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  • Dr. Gaylove Pt. 01

Dr. Gaylove Pt. 01

Dr. Gaylove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Black Load

Pt. 1

*****

As I came back up for air, gasping and gagging and spitting all over the 10", stiff, glistening black cock in front of me - standing erect and proud for the whole world to see like a dark pillar of dominance, a symbol of manhood and all that is virility, dripping potent seed on anything that crosses its path - a brief moment of clarity suddenly came upon me.

It had been a long road to the realization of my true desires and the impetus of my sexuality. I was once a straight man just like any other, lusting after dimwitted, pompous sluts that aren't worth the cum they were full of. But Right now, in this moment, I felt whole: milking and nursing the object I most worshipped in life. I felt at home on my knees, pumping and sucking and slurping on every Nubian prince I could get my hands on. This was my true calling in life - to please and serve the unbridled sexual impulses of muscular black men until I was used up and thrown aside like trash.

I smiled contentedly and my tiny penis - more of a glorified clitoris at this point, really - perked up at the prospect of this gratifying future. I began leaking that preliminary stream of seminal fluid before a full ejaculation that is the true mark of my tribe, the sissy.

"Why'd you stop?" he growled deeply from above, like an angry deity demanding penance for a sinful act. He looked at me disdainfully, almost pitying me as I reached between my legs, retrieving the still warm droplets of precum therein and hungrily lapping them up from my fingers like a mindless whore.

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking about..."

"Don't think. Suck." He roughly grasped a tuft of hair on the back of my head and shoved my mouth - already hanging open, eager, moist, warm, willing - down on his manhood until I was once again gasping for air, savoring his strong, manly stench as it filled my nostrils and intoxicated my brain with slutty thoughts. I began to choke and that familiar feeling of satiety once again washed over my gayboi mind.

I wonder how deep down I can go, I thought...

* * * * * * * *

I suppose I should start at the beginning if I'm going to make sense of my slow descent into idiotic, sissy girl slavery. But where did it all really begin?

Although I've lived the majority of my life as a successfully, even wildly promiscuous straight man, my very first sexual experience was gay. I remember it like it was yesterday - I was a young man, just out of highschool, and I was hanging out late at night with my friend Colby. We had stolen a bottle of wine from his father's liquor cabinet and drank the whole thing, becoming very intoxicated (and probably pretending to be more so than we actually were). Colby and I began to joke around about each other's cock size, and before long we were comparing the length and girth of our erect penises and masturbating together to some pornographic centerfolds he had.

"Hey," Colby whispered with a coy look on his face, biting his bottom lip just a little bit. "I'll make you a bet. If yours is bigger than mine, I'll suck it."

As luck would have it, I was indeed larger than him, and he followed through without hesitation on his end of the bargain. I had been masturbating for a long time by then so I knew what it felt like to cum, but this was of course a new and exciting sensation altogether - cumming at another person's hands, allowing yourself to be taken with a touch not your own, his warm, wet mouth and tongue gliding over my genitals. I was thrilled and confused and ashamed all at once. When I came in his mouth he choked and spit it out.

A while later, we were jokingly chiding each other about anal penetration.

"You fuck me"

"No, you fuck me!"

"I'm too drunk, you just fuck me..."

Of course neither of us worked up the courage to actually penetrate the other, but I did decide to return Colby's favor and suck him off. As his prick flopped out of his pants it slapped me on the face; I grabbed it and popped my open mouth with it a few times, making that signature sound found in so many porno flicks, before wrapping my lips around it and sucking like I'd seen in those same films. I pulled out my stiff penis and masturbated while I gobbled down his recently pubescent erection. He noticed my enjoyment and cracked a smile, placing his hand gently on the back of my head. As he ejaculated into my throat I swallowed it as if I were an old hand at this. In retrospect it's amazing to me that I didn't realize then what my destiny was, but alas: we all meet our fate sooner or later, no matter how circuitous the path.

