Surprised he's black gay

He was gay and I was newly reborn as a bi-sexual man. He was black and I am white – very white – although I do tan fairly well when I get a chance to expose my flesh to the sun. I was in my forties when I met him. We connected on line in a forum that no longer exists. I think it was called "Pink Pages" or something like that. It was a regional hook-up website in the early days of such things.

I had, as I said, just re-discovered my interest in sex with men. I'd had several experiences as a teenager, but after I went to college, got lucky with a number of women, and eventually got married I dismissed those high school episodes as an excess of hormones. Then, in my forties, I began to think differently. Thanks to the Internet I had access to discussions and stories that rekindled my interest in both homoerotica and sex with other men.

My wife, of course, was and remains blissfully ignorant to this day that her husband of nearly four decades is bisexual.

So, I was perusing and fantasizing about the listings on line and while I was doing so, my own listing was likewise being perused, and presumably fantasized about. I had hooked up, very carefully, with a couple of other men in similar circumstances, and had found the experiences (mostly) enjoyable; enough so that I continued my pursuit of sexual satisfaction with other men. I had discovered a taste for semen and a predilection for being penetrated, anally. I preferred being with men who liked to "make out" and who appreciated the value of foreplay. I had a few negative experiences, but, again, those are, perhaps, stories for another blog entry. I also had a "gum job" and men, let me tell you, if you ever get a chance to get your cock sucked by someone who has a full set of upper and lower dentures, by all means do it. It's unbelievable.

I'll call him Phil, short for Phillipe. Phil was from a city about 300 miles away from where I live, but it was a city to which I traveled on business fairly frequently. He responded to my internet listing with an e-mail suggesting we should get to know each other better. I agreed. No pictures had been exchanged at this point. I am a "size queen" that is to say I do choose my partners by measuring their endowment, and I hope my partners feel the same.

We exchanged a number of e-mails over the next few days and, as it happened, I was about to spend a week in the city where Phil lived. We agreed that we should meet to see if we wanted to take things further. I was excited at the prospect of a new lover and by the fact that I would, possibly, get some "action" on this trip.

We had agreed to meet on a certain street corner near a certain large Midwestern university at a certain time. I told him what I would be wearing and gave him a general physical description. I did not ask for one in return. A little mystery is good for any romance.

"Jim?" The voice was rich and flavored with spice. I turned and saw a well built man of medium height and about my age, or so it seemed, broad in the shoulders, and solid throughout. And black.

"Phil?" I don't care who you are, if you are meeting someone for the first time and suddenly discover that they are of a different race, you WILL react. He must have seen something in my face, though I tried hard to keep my expression as neutral as possible. He smiled.

"Surprised?"

"Yes, a little," I responded honestly.

"Good, you didn't lie."

We both laughed and shook hands.

"Let's go for a walk," Phil said.

I don't know what I had been expecting, but this was not it. He gently took my arm and steered me in the direction of a walking path along a lake that bordered the University. I should mention that this meeting took place at night. We walked in the darkness quite a ways. We came to a secluded area and sat down. I thought he might make a move. I was certainly tempted to. I was horny as hell and would have liked at least a kiss. But, no, it was conversation.

"How do you feel right now, Jim?"

"How do I feel about what?"

"How do you feel about sitting here in a secluded place with a black man you only just met an hour ago?"

"Are you asking me if I feel threatened or unsafe?"

"Do you?"

"No." I didn't amplify the answer. Anything more than my simple statement would have seemed a lie, and my "no" was an honest response. In that 60 minute conversation (had it been that long?) we had gotten to know each other a little and I was completely comfortable in his presence. I should say that my dealings with other races had, to this point, consisted almost exclusively to a few friendships with Native Americans growing up near a reservation, and some acquaintances in college from the "Black Student Union."

"Just no?"

"Just no. Not every white man automatically stereotypes every black man as a thug or a criminal."

"Touche."

He got up and we began to walk back to where we had started. He had been pointing out various places along the trail that he identified as cruising spots. I was new enough to the game at that point not to completely understand what he meant. I did later, however, and it eventually proved fatal to our friendship. I do not cruise and I do not, knowingly, have sex with people who do. But I digress...

