Here’s a sample from the beginning of Gang Life Downlow, a hardcore tale of black thugs having gay sex on the DL; it’s full of dubcon domination and hardcore action. You can read it for free through KU for the next three months!
Calvin walked into the City Barbershop of Clay Street. He was nervous and stressed, carrying with him virtually all of his belongings in a trash bag. He tried not to think of himself as homeless, even though he knew that’s precisely what he was.
He had money. Not quite enough to rent a nice place, but he might have been able to get a cheap room somewhere. The downside to that was that he wouldn’t be able to afford to save up somewhere nicer. His stepdad kicking him out without warning had really put a damper on things.
Calvin had had a rough couple of months. After losing two ounces of heroin, he was in trouble with his boss, Samson. Then his girlfriend dumped him, and now his stepfather had kicked him out as punishment for selling drugs. Everything was going wrong in Calvin’s life.
He had a feeling the customers and barbers at the Barbershop knew why he was carrying a trash bag into the back. He also knew that Samson didn’t tell them, but they looked at him with a mixture of pity and scorn. They knew he was homeless.
Of course no one said anything. Everyone was aware that Samson laundered money through the City Barbershop, but no one acknowledged that they knew it. They pretended to think Samson was taking in a roommate half his age.
He came into Samson’s apartment. Samson was in his mid-forties, which was ancient as far as Calvin was concerned. He sat in his living room with a few other gangbangers. Samson kept a clipboard in front of him, and he scrawled notes as they talked. He nodded to Calvin, who nodded back and put his bag of stuff in the corner of the room.
There was no spare bedroom, so Calvin was sleeping on the couch. He was fine with that because he hoped it would spur him into finding a new place.
“Yo, Calvin, come here and rap at us,” Samson said. His voice was deep and tough, commanding respect. “We talkin’ ‘bout what to do regardin’ the Sweet Hill boys. Whatchoo think?”
“Well, I think we gotta beat them niggas down,” Calvin said, more because he wanted to seem tough than because he had any particular knowledge of the situation. He was only vaguely aware that the Sweet Hill gang had begun selling crack on territory Samson considered to be his own.
“Alright, that’s a plan,” Samson said. He smiled at Calvin. “You get yo’ niggas together and do it this week, okay?”
Calvin hadn’t thought he’d be put in charge of it, but he could hardly say no when Samson was letting him stay here rent-free. He nodded as though it wasn’t going to be difficult. Some of the other thugs looked at Calvin pitiably, and Calvin tried not to notice.
Samson clapped his hands together, and the other gangbangers stood up to go. Calvin’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way out of this. Once the door shut, Calvin was alone with Samson for the first time ever — it hadn’t occurred to Calvin until this moment that he had never been alone with Samson.
“You ever fuck around on the downlow, Calvin?” Samson asked after a long, awkward silence fell between them.
“Uh, yeah. Once,” Calvin said. He instantly regretted saying that. It was true, but he had heard Samson was often on the downlow with his close niggas — only for Samson, “downlow” meant you serviced him, not any kind of reciprocal behavior.
He looked at Calvin and raised his eyebrows. “Just once, huh? You do it with a nigga you respec’?”
“I guess so.”
“Huh,” Samson said with a knowing nod. He raised his eyebrows. Calvin sighed. It was apparent Samson wanted a blowjob, but Calvin couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Samson crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating the softball-sized pecs beneath his tight t-shirt. He ran his tongue over his teeth and clucked. “Huh,” he said again.
“Samson, I… Uh, thanks a lot fo’ lettin’ me stay here,” Calvin said.
Calvin sighed again. This wouldn’t be that bad, he thought, he’d done it before, and he knew Samson was discrete; he could be confident Samson wouldn’t tease him or spread rumors. He sunk to his knees, in front of Samson, who grunted his satisfaction. Calvin waited for a moment, thinking Samson would take his own dick out, but he didn’t. He just towered over Calvin and watched. Calvin winced at the realization that Samson wanted Calvin to take it out.
