Solomon King 3

Solomon King 3: Shelter Submission

An E&I Enterprises Story

copyright 2026 by Stormbringer

1/1994

He abandoned Harold Loomis’s car just outside the city as the snow began to fall, leaving the keys in the ignition. If the city hadn’t changed, the car would be gone by morning. Solomon King moved through the storm with deliberate calm, pulling his coat tighter. “Fucking snow,” he growled. He’d seen nothing but white since he’d escaped the Gilgamesh Project, stealing the Loomis’ car, he’d driven from North Dakota to Chicago over the period of several days, shivering at rest stops during the night while only stopping for gas and necessities. The X-serum had sculpted him into something beyond human. He was tall, powerfully muscled, skin gleaming like polished ebony, bald head smooth under the streetlights, a neatly trimmed black goatee was coming in nicely. He appeared no older than thirty, though in reality he was in his mid-sixties.

He was on the run and planned to keep changing his look and moving until he was sure the Gilgamesh project wasn’t pursuing him. “Fucking Chicago,” he muttered as a cold blast of arctic air sent a chill down his spine. His eyes fell on several used needles scattered in an alley. Nothing. No insatiable need for drugs that had dominated his life for the last decade. No craving for alcohol. It was a good feeling. He watched for a moment as the needles slowly disappeared under the snow. Nearby was a homeless shelter. Solomon pulled the collar of his worn coat higher. It was snug around his chest and tight around his biceps, but the best he could do, hard to find his size at thrift stores. He pulled his wool cap low to cover his ears. The sign on the door said that the shelter was run by the Immaculate Conception Fellowship. He stepped into the old community shelter on the South Side. The interior smelled of booze, damp wool, and quiet despair, but it was warm and out of the frigid wind. Folding tables stood in uneven rows; Some figures waited for soup and bread, shuffling down the line, carrying their trays over to tables, but most were already seated. He kept his head low, blending with the crowd.

Emily was working the serving line. Mid-thirties, her face was strikingly beautiful in a natural, unadorned way, high cheekbones framing wide blue eyes that sparkled with a mix of kindness and quiet resolve, full lips set in a determined line, and flawless pale skin flushed slightly from the shelter's warmth. Short brown hair tucked beneath a wool cap framed her features, giving her an approachable, girl-next-door allure that belied the wariness in her gaze. Her sweater and jeans were practical rather than stylish. The sweater stretched tight around a large full bosom. Her name tag identified her clearly. She ladled vegetable broth into bowls with practiced efficiency, but her expression remained distant. Homeless man after homeless man’s eyes flickered from her large tits to the soup she was dishing out with equal hunger. 

She had never wanted this duty. The shelter was run by her church, and she felt the obligation keenly, Christian service, community responsibility, but every shift left her uneasy. The neighborhood had changed over the years; crime and drugs had crept closer, and too many of the incidents she read about or heard discussed in the parish hall involved young black men. She did not hate black people, she told herself, but she feared the statistics, the stories, gang violence, the late-night news reports. She kept her distance, polite but guarded. Her husband, Mike was handing out pieces of stale bread, trying to hurry the line so they could head home before the snow got too deep. He winked at her and she smiled back.

When Solomon reached the counter she slid a bowl toward him. Their fingers brushed. A sudden, inexplicable heat bloomed low in her belly; her nipples tightened against the fabric of her bra. She blinked, startled. She was happily married, but confused by her sudden arousal especially in the presence of a homeless black man. Hopefully that meant she was at peak fertility. She looked up at the powerfully built man towering over her and promptly ladled out a second bowl for him. He nodded thanks and placed the second bowl on the tray beside the first.

“The cold is brutal tonight,” she said, voice steady despite the flush creeping up her neck. “The cold is brutal tonight. ”Do you need a warm bed?”

I could use a bedwarmer, he thought, like the others his eyes fell to her impressive cleavage. “That would be great,” he said. He’d seen nothing but snow since his escape, though the weather was probably aiding in his getaway.

“We have cots in the back if you need one.”

Solomon nodded again before speaking, his deep voice smooth and measured. “Thank you, Miss Emily. I appreciate the kindness.” He moved on, Mike dropping a piece of bread on the tray.

