pgentle7 – Page 2 – Grindr Fantasies

When the maid left

It had taken a while to coordinate, but I finally get to meet this busy professional guy. He’s home Tuesday morning. We just need to wait for his cleaning lady to leave.

“She’s supposed to clock in at two hours😞”

Finally, I show up at his lush apartment lobby. He’s waiting on a couch. His thick black hair is braided into locks. He looks up at me and smiles, his dark skinned cherubic cheeks full of friendliness.

I greet him and we take the elevator up to his apartment.

“Your apartment smells so clean!” I tell him.

He laughs. “For now it does.” He goes over to sit on the couch and there’s an awkward pause. “I’m kind of nervous, so …”

“Don’t be.” I take off my shirt and kneel on the floor in front of him. I notice he’s prepared: he’s sitting on a towel. I lean down and wrap my lips around his gorgeous dick. I hear him gasp and look up at him. “Do you want to … piss first?” I ask. We had discussed it, and if it was going to happen then I would have to make sure he stayed soft.

“I do,” he says, beaming. He gets up and I shuffle backwards a few steps. I watch in anticipation as he lowers his jeans and lets his dick hang down. Even soft, it is a good seven inches long. The tip is still covered with its blanket of wrinkly foreskin. I carefully close my mouth around it, trying not to stimulate it.

When I look up, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back a moment. “Ah, here it comes,” he warns.

I feel it blasting against my tongue and filling my mouth. I have skills now—I no longer need to take my mouth off to swallow. Instead, I take more of it in. The piss pooling around the bulk of his dick in the back of my throat trigger my swallow reflex and I can gulp it down. It tastes pungent, and it burns like vodka in my throat. But I have no choice. Although we are standing on a towel, I have to keep gulping down mouthful after mouthful of his golden gift. I look up at him, and his shirt – cowbell beer – and imagine that I am just drinking beer through a big gushy straw. It helps.

“I think that’s it.” He looks down at me with a sheepish grin. I smile and pull off a little to swallow the last bit, which wasn’t enough to guzzle. Then I’m right back onto him, no longer caring about keeping it soft. His pole inflates in my mouth, reaching down to my throat. I push him down on the couch and he sits there with my face in his lap, as I work his dick. It is long and remains floppy, and I worry that he won’t be able to cum. I’m almost afraid to ask about the next thing we’d arranged.

“Want me to lie down and you can fuck my mouth?” I suggest.

“Sure,” he says. “We can move to the bedroom.”

When I get around the corner I realize it must have been his hiding spot from the maid. He quickly throws off the crumpled blanket, revealing wrinkled blue sheets. We get the towel under me and I lay down, face up, with my mouth open. He gets up on top of me, kneeling over my head and I see him looking down at me, as he fondles his dick over my face. I reach up and grab it. It’s still floppy and I slap myself, feeling its weight against the side of my nose.

Finally, he leans down, I am trapped under a roof of umber abs with a dick waving above my face. I stick out my tongue and lick the balls hanging above me. I hear him moan with every stroke of my tongue across his dusky skin. Finally I tilt back enough to reach the tip of his dick and slurp it in. I massage its softness with my tongue and it slowly snakes its way further and further down my mouth, like a soft thick tentacle. Finally, he settles down over me and starts to thrust his hips.

I can still breath through my nose, and little by little he becomes more vigorous until it slips so far down my throat that it blocks my airways. I hold out as long as I can, staring up his gorgeous abs as he thrusts down into my throat, until I feel a gurgle and cough, and liquid from my belly surges up around his member.

Always considerate, he stops and turns to look down at me. I gasp for air quickly and then flash him a smile. I wipe the liquid off my face with the towel.

“You’re amazing,” he says, genuinely in awe. “So, should I just cum down your throat then?”

“Yes, please do.” I gasp and take two or three swimmer’s breaths before I close my eyes and he settles down again. This time, I know I won’t get to breath until he is done, so I try to relax as he continues to thrust. It is a great mental effort, like meditation, to do this. I feel like choking again, but somehow I manage to hold out.

“I’m gonna–” he moans, then doubles down again. My eyes snap open and all I can see is his fuzz covered crotch relentlessly slamming down again and again. I feel the heat coming off of his body and I can see his crotch skin glistening with sweat. His moans are low and guttural. Soon, his dick swells and I hear him panting and start to slow. I quickly look up and see his abs pulsing and at the same time I feel a warm fullness in my oesophagus. He grunts and stays still while he pumps his load straight down into my belly.

