A Picture Perfect Sissy

The sensation of hot black semen spilling over his painted toes was indescribably wonderful. His own penis, which Sue had been demurely tied back, as usual, today with a white satin ribbon , strained to achieve an erect state. Jason wanted desperately to free it, or better still, to have one of his black assaulters free it for him. Instead, he managed an orgasm the usual way: a long slow leakage that never seemed to properly end, but kept building and ebbing, building and ebbing. He felt it building now, and at the same time his anal ring massaged the 10-inch hose in his ass so that the man attached to it grunted and cursed his satisfaction as yet another load of black cum was squirted inside Jason's little bum.

Someone was holding him up now, one enormous muscular brown arm with prison tattoos wrapped around his narrow waist, lifting Jason's body clear off the floor, his legs dangling, and he was being told by someone, maybe Karen, to look into the camera. He mustn't have obeyed fast enough because Jason felt a hand in his hair lifting his cum-drenched face towards the black lens which was zeroed right in on his dazed, rapturous expression. The man holding him growled something about him being a white sissy faggot, a bitch, a cocksucking slut, but they hadn't hurt him, and Jason knew they wouldn't. He wasn't a threat to anyone. He was just a submissive, helpless pleasure whore. Was there a cock still inside him?

"Smile honey," someone said. Yes, it was probably Karen who said it, "Smile."

And then it was his ex-wife, standing off-camera, who said, "Say sleaze, Holly. Say sleaze."

There was laughter both in front of and behind the camera.

Jason smiled weakly, contentedly, as he lisped the word.

"Sleaze…"

And then everything faded orgasmically to black.