I had hoped that we would end the evening horizontal and superimposed. Phil had other plans. He asked me if I would like to go with him to a nature preserve the next day, a Saturday, and I said I would. He said he would pick me up at my hotel at one o'clock. We shook hands again and parted company. It was the strangest first date I have ever had.

The next day came and I made my preparations carefully. I wanted to be ready for anything. I was as clean as I could be, inside and out, freshly shaved, and smelling like (I hoped) someone who was expecting to get laid. I was dressed casually for the outdoors and carried a jacket against the vagaries of weather in this part of the country.

As it happened, it was one of those "Indian Summer" days we get in the northern latitudes – a day of temperatures in the 70's after the first hard frost of October. Phil's van pulled into the portico of the hotel, I got in, and we were off. To say that there were butterflies in my stomach would be an understatement.

We drove out into the country and parked in the lot of a local nature preserve. Phil led me to another trail and we walked. Perhaps he thought I needed the exercise – I wasn't in the best of shape, but I hadn't planned on entering any triathlons either. I was enjoying myself, however, as the conversation was excellent, the day was beautiful, and there was the prospect of sex at the end of it.

He asked me if I'd like to come over to his place for some iced tea or something, and I must have sounded pretPhil eager, because he laughed at me. We got into the van again and continued talking all the way to his modest house in a modest neighborhood. And then, he did a strange thing.

"Would you mind ducking down when we get close to my driveway? I'd rather not have anyone see me bringing a man into the house."

I thought this a rather odd request, but I, hoping to get laid, was in full compliance mode, and as we turned into his street, I hid myself until the garage door closed behind us. Once inside his home, we sat for a while in the sun dappled shade of his screened in back porch sipping iced tea. And, finally, the conversation came around to sex.

"How did you discover you liked men?" he asked.

That got the ball rolling. I told him about my high school experiences and the long interlude during which I hadn't thought about men at all.

"The bottom line for me is that I like sex, and what's between my partner's legs," I said.

Phil smiled. He told me his own story. He'd been married – his wife had died of cancer a few years earlier – but had always known he was more into men than women.

"What do you like to do?" he asked.

"I like to kiss."

"So do I."

We stood up, by now having moved into his living room, and we embraced, our lips meeting for the first time. My cock was rock hard, as it had been for most of the day. Our bodies pressed against each other as we explored one another's mouths. I could feel a bulge in his jeans and it was substantial. I hoped he wouldn't laugh at mine, which was considerably smaller.

I have rather large lips – a number of women have commented on how kissable they look – and so did Phil. We enjoyed our kiss. We both tasted of tea and lemon. I was breathing his scent and it was a heady aroma of cotton that's been in the fresh air, the clean sweat of honest exertion, and subtle cologne. I was becoming intoxicated as the kiss went on. His hands found my ass and squeezed. I moaned into his mouth. I could feel him smiling against my lips. I thought I might spontaneously ejaculate. I wanted to be naked with this man, and I wanted it to be soon.

Phil maneuvered me, never breaking the kiss, down a short hallway to his bedroom, before pressing me on my back against the chenille spread of his double bed. He got a leg between mine and we began to grind against each other as our passion grew. My hands were moving up and down Phil's back, cupping his muscular ass cheeks, pulling him more tightly to me.

I should say, at this point, that I hadn't had a cock in my ass for more than 20 years. But I had never wanted anything more in my life to that point than Phil's cock in my ass, and I was not planning on leaving this little bungalow until I'd had it.

Frankly, I don't think Phil was planning on letting me leave until he'd ploughed my ass either, so we were of one accord on that issue without it ever being raised.

The dry humping was becoming borderline uncomfortable and I longed to feel his skin against my own. I broke the kiss, which seemed to have gone on for hours but had only been minutes, and whispered "let's get naked." He looked down at me and smiled.

"Groovy," he said, laughing.

He got up off the bed and began stripping. I did the same. I'd like to say that we undressed each other and kissed each area of exposed flesh as it came into view, but that would be more literary embroidery than I'm comfortable with so I'll stick with what actually happened. Phil was not "cut" in the sense that he didn't have six pack abs, "guns" or a lot of exposed muscular ridges. But, he was in reasonable shape for a middle aged man, whereas I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, in shape. Phil didn't care. I was relieved.

