Black New World Order-Lee

"I did apologize to a couple of the women who I had hurt in the past, but I didn't bear my soul to them and tell them about my sexuality. I just apologized for the more blatant, fucked-up shit I did to them that I could come to terms with. They all accepted my apology. It wasn't like they wanted to kill me or nothing but they weren't ready to embrace me in their arms and take me back. My ego wanted that. My ego wanted them to say, 'Oh, Marvin, I forgive you, baby, and I have always Loved you and I want you back,'" he said in his best female impersonation voice.

Lee was humbled. He laughed but not because he thought what he was saying was amusing, but that comical voice was too much. He remembered what it was like to be his old self, disconnected and inauthentic, how he hid his feelings, how he lied, how he had this air of white superiority in the rhetoric he used, the memories of being one-dimensional and shallow were only revealed to him once he had depth and nuance.

"If you had met me before The Shift, I would have repulsed you like the white men you interacted with. I was so annoying. I can see it now. After The Shift, when my neuro-melanin was activated, I still had to learn how to release the shit that was programmed into me as a white man under the fallacy of white supremacy. Let me tell you, there ain't no shortcuts in this New World Order, you have to do the actual hard ass work to heal that damn whiteness, that's for damn sure."

Marvin sat attentively, listening to Lee: captivated, scared, confused, and somehow, still aroused. He wasn't the least bit sleepy; he wasn't in a rush to get anywhere. He asked if they could listen to some music and move away from all the heavy talk for just a while. He didn't want to abandon it, he just needed to take a little break to let everything sink in.

With a few clicks on his phone, a curated playlist of 80s hip-hop, 90s neo-soul, and jazz standards played softly on hidden speakers throughout the home, proving once again that Lee had paid attention and prepared in advance for everything that Marvin liked. Marvin noted that Lee wasn't addicted to his phone, checking every few minutes and having it on him at all times. New World energy meant that everyone was freed from the addiction to devices but remnants of old patterns remained in everyone.

After a while, Lee said, "If you're comfortable, would you be okay with taking this conversation upstairs where we can sit in the hot tub or lay down and get more comfortable?" His attraction to Marvin was tangible but he was also healed enough to know that it absolutely did not have to be reciprocal.

Marvin took a deep breath. He was afraid. "Actually, do you think I could have that bath you offered before?" For the very first time in his life, pre or post-apocalyptic consciousness, he was expressing vulnerability. Asking for someone to pamper him was brand new territory for him and especially after the revelations and confessions he had just heard that still had him feeling uneasy.

There was something about Lee being so forthcoming and unapologetic about his past, his honesty, everything that was happening between them just felt right. It was exactly what Whisper and Trey had talked about in the story, Honesty is the Best Policy. He hadn't understood it fully until now even though he had read that story more, he had jerked off to that story more than any other story in the book. He felt so close to Lee for the full disclosure, for the transparency, for the unapologetic truth even though that truth was hard. It WAS sexually arousing, just like they had said.

Without saying a word, Lee stood, extended his hand and Marvin reached out for it. "My King, it would be my great pleasure to bathe you." The electricity that passed between them could have powered a nuclear sub-station.

Marvin couldn't maintain the intensity of the touch that they shared and dropped his hand immediately. It wasn't meant to be disrespectful or homophobic in any way, in fact, it was too powerful, it was coupled with real emotions and that felt scary to him.

Upstairs, Marvin sat on the bed and tried his best to look casually nonchalant and unfazed as Lee started running the bath water. He came out of the bathroom with a case that held 10 small, 8 oz. jars of bubble bath. "Is there any one of these that appeals to you, sir?"

Eight years old! Marvin had to have been 8 years old the last time he took a bubble bath during the summer he spent at his paternal grandmother's house in Birmingham, Alabama. The tub, if you could call it that, was a big metal tub rolled out in the middle of the living room floor on Saturday nights and filled with water from the garden hose and heated with water that had been boiled on the stove in a giant cooking pot. He, his brother and his cousin, the three of them would all pile in at the same time and they would take a bath so they could be presentable for church on Sunday. And even then, he was pretty sure that it wasn't really bubble bath but Palmolive Dishwashing Liquid or Tide powder that was used to make the bubbles. He had a vague memory of a pink box of Mr. Bubbles that sat on his grandmother's cluttered dresser, but that was untouchable. The boys absolutely weren't allowed to use it, he didn't even think his female cousin was allowed to use it and she got to take a bath all by herself.