I can’t take it. I need to breathe. I tap his thigh, and he reluctantly withdraws and leans over onto his side. His dick plops out, dragging mucous across my face and I lay there a few moments more, sucking in precious air. My chest, face, and even my hair is covered in his sweat and mucous from my throat.

“Would you like some water?” he asks, always the considerate host.

“No, I’m alright. I’ll use your bathroom though … I think I smell like piss.”

Quick escape

“Can I help you?” the woman asks, as I hover near the bathroom trying to take a picture of the door.

“I’m good, thanks,” I say, face turning beet red. She harrumphs as I go into the bathroom to escape her.

I’m in the arts building, second floor, amid a maze of hallways and administrative offices. I’ve been trying to track down this 19yo student. For the past 15 minutes I’ve been wandering around, trying to figure out where he is, sending him pictures of where I am and getting back directions. It would help if there weren’t four arts wings.

https://classfind.com/western/small/university19.jpg

“I’m at the elevator, near the bathroom,” he texts.

“I’m in a bathroom,” I text back, and step back waiting for the door to open.

He comes in with his backpack. He’s hot. Caucasian, with spiked hair, glasses, and an attempt at a beard, he strides in and smiles. I motion for us to go to the one stall in the bathroom. It’s risky here, but he said he’d seen only about three students on the whole floor.

It’s exam time, that magical time when all the guys are stressed and horny. Moreover, roommates are moving out, leaving them suddenly able to host too. This guy, Trey, has an exam at three o’clock, two hours from now, so we will probably be quick.

We squeeze into the stall and place our backpacks around the sides. I sit down on the toilet and it automatically flushes, sending a cool mist onto the back of my jeans.

Trey pulls down his jeans and pops out his thick cut cock. My eyes widen as I look up to him and he smiles. I lean over and slowly lick it, and hear him gasp. I let it slip past my lips into my mouth, then reach around and grasp his warm buttocks, pulling him toward me. My nose is buried in his pubes and I can smell his fabric softener. His hand reaches down and I let him grip himself again while I lick his balls.

He’s stroking himself furiously and I keep licking his nuts, but nothing is happening. “Its cause I’m used to laying down,” he says. “Can you come to my place? Its just across the road.”

Sure I can. We step out of the stall and he washes his hands. Are you okay with us walking together? I ask.

“Of course,” he says. “But we should probably go out separately.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” I move to the door, but it opens and a bald man in a golf shirt walks in. I nod to the man and walk out, and take the elevator down and wait by the door.

Soon, we are walking together. “I’m sorry about this,” he says.

“No worries. It’s actually more exciting this way. You know, all of this is part of the adventure. It’s why I do this.” The other students don’t pay much attention to us as we cross the street. His house is old, one of the few that has not been knocked down for student apartments. It probably won’t be there next year. He goes in first to check for roommates and I wait outside.

Finally he opens the door for me and I take my shoes off and leave them at the base of the steps. “There’s no-one else here,” he says. “We can be as loud as we want.” He leads me through the kitchen to the hallway. One room, not his, has an open door, and the room is empty and the mattress stripped. A roommate already moved out. We continue into his room, the smallest one. The floor is littered with clothes, and there are $100 headphones and a Macbook on the ground beside my feet.

‘Yeah its messy,” he says, as he takes off his shirt and pants. I do the same, stripping down to my underwear, and piling my clothes on the laptop, as there is no other open space. Hes in bed, waiting, and I get in beside him. Immediately, he places his lips on mine and I close my eyes as I feel his tongue searching my mouth. Soon we are deep in an open-mouthed kiss and I feel the bed vibrating as he jerks his thick cock. He presses against my head and I take the hint and move down to it, finally sucking it into my mouth. I hear him gasp and I hold my breath and suck on it the way he likes.

Suddenly we hear a female voice, on the other side of the door and his whole body tenses.

“Yeah,” he shouts. “Just a minute, I was just napping.” We both spring out of bed.

“Sorry they weren’t supposed to be here!” he says, quickly pulling on his pants again.

“No worries,” I tell him. I quickly look around, then I get into the closet.

I hear him open the door. He talks for a moment, then closes it. Sensing it is safe, I step out again.

He looks down at the package in his hands. “I don’t even know what this is.”

I watch as he rips open the package. “Oh, that’s it. Makes sense.” It’s a box, a pair of ear pads for his headphones. He throws them on the bed and then looks up at me. “We have to be quiet now,” he says. “I’m not supposed to have anyone over, and her mom is here. Fuck.”