He ate at a corner table, observing her as she moved down the line. The soup was adequate, but her scent reached him clearly—clean soap, faint floral perfume, and beneath it the ripe, unmistakable signature of ovulation. His enhanced senses caught the subtle hormonal bloom, and his cock stirred in response, thickening against his thigh. The X-serum had replaced his drug addiction with another more pleasurable one. His huge testicles filled quickly and needed to be emptied regularly. 

“I’ll get the new guy settled in,” Emily said to her husband. 

“I’ll work on the dishes.” Mike gave her an affectionate, but passionless kiss on the lips before he began to gather up the empty soup bowls.

Solomon watched the couple as he finished his second bowl of soup and pushed the tray away. Emily noticed he was finished and said, “Come with me,” escorting him to the partitioned back room. “The common area is full.” Cots lined the walls beneath a single bare bulb. “It’s not much,” she said, smoothing a thin blanket, “but you’ll have some privacy. Would you like a hot shower? I can throw your clothes in the laundry while you clean up. They’ll be dry by morning.”

Solomon regarded her calmly. “That would be kind of you, Miss Emily.”

She nodded. “Leave your clothes on the cot when I’m not looking. I’ll bring you a towel.”

She stepped out, giving him privacy. Solomon stripped, folding his worn shirt and pants neatly on the cot, removing the bag containing the precious needles of X-serum and hiding it under the pillow. He then wrapped the thin towel around his waist and entered the large communal shower. Emily retrieved his clothes, noticing they didn’t smell that bad, holding them up to her nose and inhaling his scent and wondering why her thighs were suddenly damp. She held his clothes away from her nose and quickly dropped them in the washing machine.

When Emily returned to the overflow room, she froze in the doorway. The black man stood beside the cot, water still beading on his skin from the hot shower. The sight of his physique stole her breath—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, every muscle carved in sharp relief, dark skin glistening under the bulb’s light. Her eyes swept over him involuntarily, lingering on the powerful thighs, the defined ridges of his abdomen, then dropping lower. The towel tented outward dramatically near the gap in the front. She could not look away as the thick head of his penis slowly pushed through the opening, dark and glistening, already half-hard and impossibly large. Her eyebrows rose in shock as the large penis extended out and swelled even more.

Solomon tried to meet her gaze but her eyes were zeroed in on his cock. He reached down and tugged the knot; the towel fell to the floor in a soft heap. Twelve inches of thick, veined black penis jutted out slightly bent before her, heavy balls hanging beneath. “Ever seen a big black cock before, Miss Emily?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

Emily’s blue eyes widened. “My god,” she gasped. Her hand trembled as it rose, fingers pausing several inches from the huge plum-sized glans. 

Solomon stepped closer brushing the end of his cock along her fingers. “Touch it, Miss Emily. Feel how hard you’ve made me.”

Her fingers gently brushed down the large glans and down the shaft, slipping under and hefting it slightly. The heat, the weight, the sheer reality of it overwhelmed her. Her fingers closed around the thick base. She could not encircle it fully and it still swelled slightly, turning into a rock hard missile that had to have been a foot long. Her hand stroked it slowly, reverently. “It’s so big,” she gasped. 

“Why don’t you get a closer look,” he said. “On your knees,” he ordered. “Take it in your mouth, nice and slow.”

She sank down, knees meeting the cold floor. She didn’t know why she was obeying him. She didn’t take Mike’s in her mouth, but this close to the black monstrosity made her want to suck it. She breathed its scent in through her nose before her lips parted, stretching wide around the dark plum-sized head. His taste, salty, potent, richer and more intoxicating than the finest wine she had ever sipped rippled down her taste buds. She sucked tentatively at first, then deeper, managing six inches before her throat resisted. She gagged softly, eyes watering, but pushed on, taking seven, saliva spilling from the corners of her mouth. She bobbed her head, breathing his masculine scent deeply through her nose, wishing she’d sucked him before he showered. 

