BY COLTON AALTO
* This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or living persons is coincidental.
Personal experiences -- images, events, memories, and words -- flavor my writing, and while elements of this story may be (and often are) based on facts, the characters are entirely fictional.
* Unprotected sex is depicted. In real life, be safe! Don't gamble.
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Author's Note: Let me know if you like the story. Hearing from readers is the main reason I post on Nifty. It may take me a while, but I try to respond to everyone. Email: ColtonAalto@gmail.com.
After a long beach day and a nasty sunburn, Kobi wasn't up for partying. But his college buddy Drew insisted on meeting at a gay bash, and he reluctantly agreed, only to stumble into the wrong place. A party was happening and he was welcomed by three young Black stallions. Soon one said, "Get that pretty little mouth on my big fuk rod and don't come up for air until you nut me." Wrong place, but&
CHAPTER ONE: BEACH DAY
Drew woke me from my nap by yanking down my swimsuit, exposing my bare ass cheeks. He whistled, "Shit, Kobi. You better turn over. Your back is like totally fried." Blinking away the cobwebs, I slithered back into my swimsuit, hoping nobody on the beach noticed my bare butt. I rolled onto my back, only to feel the sting of the sunburn, so I sat up to avoid touching anything. I was groggy, and from the angle of the sun as it dropped slowly into the ocean, it was apparent I'd been asleep for a while. The beach crowd was thinning out.
Drew offered to smear some lotion on my back, saying confidently, "It's supposed to numb the pain." He forced a glob into his hand and spread it over my burnt back, causing me to suck in my breath as the cool cream met my sizzling skin. He playfully ran his slippery fingers into my ass crack, a move that was totally predictable for him. I protested, snatching his hand out, but he responded with a laugh. "You're gonna need that twat greased for later tonight. We're invited to a fabulous gay boi bash, and it's gonna be fucking hot. Plenty of stiff cock for both of us. You might even get your tight little asshole exercised."
I was grumpy. After spending the day at the beach and getting burned, I wasn't particularly up for a party. We'd downed too many beers and smoked too much dope already. As for the promise that I might get some action, I was skeptical to say the least. Not that I wasn't hungry for a good roll in the hay, but I'd been down this path with Drew before. He inevitably got laid during or after one of his parties -- sometimes both during and after -- while I played the wallflower.
"Where's this party?"
"At a house close to where we parked. The dudes who invited me said to come whenever we wanted, `cuz things would get rolling as soon as people left the beach. It's probably already started."
"You sure you don't want to head back to the dorm?" As soon as I asked, I knew he'd reject my suggestion out of hand, and he did. I glumly resigned myself to letting him drag me to the party.
We'd met early in my first semester at college and became close friends. From the start he convinced me to do pretty much whatever he had in mind. Needless to say, the day at the beach was his idea. We were buddies but -- unfortunately from my view -- not fuck buddies.
We'd slept together a couple of times as a matter of convenience, but nothing happened. I would have eagerly done it with him because he was seriously hot, every dude's vision of a perfect college boy. But he wasn't interested. Put simply, I wasn't his type. He was into hunky, hairy daddies, dudes who were 30 years older, had a paunch, and wanted a cute twink they could fuck into the woodwork. His infatuation with older men started when he auditioned as a model and decided bottoming for the middle-aged photographer was a better payoff than the possibility of the job. He seduced the man, reversing the way casting couches normally worked, but his appetite was merely whetted. In short order he bedded the agent who'd hired the photographer, the head of the advertising campaign, and the president of the modeling agency. He was an equal opportunity slut.
After that he did a lot of modeling. Word got around that anyone hiring him could expect a little sugar on the side. When photographers or agents were picking from a long list of models, any of whom would be good in a shoot, the tie was sometimes broken in Drew's favor because dudes knew they'd get rewarded with as much boi butt as they could handle. Drew was more interested in the dudes' dicks than the modeling jobs, but that's the way he was. Modeling shoots, nice clothes, expensive dinners, exotic trips -- those were merely icing on the cake. He wasn't exactly hustling but wasn't exactly not hustling either. It was complicated.
