***This story is a complete work of fiction centering on a sexual encounter between porn god/legend/stud Manuel Ferrara and Cuban ballet star Osiel Gounod. It is common knowledge that both men are heterosexual, and this story in no way attempts to question neither man's sexuality nor preferences. Readers should be 18 years of age or older.***
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Manuel found himself in a quaint and picturesque, albeit stereotypical Cuban bar sipping a mojito. It was midday and quite hot in the city of Matanzas, about an hours drive east of Havana. Manuel was in Cuba on a self-imposed exile. He had been working nonstop since founding his own porn production company back in Los Angeles. Despite the economic downturn, business was going well. He assumed porn helped lift people's spirits, and he was happy to be able to take their minds off of their daily struggles.
Cuba was the perfect place for him: no paparazzi milling about, and since pornography was banned and virtually no one in the communist state owned a computer, he could go unrecognized. So here he was, enjoying the simple life in a country where time had seemingly stopped over half a century earlier.
Seeing that he had finished his drink, the young bartender came over and asked if wanted another in Spanish.
"Si, por favor," Manuel replied.
The bartender began preparing the popular Cuban beverage as Manuel looked him over. "Damn, he's got a nice ass," Manuel thought to himself. The boyish-looking bartender was wearing a black A-shirt that hugged his toned muscles and showed off the crevices of each of his four abs. He was wearing a pair of sky blue swim trunks that stopped about a hand's length above his knees, showing off a wonderful pair of hairless sculpted calf muscles. He was a darker-skinned mulatto; in America...actually anywhere outside Latin America...he would be considered black. But as "mulatto" still applied in this region of the world, that's what he was; too light in complexion to be considered black, but too dark to be considered anything else. He was beautiful in a natural sense. There were no vanity products available to enhance his appearance, but he was perfect as he was.
He finished making the drink and handed it to Manuel with a smile.
"Do you speak English," Manuel inquired.
"Only very little. Not much," the boy responded, although in a surprisingly clear tone and moderately accented.
"What's your name?"
"Greetings companero (comrade) Osiel, I'm Manuel," the Frenchman said, offering his hand as a sign of friendliness. The young Cuban accepted and shook it with another smile.
"How old are you," Manuel asked.
"I have 20 years. My birthday is tomorrow," Osiel responded.
Manuel stood up and yelled "Feliz cumpleanos" to his bartender, opening his arms and bringing the boy into a friendly embrace. Osiel beamed a big smile.
The French tourist continued asking his server questions. Osiel opened up about his life: he was a ballet dancer (that explained the sculpted physique); was studying in Havana but returned to work in this bar for extra cash during holidays; he wanted to become a big ballet star in Cuba and eventually move abroad to work for a company in England or Russia; he wanted the American embargo to end and expressed a positive economic future for Cuba; and he admired the social politics of Fidel Castro for giving opportunities for mulattos and blacks like himself that otherwise did not exist under the previous regime.
Manuel was enamored. Osiel was very smart and managed to carry on a good conversation; far more profound than Manuel expected. And his English excellent!
The duo talked almost nonstop for about two hours until it was time to close the bar for the afternoon siesta and prepare to open later that evening.
"I don't want to leave, you are such good company," Manuel said in a somewhat melancholic tone.
"I am sorry companero, but I must close the bar now. I do not want to have troubles with the authorities."
"I understand. Do you want to join me at the beach or something, then," Manuel asked.
Osiel hesitated. "I could get into trouble for being with a yuma (American)."
"Okay, well come to my casa," Manuel quickly rebutted. He was very persistent and had no plans on giving in. He definitely wanted to get to know this Cuban boy better.
"Um, okay. But I cannot walk with you. Police will stop me. Tell me address and I will go after you."
Manuel gave the address to Osiel and walked out the bar, but not before giving a playful slap on the young Cuban's firm ass.
Osiel knocked on the door of the casa Manuel was renting during his stay on the island. Manuel quickly opened it and let the young Cuban in.
"Bienvenidos. Welcome. Would you like something to drink?"
"No, no, gracias." In typical Cuban fashion, Osiel made himself at home and sat on the sofa without first seeking permission. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV.
Manuel sat down next to him, opening his legs to the point where they purposefully brushed against those of the ballet dancer. He was smoking a cigar and offered one to his guest.
"Si," Osiel responded.
Manuel, with cigar in mouth, watched as Osiel lit his own, paying careful attention to how his full pinkish lips formed around the fat cigar. "Damn," was all Manuel could say internally.
The duo barely spoke. Osiel was intently watching a baseball game on TV. Manuel was bored and was ready for some excitement.
He put his arm around the Cuban, turned his head away from the TV, and kissed his lips.
"What," Osiel started, confused.
Manuel went back in for another kiss, but Osiel backed away.
"No, no, I cannot do this," he said, his voice shaking. Manuel gripped him even tighter and leaned in to his ear.
"I want you," he whispered. "I want to fuck you so bad."
Osiel could do nothing but stare back at the Frenchman. What the hell was going on?
Manuel stood up and hovered him. He leaned in and kissed Osiel again on the lips. This time, he wasn't rejected, but the boy made no efforts to kiss him back. Manuel lifted the boy's shirt over his head and immediately began licking and sucking his dark nipples. He licked from nipple to nipple, all the way until he got over to the boy's armpits. He lifted them (again, no protestation from Osiel), and inhaled deeply. Osiel wasn't wearing deodorant and was bit sweaty, but surprisingly not smelly. He had a moderate amount of hair in his pits.
