis into his mouth, sucking as much of the long shaft into his throat as he could without dislocating his jaw. He choked a little. He stroked Tyrone's cock as he sucked Leroy, looking up at them both. He made sure Leroy's dick was wet with his spit before he swapped over, sucking Tyrone's massive dick into his mouth while he stroked Leroy's wet slab of chocolate.

"That's some good shit, bruh," Tyrone whispered to Leroy.

"Yeah, bruh," Leroy agreed. "Whiteboi' got a hot wet mouf' on him."

Mitch sucked and stroked harder. His entire consciousness concentrated on one thing -- making these two beautiful BBCs nut in his mouth, satiating his hunger for sweet black cum.

As he sucked, Mitch looked up at the two sexy thugs towering over him. Leroy and Tyrone seemed to be deep in conversation. He noticed their torsos get a little closer, and they began smiling at each other.

Mitch went back to work, savouring the warmth and taste of the two huge dicks in his face. A few moments later, he looked up again to see Leroy tugging lightly on Tyrone's pierced nipples as Tyrone threw his head back in bliss.

Mitch felt the two bodies above him draw closer, and he looked up just in time to see Leroy bury his thick, fat tongue in Tyrone's mouth. The two thugs kissed deeply, passionately and meaningfully as Mitch continued sucking them off.

Tyrone broke the kiss and reached down to grab Leroy's enormous cock. Leroy did the same with Tyrone, and the two thugs jacked each other off all over Mitch's face.

Mitch felt like he was being hosed down with black nut; almost as if Tyrone and Leroy were pissing sperm all over him. He felt absolutely saturated with cum.

He woke up as his tiny whiteboi penis twitched so hard it was almost violent. He hadn't had a wet dream since puberty, yet here he was, awoken from the sexiest dream he could ever remember, having cum so hard onto his bedsheets that his balls felt empty. His breath came fast and heavy.

The sensation of cum on his face lingered from his dream. He touched his face and discovered it was dry. He reached down and scooped up the cum that had pooled around the base of his shaft, and he rubbed it all over his face. He tasted some of it, and for the first time he could ever remember, his cum tasted good. Almost as sweet as Leroy's nut, and almost as thick and delicious as Tyrone's.

Was it the dream?

His cock was still pulsing from the echoes of his orgasm.

He got up and headed to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked exactly the same as he did before we went to sleep. He didn't have breasts, and his testicles were still firmly in place.

He turned the bathroom light out and went back to bed, trying to remember as much of his dream as he could before it vapourised. He knew he'd never remember it all, but the image of Leroy and Tyrone kissing each other was tattooed onto his brain.

He knew it was a dream, but fuck, he'd love to see them kiss in real life.

He stared at the ceiling for a long time, but sleep wouldn't come.

He rolled over and reached for his phone on his bedside table. He found his favourite BBC hypno loop, pressed play, and a thick, hypnotic voice lulled him back to sleep as he replayed the imagery of Tyrone and Leroy kissing in his dream.

*

Sunday morning arrived. Mitch wolfed down a quick bowl of cereal and a strong, hot coffee before heading downtown towards Chelsea. He was in search of a replacement dildo. Sure, he could've ordered one online, but he couldn't wait until tomorrow or the next day for it to be delivered. He needed it NOW. He did his research before leaving home, mapping out two or three adult stores in advance, but also knowing there were dozens of other options in the Midtown area. He placed a baseball cap on his head before striding out.

He found an exact replica of the toy Trina had 'borrowed' from him in the first store he visited, but he also found one that was slightly bigger, modelled on Mandingo's giant pornstar cock. He purchased both, while also stocking up on lube. He'd never used poppers before, so he asked the friendly guy behind the counter who gave him some recommendations.

Mitch was glad he'd brought a big backpack -- the poppers were easy to carry, but the dildos and the lube bottles were large.

The shop assistant swiped Mitch's credit card and the sale was complete, but the assistant got the feeling Mitch wasn't quite done.

The shop assistant only said one word. "Gloryhole?"

This wasn't part of Mitch's plan, but he felt his mouth begin to drool at the thought of anonymous cock. He nodded.

The shop assistant pointed towards the door at the rear of the room, and Mitch began walking slowly towards it. He opened the door. There was another inner door with a sign outlining the facility's rules. Mitch glanced quickly through the text, but without paying too much attention. He stepped inside.

He'd never done this before. He'd seen countless scenes of white girls sucking BBCs through gloryholes, and while he'd always wondered what it'd feel like to suck a thick load of nut out of a huge, anonymous, black dick, he'd never rustled up the courage to try. He found himself in this gloryhole almost by accident -- there was no time to think, and no reason to back out.