I missed badly on each of his hunky, hairy daddy criteria. Not a daddy; I was a college kid who didn't even look my age. Not hairy; my smooth skin was hairless with a few tiny exceptions -- some wispy pit hairs and some underdeveloped pubes. And not hunky; I topped out at 5'7" if I raised my heels and 115 pounds if I was fully dressed, with heavy boots and full pockets. I wasn't a skinny rail and had okay muscles, at least for a teenaged college kid. I was a rock climber, one of the few sports where a small body didn't disqualify me from the start, and my chest, arms and legs were solid. I even looked ripped after hitting the gym. The problem was that my muscles were packed onto a tiny frame. Narrow shoulders, narrow hips, narrow waist, and, well& narrow everything. I was graciously described as small-boned. As long as nobody else was in the picture, I looked okay, but as soon as a normal sized dude was next to me, I shrank to three-quarters scale.
Aside from being in a different time zone from hunky, hairy daddies, I had another shortcoming. Pun intended. Drew was a size queen, into big cocks. Not all his DILFs were hung, but he seemed to have an uncanny ability to ferret out big dicks. When he'd hook up with a hung stud, the next day he'd be raving about the size of the dude's fuk stick. My tool didn't match up. Like the rest of my body, it was three-quarters sized. Five inches at best. Okay& not quite five. It got rock hard, shot buckets of cum, and recovered fast, but I never got far enough with most guys to demonstrate those talents. My piece wasn't a pencil dick, but I would never be called hung.
From the beginning I'd let Drew call the shots. Ten days ago, he'd convinced me to shave my pubes to make my cock look bigger. It sorta made sense and he shaved for modeling and because some of his daddies liked hairless holes and smooth crotches. For me, it was an idiotic mistake. Rather than making my dick look bigger, it made me look like a little boy. To compound the problem, my pubes were light colored and painfully slow to grow back, so they were still practically invisible.
In a mostly hopeless effort to compensate and look my age, I'd grown a thin beard that didn't look half bad. It was far, far from thick and bushy and a sorta light brown, dirty blond, but at least it proved hair could grow someplace on my body.
Drew wasn't sold on it, saying it looked incongruous on my boyish face. "Dude, ya need to zero in on men who like teenagers. Barely legal ones. The beard destroys all that. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't look bad. Kinda fits with your long, wavy hair. And I say that even though I don't usually like facial hair on anyone under thirty."
"You don't like anyone under thirty, period."
"You know me too well. But hello! A stud needs at least 15 or 20 years of practice before he can properly use a stiff cock as a battering ram to pummel a young boi's pussy. But back to the point. You're only gonna confuse hunks who'd be willing to give you a roll in the hay."
"I've yet to meet one."
Drew didn't have a response. I stuck with the beard because I was tired of being taken for jailbait. The face fuzz made me sorta look like a college student, albeit a three-quarters scale college student. Scruffy, thin beards were in vogue on campus and unlike many students, I kept mine neatly trimmed.
Despite not being Drew's type, he'd sorta adopted me, and we often hung out together. He was outgoing while I was shy -- not a good mix when coupled with my diminutive stature -- and opposites attracted. I was happy to follow him. He'd been responsible for much of my college social life -- friends, parties or just hanging out. On top of that, I got most of my sex life vicariously through him; I'd certainly jacked off enough times after he went into mouthwatering detail about his shenanigans.
The lotion he'd rubbed on my back was somewhat numbing the pain. "Why'd you let me go to sleep and get so sunburned?"
Drew rolled his eyes and gave me a leering smile. "I was occupied with other things. BIG things."
He paused dramatically to let his comment sink in, although I knew where the conversation was headed. He nodded toward the dunes. "See that stud over there?"
I looked over my shoulder to see a middle-aged guy. Husky, hairy and balding. Exactly Drew's type.
"'Bout the time you drifted off, I decided to take a walk& you know the kind of walk I'm talking about. When I passed him, using my best cum-fuck-me strut, he practically raped me with his eyes. What's a boy to do when that happens? I almost sprouted a bone right there. I circled a short ways down the beach, headed back and made sure I was extra close, walking slow with locked eyes. I'm embarrassed to say I even pulled the I-dropped-something-in-the-sand stunt so I could bend over and wriggle my ass for him." Drew rolled his tongue in his mouth and said, "Okay, I'm not that embarrassed. Besides, it totally worked.
"When I straightened up -- hell, there was nothing straight about that move -- I gave him my take-whatever-you-like look and wandered into the dunes. He followed me and had his dick down my throat almost before I knew what hit me. I did what any gay slut would do -- gagged and choked on his big prick but let him fuck my face. He told me to swallow his load, but I didn't need to be told. Of course I swallowed! Jeez! Did he think I was a rookie? Very tasty."
