Within his mouth, Karl was extremely careful not to make Willy even slightly nervous about being castrated or even hurt, by studiously avoiding even a hint of biting his cock. Such a frightening thought could lose the whole race. Instead of using his teeth, Karl concentrated his lips on keeping a pulsating tempo of suction on the swelling head of the cock he was working on, not smoothly continuous, but gently and excitingly surging with the other rhythms to which he was being subjected.
And the final and most important titillation to which he was being exposed was the superb artifices of Karl's tongue. This wonderfully expert and practised instrument of pleasure had a virtuosity and versatility of its own, backed up by abundant study and practical knowledge. Karl's tongue never left the head of Willy's prick. Stimulation of the shaft and balls was left to Karl's hands, but his tongue played an ever increasing obligato of ecstasy on the rigid dark pulsing head of the smaller Negro's prick. It wrapped around and slithered off in gliding hot wet strokes. It curled around another way and then vibrated off with a flourish that was pure unadulterated genius. In the terminal opening of the urethral meatus, Karl whirled and flicked and diddled his tongue with a speed and dexterity that was the mark of a truly dedicated artist demonstrating his remarkable abilities on a suitable subject. Never for a second was the artful tongue quiet in its continual search to provide Willy with newer and better thrills, but never was it critical or demanding of his responses to its work.
Willy was an old hand at being buggered by the huge salami of his partner, so this did not either worry or excite him particularly, even though the pummeling within did send surges through his loins. But looking down at the white man crouching before him really sent Willy as nothing ever had before. Imagine him, a male-whore, low-life nigger, ex-convict, stag-show entertainer, cop-hunted, always broke, derided as a queer by his fellow men for the most part, sneered at by women who considered him worse than the worst of their own kind. Here he was, in a fine white-man's club, having his cock sucked in public by a rich, smart, gentlemanly white man who seemed proud to do it. This was something!
Those expert fingers tugging and patting his balls just right. Not too hard so it hurt, but hard enough so it felt wonderful. And the line of pure pleasure which the same fingers kept tracing along the bottom of his rigid tool. Each time it felt almost as good as when the spurts of gism traced out the same path of ecstasy through the same tube. And the way those soft firm knowledgeable hands kept up just the right terrific rhythm along the whole shaft, as though frictioning his cock was the most important and interesting thing in the whole world.
And the way that man worked his mouth was like heaven ought to be. Those soft lips pulling on his cockhead in a dancing frolicking tempo that insisted sweetly on his shooting off between them. And that tongue which caressed and licked and diddled and thrilled and curled and flicked, always in just the right place and always at just the right time, and always just in the right rhythm as compared to all the other things that were happening. Somehow the tip end of his cock where the hole was, seemed to light up as if a holy flame was illuminating it, so sensitive and wonderful did it feel while this marvelous white-man worked on it.
And for Willy there never was a moment of let-down or stagnation. From the moment this Karl-man started, things kept building up and getting better and feeling nicer and surging hotter every second. Sex-pressure all through his body was increasing so fast that Willy wondered if he was going to explode of plain passion before his cock could go off and relieve the wonderful throbbing pressure that had been created so skillfully and rapidly by the marvelous know-how of this white cock-sucker who was so terrific.
With his prostate under constant bombardment from Herk's surging weapon, his scrotum stimulated by Karl's expressive and skilled hands, his cock-shaft thrilled by those expert fiery fingers, and his cock-head engulfed and stimulated beyond endurance in the man's versatile mouth, Willy suddenly found himself accelerated beyond the point of no return, and was shooting his load into Karl's eager and receptive mouth long before he expected to. It was the culmination of superb technique practised by an expert, for Karl had never let Willy even pause in his rocketing rise to spurting ejaculation orgasm.
“I'm coming. I'm shooting it in him. It's going right in his mouth and it's wonderful.” shouted the surprise Willy as the reality of his experience dawned on him. “I didn't expect it for a long time yet, but he got me to blow up by doing just the right things just the right way.”
Herk was even more surprised than his partner that Karl had been so successful so quickly, for he himself was still a long way from jetting his sperm. Smiling his admission of defeat, Herk pulled his huge cock from the joyous Willy's ass and walked around to shake Karl's hand in congratulation. Having sucked up most of the proffered gism, Karl now stood up to receive the acclaim of both his audience and his opponents. He started to take a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the excess semen from his face, but Herk in a gesture of acknowledging defeat, did it for him and pumped his hand enthusiastically.
As the applause and cheers for all contestants died down, Herk held up his hand and again addressed the whole group, “I thought I was pretty good, and in my own special way I still think I am, but I sure got to hand it to this Karl. He sure knows what he's doing.
VOLUME IV
The show and entertainment being put on at The Club was one of the most fascinating and enlightening events I have ever encountered in my life. Of course, as in any type of entertainment designed to appeal to a number of different tastes, some items of this spectacular demonstration had more emotional effect on me than others, but they were all interesting in that they showed the wide divergence to which men, and women, have been able to direct the basically simple biological urge.
We all come equipped with a primitive instinctual sexual urge to mate, for the ultimate purpose of propagating our species. Its the same for birds and horses and mice and men. So that we will be sure to do it, Nature made it fun. But as the human race became more complex, with customs and morals and fears and guilts, our sex-life got further and further away from basic principles, and nowadays, not once in a thousand times, is any sex-act accomplished for the sole purpose of creating a child.
Instead very often, the participants are escaping from something, possibly their own inadequacies and tensions, almost every time they employ what should be the free and joyous instinctive urge of procreation. And the mechanics of satisfying these twisted urges has become so complicated and far-removed from the basic principle that the end result is often self-defeating. In a sense we have become so turned around in our search for emotional relief in an area that has stringent social and moral taboos, that we end up hating ourselves for lack of something truly rewarding to feast on.
In my own case, my need for sex and love with little immature girls, preferably forcing them to endure my attentions as victims, could only be the product of a soul warped from normal and productive paths by some early unremembered injury, and the result is far from the original intent of the basic sex-urge that lies in every human.