"You're in better shape than your description made it seem," he said, taking me back into his arms and claiming my mouth once more. He was clearly the top in this scenario and I was content to bottom for him as long as I got some quality time with his cock, preferably inside me.

We were on the bed again, this time on our sides facing each other and trying to work out the geometry of arms and legs as we attempted to re-engage. Now, I could feel his cock against me. It was hot. The tip was wet with precum. And it was large. Not monster-sized. Phil wasn't a freak of nature by any means. But he had to be at least 10 inches and thick.

I got a hand between our bodies and worked it down Phil's belly until I could get a grip on the prize I sought. Oh my...it was lovely. Warm and hard and thick; it throbbed in my hands as I gently caressed it. Phil hissed his pleasure into my ear as he licked the lobe, causing me to tremble with pleasure. I love having my ears kissed and licked (I share that info in case any of you ever has occasion to need to know this).

"Phil," I breathed, "I want this (indicating his dick with a gentle squeeze) in my ass."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. But you'll need to take it slow. No one's been there since I was 17, and this (again squeezing his endowment gently) is bigger than anything I've ever had back there."

He looked into my eyes and then he kissed me again. "I'll be gentle, my little white virgin," he whispered, smiling.

I kissed my way down his chest, spending some quality time with his nipples, which he enjoyed, and eventually found myself faced with my very first (and as it turned out, only) black cock. It looked enormous. I had seen a lot of porn and all the men are hung, but when it's right there in front of you, 7 or 8 inches looks like a tree trunk.

And then there was the scent. Each of us has a unique scent, but there are racial differences as well. It must be something genetic. I'm not going to speculate. I was inhaling his musk and it was a heady mix of sweat and pheromones. My cock was throbbing and drooling. I was responding to Phil like I hadn't responded to another human being in quite some time.

A drop of clear liquid appeared at the end of Phil's cock and I stuck out my tongue and licked it. It was salPhil and slippery and tasted good. I wanted more. I inhaled the head of Phil's cock and as much of the shaft as I could manage licking and sucking it for all I was worth. I was not the most experienced cock sucker, but I made up for it with enthusiasm and the ability to keep my teeth from brushing the sensitive skin of my partner's equipment. And, having a set of full lips was an advantage.

Phil groaned as I began seriously fellating him, coordinating my mouth movements with hand strokes. I was kneeling next to him entirely focused on his cock and his pleasure. I jerked in surprise and missed a stroke as I felt his hand caressing my ass. I regained my composure quickly and only moaned around his thick slab of black man meat when I felt him begin to gently stroke my balls, weighing them in his hand and gently manipulating them with his fingers. Soon he was stroking me gently as I continued to suck him.

I felt him pulling at my hips, maneuvering me into the classic soixante-neuf position, and then his warm mouth captured my hard, dripping, cock to the root. I nearly came on the spot, which, of course, would have ruined everything.

I attacked his cock with renewed vigor, pausing occasionally to lick and suck his balls, which seemed to please him based on his responses. I took as much of his meat missile into my face as I could on each stroke, but owing to a rather trigger happy gag reflex on my part it wasn't as much as I would have liked. I wanted to swallow that black fleshy spear. I wanted to look down and see his balls at the edge of my lips. But my hand did for an extra bit of depth and was soon sliding up and down on a copious bed of my saliva in concert with my lips and tongue.

My nostrils were full of the smell of Phil's crotch, just as I knew his were full of mine. We were both bent on enjoyment, neither of us, as far as I knew, thinking about the fact that he was black and I was white. We were two men in the throes of passion enjoying each other's physicality. Period. Later, I would think about other aspects of this encounter – was my enjoyment heightened by the racial aspect? – but now, what I cared about was that I had a cock in my mouth and my cock was similarly engaged at the other side of the bed.

"Please, Phil," I gasped as I pulled my face off of his penis, "I need to feel you in my ass."

He stopped sucking my cock, releasing it from his mouth.

"Mmmm...I like that idea."

I rolled away from him and just lay there, looking at his body as he rolled the other way and reached into his night stand for a tube of KY jelly (which shows you how long ago this was).

