Itād been weeks since I hadā¦ become who I am today. Iām still learning how to wield the power that Miss Marie had given me- and there were a few mistakes made along the way. But at the end of the day, Iād grown into a much more competent practitioner, so I decided one drunken evening to treat myself. After a delicious evening with a hunky biker bear, Iād convinced him to let me have his spare set of wheels. Riding came naturally to me- the open road and the wind rushing against me gives such a sense of freedom. Itās hard to explain. We still ride down the backroads outside of town just about once a week, although Iām sure the cruising spot in the bayou clearing does certainly help instigate such rides.
It was one summer afternoon after one such ride and rendezvous, wafting with the stench of sweat and sex, that I came across a young hitchhiker. He was young, maybe 21 or so with gorgeous ebony skin and a lean slender frame. I pulled over, and he quickly ran over to me.
āHey, are you going as far as town?ā His voice was frail and weak. A timbre of defeat echoed from the back of his throat, heād clearly been through a lot.
āSure am. Here, hop on and take the spare helmet.ā I smiled at him, and he coyly avoided my glance. He awkwardly mounted the bike, nearly tipping us over. āNever ridden before? Aight, put your arms here, and keep your feet up.ā I gently guided his wrists around my waist and he tightly held on, nearly knocking the wind out of me. As we took off, he clutched me even tighter. Riding down the road, I could sense he was a broken kid. The air of sadness permeated his energy, and shaded every ounce of his body language. I donāt think he ever realized just how beautiful a soul he had.
About ten minutes of riding, I noticed we were nearly running on fumes. Luckily, an exit sign harked a little good fortune with a Shell station off the road. We pulled over at the nearest gas pump, and dismounted.
āIām gonna fill up, take this and get yourself something to eat man, youāre skin and bones!ā I handed him a $20, and he looked at me as if I had three horns and purple skin. He blushed and walked toward the convenience store, but turned back to ask if I needed anything.
I looked at him, standing there against the cinderblock building and decided that he would get the help he deserved. If from nobody else, he would get it from me. I shook my head no, and he entered the store. Filling the tank took all of five minutes before it had topped off. I slid my card in, paid my dues and started to put my gloves back on before I noticed he had not come back out. To my left was another bike, sitting vacant and alone. Alarm bells went off and I rushed into the convenience store.
I opened the door and could immediately hear the shouting. Behind the counter some teenage dumbass was fuckin around on his phone, not thinking a thing of the brazen diatribe that was filling the room. There, behind the wall of Doritos, Pretzels, and Slim Jims was the young kid, and a big hulking stag of a man shouting with his chest all puffed up like a blowfish. The foul, revolting shit that spewed from that mans mouth was beyond anything that Iād care to repeat in any way here, but when I say it was in reference to his ancestry Iām sure you can fill in the blanks. Grabbing his shoulder like a vice grip, I was about to teach this man whatās what.
āI think itās time for you pipe the fuck down.ā The man turned to me, covered in grease and stinking from days of riding in the summer heat. You know the type, ripped up and stained wife beater with tight, patched jeans; topped off with big beat up harness boots that were clearly two sizes too big. He sneered, sizing me up to see where his chances were in this fight.
āAhh, so youāre gonna be this little fuckās hero, huh? Youāre gonna be his WHITE knight, huh? See, Iām just letting him know that in these parts, itād be best if he just fucked right off.ā Iāll be the first to acknowledge that I have a bit of a temper issue which can get the best of me.. In the particular instance, however, Iād say Iām proud as all hell that I held that white trash by the throat about a sold foot above the ground. Tossing him aside, he landed against the aisle shelves like a ragdoll. I smirked, and figured out just how I would help this young man.
āCome on over, kid.ā I waved him over, and he sheepishly plodded over to us. The racist tried in vain to pull himself up off the ground, but my size 13 Vans against his big burly chest had him pinned like a mouse in a trap. āI think this man needs a bit of an education, donāt you?ā The kid smiled, looking down. I gently held his chin up. āAnd you need a confidence boost.ā
āAh, your fuckinā queers too! I shoulda gueā¦ā I shoved my foot into his stupid maw, silencing him for the last time. I turned to my soon to be apprentice and smiled. I pushed a bit harder, watching my shoe sink further and further into that piece of shitās mouth, before my entire foot was engulfed by his stretched head. The kid looked in awe as our prey squirmed and fought, and I think it was at this point that the situation clicked in his mind.
