Jack of Spades Tattoo Gay

Jack of Spades Tattoo Gay

I don’t know really when I started liking black guys, it just sort of happened. I’d always been a bit nervous around them. I didn’t know a lot of black people so I figured that was it. Now I realize that thudding in my chest whenever a black man was near was the same thudding I got whenever an attractive woman talked to me. Lust, nervousness and a little bit of terror. As a straight white guy, these feelings are pretty alarming.

I started watching interracial porn online and then wound up moving to interracial specific sites. I chewed through everything they made in probably under a month. They were the first porn sight I subscribed to and, so far, the last.

They weren’t making videos as fast as I was consuming them so I looked elsewhere. Then I learned about the entire Queen of Spades scene; women who only slept with black men. It was hot. Really hot. Eventually it was all I could get off to. After a while, I started to admire those women. Not ‘admire’ in the way you admire someone’s beauty but in the way you wish to be them, or at least in their position. I dream’t up with elaborate ways to seduce a black man and have him dominate me. But that’s all they were, fantasies. At least at first.

I had started browsing an interracial sex blog. They mostly posted porn but sometimes they would post general lifestyle stuff. I was scrolling through the blog with my cock in my left hand and the mouse in my right when I saw a post about temporary tattoos. Queens of Spades often have tattoos that subtly hint they want to have sex with a black man, a ‘Q’ inside of a black card-suit spade. I hovered over it for a minute and thought about my fantasies. “What the Hell.” I thought, “Worse case scenario i throw them out.”

I clicked the link and the page blinked to an online store. There were the usual Queen of Spades tattoos at the top and some more extreme stuff at the bottom. I chose a black, curly spade with a white ‘J’ in the center. For Jack. Jack of Spades tattoo marks a white guy who will only have sex with black men. I was about to head to the checkout when I started thinking about the stuff further down. I could feel my cheeks get hotter as I thought about them. Maybe… just a peek…

I was largely disappointed by what I saw, most of it seemed over the top and grotesque. Then I saw one and my heart leapt. This one, this was one. I slammed on the ‘add to cart’ button and went to checkout. They cost a pretty penny but after I bought them I came harder than I had ever cum in my entire life.

A few business days later they arrived and I totally forgot about them. It was one of those things that’s really hot when you’re horny but you’re immediately ashamed of when you cum. I considered throwing them away but I couldn’t, it would be denying a part of myself. Also they cost a ton. “Maybe I’ll go into the city and wear them at a bar or something?” As soon as I thought it my stomach tightened. What if I run into somebody I know? What if the guy I meet knows someone I do? What if he knows family? No. No way I’m risking that. I couldn’t keep them, but I couldn’t throw them away. Then I had a stroke of genius, I’d keep them in my travel suitcase, that way if I’m ever out of town alone I’ve got them right there. I pulled my silver suite case out of my closet and slid them carefully into the small front pouch, too small for even my hand.

Six months later I won some concert tickets in a radio quiz (‘name the 5th planet from the sun’, I k** you not) and so took a flight to Chicago. I offered to bring a few of my friends but I only won one ticket and no one wanted to shell out for another. So I went to Chicago and got a cheap motel room by the stadium. My room was red carpeted with sheets the color of pea soup and curtains heavier than I was. I changed into some sweats and a tee shirt and watched TV. I was midway through Some k**s movie when I got a hankering for a coke. I counted out a couple bucks in quarters and headed for the ice machine.

Standing in front of the ice machine was a man straight out of my dreams. His skin was the color of Mahogany and he looked as sturdy, dense muscles stretching beneath hairless skin. He was huge, easily 6’4″ with broad shoulders and huge pecs all barely hidden under a grey hoodie and blue jeans. “Hey,” he said, “You have a quarter I can borrow?” I realized I was staring and stammered out some kind of affirmative before handing him a quarter. “Thanks.” He had a tattoo of a four leaf clover on his collar. I smiled and walked back to my room, conscious of every step.

My heart pounded in my chest and I swallowed hard. I’d always had a reaction around tall black men but nothing like that before! Then I remembered the tattoos. I opened my door a crack and peeked out. He just entered his room; 12b, right next to the ice. This was it. This was the perfect moment. I yanked the tattoos from my bag and ran to the bathroom. I put the smaller one, the Jack of Spades, right where the back of my neck meets my hairline. I put the second, larger one on my right butt cheek. It needed all the room i could give it. After a few dozen times checking them in the mirror I took a deep breath and knocked on his door.

“Just a sec.” He opened the door and rose an eyebrow at me. “Hi.” I said, I could feel my cheeks getting hotter. “Hi.” He responded a little sarcastically. I swallowed hard and put all my effort into not shaking. “The phone in my hotel room doesn’t work and I was planning on ordering a pizza tonight. Mind if I barrow yours?” He looked me up and down and shrugged, “Sure, come on in.” I murmured a thank you and and walked directly to the phone and started dialing.

His room was a carbon copy of mine, down to the cream-colored walls and gleaming bathroom tiles. Whoever cleans this motel deserved an award. I put my hand to the receiver and turned to him, “They put me on hold.”