“OK. I can be quiet,” I whisper. He gets back onto the bed, sitting up and spreads his legs open. I kneel down. Its soft now, but as I suck I feel him spring to life.

“I want to suck you too,” he says.

“Not necessary,” I tell him.

“I know. But I want to. It’ll help.”

I quickly slide off my PUMP underwear (Varsity Free-fit boxer, $24) and toss them onto the floor.

He taps me, impatiently. “Bring your knees over here,” he says.

I straddle his face, and I feel the warm wetness engulf me. From this angle, I can bounce the bed, making the springs do the work and soon I have his pelvis bouncing on its own, making him fuck my mouth. At the same time, I feel him stroking my dick, pulling me downwards, so I oblige and plunge my dick into his soft, welcoming mouth.

As soon as I do this, I hear him gasping, so I bounce him and face-fuck him harder. I feel his lips close against my dick, sucking me, as he tries to stifle his moans.

“I gah—” I hear him stutter as I plunge my dick further into his mouth, bouncing the bed-springs faster, letting the bed force him in and out of my suction filled mouth.

Did I taste it?

I slow down, just in case. Yup, his cock is starting to deflate now, and I stop moving, letting it spew out the last of his cum on its own into my waiting mouth. Finally, I swallow it and lick my lips, then spin myself around so I’m on top of him. I liked his kisses, so I lower my face toward him and see his eyes go wide.

“Are you gonna–” he says.

“What?” I stop immediately.

“I don’t like the taste of it,” he says.

I smile at him. “No problem. I had fun,” I tell him.

He gets up and we quickly get dressed. “I didn’t expect her mom to be here. If she finds out there’s another guy here, she’s gonna kill me,” he says.

“Why don’t you check if the coast is clear?”

He nods, and leaves the doors slightly open. I watch as he slowly walks down the hallway and through the kitchen. He looks back at me and I wait for him to give the OK signal. Instead, he turns and disappears down the stairs.

When he comes back to the room, he closes the door again. “I’m sorry. They’re in the driveway.”

“Alright. We can wait a bit,” I say softly. I look over at the window. It is made of wood and looks like it hasn’t been open in decades. I can see the grass, one story below.

He sees me looking and brightens. “We have a fire escape!” he exclaims. He turns and rushes from the room, beckoning me to follow. A door in the kitchen leads to a dark staircase going up. “It leads to the roof, and then the backyard,” he says.

“I just need my shoes…” I say, gazing at where I came in. He takes a deep breath, and then goes down the stairs. At the bottom, he crouches down below the window in the door, comes back up with my shoes.

“Thanks,” I tell him, bending down to put them on.

“Oooohhhh,” he sighs. “I forgot, you can just take this back door.” He pushes aside the kitchen table, revealing a door. He tugs on it and there is a ripping sound as the paint loosens, and then we feel the cool air from the outside.

“That’s a relief,” I say. There are stairs leading to the backyard, which is not fenced and opens out onto a park, and the university’s football field.

“Sorry again,” he says. “She wasn’t supposed to be home today.”

“Don’t worry. It’s all part of the adventure.” With that, I walk straight out the door, down the steps and out of the backyard.

I suck his dick again the next day.

A bit rough

Oh my god. That was intense. I stumble from the bathroom in the nature building, and ruffle my hand through my hair, trying to flatten it back down.

Well, I still had no idea but I’d gotten a tidbit of information. He was brown.

I smile to myself smugly. It figures, and fits with my theory I tell everybody who will listen. Brown guys are rough and given the opportunity, will treat you like their personal fuck toy. You don’t need to breathe. Suck it up, slut.

I still have no idea who he was. Obviously we had met before – he knew what I liked. When we’d talked on Snapchat I faked my way through. Of course I remember you 😂. I pull up my spreadsheet and go back through the dates, searching for Brown. At last I find him.

2018-12-17, 19yo brown. A bit rough.

Actually, his SC has a first name and I before I can help myself, I’ve pulled up a picture of him from the school paper. Yup, that’s him. President of the student union. Not bad.

A few days later I text him, we flirt a little.

Come to my office. UCC 340.

I show up at the appointed time. It’s a non-descript hallway, with only a numbered white door. I text that I’m there and he lets me inside.

He’s in business casual and has a desk, a laptop on it and decades-old binders of student-union documents on shelves around him. I feel like I’m visiting the principal’s office. Except I’m 40 and he’s 22. What the fuck am I doing?

