tagGay MaleYes, Mr. Vice President

Yes, Mr. Vice President

bynewpaulman©

"So your government is confident you can make this work, even when it's a coalition of coalitions?"

"We are perfectly confident."

That was me wrapping up an interview with the vice president of West Livia. He was a big, strongly built black man, as dark-skinned as I had ever seen and a widely-feared figure. He had once been the leader of a rebel group during the civil war, a hardy, determined crowd who hid in the rain forest and launched their attacks from there.

Johnny B, as he was known, had been co-opted into the other party when the war ended and although he and the president didn't look totally convincing as allies and colleagues, the relationship seemed to work.

I was privileged to get this interview, and it was only because I was the only British journalist in the country and they thought I could give them the right sort of coverage. What they didn't understand was that they couldn't tell me what to write, as all public figures thought they could there.

But that was for another day. I had the interview in the bag and would worry about the rest later. I made a show of turning off my digital voice recorder and closing my notebook. Johnny and I were alone in his office and it was 9 pm.

"So, off the record," I began, "I've been here a couple of months and I'd like to do some lifestyle stuff." Johnny nodded and grunted.

"Cultural matters," I continued.

"Such as?"

"Sexuality," I said.

"Go on."

"I gather that the women, particularly in rural areas, if there are no men around for whatever reason, will help each other out with..."

"Eat each other out," Johnny said helpfully. "Yes, that does happen. We men are often away on business."

"Okay," I said. "And how about the men? Does that happen with them too? Not gay as such, but... finding ways of supplying needs?"

Johnny stood up abruptly.

"I have to make a call," he said. "I will be half an hour. Can you wait? I'll send my assistant in to look after you."

"Sure," I said. "No problem."

He left the room and there was a mumbled conversation before he was replaced by Ansel, a short, stocky man almost as dark as Johnny.

"Drink?" Ansel said, opening a cupboard in which sat a dozen spirit bottles. "Rum?"

He brought me a very nice glass of local rum, smooth and golden. Neat.

"You ask some direct questions," he said, leaning back in a chair next to me, his fat legs in typical stout-man pose. He absentmindedly stroked his balls, gazing into space. "So let me ask you one.'

"Sure."

"Do you find local men attractive? No, don't answer that. We know you do."

"You know that?"

"We've had you checked out," Ansel said. "You haven't done anything but we feel in the right circumstances you might. And there is nothing wrong with that. As long as you're discreet. But we couldn't have you making life awkward for a minister, for instance."

I said nothing, completely taken aback.

"So, Mr. Hawker," he said, looking at me. "Do you want to see my cock? See what it is like, just out of interest." I blushed helplessly.

"Well?" he said evenly. "I think you do. Yes?"

I nodded.

"Okay," I said as non-commitally as I could manage. He stood up and unzipped his khaki trousers, then sat down again and pulled his penis out. It was long and fat and looked soft. "You can suck it," Ansel said and looked intently at me. "I want you to." He lifted it in the palm of his hand, displaying it like a prize vegetable or perhaps sausage. It grew a little in his hand.

"Don't be shy," he said. "There is no one else here." He beckoned me towards him and I stood up and went over. He gestured to me to kneel and I did. My heart was beating wildly as I got to my knees and held my head in front of this man's crotch. He offered me his cock, which was now quite hard, although not much bigger.

"Suck my cock, Jez," he said, using my familiar name even though I was known for professional purposes as Jeremy.

I took his impressive, heavy, dark member in my fingers and looked at it for a moment. It was make-your-mind-up time and I thought of standing up and leaving, but everything below my waist told me to stay and do this.

I fumbled with my own trousers and pulled out my cock and balls. My erection was fully formed and very incriminating.

I took Ansel's penis and loved the feeling of the big smooth head on my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

"It's all right," Ansel said quietly. "You don't have to suck me off. Johnny just wanted me to see if you had the guts to suck a black man's cock. You are to go upstairs to the apartment."

I stood up and was putting my own equipment away when he coughed to grab my attention and motioned for me to give him my erection. I placed it by his face and he sucked it quickly and with relish, then patted it as he stood up.

"Perhaps another time," he said, and gave me his business card.

Ansel showed me out of the room and to the foot of the stairs.

"Wait there," he said and bounded up and through the door at the top. Ten second later he bounded down again.

"Have fun," he said, again tapping by bulge.

I walked gingerly up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"Come," he said loudly.

I opened the door and found it dark inside, with just the light from the stairs showing me a large figure on a settee.

"Sit here," he commanded. I sat next to him, nervous as a schoolboy. I realized suddenly that he was naked. He took my hand and placed it on his enormous hard penis.