The door opened. Mike stepped inside, thin, bespectacled, dark brown hair slightly disheveled. He was tired and ready to go. Emily had hinted at a romantic evening, but as the day wore on, he wasn’t sure he’d be up for it. He was rarely “up” for it. Hopefully, she’d be willing to put it off until tomorrow. Mike froze at the sight of the new black man. He’d seen some crazy stuff volunteering at the shelter, but the nude black giant was one for the record books. His back was to Mike and he appeared to be jerking off. His eyes lowered. No… he had some woman sucking him… a woman wearing a familiar sweater… His eyes widened in horror. Mike froze in disbelief.

“No,” he hissed. Impossible! Not my Emily. The pheromones hit him an instant later. His small penis twitched, hardening despite the shock. He stood frozen, hand drifting to his zipper almost against his will.

Solomon sensed Mike’s arrival. “Suck that black cock like a good white slut,” he said to Emily, voice calm and encouraging. Her eyebrows arched and she pulled back, but Solomon placed his hand on the back of her cap and pulled her mouth back down his massive black shaft. “Mmm, that’s good Emily, you're a great cocksucker.”

“Mmmph,” Emily moaned with half his cock down her throat. She pulled back, missing having it in her mouth the second the head sprang free. She rubbed her cheek around the bulging cock head. “Please, don’t call me that.”

Solomon snorted, grabbed the base of his shaft and guided the head back to her lips. “Open up like a good cocksucker.”

Emily obeyed, staring up his magnificently sculpted body as she sucked his cock head back into her mouth.

“If you're not a cocksucker then stop sucking my black cock,” said Solomon, his dark commanding eyes staring down into her blue ones. She didn’t stop. She bobbed her head faster trying to take more of his cock down her throat. “That’s what I thought,” he said.

He wasn’t done with her. He placed one strong black hand on her forehead and pushed her back. Solomon grabbed the base of his cock and wagged it under her nose. “Tell me what you are,” he ordered.

Her eyes followed his giant cock head glistening with her saliva. Her nose followed, tongue flickering out trying to lick it as it passed her mouth. “I’m a… I’m a cocksucker,” she gasped.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your cock. I want to suck your cock,” her words were pleading.

“What kind of cock is it?”

“Black cock. I want to suck your black cock.”

He pressed the tip of his cock against her lips and Emily took him back in her mouth, shuddering with lust. She sucked it slowly and reverently, Mike detected a moan coming from the back of her throat.

“Show him how good that big black cock feels in your mouth.” He grabbed the top of her knit cap and pulled it off her head, freeing her hair. He tossed it on the floor and placed his huge hand on her head guiding her up and down his huge cock.

Emily looked dazed as her eyes glanced over, seeing her husband standing in the room watching her. Mike saw her eyes widen, her eyebrows shooting up. The black man didn’t let her stop and Mike wasn’t sure she even tried to pull off the huge dark cock. Her eyes flickered down seeing his hand squeezing his little penis through his white underwear. Her brows went down furrowing as if confused by what she was seeing, but she moaned around the shaft, bobbing faster, slurping wetly.

Mike pulled himself free and stroked frantically, eyes wide with fascinated horror and arousal. She stared sideways at his hard little penis before she turned her attention up the black man’s magnificently sculpted body. Mike came quickly the first time, thin runny droplets of semen spitting out from his grape sized glans and hitting the floor. He squeezed another drop out still watching his wife blow the black man. She sucked faster over the head, her head stroking the base of the man’s shaft.

Solomon’s balls drew tight. “Here cums your reward, cocksucker,” he warned softly. “Swallow every drop.” He held her head gently as he erupted, thick, heavy ropes flooding her mouth. Her brow furrowed in shock at the volume. She gulped desperately, choking slightly, some spilling down her chin, but she drank greedily, eyes fluttering closed in bliss. The taste was exquisite, hot and creamy, far better than any wine she had ever tasted, rich, addictive, leaving her craving more.

Mike stared from the next cot. He felt his penis twitch and grow again watching his beloved wife gulp down the black man’s seed. He looked down and spit in his palm, wrapping his hand around his penis again. He whimpered as he watched.