Drew pointedly licked his lips, smacking them. He leaned over and whispered, "The hunk is hung. I mean HUNG. It's a dick I'd go out of my way to service again -- on my knees in the dunes, a truck stop, a hotel room, his bedroom, you name it. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
"Before I'd coaxed the flood of babymakers from his fat cock, another dude appeared. He was too skinny and young for my taste, but oh my God was he hairy! His chest was a rug. Shag carpeting. He watched the show, groping himself and popping what promised to be an extra-large tube sausage. He pulled my swimsuit down and ate my ass while I was still nursing the first dude's dick. Well, a boy has to give it up when a man asks so nicely. As soon as I finished slurping cum, he pushed me face down into the sand and did a fast pump and dump -- pump his fuk stick into my little boi pussy repeatedly and dump a huge load of jizz into it. His nut oozed out of my butt after he pulled out and wiped his slimy shaft on my cheeks.
"By then the first guy was ready to go again, and he took over. He obviously didn't mind sloppy seconds and didn't need lube either. It was a good thing the skinny otter was hung and boned me first, because without being opened me up, I would have screamed my head off when the dude slammed into me. I probably would have woken you up. Dude stretched my boi butt to the max. It was kinda hard to breathe under him `cuz he's so big, and he took forever to nut since it was his second time, but you know me. I loved being underneath him. I got sand everyplace, though. And I do mean everyplace. Fucking in the dunes is hot but hazardous."
I was struggling to hide the bone I'd sprouted. It had been far too long since I'd gotten any. If it hadn't been obvious before, the condition of my rod confirmed the last thing I needed was to watch Drew score at a party while I stared at the walls. The challenge I faced at Drew's parties were due to his looks. He was incredibly handsome, and something about him shouted, "Open For Sex!" Inevitably, all eyes were on him, and I might as well have been invisible. It was eerie to walk behind him through a crowd because every head turned as he passed, and nobody even realized I was there. If his ability to attract all the attention wasn't enough to confine me to wallflower status, there was the added problem that studs weren't into little guys and my jailbait looks, at least before I added the beard, didn't help.
Yet another night of whacking off wasn't what I wanted, but I needed to relieve the pressure on my balls and my hand was the best option. The sooner we got back to the dorm, the better. I pressed him. "If you already sucked off a dude and got fucked twice, you sure you're up for this party?"
"Hell yeah! It's not even sundown! Plenty of time to find a hot DILF who wants to spend his night having his way with a twinky teenaged bottom!" He licked his lips, grinning. "Every way he wants, and I mean EVERY WAY. Where else is he gonna find a hungry bottom who begs to be pounded, takes whatever he dishes out, and gushes, `Oh Daddy, seed my boi pussy!'"
I had to laugh and rolled my eyes. He happily slapped my back. My painfully sunburned back. I groaned and hissed, "Fuck you!" but he merely grinned. "You wish. I'm saving my little boi butt for Mr. Right"
I gave him a disbelieving, raised eyebrows look. He batted his eyelashes and said, "Well, him and every other hunky daddy who wants to spend a night with his dick in a boi hole!"
We packed up and trudged up the path to our cars. On the way, in an area of scrubby oak trees that Drew said was cruisy, we passed a couple of older dudes hanging out near a Portapotty. He stopped and glanced back at them. One grabbed his crotch, and that was the only invitation Drew needed. He said, "Um, Kobi, would you mind taking my stuff to your car and meeting me at the party? I see some man meat that I might have to snack on."
"Whatever. Where's this party?"
"420 Grove. Can't miss it."
"You're certain it's okay if I come?"
"Sure! The guy who invited me said there'd be hot dudes wall-to-wall and plenty of college boys."
"I didn't bring anything to change into. All I have is this swimsuit and a T-shirt."
"Forget the T-shirt. The dude said the party's dress code is skin. As in B-A-R-E--S-K-I-N. Besides, like I keep telling you, if you're gonna seduce a man and get laid, you need to show off the goods." He reached over and pinched one of my tits, making it stand out like a little BB. I glared but that only encouraged him to pinch both of them, hard. He was overly fond of playing with them, mainly because he loved how they popped out of my skin.