"I'm gonna fuck you," he said, inviting no response. "But first you are gonna lick my ass. Okay? Take your clothes off."

"Okay," I said weakly as he turned and leaned sideways across the settee, showing me his backside. I was trembling, but not so much with nerves as excitement. Here I was, undressing in the dark for a powerful man, powerful not just physically but in authority.

"Lick my ass," he ordered as he settled into position to receive my worship. I could just make out his muscular bulk and couldn't stop my hands from touching him, stroking his sides and down his hips as I prepared to do the most depraved, debauched thing of my life. I was about to rim this fine specimen of a man, this rebellious, dangerous human animal, who had blithely announced he was going to shove his penis into my asshole.

I was electrified with lust.

I got behind him with astonishing trepidation and anticipation, and I put my face to his buttocks. My nose was in Johnny B's crack. This couldn't be right, this couldn't be decent, and yet the more wrong it was, the better.

I licked Johnny B's ass like a slave, eager to please his master. Given the country, with its history of slavery and its lingering resentment of white men, perhaps that was what was happening in his mind. Maybe he was subjecting me to a profound indignity as punishment for the sins of my fathers. But if that's what he was thinking he couldn't have been more wrong.

Of all the nasty, dirty, filthy, wicked, depraved acts in the world, this was what I wanted to be doing. My tongue was right in his cave, the darkest, most secret part of him which at times must have been, as everybody's asshole is, a very unpleasant place, but at other times, in good condition, was like a paradise, an unbelievably erotic playground for a willing servant like me.

I licked Johnny B's ass and I wished I had it on film. When he finally told me to stop I only hoped it would not be the last time.

"Can I suck your cock?" I found myself asking. He laughed.

"You're asking a black man if you can suck his penis?" he said, highly amused. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because you're such a sexy guy," I said. "I want to do everything with you." Johnny punched me in the stomach to get things back on the footing he wanted.

"Suck my cock," he commanded. "Tell me you want to suck my cock because it is big and black and beautiful."

" I want to suck your cock because it's big and black and beautiful," I said. "And powerful and strong. And it belongs to you."

With that, he pushed my head down, as aggressive, dominant tops tend to, and I sucked my second black cock of the evening. Johnny's weapon was even bigger and better than Ansel's, and there was a drop of precum on the tip. I wiped that off with my finger and sucked it onto my tongue.

"Suck me!" he bellowed, and I took his enormous rod in my mouth and adored it. I played with his balls and enjoyed the meaty , roast beef smell of his crotch.

After a couple of minutes in some kind of delirium I was brought back to reality when he pulled my head off him and said, "Turn around."

Now this monster was going to defile me in the most decisive way, asserting his masculine authority over me by buggering me, forcing his wonderful, statuesque cock through my sphincter and into my rectum.

It was my turn to get into the same position, and I was beside myself with shameless lust as he spread some lube in my crack and got up behind me like a shiny dark brown mammal and placed the head of his cock at my anus. He grunted as he pushed into my hole, which happened immediately. He was big: long and thick, and his cock had an upwards curve, so he was touching a part of me that no one had ever touched before.

I was filled with his man-beast's manhood, this powerful rod of gristle and blood with its pink and brown cushioned head and dark, shiny, soft leather sleeve. He thrust his cock into me and fucked me mercilessly. Yes, it hurt at times, but the agony was quickly followed by the most unimaginable pleasure. The thought of what he was doing to me was almost as exciting as the feeling itself: I was utterly surrendered to this wonderful, scary monolith who wanted to plough me, wanted to defile me, and possibly thought he was humiliating me, but that wasn't how it felt in my mind. He was fulfilling the most deeply hidden desires that had lain within me since I had first become a bit interested in other boys' equipment.

Touching a cock was one thing, sucking one was another, having one in my ass was always a thrill, but having this man battering my internal walls and threatening to ejaculate his spunk into me was the most thrilling thing imaginable.

Johnny fucked me harder and faster. His big heavy balls battered me like a storm against a sea wall. His strong hands gripped me and his arms crushed me to his chest as he prepared to deliver his load. Then just as he started to quiver and shake, he pulled his cock abruptly out of me and his semen gushed onto my back and cascaded down through my crack and into my crotch.

My punishment, if that's what he intended it to be, was complete. He had ordered me to strip and buggered this imperialist smartass, fucked me and squirted his dominant spunk all over my precious areas.

To me, although the actions had been the same, every thrust of his cock, every spurt of his spunk, was another coat on the paintwork of my ecstasy.

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