Solomon withdrew slowly, still rigid and glistening. “Stand up, Emily. Let me see those big white titties.”

She rose on unsteady legs. She stared at the black man in awe as she grasped the hem of her sweater and drew it slowly upward and over her head. Beneath she wore a long sleeve pullover, slightly short revealing her bellybutton. She pulled it up, revealing inch by inch of smooth pale skin. Beneath it was a lacy black bra, far sexier than anything Mike had seen her wear in years, cups sheer enough to show the dark outline of her stiff pink nipples, a small silver crooss dangled on her chest. She unbuttoned her jeans next, shimmying them down her hips to reveal matching black panties, the front already damp, the thin fabric clinging to the outline of her swollen lips. Her body was stunning: flat, taut stomach from her yoga routine, narrow waist flaring into wide, child-bearing hips, toned legs that spoke of quiet strength and grace, and that round, jiggling ass promising a perfect hold. Neatly trimmed brown pubic hair framed her glistening sex visible through the panties.

Solomon’s eyes roamed her form appreciatively. Her large tits and the bulky sweater had made her top look chubby, but beneath it she’d been hiding a body that belonged on the pole. “You wear that for me?” Solomon asked with a grin.

She gulped, a part of her thinking that she had worn it for the black stranger. “To surprise my husband,” she replied softly, nodding her head at Mike, but keeping her eyes on the huge black man. “We’re trying to have a baby.”

Mike’s hand moved faster, jerking to a second, weaker climax at the words. The orgasm didn’t feel good and it made his testicles ache slightly.

“Show me your titties,” he ordered.

“I…” Emily gulped. Her eyes flickered from the black man’s dark gaze and down to his big black cock, just as large and swollen as it had been when cumming a moment ago. Her eyes moved back up to his. “I don’t…” His brow furrowed in anger that she wasn’t obeying him instantly. “I can’t…” She felt the strap on her back tighten and the hooks slowly come undone. The pressure on her breasts eased as her bra dangled off. Mike raised her arms and lifted her bra off, displaying her bare breasts to the black man’s eyes.

“Damn Miss Emily, thems some big ass white titties.” Solomon stepped closer as Mike shuffled back to the cot, one hand holding his pants up, his little five inch penis hard again and bobbing in front of him. The tip of the black cock brushed her stomach leaving a sticky wet streak as he reached out and squeezed her breasts. Strong dark black hands covered the milky white breasts, kneading them, his fingers squeezing and tugging her pink nipples. He rolled her stiff nipples between his fingers and she shuddered again, whimpering slightly.

Solomon squeezed her left breasts, bending down so he could suck the nipple between his lips. She gasped as her suckled her, tongue flickering around the hard nub. He kissed her nipple as it left her mouth. He slowly squatted, kissing her navel, his tongue flickering inside her bellybutton before he fell to his knees in front of her. Emily shivered as he kissed the center of her pubic mound through her panties, his hands sliding up her hips to grasp the hem. He pulled them out and down her thighs and legs until they dropped at her feet. 

“Mmmn!” Emily jerked in surprise as the black man’s tongue flickered between her legs. His tongue slid along her wet clit while he grabbed her ankle and lifted it slightly to spread her legs further apart. She had to grab his shaved his to keep from falling. Meanwhile, his tongue continued to work on her pussy, lapping at her and sometimes wiggling between her lower lips. “Ah.. ah.. oh!” Emily’s pulse was quickening, her breasts heaving. This felt good, really good. She glanced over at Mike, almost accusingly, he’d never done this for her before. Her eyes fell down to his lap, his skinny little penis nearly invisible in his fist. Her eyes moved down to the black man, his dark eyes were staring up at her while he munched on her pussy. Her hand rubbed over his head before she threw her head back moaning, “Ah.. ah.. Oh.. OH GOD!” His tongue quit momentarily and something bigger pushed past her pussy lips. He sucked her clit between his lips as he pushed one beefy finger deep inside her vagina and that broke her. “GRRRNNH!” The loud primal grunt escaped her lips as she had her first ever orgasm. “Oh god… Oh fuck!” she gasped in disbelief at the sheer intensity of it. 