My cock was pumping out a steady stream of precum. I was, as one of my friends would put it, terminally excited. My whole body felt like a cock in terms of how I was absorbing the pleasure of being naked with another man – another human being.

"Roll over on your belly," Phil ordered. Well, "ordered" would be a strong word. He just told me what to do and it made sense, so I did it.

I rolled over and humped up my ass by way of further invitation.

"Spread your cheeks for me, Jim. Show me that ass."

I moaned a little as I reached back, my face now buried in the chenille, and spread my ass wide with both hands. I was now completely exposed to Phil, my most intimate parts on display. I was glad I'd spent some time on personal grooming...

The next sensation I felt was cold. Phil hadn't warmed up the KY and when he dropped a glob of it on my anus I gasped. It was like having an ice cube touch me there. His finger began warming and spreading the lubricant. The second dose found me ready for the sensation and I moaned as he worked first one and then two fingers very carefully and slowly past the portals of my nether opening. He was not miserly with the KY either. Again and again he put more of the slippery stuff on and in me.

"Oh, god, Phil, I think I'm ready," I finally moaned in semi-frustration at his finger teasing. He chuckled.

"OK, you lube me up and get me ready. I want you to see what's going in there."

He moved around on the bed until he had his cock pointed right at my face again. I scrambled to my knees and took the tube of KY from his hands. I squeezed out a big glob into my left hand and then put my right hand over it, warming the lube a little before I gripped his cock in both hands and began to stroke it, covering his big black dick with KY in the process. I added some KY again and made sure every inch of Phil's cock was covered. It was shiny and throbbing, gently bobbing up and down in front of me. It was time.

"I think that should do it, don't you?" I asked.

Phil kissed me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as if in mockery or imitation of what his cock was about to do to my asshole. I almost came, spontaneously and without being touched, before that kiss ended. Phil handed me some tissues and I wiped the excess KY from my hands and just looked at him, waiting for whatever was going to happen next to happen.

"Turn around white boy," Phil said with good humor, "and get your ass spread wide for some black cock. You ever had a black cock in your white ass?"

"No. Yours will be the first," I managed to gasp out as I battled to keep from exploding all over the bed spread. His words en-flamed me. I wanted him to talk more like that but wasn't sure how to ask. He had broached the racial subject and I suddenly found that it turned me on like crazy.

I got into position and spread my ass cheeks wide open – as wide as I could get them. He put one last dollop of KY on the opening and then I felt him moving into position behind me.

"C'mon, Phil, fuck my white ass with that big black cock. Make me your little white bitch," I moaned, egging him on.

"Whoooo-eeee," he laughed. "What we have here is a case of buck fever, for sure. Well, get ready, 'cause here comes your black daddy."

I felt the blunt end of his dick touch my asshole and I gasped with pleasure. Then came the steady, relentless, pressure as he pushed against me. He was gentle yet implacable as he worked the big mushroom shaped head of his cock past my anal sphincter. I knew enough to bear down as if I was having a difficult bowel movement and all of a sudden, with a burst of pain, I felt the head of his cock breach my defenses and his thick shaft was soon sliding inside.

He took his time. It took me a moment to get my breathing back under control. I won't k** you – when he pushed that thing into my ass, even with all the lube, and all the finger prep, it hurt like a sonuvabitch. He was 10 inches long and thick. The flare on his cock head was big, making it the widest part of his equipment, and when he managed to pop the head through my anal ring I felt every millimeter of its width and thickness stretching me in ways I'd never been stretched before. Now, of course, I have toys even bigger than Phil's cock, but at the time it was like I was a virgin and he'd just popped my cherry.



'You all right, Jim," Phil said, stroking my lower back and ass cheeks with his hands.

"Give me a moment," I groaned. "Shit that thing is huge."

Phil chuckled. Then he reached around and started stroking my cock. Somehow he'd managed to put some KY on his right hand and he began to give me a slow but insistent hand job. At the same time he slowly pulled his cock back until only the head was inside before just as slowly pushing back in until I felt his balls against my own.