"Speaking of getting you laid, you could use something to advertise that you like dick. This swimsuit you're wearing shouts, `straight boy.'" He dug into his backpack, producing a dangling earring with a rainbow flag in an inverted pink triangle. He fitted it into my newly-pierced right ear -- the piercing was his idea -- and pronounced his satisfaction with the look. "Goes great with your sunburn. Gives you a rebellious air. I must say, as much as I prefer a clean-shaven face, this soft face fuzz might work. Makes you look less like an innocent, strait-laced high school boy. Sorta says, `I'm easy! Find out what the men who had me last week are talking about!' Piercing these wonderful rock-hard tits of yours would help even more. Or a nice tattoo."
He'd been trying to get me to do both, but so far, I'd only succumbed to the ear piercing. I sighed. "Um, you sure this isn't a bit much? I mean I won't know anyone at the party other than you, and you only met the guy who invited you today."
"Trust me on this, darling. I know how to get laid and that's exactly what your tight little tush needs."
He was right. Hanging around him meant sex was a frequent source of conversation, and the more he talked about it, did it and reported on it, the hornier I got. The alternative was a night beating my meat, and I'd done enough of that to be more than ready for the real thing.
Having run out of ready excuses, I raised the white flag. "Okay. See you at the party." I relieved him of his backpack and finished climbing up to our cars, stowing our stuff in my trunk. Despite Drew's advice, I debated putting on my T-shirt, but it irritated my sunburned back so I opted to go shirtless, wearing only my swimsuit and flip flops, hoping I wouldn't look too out of place.
The party was only a couple of blocks away, so it didn't make sense to drive, and I'd guzzled enough beer and smoked enough pot that I knew I better than to get behind the wheel until I sobered up. Thinking I'd walk around for a while and give Drew time to get to the party after he got in a quick fuck or two, I detoured through town and after a long walk ended up approaching the address he gave me from the side opposite the beach.
The neighborhood wasn't great despite its proximity to the beach, and 420 Grove might have been the biggest dump on the block. It was a small bungalow with peeling paint in obvious need of repairs. Probably rented by college kids.
Even several doors away I heard rap music blasting from the house and when I arrived the front door was wide open. I knocked on the decrepit screen door, and a deep voice said, "It's open!" I stepped inside and paused, sliding up my sunglasses so my eyes could adjust.
Three young Black men were sprawled in the living room, watching a baseball game on an ancient TV. They gave me wooden looks that felt challenging and a little hostile. Probably only my imagination, but they caused me to hesitate.
Nobody said anything for a long moment, which did nothing to ease my apprehension. But one of the dudes, a long, lanky stud with a short buzz cut and a trim goatee, broke the chill. "Here to party?"
"Um, yeah. Is Drew here?"
He contemplated my question for a moment with a frown, as if trying to remember who Drew was, and then glanced at the other two men before turning back to me with a sly smile. "Not yet. I'm sure he'll be here soon." I hesitated, debating whether to split and come back after Drew arrived, but that probably would be rude, so I rejected the idea.
"C'mon in. Party's just about to get started."
The three men occupied two chairs and a love seat, and the love seat was the only place open, so I plopped down there, next to the tall, lanky dude. Being close to the stud brought home how tall he was. He had to be at least 6'8" and he wore the biggest sneakers I'd ever seen. His long legs reached halfway to the TV.
The dudes were each bare chested, probably because of the heat in the house -- clearly no air conditioning. At least I wasn't underdressed and too out of place, although a white, three-quarters sized college kid would always be out of place around three young Black stallions.
The men were a study in similarities and contrasts. Each was slender and smooth chested, with ripped, chiseled muscles, but the similarities ended there. One of the dudes occupying an armchair was smooth shaven, with hair braided in elaborate cornrows. Both he and the dude next to me had coppery bronze skin, while the third dude was so black that I couldn't tell for sure if he had facial hair. Short dreadlocks dangled from his head, looking like a black mop.
The dude next to me gave me a smile, his white teeth in contrast to his burnt ochre face and dark eyes. "What's your name, boy?"
"Uh, Kobi."
"Nice to meet you, Kobi. I'm Wright." He smiled, glanced at his buddies, and added, "As in always right." The other two dudes rolled their eyes and gave him annoyed looks, but he seemed to eat it up. "These losers are J'aksynn and Hamilton. J'aksynn's Momma couldn't spell so she screwed up his name. Nobody gets it right so we just call him Synn, because one look at his luscious black booty and all you can think about is S-I-N."
The stud with the braided cornrows, who apparently was Synn, glared at Wright, who chuckled. "Hey Synn, why don't you make yourself useful and fetch our guest a beer?"