Mike started stroking his penis again. He’d never seen anything so hot in his life. He’d never heard the word “fuck” escape Emily’s lips before. He’d never seen her cum before.

Solomon rose before her. Emily was staring off into space in a daze, gasping for air. Her sweater was in his hand. Her eyes followed it as he used her sweater to wipe his cum from her chin. He dropped it when he was done, turning her slightly towards the cot. “”Go get on all fours,” he ordered, smacking her on the ass. She leaped slightly, stumbling towards the cot. She got on her hands and knees, trembling with anticipation.

Solomon climbed on the cot behind her, kneeling between her legs. Mike gulped, trying to pace himself. He stared at the black man’s giant cock rearing up above Emily’s toned rear end. That thing was going to ruin her, but it wasn’t half as scary as the two giant testicles dangling beneath. Mike tried to remember the number of times Emily had gulped the man’s semen down, was it three… four? That one load was more than Mike had cum in his entire life. He watched in trepidation as the homeless black giant bent that monster of a cock down towards Emily’s pussy. “WAIT!” he gasped. The black man turned an angry glare at him that made Mike’s erection instantly deflate. “She’s not protected.”

“Oh god,” moaned Emily, feeling the tip of the bare black cock rubbing along her wet slit. “Do you have a condom?” she asked, trying to pull away from the dangerous cock when her instincts were to push back into it. 

He grabbed her hips to hold her still. “No white boy’s rubber gonna fit this thing.” He pushed forward, his cock head pressing against her lips, pushing them inwards until they slowly began to open. “You want this white girl. I can feel the heat coming off that white pussy.”

“Please,” she whispered. “I need it inside me. But… you can’t cum in me.”

Solomon smiled, stroking himself slowly out of habit. His enhanced cock didn’t need it to stay hard. “I’ll pull out if that’s what you want.” He pushed forward letting her feel it, her folds stretching open around his large glans, stretching her wider than ever. “Feel how wet you are for this,” he said, voice low and seductive. “Your body knows exactly what it wants.”

“Yes,” she hissed, lowering her head down to the mattress. “I want it.”

“Tell me to fuck you, Emily.”

“Oh god,” she whimpered. She’d never been treated like this. “Fuck me,” she begged. “Please fuck me. Just don’t cum in me. I can’t have a bla… your baby.”

Solomon chuckled. He pressed forward, inch by inch. The first three stretched her deliciously; four and five filled her beyond anything Mike had ever managed. Six, seven—new places inside her opened, dormant nerves firing in ways she had never known. She pushed back humping up into his cock, moaning. “How’s that big black cock feeling, Emily? Bet your hubby doesn’t feel this good.”

“Yes,” she gasped, voice breaking. “So much better… deeper… thicker… oh god, nothing ever felt this good.”

He fed her eight, then nine, the head nudging her cervix. “Tell me what’s better,” he coaxed. “Big black cock or hubby’s little white dick?”

“Big black cock,” she cried. It was happening again. The pressure growing in her womb until it exploded, her first orgasm crashing through her, walls clamping tight around his black shaft. “So much better… so much bigger… I can’t believe how good it feels!”

“He ever make you cum like that?”

“No,” she moaned, turning her head to look at her husband, a look of disappointment on her face. “He’s never made me cum.”

Mike felt his cheeks go red and a tear rolled down his cheek, but his penis hardened again and he quickly started tugging on it.

Solomon’s thumb pressed against her tight little anus. She resisted at first, clenching and whimpering, but the pressure was gentle, insistent, and when he slid the thick digit inside her the sensation sent a lightning bolt straight to her clit. Her second orgasm hit instantly—huge, shattering, her entire body convulsing as she squirted around his cock, juices running down his balls and soaking the cot.

Solomon kept thrusting, thumb working her ass in rhythm. “Fuck me… fuck me with that big black cock,” she gasped, voice raw with need.

He slammed deep, pace relentless. “How long have you two been trying to have a baby, white girl?”

“Years,” she moaned, hips bucking back desperately. “Three years… and nothing.”

“I can give you what you want,” Solomon said, voice low and certain. “What your husband can't do. I can put a baby in that belly.”