"Oh yeah...that's it...fuck...that's good, Phil...just like that," I moaned. I knew that in a few moments I was going to start moaning gibberish. The combination of Phil's grip on my dick and his own dick in my ass was driving me absolutely bat shit crazy with lust.

I pushed my hips back against him trying to pack every last fraction of an inch of Phil's black cock in my rectum. He pushed as well and then he ground his hips against me loosening the hole and making his passage to and fro a little easier.

"Fuck me, Phil. C'mon and fuck my white ass with your big black cock," I moaned. And I meant it.

He was hitting my prostate on every stroke and his hand was like a magic glove around my cock. How I managed not to blow my load all over his bed spread is beyond me.

Phil leaned over me and kissed the back of my neck. He let go of my cock and pressed me down onto the bed. Then he put his legs outside of mine, got into the pushup position and began to really fuck me. The only parts of his body touching mine were now his cock and just a little bit of his hips on each stroke. He had maximum leverage and good depth of penetration. I didn't need anyone to jack me off; I knew I was going to eventually blow my load just from the prostate stimulation.

"Take...it...white...boy," he chanted, gasping, on every stroke. I failed to make any response that could be decoded as speech. Phil took this as a good sign, and kept on trying to push me through the mattress and box spring and into the floor (that's what it felt like anyway).

His mouth was at my ear and his full body rested suddenly on mine taking my breath away momentarily. "So, Jim, how's it feel to have your first black cock?" He hissed into my ear.

"I ... don't ... care ... what ...color it is ... as long...as...it...keeps...fucking me," I managed to gasp. He laughed. I liked his laugh. It seemed to bubble up from deep inside him some place like a clear, cool, spring.

I was humping the bedspread as his cock pistoned in and out of my ass pressing me into the mattress. His thighs made a slapping sound as they caromed off my ass and I knew my cheeks would be bright pink if not red by the time Phil was done. I felt his balls hit my ass every time his cock bottomed out. All of my senses were on high alert for even the slightest stimulation. Every pore seemed to be on receptor duPhil absorbing all of the sensation it was possible to absorb. The ring of my anal sphincter was stretched wide but now it was accommodating the intruder and all of that KY and preparation was paying off as Phil's cock slid smoothly in and out of my sheath. I squeezed him as hard as I could with my internal anal muscles every time he withdrew seeking to maximize his pleasure.

"Fuck! You're so goddamned tight," Phil groaned as I squeezed him. I'd reached a plateau phase in my own pleasure, no longer in danger of immanent explosion but enjoying every second and able to fully participate in every part of this intimate act.

"Ohhhyeah...squeeze that big dick...you're feelin' it now, aren't you ... you're feelin daddy's big ol' dick plowin' your ass. You ready for a hot load of black baby juice up your ass? Huh? You ready?"

I had hoped he would make it last longer, but I had no idea what was still in store for me.

"Yesss!" I hissed. "Do it...blow a big load right up my ass...c'mon...fuck me!"

I thought he'd been going at a pretPhil good clip at this point but that was nothing compared to what happened next. His hips slammed into me like trip hammers as his big black spike repeatedly pierced the inner depths of my near virgin rectum. Once again I was soon on the edge of blowing my load.

"Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhh!"

Phil gave a final push and it felt like he was going to shove his cock all the way through my body and into the bed. I felt his equipment begin to jerk inside me and the warm rush of fluid pouring into my asshole pushed me over the edge. My own cock began to jerk and spit out its load onto my belly and the bedspread as the nerve messages from my prostate became too intense to ignore.

Phil began to move his cock again, short jabs that hit my prostate dead on again and again forcing more and more cum to shoot out of my jerking cock adding to the mess I was making of his bedspread and my abdomen. His own load was leaking out of my ass and running down onto my balls. I almost lost my mind at this point – the pleasure was so intense.

Phil pulled me onto my side and we lay like that, in the spoon position, his cock still buried inside me. It had shrunk just a little but was still hard enough for him to move gently in and out in short strokes. If he didn't pull out too far, we could do this for quite a while.

