Side chapter: What happens inside?

The room was dim, lit only by the light filtering through the large window, casting the bed in a nice glow. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Dior sat on the bed, his powerful, dark body a monument of muscle in the pale light. His hands were tangled in Taylor’s shaggy hair, guiding his head up and down, controlling the rhythm.

“Fuck, yeah... just like that,” Dior’s deep, dominant voice rumbled, thick with pleasure. He looked down, watching his thick, black cock disappear between Taylor’s tightly stretched pink lips. “Look at you Ty. Took all of it, didn’t you, pretty boy? Every. Single. Fucking. Inch.” He emphasized every word with a thrust of his hips.

Taylor’s body convulsed as he choked, his hands flying up to grip Dior’s powerful thighs for support. Dior let him pull back just enough to draw in a ****, guttural gasp for air, thick strings of saliva connecting his lips to the head of Dior’s thick cock.

“Shhh, shhh, don’t fight it,” Dior soothed, his tone a dangerous mix of praise and command. He tightened his grip on his boyfriends hair, not giving Taylor the chance to escape, even if he wanted to. “Breathe through your nose baby. Just like that, that’s it. Such a good white boy for me. You see? Your throat knows what it’s for. It was made to take Big Black Cock.”

A high, needy whimper escaped Taylor’s throat, muffled by the thick dark flesh that was immediately pushed back into his mouth and throat.

“Goddamn, your throat game is incredible,” Dior groaned, his head falling back in ecstasy. The vibrations of Taylor’s choked moans sent shivers through his whole body. “Better than any bitch I’ve ever had. You were born for this, weren’t you? Born to be on your knees, **** on my fat black cock. Say it for me. Let me hear you say it.”.

Taylor tried to answer, but the words came out as a strangled, wet gag around the thick shaft invading his throat.

“Can’t talk with your mouth full, huh?” Dior chuckled, a dark, arrogant sound that made Taylor’s dick twitch in its small cage. “That’s okay baby. I know the answer already. This is where you belong. This is your happy place. Right here, on your knees, servicing a black man. This is what you were always meant to be.”

The wet, rhythmic sounds grew faster, more frantic as Dior began to fuck Taylor's face in earnest, his hips pistoning forward. His breathing became heavier and more ragged.

“Fuck, I’m gonna paint this pretty, tight throat of your whiter then it already is,” he growled, his grip tightening even more in Taylor’s hair. “You’re gonna take it all. Every single, damn drop. You’re gonna swallow my load like a good little snow bunny, aren’t you? And I know that you’re gonna thank me for it.”

The creaking of the bed sped up, becoming a sharp, violent pounding as Dior chased his release. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside of Taylor's mouth and throat and let out a long, guttural groan of pure ecstasy. His body tensed, and he held Taylor’s head flush against his groin as he pumped his big load of cum directly down his white boys throat.

The room fell silent for a moment, save for their heavy breathing. Dior slowly released his grip, and Taylor pulled back, coughing and gasping, a thin trail of cum leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“Good boy,” Dior’s voice was softer now, almost gentle, but still laced with absolute ownership. He leaned down, wiping a smear of his own cum from Taylor’s pink lips with his thumb. “So fucking good for me. Now get up here. Let me taste my cum on your lips.”