Marvin looked up at Lee in disbelief. The number of options overwhelmed him.

"Hold on, let me go turn the water off." Lee disappeared for a few seconds and returned. He sat on the bed next to Marvin and handed him every jar, one at a time, and opened it for him to smell. There were fruity scents that immediately triggered further memories of summers in Birmingham: watermelon and peaches, and some that smelled of tropical exoticness. The floral scents were subtle and Marvin had to fight the sensation of saying that they were too girly having to come to understand that a scent couldn't possibly be male or female, but that he had been conditioned by the Matrix to believe that men could only like pine or sandalwood and only girls could like rose and jasmine.

He was particularly intrigued by the botanical blends because they were complex and offered the security of the scents he was comfortable with and the aromatherapy appeal that felt healing. He opted for the Calming Blend that had notes of rosemary and basil with a citrus base. Lee suggested to him that he would use that same scent for the bath salts and scrubs, for the soap, and body butters he would use as well, eliminating the stress of having to go through the same selection process over and over again.

Marvin put his hand on Lee's hand and said, "Thank you," conveying the fact that he knew Lee could sense how overwhelming this all was to him.

Lee went about his preparations, returning to the bathroom to finish running the water and getting everything else set up as Marvin took in more of the details of the room, the vases, the nightstands, even the trash cans. It was the coffee station that looked like a mini Starbucks with its espresso maker and mugs and varieties of sugars and creamers, that fascinated him the most. There was one just like that in his room in Costa Rica and he just Loved it. He opened the drawers and saw tea bags, tea bombs, cocoa bombs, different sweeteners of all types, and matcha powders. He opened the mini fridge and there were juices and drinks and ice cubes in varying shapes. He wanted one in his new home. He was definitely going to ask if that was possible.

"Are you ready?" Lee had taken his shirt off and had a towel draped over his shoulder. He placed it on the end of the bed. Marvin turned and it was his turn to experience sensations of giddiness and butterflies. Lee's arms, his chest, his stomach were all just right. Not too muscular, not too skinny. Just the right amount of hair for his taste, with smooth, flawless skin.

"As ready as I'll ever be I guess." He started to take off his T-shirt and Lee stopped him.

"Please, allow me." With Jill Scott in the background, serenading them, singing not at all ironically about how she was a writer's thinking and a wealth unfathomed, setting the stage for the impending great orgasm, Lee pulled Marvin's shirt over his head. Tossing it on the chair, he softly and gently caressed Marvin's chest, showing appreciation and admiration for each inch of brown skin.

Marvin's heart was racing and he could barely catch his breath. The lights were low and he could smell the warm fragrance from the bathroom permeating to the bedroom. He kept reminding himself that every Black man who walked through that front door got this treatment, he wasn't special or different, and he did not want to conflate what he was feeling with some sort of emotion from Lee. And for all he knew, there could have been hundreds of men who had experienced the exact same thing and he would be forgotten the minute he left.

Lee dropped to his knees. Looking up, he undid the tie on Marvin's pants and let them fall to the floor. Marvin did his due diligence and stepped out of them. As was the case with quite a few of the slender Black men that Lee had encountered, Marvin's dick was disproportionately large, and Lee's asshole twitched and throbbed in anticipation of feeling the entire length inside him.

Lee wasn't a size queen, at least not anymore. Previously, Lee had been held captive by the myth and allure of the "Big Black Cock" because dark-skinned Black men with foot-long dicks were, down low, the most coveted men in the known Universe and society had convinced him that dick size was equivalent to masculinity, manhood, and value in life.