So I mistakenly spent the next few years chasing pussy, just like every other boy I knew. I was good at it, too: I'm a very talented, well-spoken, intelligent and attractive man. I never had any problems pulling women, and I did so at every chance. I fucked my way through just about every eligible woman in my age group, from fat to skinny, black to Asian and everything in between. And - truth be told - I enjoyed it! I still think longingly about sopping wet pussies, a beautiful, long-haired goddess staring up at me and begging for my cum. But at this point it's just a memory, remnants of a fantasy long since stamped out by pounds and pounds of hard cock.

Everything changed when I was 26 years old.

Throughout my time masquerading as a straight, dominant male, I had always fantasized about being made to suck dick. I used butt plugs on a regular basis, and had many times sucked off phallic fruits or dildos I bought, ashamedly, in the middle of the night when my thoughts wouldn't let me sleep. I remember ordering a suction-cup, 8-inch black dildo and a small, pink buttplug from an online sex toy site and immediately cancelling the order after I had masturbated and cum to a sissy hypnosis video and the shame had set in.

The next morning, I gave in and realized that I wanted and need it. I replaced the order immediately. I was so embarrassed and confused, and I tried to convince myself that it wasn't real, that it was a phase I would pass through and soon be over with. All the gay porn, all the prostate milking, all the longing and yearning and covering my underwear with precum... how could I ever have thought it would lead me anywhere else? But I suppressed it, pushed it deep down inside of me and kept it there, building strength but lying dormant where nobody could see it. And then I met Marcus.

At the time I was working as a promoter for musicians and music venues in my hometown. I was done with college, had travelled the world a little bit and was doing some real inward searching, trying to discover what my place would be in the world, what I could offer, what career I should follow and when to settle down and start a family. I was single, and still ostensibly straight, but of course was sucking on dildos, plugging my ass and dressing like a woman in private. Marcus was a bouncer at one of the venues I regularly booked, but at nights he was studying to be an EMT. He was your typical, athletic, very handsome black man. He was incredibly well-spoken and had an air of sophistication about him, but lurking underneath was just a hint of unadulterated, masculine power. You felt like at any moment he could easily make you do whatever you wanted, and sometimes he would cajole smaller men and tease them for being weaklings, but you knew that he would never actually cross the line and become forceful.

I guess what I'm saying is he was the ideal bouncer, and I wanted to suck his cock the moment I saw him. About 6'5", 200 pounds of well-toned, muscular black meat, head shaved bald. He was always making the rounds of hot young bartenders, groupies and sluts that would hang around at the shows we put on. I don't think he even really liked the music - just the hunt. Pure, carnal, animalistic sexual energy was just teeming under the surface of his cool, calm demeanor.

One day, I was doing some bookkeeping after all the bands, fans and bartenders had left. I thought I was alone, but I heard something in the back. Peeking around, I saw Marcus dragging in the last two trash cans from behind the building, the last task before bouncers leave. He was sweating a little bit from the post-show rush of work, so he was very musky and you could smell him as he passed by. His black skin was rippling and glistening like a hard, chocolate diamond. I'm sure he didn't notice, but I was immediately nervous and aroused when he came up to get his night's pay and patted me, slightly roughly, on the shoulder.

"Good night, huh?" he intoned in his fiercely low voice.

"Uh, um, y-yeah... not too bad I suppose." I was stumbling over my words like an idiot, too distracted by the images flowing through my brain of what I would like him to do to me... what I would like to do to him. Cum flying and dropping heavily on my lips, chin and inside my mouth... the sound of large testicles slapping against my tiny little package as I'm taken from behind... The rough feel of calloused, worker's hands grabbing and pawing at every inch of my smooth, soft body...

"What's the matter, you tired?" he asked as he put on his jacket.

His deep, masculine voice jolted me out of my reverie of cum and brought me back to the real world. I had finished counting, the lights were dimmed. Marcus was smiling at me with his jacket on and his keys dangling from one hand, ready to go home.