āYeah, hows my foot taste, bitch? They sure stink to high hell, theyāre my favorite pair. Kinda jealous of you to be honest.ā I wriggled my foot inside his head, watching the outline of my high tops slide around under his skin. Iād played around with him long enough. I turned to the kid, who Iād noticed was tenting ever so slightly and winked. āMight wanna get rid of your threads, bud, youāre not gonna need āem.ā With a quick jerk of my knee, my foot slipped out of his mouth, his head returning to normal.
āYou stupid fucks, Iām gonna fuckin kill you!ā He would never get the chance. In fact, he was about to learn first hand what itās like to have a healthy amount of melanin. With his clothes chucked aside, and his manhood at full mast, the kid walked toward the writing man. He gingerly put a single toe into his mouth, and pushed. His foot slipped effortlessly into the manās throat, and quickly tugging at the corners of his mouth, he slipped foot number two in. The man was wriggling like a worm, Iām sure desperately trying to spew empty threats to ward us off. The sight of the kidās lowering ass onto his stretched face caused a little bit of a muffled shriek to escape his cords. Now, musky, sweaty hitchhiker ass would be a treat to me on even the worst of days, but evidently some just canāt appreciate itās mouthwatering flavor and scent. With his crack nuzzled right down on the good old boyās nose, he began to pull on the manās legs.
I watched proudly as his feet slipped downward, distorting his muscles under the tight confines of his jeans, before a sharp pop landed them inside the destroyed boots. They fit perfectly now, and I could just begin to smell the strong funk of greasy, funky socks and feet. The kid kept sliding into his body, his midsection growing and seemingly inflating with strong muscles. The old tank began to tear and rip, before it was shredded by the sheer mass of the inked, mocha colored abs and pecs that prominently burst forward.
The kidās face was in full elation, as he squeezed his arms down the throat, pulling the skin above his shoulders with a loud snap. His arms slipped into place; thick biceps and forearms bubbling outward from the manās already impressive musculature. His tatted hands flexed, the new sensation of calloused fingertips and meaty palms seemingly fascinated him as he began to rub his new body.
I removed my foot from my new friendās chest, and helped him up. This man was a beast! Towering to a massive 6ā²5, he was bigger, broader, and stronger than me- and Iāll admitā¦ it was hot seeing this hulking, musky hunk standing before me with the youthful, boyish face of an early twenty-something. I eagerly awaited the final stretch as he pawed the whimpering final mask of the former racistās face. Grabbing it by the nose, he pulled ever so slowly, savoring every second the slimy flesh slipped over his head until it snapped loudly into place. He adjusted his new face as the dark complexion flowed up his neck and across his scalp and jaw. He opened his dark brown eyes and smiled a million dollar smile at me.
āNow this is what Iām talkinā about man!ā The only word that came to my mind was stunning. His exterior finally matched his interior: sexy, proud, and strong. āOh shitā¦ā He looked downward, and within seconds I knew exactly what the issue was. Speaking from experience, not all the adjustments are as easy, so I decided my assistance was required. Getting down onto my knees, I unzipped his jeans, pulling them down. It revealed the yellowed, reeking jockstrap beneath which nearly concealed the problem area.
Glued down behind his skin was the outline of his cock and balls. Just as I thought. Pulling down the jockstrap, I grabbed the hollow shaft and sac, tugging it up and down. Little by little his cock slid toward the chasm before it fully slipped in with a loud schlorp! When I tell you that cock grew into a footlong dong in secondsā¦ with two sweat-dripping golf balls hanging low to garnishā¦ I couldnāt restrain myself. I took it in my mouth, licking up every droplet of salty sweet sweat, pumping the precum out of it like a faucet. He grabbed the back of my head, thrusting his horse cock down my throat, fucking it like a fleshlight. His smelly balls slapped against my chin, and I could feel them engorging, getting ready to blow.
And blow they did. Rope after rope. Straight down my throat. Every cup of it was whatever sadness, whatever insecurities, whatever weights held him down; now completely purged. He pulled out and I pulled my apprentice into deep kiss. This is who he truly was, and it was a fitting circumstance for it to happen. We turned to the slackjawed cashier, who evidently witnessed everything. I tossed him a $100, and we left. Hopping on our bikes, we headed back to town. The things I was going to teach dear Antoine here were going to blow his mind, and potentially his load too.
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