Now, Lee loved Black men, all of them, and their dick size truly didn't matter to him. He loved fat men, skinny men, short, tall, attractive. Lee knew that anyone who had been deemed unattractive in the Old World held within them access to beauty beyond measure; Lee loved the totality of Black men. He could see the beauty in them all, the package they came in mattered not to him. He loved their spirit, their essence, their resilience. Black men were subjected to the same abuses, stereotypes, the same injustice, the same generational curses regardless of their dick size, their appearance, their income, job, or complexion. The institution of racism didn't discriminate on the burden it placed on Black men dependent upon how big their dick was; Black men with little dicks weren't subject to less instances of being harassed by the police, they didn't get a "Get out of jail free" card if they were innocent of the crimes that they were accused of. In fact, Black men with little dicks, with average sized dicks even, cowered in the shame of their own personal prison of feeling as if they didn't measure up to being a REAL Black man.

Lee's role in life was to make Black men feel like Kings, he saw their inner beauty, he felt their pain, he wanted desperately to pleasure the visibly frightened and insecure Black man who stood before him. He took his time. He caressed and rubbed Marvin's thighs, front and back, his stomach, and his ass. He kissed the wet spot on his briefs and placed his mouth on the head of his dick and blew hot air on it.

Suffering from his own set of insecurities, the least of which was dick size, all Marvin could do was look down in awe and wonder. He was having an out of body experience. His knees were shaking and he felt a bit light-headed at the thought of what was going to come.

He didn't have to wait long as Lee slid his fingers inside the waistband and pulled his briefs down his legs. Easily 9 inches long, thick, incredibly hard, with a head the color of cappuccino and a shaft the color of milk chocolate, and a slight curve, ever so slight, downwards. If Lee could have molded the perfect dick for him from the cosmic soup of creation, this would be it. He wouldn't have been disappointed if he didn't have a big dick, this was just the icing on the cake.

Holding it in his hands, he gauged its weight and its girth. Slightly moist from being enclosed all day, it smelled of manhood, the pheromones that triggered a lust, a hunger to be fucked that could not be quenched in Lee. He held it in his hands and studied it, taking note of each vein, the texture of the skin, how much the skin slid up and down on each stroke. He slid his fingers up and down the shaft, finding the places that were most sensitive. Fingering his balls, he made note of their weight and size. He gently squeezed the tip, producing a drop of precum he wiped away with his finger and tasted. Heaven.

Lee was holding a work of art, a thing of beauty, he held the very Spear of Destiny in his hands and he conveyed his worship through his fingertips. He stroked it softly. His grip was soft, his touch was gentle. His caress was sensual and seductive, showing his technique was sophisticated and nuanced.

The urge to taste Marvin was too strong and he stuck his tongue out and licked the head softly. Licking Marvin's dick from his nuts to the head, painting pleasure up and down the shaft, Lee was in his zone. Taking the head in his mouth, he nursed it like a baby suck's his mother's tit. Using both hands, he guided that dick further and further, deeper. He sucked, he licked, he tasted perfection.

Marvin looked down, in awe. Someone was making love to his dick with his mouth. He was afraid to move, afraid to speak, he didn't want to break the spell. His hips were thrusting involuntarily, instinctually, slowly rocking back and forth. He could feel Lee's tonsils on the head of his dick.

And without notice, Lee went from soft and tender, to voracious, insatiable, and messy. He looked up at Marvin, his blue eyes conveying everything he needed to say, and he descended on that dick until it was all the way down his throat, the gentle curve angled perfectly to take every inch. For the next few minutes, he gave Marvin the wettest, sloppiest blow job he'd ever had in his life. Marvin almost had tears in his eyes. He felt like his mind was being blown.

"OK, your water temperature should be perfect now. Shall we?" Lee stood up and wiped the sides of his mouth with his fingers, handed Marvin a soft, fluffy towel and said, "After you, sir."

Marvin didn't even have words. He couldn't even process what had just happened, all he knew was he wanted more. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and he stumbled to the bathroom like a zombie.

The bathroom was lit with candles; a ceiling fan circulated the air. The tub was practically overflowing with bubbles. The music was soft and the scent was intoxicating. In that moment, Marvin wished he had gone for the one of the fruity or floral scents but he was still holding on to the irrational fear that his choices would make him gay. He stepped in the tub and the water was perfect. It was hot, but not too hot and it was a far cry from the luke-warm baths he had taken as a kid. There was a water-proof pillow secured to the wall with suction cups and the tub was designed in such a way that he could recline comfortably and stretch out his legs.