"Yeah, I've been running around all night trying to keep everybody happy. I feel like I'm the resident bitch-boy around here sometimes." My prick perked up a little bit from the irony of my statement, but of course Marcus didn't know... did he?

"Aww, you'll be alright. You just need some rest. I'll see you tomorrow?" He stated the question as he passed by me to walk through the door first, and as he did, something happened that has been forever burned into my psyche since that moment. He reached out with his large, capable hand, and I almost saw it in slow motion as his huge paw came slamming down, just a little too rough, on my right ass cheek, making a big *SLAP* that reverberated through the empty bar. I may have been imagining it, but as he spanked me he let his hand linger just a little too long on my buttock. Was that a pinch? A squeeze? I know I wanted it but surely not bad enough to completely hallucinate it...

"Uh...umm... yes sir... I mean yes! Y-yeah, I'll see you tomorrow bro." Good lord, what a sputtering fool I was.

Marcus chuckled (was it knowingly? Surely not. Was I that obvious?) and left the bar. When the door closed I began to pant and shake from nervousness, my heart practically beating a hole through my chest and my blood rushing so fast I felt I was going to pass out.

Now, the act of spanking each other on the butt is pretty common among straight men. Of course you know it from football and baseball, but even regular straight friends will occasionally, jokingly pat one another on the ass and say something like "good game." But what Marcus did was clearly something else. He was sending me a signal. At first I tried to convince myself that it was innocent, he was just one of the guys fooling around after a long night of work, nothing gay about it. But later in my bed as I mulled it over, my cock started to leak precum and my mind went wild with fantastic thoughts. Before I knew it I was cumming to the image of Marcus having his way with me in every manner imaginable, and almost without thinking I immediately gobbled down the think, hot load I left in my hand. I was still hard so I did it again. And again. And again. I masturbated and came 5 times and ate every last drop of my own seed, all to the thought of Marcus and his strong embrace.

I knew then that it wasn't innocent.

I knew he was giving me a sign.

I knew what I had to do, but I was still a little too chicken to go through with it. Well, we all know how long that lasted...

* * * * * * * *

The next day I did, indeed, see Marcus but I was of course still too repressed and ashamed to actually approach him about it. We exchanged some glances throughout the day, he smiled at me, a couple of times we brushed up against each other and it seemed like his hand found its way instinctively to my ass, but again: at this point I was so brainwashed and obsessed that I could have mistaken anything for flirting. My impending transformation was about to begin. I could feel it welling up inside of me, ready to explode and devour every black cock in sight. I wanted it badly.

Time slid by. I kept up my online training, even finding a mistress through a fetish site who offered to train me through e-mail. She would make me buy things - clothes, toys, wigs, makeup - and teach me how to use them, demanding proof through pictures. I would fall asleep watching interracial cumshot compilations and hour-long sissy training and hypnosis videos. I started using my butt plugs more and more, even wearing them all day under my lacy women's underwear as I went to work, to the store, wherever. The whole experience was so sexy and titillating. I was losing all of my interest in women and obsessing over men and their dirty cocks 24/7. Marcus and I kept flirting, but it always stayed in the unclear grey area where I was able to convince myself that it wasn't actually so, that he was just being friendly and I was misinterpreting it.

Then, a few months after "the incident" (as I began calling it), things began changing rapidly. I had tried unsuccessfully, for various reasons, to suck a couple of guys off, and I was getting more and more obsessed and absent minded and frustrated. I was sucking my suction cup, black dildo off and using my asshole like there was no tomorrow. I started shaving off all of my body hair, growing my normally buzzed head out to shoulder-length and styling it every morning in a ponytail, losing lots of weight and slimming down. I was wearing women's lingerie underneath my clothes every day, and I slept with a butt plug in every night, sometimes wearing it around during the day as well.

Needless to say, the breaking point was near.

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