Date: Mon, 8 Apr 2002 22:57:11 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jess Sudhir <jesssudhir@yahoo.com>
Subject: BJ at Champs (i/r, bi, first time)

The following is a true story:

My name is Jess Sudhir, and I'm half-black and half-Arabic.  I had been
straight but curious all through college, but, aside from a j/o experience
with a friend, I had never been with a guy.  But this was my wild year,
living on my own in the Big City, and I was determined to make the best of
it.

I had been to a couple of gay clubs before.  I liked going there: The
throbbing music, the lean bodies, and most of all, the way everyone's eyes
lingered on me as I sauntered around the room.  I'm ashamed to admit it,
but I felt a thrill just from being a straight man in a gay world, an
arrogant assurance that my pussy-dipped dick and low hanging balls made me
more of a man than all the boys who stared so hungrily as I passed.

Nothing I had experienced before, however, prepared me for Champs.  It was
a dingy hole in the wall, sleazy outside and in, with musclebound men
stenciled on the window.  Inside a cramped black room held a few bored
dance couples: both gay and lesbian.  I would have written the entire place
off as a loss, if it hadn't been for the curtain.  Even the loud dance
music couldn't entirely drown out the noises coming from that black expanse
of cloth.

I was simultaneously drawn to the sinister veil, and repulsed.  Something
told me that I would find something on the other side that I was unprepared
for.  But wasn't that what I was there for?  I plunged through.

It was a scene right out of my fantasies.  The crowd amassed on the inside
of the tent far outnumbered those in the larger room outside.  And this
group was having far more fun.  All around me, hard dicks were jutting out
of men's flies, while a small knot of lesbians fingered each other just to
my right.

Across, on the other side, I saw three beautiful young men standing
dick-to-dick-to-dick, hands on each other's dicks, as the eager crowd
pressed in on all sides.  Inside my own pants, my own dick bruised its
sensitive head against the hard fabric of my jeans.

And there, across the room, someone was trying to catch my attention.  A
young white guy, hardly out of his teens, with black hair falling down over
his forehead, and a dazed, hungry look in his wide eyes.

He must have see some answering lust in my gaze, because he made his way
across the room, until we were standing so close I could feel his hot
breath panting against my face.  I was afraid he was going to kiss me, but
he just reached a searching hand down to my crotch, where my hard rod tried
to leap into his eager gasp, right through my jeans.  With practiced haste,
he fumbled my jeans open, and my dick sprang free, into the cool firmness
of his hands.

He was wearing drawstring sweats, and it was the work of an instant for me
to hold him in my hands as well, a little white worm that struggled and
twisted in my grip.  But after a quick moment he pushed my hands back, and
going to his knees, he had me down his throat before I knew what was going
on.

I had a moment of panic, and then the sensation hit me.  It was incredible.
It's true what they say, that a man knows better how to give a blow job
than a woman, and this kid didn't miss a trick, nearly managing the
incredible feat of nearly my considerable length.

There was something even better than the sensation, however, and that was
the feel of power.  Here was this white boy, like every cocky arrogant
son-of-a-bitch I had ever hated in high school, humiliated, demasculinized,
down on his knees in front of me, taking my black dick down his throat, and
loving it.

And I loved it too, fucking his throat, harder and harder, and loving the
little gasping sounds he made, and fucking his throat faster and faster,
until suddenly he drew back, aware I was going to cum, and I grabbed him by
the sides of his head, and thrust myself down his throat and shot a load
like a bullet straight to the bottom of his stomach.

When I pulled out, he spat out what he could, and looked up at me, with
that dazed look in his eyes, and my cum dripping down his cheek, and some
part of me just wanted to hold him in my arms, and keep him close.

And some other part of me wanted to flee as quickly as possible.

And that second part won, and I left the club in a rush.  But even though I
never saw him again, I have never forgotten the look in his eyes, as my
seed burned its way down his throat... and as he turned to look for the
next man to fill his need.