Lee placed a pillow on the floor and knelt down and Marvin let the water envelope him and the bubbles surround him. The cubby at the end of the tub looked like a shelf at Bath and Body Works; there were salt scrubs, bath bombs, brushes, sponges, there was anything and everything that Lee needed to make Marvin feel like a true King.

"Aren't you going to get undressed, too? I mean, I don't want your pants to get wet."

"Your wish is my command." Lee stood. He untied the string on his pants and let them slide down. This time, he used his hands to caress his body. Marvin could see a narrow waist and a goodie trail that led down to a pair of white bikini briefs. Beneath those small briefs, a very hard erection could be seen. Channeling his inner erotic nymph, Lee rubbed, caressed, and squeezed his dick that was just slightly above Marvin's eye level. It did not appear at all to be small and Marvin wondered if Lee's new appearance and demeanor also came with a new stick shift as well.

One thing was evident, Lee was comfortable in his own skin. He wasn't the average white man who was lacking that connection, that flavor, that spice that normally only melanated men have. He was sexy and it oozed from him. He was confident and it oozed from him. Everything, from the way he used his hands, the way he used his mouth, was purposed and erotic.

Marvin remembered the white men he would hook up with who would attempt to kiss his dick with their thin lips, her remembered the sensation that felt like a chicken pecking grain. He remembered how they either wouldn't say anything, or they would go on and on and on about big, black cocks and humiliation and "force me." They Loved to cry, "Force me!" Even the ones who paid him would say, "Force me to be your sissy faggot bitch," completely ignorant of the concept that you can't pay someone to force you to do anything. There was usually nothing sensual or pleasurable about white men at all. It was clear that when they touched him, they didn't want to make him feel good, they wanted to make themselves feel bad for having little, limp dicks. That, in turn, made their blowjobs, it made everything about them crass, clumsy, perfunctory.

EVERYTHING about Lee screamed sensual, tactile, and erotic. The way he moved was captivating. His touch sent electric shocks through Marvin's body. The way he used his tongue . . . was out of this fucking world. This was a man who exuded sensuality from every pore in his body.

Kneeling again, Lee took a soft, natural sea sponge and poured some shower gel on it and began caressing Marvin's shoulders, chest, and arms, covering him in a luxurious and decadent lather.

"Hey," Marvin said, "I have a question. How? How did you get to be soooo . . . like this? Sooo, not like regular white men?"

Lee smiled humbly. He had heard the same question of incredulity many times before. "That, King, is a very long story for another day. I promise, it's not at all erotic. I don't want to bring you down and tonight is about you, not me."

Marvin acquiesced and leaned back, feeling great from the water, the weed, and the wine. He closed his eyes and let Lee bathe him, another sensation he hadn't felt in his adult life. It was becoming all too clear why the brothas he met all sung Lee's praises. He was good. Really good.

Lee used a body brush on Marvin's back and gently scrubbed him. He used a small nail brush on his cuticles and even more gel to soften them up. He used a pumice scrub and a hemp wash cloth on his feet and he used some sort of reflexology or acupressure on the soles of his feet or maybe it was some sort of secret tantric technique that had to have been passed down in secret Kama Sutra initiation rituals for thousands of years.

From head to toe, Lee bathed Marvin in silence, only occasionally humming along to a song that played in the background.

Marvin was still hard from the sexy head and the atmosphere of arousal that hung heavy in the air. Lee turned his attention to washing and pleasuring Marvin's dick. He poured more shower gel in his hand and wrapped his hand around his swollen member. Marvin felt like he should hold on to the sides of the tub for some reason. The warm water, Lee's soft hands, slipping, sliding, gripping, touching him in all the right places. He kneaded Marvin's nuts and slid his finger back to rub his asshole.

Observant, he could tell that Marvin was trapped in old patterns of fear. "It's okay, you can let it out. You can tell me how good it feels. Tell me what you like. Let me know how to please you."

Marvin didn't want to use words, he wanted communicate his appreciation with sounds, just like he had learned in the book. Every time Lee would touch a spot, or he would administer pleasure, Marvin would express his approval with guttural, non-verbal sounds: his breathing would accelerate, he would sigh, he would moan. Planting his feet on the bottom of the tub, he gave Lee more access to his ass so that he could move around more freely back there.