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These events are improb- er, unlikely.

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.

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