A Fantasy
I met Him at the gym
He smiled with a grin
As he notice how
I flirted with him

He said,
Hi, "My name is Tryone"

Well, I introduced myself
Told him he looked
In great health

As he deadlifted
500 pounds

Nice and tall
6 foot three

Oh how he could
Punish me

This black man
Named Tyrone

We worked out
Together
Several times a week

He was so hot
It was hard to speak

Such powerful
**** cheeks
This black man named
Tyrone

One day
He invited me
To his home

I went ahead
And turned off
My phone

As I new
The fun was about
To begin

I dropped to my knees
And began to blow
About 9 inches
You know

Was this black man
Named Tyrone

I laid back
On the couch
Head over the side

My feelings for him
I could not hide

The next thing
I heard was "open wide"

During this afternoon
With Tyrone

It's only natural you see
To let a ******* use me
That's the way it should be

As I greedily
****** and blew

His towering meat
Swelled and pushed

Did he want to
Stick it in my ****?

There was no
Saying no to Tyrone

No more feelings or shame
Life is a fun game

And after 30 min
It begin to rain
Ropes of thick hot cream

Oh what a dream

He was quite rough
And a bit mean

He told me
He always got his way

He made me ****
And lick his *****

Even called me
His "*** doll"

As I gulped down
His creamy mess

But his **** still throbbed
And he wanted more

He said,
" I want a *******
**** *****"

And with that he threw me on the bed

He told me
To take all my clothes off
And stick my ***
In the air

I did it with wild abandon
Who really cares?

As we both
Got tested for stds

Please
Please

As he rubbed ****
On his massive **** head

And I spread my *** cheeks wide

Every bisexual man's heart
Should be filled with pride
Before he takes his first ****

fap, fap, fap
I heard him rub ****
All over his stick

Yes he had a gorgeous *****

As he slowly entered my ***
Ahhhhh I groaned like a *****

Yes God ******
I can take more

As his entire shaft
Disappeared in my ***

***** deep now
Isn't it fun

To have this massive black ****
In my ***?

And ****
What the homophobes say

Nice and gentle at first
I did not want to be hurt

And he respected me

I felt him swell, felt him grow
He rubbed my ***** you know

As his member
Expanded inside

His hands on my shoulders
He began to pump
And **** me as I screamed...

She made me wear
A pink french maid's uniform that day
I had to wait on her and her black stud lover Tyrone

Fix them drinks and make them dinner
These are the duties of the ***** cuckold

It's hard to be inferior to him
He is so well-built and powerful
A perfectly sculpted body
A large and powerful manhood
He is every woman's dream

She reminds me that no beautiful woman
Will ever want to be with a ***** like me
That my manhood is too small
That my *** drive is too low
Nature has dealt me a bad hand

I sit by the bedroom door
This time I am not allowed to watch
She only told me that they would be doing it *******

I sit next to the door
I hear her load moans and sighs
I know he is pleasuring her
In ways I never could

My goodness
Forty-five minutes have passed
And they are still going at it

I peer through a crack in the door
He is so powerful that he can hold her up
As he thrusts deep inside her

I am not strong enough
To have *** in the standing position

What a man he is
He can squat 300 pounds
And has a strong powerful ***

Look at him ******
She screams in ecstasy

After she is finished
She will tell me how wonderful he was
As I polish her high heels

After he leaves
I have the humiliating and exciting task
Of giving her oral pleasure

These are the duties of the ***** cuckold

When my father was a boy,
in the County of Tyrone,
His father owned a quarry
and he worked the fields of stone.

My Dad grew lean and hard
As he excavated stone
Yielding granite for stone carvers
And gravel aggregate for roads.

His hands grew strong and powerful
He had a muscular physique
He couldn’t read or write
But no one dared to call him weak.

When my Dad was in his twenties
He was working in the mines
Excavating British coal
at Newcastle on  Tynes.

Later on in life
He was living in the “States”
Working in landscaping
on large Gold Coast estates.

When my Dad was in his fifties
He was digging graves by hand.
Once again in Fields of stone
a hard working Union man.

Each morning he’d rise early
And walk two miles to work
He never had an office
And he’d never be a clerk.

He rose to be a foreman
Working in that field of stone
And when darkness overtook him
It became his earthly home.

Now when I go visit him
I kneel and pray alone
Beside his Celtic Cross
standing in the field of stones.