Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Vicar Part 1 ---------------

   (MM, BM,WM, interr, real, cheat)

   I was late as usual for church.  I crept in the quietly at the back
during the first hymn, got the hymn book and service book, and sat down.  I
was surprised to see my regular vicar was not here; a holiday probably, and
in his place a guest vicar was leading the service.  He was a stocky black
man, around 50 years old, slightly balding and with a pleasant demeanour.

   The vicar gave quite a moving sermon on the good samaritan, and it was
during my discussions with the vicar after the service that he asked me if
I played squash.  It was a little out of the blue, but I told him that no,
I didn't play really, but I had always fancied playing.  He introduced
himself as Ken, and suggested we have a game.  To be honest I wasn't overly
enthusiastic, but I thought I should be able to keep up with an old fella
like this; so I agreed, and we made arrangements.

   Well, he was totally brilliant at the game, and I was utter rubbish.  He
obviously had played before, and had hardly broken sweat, while he sent me
running all over the court trying to return his shots.  For a vicar, he was
way too competitive for my liking, and he beat me 9-1, 9-2, 9-1 by which
time I uttery shagged out, and was swearing like a trooper.

   "Don't expect me to not swear, just because you're a vicar." I said, "I
hate fucking losing, and you're making a right cunt out of me!"

   He laughed at my annoyance, and just muttered "and so on" under his
breath.  I have to say, I've no idea why he said that; I guess he was a
little uncomfortable with my foul mouth, but I think he understood how I
felt.

   After the fourth game, I conceded defeat.  Red-faced, weak-limbed and
sweating profusely I said, "That's me, I'm done".

   We headed back to get changed.  I was the first in the shower, and the
warm water helped to relax my aching muscles.  I felt a little awkward when
he stood next to me; whilst I'd known many black guys over the years, I'd
never actually seen one naked.  I had heard the stories about all black men
having huge cocks, and expected the same with him.  Of the seven guys in
the shower, he was the only black guy and I have to say he certainly
appeared to have quite a thick cock, but not notably larger than the rest;
the other 5 guys in with us were obviously self conscious though, which did
amuse me.  They all took turns in sneaking glances at him, and I know he
was aware of it.  As I relaxed a little more and stopped being overly
self-conscious, I realised I went from a mini chipolata, frozen rubber
willy, to a much more natural state.  I clocked Ken a number of times
taking an interest in the changing size of my cock.

   I was a little surprised by the condition of his body.  He was in his
late forties, early fifties, and he had a bit of a belly, but otherwise he
was in pretty good condition.  I naively expected lots of saggy, wrinkly
skin - but he was not in his eighties I realised!

   We got dressed, and he suggested we went back to his place for a drink.
We chatted for a while about various strategies for winning in squash, and
it turned out he had been playing for over twenty years; it was no wonder
he was pretty fit and extremely skillful.

   We then moved on to discuss having showers.

   "Yeah, it can be quite unnerving to have guys constantly checking me out
in the shower", he said

   "Really?"

   "Well yeah, it seems like the old myths are still around."

   "Yeah, I know", I said, "I'm not sure it's total myth, but I guess most
white guys are pretty aware of the stories."

   It felt quite surreal discussing black mens cocks with a local vicar,
but I thought he brought it up, so what the hell.

   "Well, it's obviously just a myth", he said, "I mean, you're as big as
me"

   Shit, that's just made the whole world a bit awkward hasn't it, I
thought.  I guess at this point I recognised he didn't want to be seen as a
vicar; he just wanted to be taken as a bloke.  I decided I'd be me, and if
that was a problem then he'd just say, and I'd go, and that would be that.

   So I ventured a response; "Maybe.  You look like you've got quite a
thick cock, but I'm not sure it's any longer than mine.  Besides, " I said,
"size only really counts when you've got a hard on"

   It was turning me on talking this way to a vicar, discussing cock sizes
with a man nearly twice my age.  It was at this point that I did something
extremely uncharacteristic of me.  I decided that it was highly unusual for
a vicar to be talking about cocks to me on my first social meeting with
him. I have a wife and two kids, and he knew this as well, but even so I
decided he must have evaluated me as being potentially gay.  He would have
been right.  Whilst I love fucking women, I have always been fascinated
with cocks, especially black ones.  I guess it was probably written all
over my face from the first time I met him.

   It was one of those moments when something in the air tells you that
something is going to change drastically.  Almost unconsciously, I stood up
and moved over to him.  He was looking at me from his chair, and we locked
eyes as I knelt down in front of him, sat between his legs.  He didn't say
a word.  He just looked at me.  I looked at him.

   "I'm going to suck your cock" I said.  I waited for a response, more
than half expecting a rebuke.

   He said nothing.

   With both hands, I hooked my fingers under the waist band of his sweat
pants and paused.

   Still he didn't make any movement.  No more playing around was
necessary.

   I firmly pulled his sweat pants down to reveal the outline of a thick,
hardening cock, straining in a pair of white shorts.  Keeping eye contact
with him, I moved my head in to his lap, licking my lips in anticipation
and started gently blowing on his cotton covered manhood.  His tented
shorts responded in kind with pulsing movements, showing signs of life.

   I felt my eyes widen, and his breathing quickened, as I peeled back his
shorts and his solid 6" cock sprang out.  He was rock solid; I could see
his cock was full of blood, with his thick veins clearly visible running
down his shaft, and his cock had an angry purple crown that was
surprisingly large; more than a third the size of his whole cock.  The
overall look, length and girth of his cock had not changed much from when
I'd seen it in the shower, except that now it was hard.

   This, I realised, was a fantasy come true.  Whilst I had jacked off for
many nights about men, many of which were black, and some of which had been
vicars, I now had the perfect one; a black man, who was a vicar and wanted
to have his cock sucked.

   I wrapped my fingers around his thick, hard shaft, noticing the
pulsating of his blood, and the sheer delight and surprise and look of
horniness on hi face.  Taking his cock in to my mouth for the first time
was truly delightful.  I felt his hips buck in a fucking motion as I began
to apply pressure and suction.  Powerful muscles in his legs and buttocks
tensed, forcing more blood to expand his already full cock to new limits.
Running my tongue from underneath his scrotum, along the underside of his
cock and finally taking him in to my mouth fully was a joy.  Watching him
enjoy it made it all the better.

   ...  (contd)