Illustrations by Michael Kirwan  Story by Matt Shea  

 

originally published in Inches magazine - August, 1999 issue

 

While riding the bus last week, I noticed a muscular, well-built black man, probably early thirties. I estimate he was between six-two and six-four.

I was sitting in the middle of the last row of seats, which span the width of the bus. He sat in the middle of a three-seat row that is perpendicular to my row. No one was sharing his row of seats, although a couple of guys were in the row opposite. He had on a sleeveless T-shirt from a popular straight bar in Georgetown, along with black jeans and black boots. I noticed a wedding ring. He had a shaved head and was holding a cap. He sported a well-trimmed goatee.

The way he was sitting, I could hardly ignore his heavy-packed crotch between his strong thighs. Then I noticed a tattoo down his left arm spelling out what I took to be his nickname, "BULL."

I guess I was staring a little too much, because all of a sudden I was aware that he had noticed me. Rather than do anything to express the usual straight macho paranoia or hostility, he positioned himself to give me a better view. After a few seconds he moved his hand over his crotch, rubbing himself, but a making it look like he was simply adjusting his crotch and his position in the seat.

He looked up at me and our eyes caught and held. Coming to his stop, he reached up for the cord to signal the driver and jerked his head toward the door, while looking at me.

I thought, "Should I get off the bus with him? But what about the ring? He's married. Even if he likes to do it with guys, where would we go? We're a couple of miles from my place. Maybe we can work out something for later and I can catch the next bus."

"At any rate, even if I'm wrong and he doesn't want to talk to me, the worst that could happen is that I wait for twenty minutes and pay again for the next bus. I can deal with that," I thought. "Better than let an encounter with this hot man escape me."

So I followed him off the bus, feeling very shy and tentative. After all, from the look of this guy, he could have snapped me like a twig. I am, after all, only five-ten, dark blond hair, and anything but a bodybuilder. I swim, do some strength training and have a nicely defined form, but I was not even close to is being in the same league as this guy. To round out the short biography, I'm twenty-four and work part-time at a bookstore while finishing my Master's in Economics.

He jogged down the bus steps and out into the warm autumn lt afternoon. I followed a little slower, still tentative about what was going on.

There was a park on the corner. He walked in and headed for a bench, looking back just once to see if I would follow. I did follow, and when he got to the bench he just kind of stood in front of it, raised one leg to the bench seat and propped himself up with his boot. Now I didn't know whether to sit or stand--but in order to see him I decided to sit.

"Uh." I started out. "Hi. Do you live around here?"

"Yeah, I live a couple of blocks away. What about you--do *you* live around here?"

"No," I confessed. "I just got off the bus because, uhm, you look interesting."

"OK, why don't we walk over to my place and see what else looks interesting--hmmm?"

"Sure! But, well, what about your wife? I mean, I noticed your wedding ring."

"Oh! Forgot it was on. I wear it to keep girls from hitting on me at the bar. I'm sometimes the bouncer, and sometimes a bartender. White sorority girls must get pins for making it with black guys, 'cause they are all over the brothers who come to the bar and those of us who work there."

"Oh! I see." At least one major hurdle was crossed. "By the way," I said, "my name is Matt."

"You can call me Bull. My name, for the record, is Leonard, but I haven't used it in years."

"OK," I said, "nice to meet you, Bull." I extended my right hand to shake his. He did the same and my hand was completely engulfed in his.

"So would you like to come over to my place, and we can get back to what looks interesting?"

So we walked over to his place--a little over two blocks from the park. Just light conversation. He's from Washington. I'm from Richmond, Virginia. We exchanged other items of personal background, causing me to relax and feel much more comfortable about going to Bull's home.

We got to his place and, immediately upon entering, he took my backpack from my right shoulder and put it down on the entryway floor. He ushered me into the living room and asked me if I wanted anything to drink.

"Just a glass of water."

While he got that--and a coke for himself--I looked around the room, and into the adjacent dining room. Both were nicely done. I didn't know enough about any of this to comment, other than to tell him, "You have a really nice place."

"Thanks. No one ever believes that a bouncer at a bar can live in a nice place. I guess we're all supposed to live in dives above pool halls," he said with half a laugh. "Here--come over and sit down on the couch."

"Well ..." He seemed to be searching for the words, or having a hard time saying what he wanted. "I, well, hope that you're a bottom, because I've always wanted to get a hold of a hot bottom who looks like you. You're really something."

I guess I had a stunned look on my face.

"Jeez," he said. "I hope that didn't scare you too much. I mean, we can do other stuff too. You know, fool around without fucking. I mean, that is why you're here--because you saw me and thought I was hot. And I saw you and thought you were cute and sexy. Right?"

I went on. "As for you, uh, uh, fucking me ... well ..."

He was immediately on his feet, separating me from my glass of water, and leading me down the hallway and into the bedroom. He showed me to the bathroom, right off the bedroom, and told me I could clean up and shower--he would do the same.

It was all too fast for me to say much, protest that I shouldn't be using his bathroom, or anything. He flicked the CD player on, dropped his clothes and headed for the hall bathroom. I got only a peek at his impressive backside as I disappeared into the master bath.