Synn snarled, "Fuck you, Wright," but rose to his feet. His hair was a work of art and the same could be said about the large Chinese dragon tattoo gracing his slender torso. He was smoking hot. His muscles weren't as big as Wright's, but he moved like a dancer. Or maybe a sleek jaguar, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.
He returned from the kitchen with a beer that he tossed to me before reversing course and heading out the back door, where it sounded like some other dudes were partying. I was disappointed to lose the eye candy, although he left me with a memorable vision of his glutes flexing beneath his low riding shorts as he walked.
I'd barely cracked open the beer and taken a sip when Wright asked, "You wanna brownie?" He handed me a plate that held four or five crumbly brownies. I thanked him and took one, but he said, "Might as well have two. They won't last long." I was sorta hungry and quickly swallowed them, washing them down with the beer and pretending to watch the baseball game, making a comment or two in an effort to be one of the guys. Who was I kidding? A white, mini sized college twink fitting in with ripped Black men? Good luck with that.
Hamilton watched the game for a spell, occasionally eyeing me with a look that was either vaguely sinister and predatory or maybe bored and annoyed. I couldn't tell which, and I was probably imagining it anyway. Pot did that to me sometimes, and Drew and I had smoked enough on the beach to leave me seriously high.
With my eyes adjusted to the light, I made out a slight mustache on his lip, but otherwise his face was smooth. His dreadlocks were primitive and masculine. I found myself thinking how sexy he was, particularly stretched out in his chair in a way that made his built chest and abs stand out. He flexed one pec and then the other, making his muscles move as if alive and causing me to almost swallow my tongue. I was hypnotized, probably due in substantial part to the dope Drew and I had smoked. I don't know if Hamilton did it for my benefit or if it was merely a nervous habit, but I imagined myself running my tongue over his dark skin, sucking on his tits as they jumped. Given how horny and high I was, I probably would have considered any man sexy, but Hamilton was hot, and I'd think he was a hunk even when I was stone cold sober.
Without saying anything, he got up and followed Synn into the backyard, leaving me alone with Wright. Another disappointing loss of eye candy, although Wright's rangy, rawboned body and muscles that popped out like balloons when he moved weren't a bad consolation prize.
I couldn't help stealing glances at his body. He had a smooth, built chest, rock hard abs and the faintest treasure trail that spilled from his bellybutton. He was wearing basketball shorts and the outline of what looked like an impressively big cock was clearly visible. His arms and thighs looked huge, but then my perspective was that of the three-quarters sized dude. Perched on the love seat with him, I probably looked like a little boy.
A little boy with a little boner that I tried carefully to mask. I was finding that difficult because Wright was ripped. His legs and arms were veiny, and even his stomach had intriguing veins that disappeared into his shorts. Small movements made the veins atop his muscles harden and expand like they were alive. I was fixated, fascinated and intrigued by his tawny skin.
My surreptitious study of his crotch convinced me that he was going commando, and when he got up for more beer, his tool bounced against the silky material of the shorts like it was trapped inside and could easily explode. Mesmerized, I gawked at his bubble butt as he disappeared into the kitchen. Like Synn, his shorts rode low enough to expose the top of his ass crack, and his glutes looked like a shelf of rock-hard muscle.
He might have been even taller than 6'8". Hell, he was more than a foot taller than me. He returned with four more beers -- two for each of us -- but I knew I'd be trashed if I drank them on top of what I'd already downed at the beach.
I sipped my second one as we chatted a bit but mostly watched the game. Well, I watched the game when I wasn't studying the stud's ripped body and improbably large junk.
I'd always kinda thought Black men were hot. Wright was cool and friendly, and I began to relax, helped along by the beer, the stunning visuals, and the mellowing aftereffects of the dope Drew and I'd smoked.
However, my head soon began to spin, and it dawned on me that it was something other than the pot I'd smoked earlier. The brownies I'd gobbled down must have been laced with dope. "Um, those brownies& ?"
"Yup. Lotta weed in them. I'm surprised a little dude like you could eat two of them."
Shit. I wouldn't have taken two except that he offered them to me. The party hadn't even started, and I would soon be zonked out of my mind. So much for getting laid. I'd be a vegetable, unable to move, with a stupid, happy grin fixed on my face.