“Makes sense,” he said, “It’s Friday night. Probably a lot of pizzas getting ordered.”

I cradled the phone in the crook of my neck, pointing my tattoo at him, and acted like I was making idle conversation. “So what’s the tattoo for?”

He smiled a little, revealing perfectly straight teeth, “It’s nothing much, I’ve just been pretty lucky in life that’s all.”

I nodded approvingly.

“What’s yours?”

“What this?” I pointed to it, “Nothing it’s too weird.”

“No come on, tell me.”

“No I can’t. It’s too weird. You’ll laugh at me.”

“No I’m serious!”

I smiled mischievously, “Google it.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled out his iPhone. Just then the pizza guy picked up and I ordered an X-tra large pepperoni to my room, being extra sure to say the number a few times.

“Any luck googling that?” I said as I opened the door.

“Yea just one-” He trailed off and his eyes narrowed. He read over it a few times and looked at me in disbelief.

I smiled my best, ‘come get me’ smile. “You remember my room number if you want any pizza.”

A few minutes after I returned to my room there was a soft knock at the door. My heart hammered in my chest as I opened it. I held the door open as he entered and said, “Did you figure out that tattoo?” He took off his hoodie, stretching out his chest and back as he did, “You know I think I did now get to it.” I slid down to my knees and pulled down the waistband of his sweats. He looked surprised but he smiled. I reached in to his boxers and my heart skipped a beat. He was way bigger than I thought. I pulled it out and it was almost one and a half times as long as my hand. And thick. So thick I could barely wrap my hand around it. I ran my tongue all the way from the base of his shaft to his head, reveling in the taste of his black cock. “Good.” I said and slid his cock past my lips and all the way into my throat. I held it there for a moment, pressing it to my throat before I pulled it out again.

I gasped when I pulled it out, but he gently gripped my by my hair and put my mouth back around his black cock. Slowly he startled fucking my throat until his balls were hitting my chin. I gagged but let him fuck me. I wanted to please him. Finally he pulled out and rested his gigantic saliva-covered cock on my face.

“You like that?” He asked.

I was still gasping around his meat, so I just nodded and caught my breath. He grinned and forced his cock back into my mouth, fucking my throat all over again. He pounded and pounded until his cock started to twitch and his balls sucked into him. I closed my eyes and waited for the salty taste of black cum.

But he yanked himself out of my throat and grabbed my scalp with his left hand. I closed my eyes just in time to feel loads of warm cum splash onto my eyes, nose, lips and open mouth. He spasmed over and over until my entire face was caked with his jism. I felt him shake off his last few drops onto my outstretched tongue.

My cock was so hard as I swallowed the load in my mouth and then set about sweeping the cum off my face and into my mouth, gratefully swallowing every drop. When I opened my eyes he was still hard and I instinctively stretched my tongue toward his cock. 

“Nope.” He said, lifting me to my feet. “That was just a warmup.”

I took off my shirt and climbed onto the bed. I immediately felt his hands on my wasteband and he yanked down my sweats in a frenzy. Once my pale ass was exposed he stopped, and chuckled at the black ink on my right cheek. The second tattoo read, “Black Cock Only” and had three large black Mars symbols with their arrows inside a smaller, white Mars symbol. Beneath the curly text and symbols was an arrow pointing into my tight virgin ass.

I felt warm wet spit hit my ass as his massive head force its way into me. It hurt, a lot.

I couldn’t handle it.

I begged, pleaded him to stop but he just pressed harder. When I started to squirm away he held me down. I didn’t just feel the pain in my ass, it jolted over my legs and through my very spine as though I was being split in half. I grunted in pain and his massive black hand covered my mouth and he took my ass by force. My tears mingled with the cum glaze he left and flowed over his thick fingers as he made my ass his. Not tears of terror, tears of pain and pleasure.

He released his grip on me when he realized I was backing my ass into his black cock. Eventually the pleasure weighed out the pain and I couldn’t keep myself from moaning. Long, deep a****l noises in a voice that was not my own. 

His black cock slammed into my bowels in long, deep strokes until I could feel his massive balls slapping mine, dwarfing them.

Suddenly he grabbed my hips and pulled my white ass toward him. I could feel his cock pulsating inside me, sending waves of pleasure ripping through me. He was cumming in my ass. Marking it as his own. I could feel his load filling me, and I came with him.

He withdrew his massive cock and his sperm leaked out of my ass and over my balls and already-limp cock. He smiled and rested his cum-covered meat in between my ass-cheeks, knowing I wouldn’t -or couldn’t- resist.

“This,” He squeezed my ass like it was a new toy. “This is mine now.”

Unable to speak, gasping into the pillow, I merely looked back at him and nodded.

I didn’t end up going to the concert. I don’t even remember who was playing. I stayed in and let Darren fuck me all weekend. The second I got home I went to a tattoo parlor and got the Jack of Spades tattood right on my hip. For almost every day of the year, I live my normal life. But one weekend a year, I fly down to Chicago and Darren takes what is his. This year I’ve got a surprise for Darren. I’ve reapplied the fake tattoo on my ass, with a permanent but with one unique change. This time, it says, “Black Owned.”

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