I took some toothpaste and washed it around my mouth using my finger as a toothbrush. I took a quick shower--making sure my butt was clean--as I knew that was going to be the focus of Bull's attention. I toweled off and wrapped the towel around me, heading back into the bedroom.

Bull came back into the room, towel tied low on his waist. Bull came over to me, took my hand and turned me to him.

We stood at arm's length, looking each other over. Bull had virtually no body hair--just a great expanse of mocha-colored skin with dark chocolate-colored nipples. He had firm, rippling abdominals. The muscles in his arms were strong and defined, his chest and shoulders were firm and rippling.

He took my towel off of me, exposing my dick. It is just barely seven inches hard, medium width, and right now straining against its skin, wanting to be bigger, wanting to be able to reach over to Bull and feel the heat of his skin.

Bull led me by the hand and half-guided me, half-lifting me, onto his bed. He dropped his towel at the edge of the bed and climbed up, on top of me, pressing his half-hard cock up against my hard-on.

The heat was tremendous. His skin, his arms around me, his cock resting on my abdomen, his face hovering above me, his lips coming down on me, kissing me, opening my lips and exploring my mouth with his tongue. I moved my arms around him, feeling his skin and the muscles straining underneath.

He pulled away from my lips and gently nudged my head to one side. His mouth reached up to my ear and the part of my neck right below it. He licked and chewed on me, and it made me ache even more for him. I turned my head more and he worked his lips across my neck, his teeth occasionally chewing on my flesh.

In response to his stimulus, I forced my legs out from under his, and raised them, pushing them up and around his thighs and buttocks. I raised myself as if to open up to him, my hands ran down his sides and reached to pull him tighter onto me.

He stopped working on my neck and raised himself up on his two strong arms. Looking at me--bobbing his head down to kiss me a couple of times, he told me to look down at his hard cock rising above my body as he pushed my legs off of him and he lifted himself up to display his cock for me.

Both of our bellies were sticky with the mixture of our pre-cum. His cock was hard; the head was glazed with the sticky juice we had been generating. The shaft is even thicker than the head and seemed to go inches and inches back to his dark and hairy groin. Large tight balls floated beneath the end of the shaft. He smiled at me.

He came back down on me and I raised my legs so that his cock brushed against my butthole as he settled down and kissed me again.

He rolled off of me, picked up the towel from the floor and pulled lube and a condom out of a drawer of the small stand next to the bed.

Back with me, he coaxed me to roll over on my stomach--although in truth, little coaxing was needed. He took some of the lube and began to work it into my ass. He kissed the cheeks of my ass while lubing me with first one, and then two, fingers. He squirted more lube out of the bottle and massaged it up and down the length of his cock. He pulled the condom out of its package and unrolled it down his dick. He wiped the excess lube off of his hand and knelt between my open legs, his hands massaging my butt. He moved forward, his hands at either side of me and his groin easing into my ass crack.

His cock found my entrance and he paused for just seconds. Then he pushed into me--feeling me tense at the pain of his hard cock breaking through my ass ring.

He whispered in my ear, "Tell me if it's too much. I'll hold it right there until you tell me it's OK."

I nodded yes, unable to speak. And the pain did subside and then I felt the fullness of his cock inside me and I needed more. I didn't say anything; I just pushed myself back against him, fucking more of him into me.

He took the cue and pushed himself forward--taking one long stroke--moving into me until I could feel the curly pubic hair brushing against me and his balls falling against my ass.

He rested at the bottom of my hole for just a moment; and then he began to fuck, freely and with energy. Bull fucked me with long, hard strokes and with shorter strokes that drove me wild as he entered and left my ass--teasing me that he would take his cock away before I had had enough.

Bull drove into me and stroked himself with the tight soft gate of my anal canal. He put his arms around me and told me how good I felt--how hot it felt to have his cock inside of me--how close he was to cumming-how much he wanted to shoot his load inside of me and stay in me--pulsing his cock against the walls of my ass until it was too soft to torture me any longer.

He started to pump faster and harder. Sometimes all the way into me and sometimes just the first three or four inches--the more sensitive cock head and the shaft right below it. He stroked until he told me he was close to cumming--close to shooting his load into my ass.

I had been grinding my hard cock against the bed--moving back and forth against Bull as my own cock was stroked and caressed by the soft sheets.

Bull ran one hand under my body, took my cock in his hand and started stroking it. "Cum with me."

The whole thing was so hot and exciting that I started to cum. "I'm shooting--I'm cumming," I said this mostly to the mattress. But Bull felt my sperm shooting into his hand as he stroked my cock.

This spurred him to finish--stroking harder in my ass. Within moments he was making unintelligible noises, the sounds of a man losing control of his senses.

Finally, Bull said, "Shit, man, your ass is so hot--I'm cumming in it--I'm fucking cumming in it!" Bull trembled as he came--his hips ground into me as cock pulsed--each spasm carrying another volley of cum to coat the well-used walls of my ass.

We laid there, his hand holding my cock and the sperm that was all over it and the mattress. In a minute he rolled me onto my side, but his cock stayed in me--hard and pulsing inside of me--like small shocks after a great earthquake.

Eventually, we separated. Bull took me back to his bathroom and we showered together.

 


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They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
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