Reaching up for Samson’s dick, Calvin shuddered. Then, much to his surprise, Samson batted his hand away.
“You should ask a nigga fo’ permission befo’ you start sucking his dick,” Samson said. “If that’s what you wanna do.”
Calvin spoke quietly, blushing so hard his cheeks burned. “Samson… do you want, uh…? I mean… is it okay, uh, if I suck your cock?”
“That’s a real nice offer, boi. That’s a good gesture,” he said, as though it was the first time he had said that word. Before Calvin could undo his belt, Samson clucked his disapproval. “Play wit’ it through my pants first, nigga. Be romantic and shit.”
Calvin blanched and winced. He gently stroked the bulge in Samson’s dick, and for some reason just feeling that spongy flesh through his jeans made Calvin gag. Samson’s manhood stirred beneath the denim. He groaned in a way that made Calvin shiver with disgust.
“Now, don’t take my pants off,” Samson said. “Just undo the fly and take it out. Look me in the eye when you suck my dick. That’s a mark of respec’, nigga.”
His hands trembled. Calvin wasn’t sure if he could do that — sucking cock was humiliating enough, but looking Samson in the eye while he did it would make it even worse. The zipper seemed impossibly loud, and when it was open, Calvin got a burst of stale crotch sweat in his nostrils. He gagged again, and Samson clucked with disapproval once more.
“You may take it out now, Calvin,” Samson said. Something in the way he said Calvin made Calvin shudder all over again.
Calvin had to reach in to pull out Samson’s dick, which was half-hard and veiny, dark-brown, slick with sweat. He wanted to wipe it off, but Calvin was sure Samson would say that was disrespectful.
He opened his mouth, gagging profusely as the spongy tip pushed into his mouth. There was already a slight cummy taste, either precum from Calvin’s masturbating it through Samson’s pants or maybe left over from whenever he had sex before. Calvin tried not to touch it with his hands, and Samson kept his arms over his chest, so Calvin had to chase his cock with his mouth.
But he couldn’t quite bring himself to go any deeper than the tip. Even that felt impossibly thick, and Calvin wasn’t sure he could go any farther.
“When you suck the dick of a nigga you respec’, Calvin, you should deep-throat it,” Samson said. “You know what that means? You evuh get head from a girl?”
“Yes!” Calvin said, annoyed at Samson’s patronizing tone.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, nigga,” Samson said, his voice growly and threatening. Calvin shuddered. Samson forced his eyes open — Calvin hadn’t even noticed he closed them — and sneered down at Calvin. “Real niggas got backup plans, Calvin, you know that? They ready to get kicked outta they place. They got cash.”
Calvin wanted to defend himself, but when he tried to pull off Samson’s dick, Samson’s hands gripped his head and held it in place. Samson growled again, and pushed Calvin’s head deeper onto his shaft. Calvin gagged all over again as that cock pushed into his throat.
“Take my balls out wit’ one hand, and play wit’ em. Gentle-like,” Samson said. He groaned as Calvin did so, gingerly playing with his sweaty sac. The feel of that slick flesh made Calvin’s stomach churn. “Yeah, that’s nice, boi. That’s respec’.”
The sour flavor of precum assaulted Calvin’s senses, and brought tears to his eyes. He was glad it was dark enough in this room that Samson couldn’t see — it wasn’t really crying anyway, he thought, it was tears from suffocation and stress, not being a pansy. He didn’t think Samson would acknowledge a difference though.
The tasty of sweaty black cock grew more and more tolerable, though Calvin thought that was mainly because he sucked off all the sweat and grime, replacing it with plain spit. The veiny shaft invaded his throat with each powerful thrust of Samson’s cock.
The moist grunting of Samson’s voice was offputting to Calvin. He sounded like a rutting animal, and it reminded Calvin that his mouth was just being used now, that this wasn’t part of a relationship or anything. Samson was going to continue to use his mouth and body — though hopefully not his ass — until Calvin moved out. That seemed like a reasonable tradeoff to Calvin, even if it was humiliating and foul-tasting.