He had his arms around me and I turned my face up as far as I could toward him. He leaned into me and we kissed. My cock jerked once or twice more, dribbling out the last of my larger than normal load onto my leg. His hand found my crotch and he dipped his fingers into the cum that had collected on my belly and thigh. He tasted it and then fed me some. I love the taste of cum. I prefer it direct from the source. It's a great feeling when you have a man's dick in your mouth and you know he's going over the edge and nothing can stop it; you feel him jerk in your mouth and then that warm flood of salty goo – damn...I might have to stop writing for a moment and jerk off just thinking about it.

We spooned and made out for a while longer, and it was fantastic. No wham-bam-thank-you-sam for Phil and me. He rocked against me and I felt his cock begin to grow again inside me. I squeezed him as much as I could and we both enjoyed this slow, sweet, lovemaking. The frantic drive to orgasm was past and we were somewhere else now; in a state of bliss each feeling the other's pleasure. His hand gently stroked my cock which had also come back to some semblance of life and his mouth covered my neck with kisses and licks. My hand reached around to his ass and pulled him against me as tightly as I could manage in that position.

"God, I don't think I've ever felt anything this good in my entire life," I said, sighing. "I never want this to stop...just keep fucking me Phil."

But he didn't. He pulled his now completely rampant cock from my ass with a plopping sound and I felt a flood of fluid leak out. Phil was between my legs in a flash and had my ankles over his shoulders before I knew what was even going on. He pressed my legs back against my chest until I could hardly breathe and then he resheathed himself in me, only this time, he got ALL the way inside.

He was grinning from ear to ear.

"That was just the preliminary bout, boy," he chuckled. "Now we're gonna work ALL the wrinkles out."

And then he began to fuck me. Really fuck me. What had gone on before was like nothing compared to this. The angle was wrong for good prostate contact, but I was able to grab my own dick and stroke it. The contractions of pleasure I gave myself were translated to Phil's cock as well.

"That's it...baby...stroke your cock for daddy...while I fuck your ass with my BIG...BLACK...COCK!"

Neither one of us spoke after that. We grunted a lot. We groaned. I knew I was going to walk funny for a day or two after this, but I didn't care. I was lost in a world of pleasure, filled with the smell of sex, the smell of ass, the smell of black sweat, the smell of white sweat, the smell of cum – a heady brew that spoke to everything in me that felt pleasure.

I don't know how long this went on. It might have been five minutes and it might have been twenPhil. Hell, it could have been an hour. When he finally got to the short strokes and I knew he was going to blast my ass with another load of ball juice I was ready to pass out from lack of oxygen. I'd stopped jerking my cock. I was nowhere near my own climax, but I didn't care. I felt wonderful as Phil's cock speared me again and again. I can't even tell you why or really explain what it felt like. Part of it was because he was black and there was a forbidden aspect to our coupling, but mostly it was that he knew what he was doing and was REALLY good at it. I've never had anyone sense, except a fellow I met once from California, who really knew how to make love to another man's asshole.

Phil didn't warn me that he was going to cum, he just hilted himself one last time and let fly. I felt his cock jerk and that warm sensation returned as his load flooded my rectal chamber to overflowing. He let my legs down and his cock slid out of my ass. He kissed me long and deep.

"Let's take a shower," he said, at last, breaking the kiss.

Without looking to see if I followed, he climbed off the bed and headed out of the room. I was spent. My ass was sore. I was covered in sweat, some of it Phil's but most of it mine, and the produce of my own seminal explosions.

I summoned the strength from somewhere to get off the bed, noticing a brown stain underneath the place where I'd lain, and stumbled into the bathroom next door.

Phil had the water running and we were soon under the warm spray, soaping each other, kissing, and playing with each other's cocks. Amazingly, he got hard again. I soaped his cock thoroughly, and he mine – I'd gotten hard again as well – and we kissed while the water cascaded over us. I hadn't cum a second time like Phil had and he knew it. He knelt in front of me, let the shower rinse the soap off my cock, and then popped my dick into his mouth. He was an awesome cocksucker and it didn't take long for him to drain my balls completely. He stood up and kissed me, snowballing my cum into my mouth. I almost fainted from pleasure. We continued to kiss while the water flowed. Before his water heater gave out, we managed to stagger out of the shower. Then we dried off.

"You're gonna be sore as hell tomorrow," Phil said, smiling.