I stared dumbly at the TV, finding it increasingly hard to keep track of time. I wondered where Drew was. It had been long enough that by now he could have bent over for both of the guys who were checking him out at the Portapotty. Of course, if other men were roaming the scrub oak looking for boi pussy, he might still be bending over. I was puzzled that he'd said the party would start when everyone left the beach, but nobody else had shown. He'd probably gotten it wrong; he was prone to thinking what he wanted to happen was what would actually happen.
Wright jolted me from my thoughts by casually moving a couple of fingers onto my thigh. At first, I thought he'd touched me by mistake, but he moved his full hand on my leg. It was so large that it completely engulfed my thigh. I held my breath, and when I didn't object, he began slowly massaging my leg.
Fuck! The Black stud was putting a move on me! I couldn't quite believe it, but my excitement built and my curiosity about what was in his shorts became overwhelming. I was stoned, drunk, and hornier than hell.
"Whaddaya like to do, little dude?"
Channeling Drew and not wanting to risk discouraging the stud, I said, "Uh, everything!"
"You suck cock?"
"Sure!"
"Take it all the way up the ass?"
"Yeah!"
"You don't look like you can handle a man cock in your twat."
It was far from clear I could handle Wright's prick, but I was committed and desperate. If by some miracle he wanted to fuck me, I'd take it or die trying. "Yeah, I get that sometimes. Haven't had a cock that I couldn't handle."
Technically true but totally misleading; my experience with other dude's dicks was sorely limited. I'd only been balled a couple of times. It was correct that I'd handled each of them. They didn't hurt, only felt weird. But those guys weren't big. Hell, one kid I'd fooled around with in high school was a smidgen smaller than me. Wright was massive compared to any man I'd been with.
He slipped his hand behind my neck, pulling me into a kiss. Before I knew it, the tower of muscles had his tongue in my mouth and was devouring it.
Fuck! I was making out with a Black stud who oozed masculinity and could nail any man he wanted.
Wright's lips were thick, huge, and wonderful. He had a soft, slight goatee, and I would have happily sucked face with him all night. He guided my hand onto his junk, and I eagerly accepted his silent invitation to feel him up. He was gigantic and his cock was amazing under his silky basketball shorts. I struggled to believe he could be as big as my hand suggested.
Totally under the influence, I lost track of how long we French kissed. It was probably only a few minutes but felt like it could have been an hour. When Wright broke the kiss, he said, "I was gonna make Hamilton suck my cock, but he's not here and you really want it, so you get the job. Ha! You wanted it bad when you stepped through that door."
That was far from my thoughts when I walked into the house, but it sure as hell was front and center now. I didn't answer, but Wright didn't wait. Instead, he smiled and said, "Get that pretty little mouth on my dick and don't even think about coming up for air until you nut me." He pressed his big hand onto the back of my neck, forcing my head down into his crotch. I fumbled with his shorts, confirming that he was going commando as I extracted the biggest cock I had ever touched. In my stoned and drunk state, his manhood looked massive, a huge slab of uncut black meat.
I began to lick his shaft, playing with his foreskin, which fascinated me. Hell, his balls fascinated me, the head of his cock fascinated me, his piss slit fascinated me. His bellybutton fascinated me, his treasure trail fascinated me, and his pubes fascinated me. I was riveted on him as his tool thickened, lengthened, and hardened, then thickened, lengthened, and hardened some more. The snake seemed alive, mesmerizing and hypnotizing me.
I got into licking his rod and gradually working it into my mouth and down my throat. I was plain out worshipping the stud's fuk stick. I don't think I would have been as awestruck if I hadn't been stoned out of my mind, but at the time nothing in the world existed except for Wright's donkey doing and my desperate need to get it down my throat.
Wright had only uttered a few moans and sighs as I worked him, so I was startled when he said, "Ya doing good, little dude. Somebody been teaching you how to suck cock. You like that big dick?" I twisted my head to see him leering at me with a big grin. He lightly pressured the back of my neck, making it clear that he wasn't interested in a conversation and instead wanted me to return to servicing his pole. I was excited that he liked the blow job, sorta glowing over his compliment. As for somebody teaching me how to suck cock& I wish.
I resumed blowing him, and he slid his hand off my neck, down my bare, sunburned back, and into my swimsuit. He began stroking my crack, probing for my hole. "You're a ponyboy, aren't you? I knew you were as soon as you opened the screen door. You like having a man's cock inside you, deep in your guts. You're used to giving up this ass `cuz you know that's what you're good for."