“Whatchoo plan wit’ my nut?” Samson asked as he groaned.
Calvin didn’t understand the question. He just looked up at Samson, and tried to ignore that massive shaft drilling into his throat.
“Huh? I’m gonna blow my load,” Samson said. “Whatchoo gonna do wit’ it? You want me to shoot it on yo’ face or what? In yo’ hand?”
Calvin was glad to hear that he had a choice. He pulled off Samson’s dick, intending to say in my hand, which was the least objectionable option. But then he saw Samson’s scrunched-up face, and Calvin knew this was a test. He wasn’t sure exactly what the answer was, but in my hand wasn’t it.
“Think long and hard, Calvin. You got a lotta factors to consider. Yo’ respec’ fo’ me, if you got any,” Samson said. He sniffled.
“I’ll… uh, swallow it,” Calvin said, wincing as Samson flopped his cock on Calvin’s head, smearing spit and precum all over it.
“Yeah,” Samson said. “You will. But befo’ that, I wanna see it. I like seeing it. Playin’ wit’ it a bit.”
“So whatchoo think?”
“I, uh… I guess I’ll do that.”
“So where you want me to nut? In yo’ mouth?”
It was obvious he wanted Calvin to say yes, so he did so. Then Samson pushed his cock back in Calvin’s mouth. He grunted as he wrapped his hands behind Calvin’s head.
He thrust his hips so powerfully his cockshaft rammed down Calvin’s throat until his nose was nestled in Samson’s pubic hair. Calvin couldn’t even gag because his throat was so choked; all he could do was sit there on his knees and let it happen.
“That’s a good idea, Calvin. I’ll shoot my load in yo’ mouth, just like you askin’ me to. That’s very respec’ful, nigga. Don’t swallow nothin’ till I tell you too, okay? We gonna play a bit first.”
Calvin nodded, but even as he did, Samson was blowing his wad. He shot it right in the back of Calvin’s throat. Some of it dripped into his gullet, but Calvin instinctively avoided swallowing it. He would have accidentally spilled it all but Samson kept a tight grip on his head. Samson grunted, rutting like a pig as his fat cock spasmed inside Calvin.
At last it was over. Salty cum filled his mouth. It seemed like a huge amount, but Calvin wasn’t sure. His stomach churned with disgust, begging him to spit it out.
“Open up,” Samson said. He kneeled down and looked in. “Come on,” he said, gesturing towards the kitchen. “It’s dark in here. I wanna see yo’ pretty-boy mouth.”
Gagging the whole way and holding onto his stomach, Calvin made it into the kitchen without spilling any. Samson looked into his mouth as though trying to find something. He smiled with satisfaction, then spat right into it. The bitterness of his saliva made Calvin choke. He nearly spilled but Samson held him by the neck.
“That’s a big one,” Samson said. He stuck one finger in, all the way back until Calvin gagged. Then Samson held the palm of his hand out until Calvin spat the entire wad into it. Calvin was glad to be rid of it, though he could still feel that snotty texture on his tongue. There was a pubic hair stuck in the back of his throat too, but he couldn’t get at it right now.
Samson raised his eyebrows as Calvin got ahold of his stomach and his gagging. He kept that cum-filled palm right in front of Calvin’s face, where the scent assaulted his nostrils, making it hard for Calvin to regain his composure. Samson cleared his throat. “I’ll ignore your gagging, Calvin. That seems rude, but I understand…” It was obvious he wanted Calvin to suck the cum back up, and he raised his eyebrows as though to say You better do it now, it’ll get worse when it’s cold. Calvin opened his mouth, but Samson cleared his throat and shook his head.
Calvin blushed. “Uh… Samson, can I eat your nut?”
“Yes, you may. Thank you for askin’, boi.”
Calvin gagged and nearly vomited as he sucked it off Samson’s callused palm. He choked it down and waited there, blushing intensely as Samson looked him in the eye. Then Samson’s fingers forced his mouth open, and he checked that Calvin had swallowed the whole thing.
“Good,” he said. “Now go to bed.”