She moaned with raw lust. The two things she wanted the most in the world at that moment was for the black man to keep fucking her and to feel a life growing in her womb. Do it, she wanted to cry, but hesitated. “But… you’re black.”

He leaned over her, thumb still buried in her ass, cock throbbing deep inside. “Do you want the little-dicked white boy’s baby… or a real man’s baby? Tell me, white girl. I’m getting close.”

Mike sobbed “No!” jerking himself close to another desperate orgasm. “No Emily.”

Emily’s resistance shattered. Mike could see the signs of surrender on her face, but she took too long. “Fine… I’m gonna pull out,” Solomon growled, slowly withdrawing his cock and yanking his thumb from her ass.

“No,” she cried, voice breaking with need. “Don’t pull out… cum in me… I want… I want your baby!” She pushed back into his retreating cock, feeling empty as it sprang clear. “No, please. Put it back in. Give me a baby.”

He spanked her left ass cheek, hard enough her pale skin turned faintly red. “Turn over, slut.”

Emily rolled over. The black man grabbed her ankles and pulled her into place. His cock was a monster, rampant and dripping with her arousal. She raised her hips up into it as he bent the head back down between her legs. “I want you to see who’s going to knock you up.”

Emily gasped as his cock head penetrated her tight white pussy again. She stared wide-eyed at the dark skin, shiny from sweating, the hard ridges of his muscles, his masculine dominance. “Do it,” she gasped with lust. “Put a black baby in my belly.”

Solomon smirked, pushing his cock deep. He hefted her knees under his arms and started rapidly bucking his hips. 

“I’m cumming again,” she squealed, staring at him in awe.

He fucked her through the orgasm and almost immediately another began growing.

“Here it comes, white girl,” he rumbled. 

“Oh fuck! FUCK! YES! Fuck me! Fuck me!” She humped her hips up into his cock with as much intensity as he was giving it to her. The pressure in her womb was growing, ready to explode.

He slammed home one final time, holding his cock deep. It erupted, flooding her womb with thick, heavy ropes of fertile seed. Emily’s biggest orgasm yet tore through her—walls spasming wildly, milking every pulse as her body convulsed, a scream of pure ecstasy escaping her lips.

Mike whimpered, collapsing forward, spent and broken, a final pearl of semen oozing from his sore penis. His formally faithful wife was staring up at the black man with an expression of total adoration on her face. She’d never stared at him like that. “I don’t even know your name,” she said.

“Solomon, Solomon King,” he answered, dropping her legs and laying down on her.

Emily ran her hands over his hard muscular chest as he covered her, his flat dark lips pressing against her smaller rosy one. She kissed him back, passionately, their tongues dancing back and forth. She ground her pussy into the root of his cock. If it had softened at all, she couldn’t tell.

Solomon pushed up, pulling out slowly, still hard, thick semen leaking from her stretched pussy. “Get up, woman,” he said, lying back on the cot. “Come ride me. We ain’t done yet.”

Emily straddled him and slid up his shaft until she could push back into his cock. The head slowly entered again, she moaned, arching her back. Solomon took one nipple into his mouth and sucked it between his lips. She shuddered, having another orgasm. Her black lover grabbed her hips and pushed her back into his cock. She sat back up, hands braced on his broad black chest. Her white fingers splayed across the dark skin, stark contrast against his ebony sheen. Something shifted inside her—the sight of her pale hands on his powerful black body, the way her hips rolled against his, the thick black shaft disappearing inside her again and again. The interracial contrast suddenly struck her as profoundly erotic, sending fresh waves of heat through her core. She leaned down pushing against his chest, her pussy rising and falling over the thick shaft.

Mike winced as his little penis hardened again. It was raw and red. His balls ached. He kept his hands off it as he watched his wife ride Solomon through several more orgasms.

Solomon swelled inside her once more and came, pumping another heavy load deep into her womb while she shuddered through yet another huge climax. “Don’t pull out… give me that black cock!”

She laid down and kissed him again. “This cot isn’t enough for what I want to do to you,” he said against her ear. “Your marital bed would be a lot more comfortable.”