I wasn't used to giving it up, but the last thing I wanted to do was to confess that I was practicably a newbie. I kept my mouth on his shaft, wondering if he would stop the blow job and fuck me instead. The prospect of taking his cock in my ass worried me; despite my bragging about being able to handle dick, he looked way too big for my boi hole. Of course, his donkey doing looked way too big for my mouth and throat too and I'd managed to swallow almost the whole thing. I bobbed up and down on it, sliding the foreskin up and down in time with my bobs and marveling at how rock hard it was, how incredible it looked when soaking wet, and how amazing it felt in my mouth.
Being a size queen, Drew knew his way around big dicks and repeatedly talked about how much they hurt when dudes first shoved them in his ass. When I asked why he went after hung studs if it hurt so much, he threw up his hands as if I'd asked a silly question. "Dude, there's ALWAYS pain at first and sometimes for a long time. But once my little tush relaxes enough -- or gets numb enough, sometimes I never know which -- it's heaven. You need a masculine stud with a really big dong to properly fuck your brains out."
Wright had a cock that I was sure would rip my ass. I was reconciled to giving it up if he wanted it, having essentially already invited him to bone me, but it sorta terrified me.
He teased my boi hole enough to make me desperate for dick, but then he pulled his fingers from my crack, clamped both hands on my head, and forced his cock down my throat. Feeling trapped, I was overcome with a wave of claustrophobia, but when I instinctively attempted to push away, he knocked my hands off his legs and grabbed my head even harder. I repeatedly fought my gag reflex and the feeling I was suffocating as he rammed his manhood into my mouth. But the claustrophobic moment passed, and I gave in to the inevitable as his big black fuk stick powered down my throat. I was getting face fucked whether I liked it or not, but the longer it went on, the more I liked it. I was servicing a hunky stud and lucky to be doing it.
It became clear that Wright wouldn't call off the blow job and fuck me instead. He began panting heavily and in the heat of the house, sweat coated his smooth skin. Heck, it was dripping from my hair and beginning to run into my eyes, making them sting. He hissed, "Fuck yeah, suck that cock!"
My throat was periodically pressed outward as he thrust his shaft into me. Slobber was drooling from my mouth, mixing with sweat and precum. I had to concentrate on breathing through my nose and gulping down air when I could.
Once again, time faded in and out in my pot-addled brain. I alternated between thinking I'd been sucking the stud for hours to realizing it hadn't been that long. I'd never had a cock like Wright's to work on, and I was totally into it.
Suddenly he groaned, "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum! Swallow, little dude. I know you want to, but don't even think about spitting it out." I hadn't gotten around to thinking about what I would do when he climaxed, but now I knew.
His big hands had a vice grip on my head, and he kept me pressed into his crotch while thrusting up, ramming his cock into my mouth and forcing his dick deep down my throat. My nose was buried in his pubes, and I fought for air, concentrating on breathing through my nose. Suddenly his manhood lurched and shot. Hot, wet jizz coated my tongue and fired into my guts. It felt like the cum rockets would never stop. When he eased up and released me, I gasped for breath.
His dick was still oozing spunk. "Suck that cock, boy. Squeeze every drop of jizz out of it. Keep that bone good and hard. I like getting a load off before fucking a tight ass." As if to punctuate the point and leave no doubt about his intent, he slid my swimsuit off my bare buns and penetrated me with a long finger, causing me to flinch.
Shit. I was about to find out if my fears about his cock being too big were warranted. But his finger found my prostate, making my leaky dick jump, and I moaned, now eager to surrender my boi pussy. The idea that a stud like Wright was willing to fuck me was a total turn on. I was still tasting his tangy, salty nut but I wanted the stud to take me, use me for fuck practice, and breed my twink twat with his enormous slab of black meat.
TO BE CONTINUED&
Hope you enjoyed the start of the tale! I'd love to hear your reactions and feedback; please send them along! Coltonaalto@gmail.com
My other Nifty stories can be found in the author index (listed as Colton) using this link: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#colton. You can also locate them by searching for "Colton Aalto" using the Nifty Archive Search button, or by following this link: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#colton.https://search.niftyarchives.org/?keywords=colton+aalto&sort=Relevance (I like this link better). I jump around in different Nifty categories, so you'll find a bit of everything. Enjoy!
I've also recently published a book, "Lance & Leo", a fictional account of 1980s gay porn with some sci fi and time travel thrown in. https://www.amazon.com/dp/1590217314/
© Copyright Colton Aalto 2021