The Frenchman moved down and took off the beach loafers Osiel was wearing. He took the mulatto feet in his hands and kissed them before sucking each toe individually. For the first time, Osiel reacted by closing his eyes, leaning his head back, and moaning softly. After a few minutes of foot worship, Manuel stopped and slid the shorts down off the boy's hips. Osiel was wearing a pair of the government issued white briefs which were incredibly unattractive. Manuel quickly removed them, as the mere sight of them turned him off.
Osiel had an average-for-his-age cock that was several shades darker than the rest of his body. He had a moderate patch of curly pubic hair that he clearly maintained, as it was almost perfectly trimmed and his scrotum was hairless. He had a long foreskin; even longer than Manuel's! The Frenchman rolled it back, revealing a glossy purple glans. Manuel was an ass man, so he wasn't interested in spending time exploring Osiel's front side.
He pulled the boy's body slightly off the sofa so that he would have better access to what he really wanted. He lifted the boy's legs and spread his muscular glutes. "Fuck," he whispered aloud. Osiel's opening was completely hairless, also darker than the rest of his body. Just from the looks of it, the hole had never been touched. Manuel rubbed a finger across the dry hole before burying his face between the Cuban cheeks.
Osiel moaned out loud. Manuel licked away at the young Cuban boypussy just like he had done thousands of times in front of the camera. He licked the hairless perineum and playfully bit the dark cheeks that kept the sacred anus hidden from view. Osiel's entire crotch was musky. He had been moving about all day, creating a lot of sweat that built up. Manuel inhaled the smell and became intoxicated off of it.
After eating away at the chocolate anus for several minutes, he abruptly stopped, quickly removed all his clothes, and lubricated his thick middle finger with his spit. He looked at Osiel reassuringly before sliding it inside the boy. Osiel clenched. The tightness of his asshole was practically strong enough to break Manuel's finger!
After working the hole over for a few minutes, Osiel became loose enough for Manuel to slip a second finger in. In the process, Manuel purposefully bumped up against the mulatto Cuban's prostate, which had him leaking precum all over his beautiful brown skin.
No one was ever "loose" enough to accept Manuel's cock; it was simply too thick. But Manuel thought Osiel was as ready as he would ever be, so he lubed up his thick phallus, pulled his foreskin over the head, and pushed into the young ballet dancer.
Osiel winced. It was painful. In all his 20 years, his anus had never been an entrance. Of course, Manuel was not purposefully trying to hurt him. For reassurance, he leaned down and passionately kissed the boy, who surprisingly, kissed him back. Manuel began a slow pumping regimen as he tried to get both himself and Osiel off, while simultaneously avoiding ripping the young Cuban apart.
Manuel looked down as he pulled himself from Osiel. Then it hit him. This was the first "black" guy he had ever fucked. He had always wanted to fuck one. He loved the color contrast of his white phallus being pushed out by the muscles around the chocolate black hole. Once all but the glans of the thick, 8-inch cock was out, Manuel stopped and told Osiel to use his sphincter to push the rest out. The Cuban did as he was told and Manuel's cock exited from the now-deflowered black asshole with an audible "plop."
Manuel spread Osiel's cheeks as far apart as he could, revealing a sizeable gape. He could see the bright pink of his insides. Osiel surprised (and confused) Manuel by getting up and doing a short and completely random ballet routine. He did the splits and a handstand, and teased Manuel by pushing his ass into his face but quickly pulling away every time Manuel tried to grab and kiss it.
But the stronger Manuel caught on and overpowered young Osiel. He picked the boy up and stuck the thickness of his cock back inside, fucking the mulatto boy in a standing position directly in the middle of the living room. Osiel was finally starting to enjoy it and passionately kissed the white Frenchmen as he was being plowed.
Without warning his partner, Manuel climaxed and filled the mulatto's insides with his watery ejaculate. Osiel could fill spurt after spurt landing on the walls in the lower extremities of his body. He hugged Manuel. Manuel lifted the ballet dancer off of his cock and placed him on the sofa. His baby making juice freely flowed from Osiel's slightly open anus. He buried his face between the sweaty black cheeks and lapped up the leftovers of his own fluid, before kissing Osiel.
"Mierda!" Osiel exclaimed. "I must go back to work. I will be late!"
The young Cuban pushed hairy Manuel off of him and jumped off the sofa, scrambling to get his clothes. He was sweaty and still had the cum of the man who had just taken his anal virginity running down his leg. Manuel watched as he put his clothes back on. He was exhausted yet still horny from fucking this beautiful black Cuban boy. He had never fucked anything so tight!
Osiel was preparing to rush out the door without even saying another word to Manuel before the Frenchman jumped up and blocked his exit.
"I want you again. I will come visit you tonight at the bar. Then you will come back and spend the night with me. I want to give you a good birthday gift." Manuel said all of this in a matter-of-fact tone.
Manuel took him in an embrace and kissed him on the lips before the boy went on his way to tend bar.
"If only I could get him a Green Card," Manuel sighed.
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Check out http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XKmWGhuA3DI for an English-subtitled interview with Cuban ballet star Osiel Gounod and to see some of his moves. The interview starts at the 3:19 mark.