“Anything you want, Solomon.” She sat back up, grinding her pussy into his cock. Surprisingly it was still mostly hard inside her. Emily looked down at her black lover, the father of her child. She smiled and looked over at Mike, sitting defeated on the next cot, pants around his ankles, his small dick limp and sticky shrunken into his barren testicles. “Mike, go throw Solomon’s clothes in the drier. He’s coming home with us,” she said quietly.

Mike’s voice cracked. “For how long?”

“As long as he wants,” she answered. She leaned down and kissed Solomon again. “Lets go get a shower while we wait for your clothes to dry.” She wiggled down on his still swollen shaft. “Something tells me you got another load for me.”

Epilogue

Solomon King sat behind the massive mahogany desk in his penthouse office overlooking Central Park, fingers drumming a slow, rhythmic beat on the polished surface. The city lights glittered far below like scattered diamonds. He wore a tailored Armani suit, the jacket open, revealing a crisp white shirt stretched across his broad chest. His shaved head gleamed under the soft overhead lighting, the neatly trimmed black goatee framing a face that still looked no older than thirty-five. “Of course, I remember your mother,” he said. “I spent five memorable days with her.

The handsome black man stared back at Solomon. “Only five? You left quite the mark on her for only knowing her for five days.”

Solomon smirked. “Obviously,” he answered, examining his son.  A young man in his early thirties, David King. Tall, athletic, with the same intense brown eyes and strong jawline that marked him as Solomon’s blood. HIs skin was lighter than Solomon’s, but still a dark brown. “How is your mother?”

David’s jaw tightened. “You left her broken. Her husband left her five years after I was born. I don’t even remember him.”

“I vaguely remember a weak little man sitting in the cuck chair while I fucked his wife.”

David stared at his biological father. David wanted to hate him, but he was a user of women also, though those women weren’t his mother. “The church kicked her out of the shelter when she kept fucking every black homeless man who walked through the door. It was like she was searching for something she could never find again. Someone like you.”

Solomon’s fingers stopped drumming. He sat back in his chair, studying the young man with calm, predatory interest.

“She had two more black sons before she got her tubes tied,” David continued. “She swore it was you when your face hit the cover of Fortune as CEO of King Enterprises. I wasn’t convinced at first — you look way too young to be the vagrant who knocked her up. But here you are.”

Solomon chuckled low. “I’m older than I look. So what can I do for you, David? You’re not the first of my bastards to look me up. Probably not the last either. You looking for money?”

David shook his head. “No, I just wanted to meet my biological father. Moneywise, I’m doing quite well for myself. I honestly don’t want anything from you.”

Solomon glanced at the laptop screen showing the latest valuation of The PulseLine, Chicago’s hottest nightclub. “You have done well for yourself,” said Solomon. “The Pulseline, valued at five million. Not bad for a club you built from nothing.”

“Seven,” said David. “That’s an old article. We’ve grown and expanded since then.”

“Even better. I’d like you to sell me a stake in it.”

David smiled tightly. “I put everything I had into that club. It’s not for sale.”

Solomon stood slowly, undoing his belt with deliberate calm. 

“Mr. King, what do you think…” David almost jumped out of the chair in outrage, but his eyes were glued to the black executive’s crotch.

The expensive trousers parted. His thick, veined 12.4-inch cock flopped heavily onto the desk, already half-hard and throbbing. David stared, eyes widening. He was proud of his dick, a thick seven inches that women seemed to love, but King’s was massive.

Solomon’s voice dropped to a commanding rumble. “Give me a 25% stake and you can have a cock like this. Consider my offer. Trust me, you won’t regret it. Give me 51% control of The PulseLine and I’ll even help your mother, give her what she’s been searching for these past thirty years. I can assure you she’ll be very happy.”

David’s hand twitched at his side, gaze locked on the massive black shaft resting on the polished wood. The air between them grew thick, charged with the unmistakable scent of raw power.

“There’s more to my offer than a giant black cock. I’ll be ninety-five years old this year. 

“What?” gasped David in disbelief.

Solomon leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Think about it.”

The End