He stands up behind his desk, and I see his hardon through his business casual slacks. “Take your clothes off. All of them. I want you naked,” he orders.

I do so, piling them in front of the door. I nervously look at the doorknob. “Is it safe?” I ask.

“It’s locked. Don’t worry.”

I walk up to him, cold and nude, and he puts his hands on my shoulders, pressing me down. I kneel down in front of him. Suddenly, I panic. What if he’s filming this?

He grabs my head, pressing it into his crotch. “Smell it,” he says. “Do you like that, fag?”

“MMmmmm hmm” I say, my face mashed against the fabric of his pants. I open my mouth and I feel the fabric wetting in my mouth, absorbing my saliva. I take a deep breath, infused with the scent of fabric softener and it makes me hard.

He grinds into me for a minute. After a while I I look up, stare straight into his face, hook my fingers under his waistband and pull his pants down. Instantly, his brown dick, now semi-hard sticks out at me.

He grabs me by the ears to hold me steady and rams his dick against my lips. I open up and feel it slide up against my tongue, lengthening with each thrust. He fucks my mouth a while, then sits on his office chair, pulling me with him so my face is against his lap.

His legs are squeezing together more tightly now against my torso, locking me in. “You’re just where you need to be, fag.” He holds my head and he’s slamming me down, again and again. My lips are on fire, I keep curling them over my teeth. Whenever I feel my teeth scrape against his skin I think I have failed, so I curl them over, only to be slammed against his pubic bone.

His belly is moving now, almost gyrating, synchronized with his laboured breathing as he uses my mouth and throat to masturbate himself. I can no longer breathe, because I can no longer synchronize my breaths with his thrusts. I am at his mercy now, I try to disconnect my mind. Yes, you need air, but you can breathe later. Be at peace. I allow him to move me. He works my head up and down so fast my lips are burning now as they rake against the skin of his cock, and I give up trying to hold in my spit, letting it drain out down over his balls.

Nothing changes, except his thighs grip my body like a vice as I suddenly taste his sperm flooding my mouth. If I were in control, I would stop now in case he gets sensitive, but he keeps his grip on my face and mouth fucks me a minute longer until he’s done emptying himself into his toy.

Finally, he releases me and I suck in a lungful of air around his dick, and collapse there, with my ass in the air, my face in his lap, and wait as his penis softens and spills the last of his cum. I let it sit in my mouth, appreciating its taste, somewhat like chemicals – he must be a coffee drinker – before I swallow a drop.

He grabs a box of tissues from his desk, takes out a giant handful, and wipes down his balls, then offers me the box. “Thanks,” I tell him. I notice that some of them come away pink, and realize with embarrassment what must have happened. “Sorry, I think I must have bit my lip,” I tell him. “No big deal.”

Once I have my clothes back on, I bid him farewell. “Thanks for the productive meeting,” I tell him, before the door swings shut.

The Big Goodbye

My best friend messages me. “You got a screwdriver?”

“What kind?” I ask. He sends me a picture of his computer.

Being in Canada’s a tough sell right now, with so many cities going into lockdown because of Covid. His parents made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, and now he’s heading back to his home country.

This guy is different that my usual anonymous favourites. After five years, I know everything about him, his favourite colour, his hopes and dreams. I’ve heard about every boyfriend he’s had. He only likes hairy bears, though lately his tastes have been broadening. He goes through relationships every few months. He wants what he can’t have, and once he can have it, he loses interest. I’ve heard the same story from him, as he goes through guy after guy. I always tell him so, he always says “Oh yeah!” Like its some huge insight.

But him and me, we’re just buddies. No complications. Nothing even happens between us. Except that one time. But we never talked about it after.

I hope he’ll update me on his life today. Is he still seeing the Lawyer? Then there’s Spanish Guy. And the new one from London.

I get there with my screwdriver set. He’s out of work now and lives in a basement room. (It seems the parental pressure to leave came when it posted a video of it).

His life is in boxes. “I can’t take these,” he says. “You want them?”

Sure. I sigh. I’ll value-village them. Secretly, I plan to take one sweater I’ve seen him wear. Chuck the rest.

“Where’s the computer?” i ask.

He points to the floor. The thing has no case. I kneel down and look at it. Instead, I see something fuzzy on the floor. I pick them up. A pair of fuzzy handcuffs, lined in neon fur.

He grins. “I just found those. They’re from Aroon.”

“Aroon? I don’t remember you telling me about these,” I smiled. “That was last year, right?”

“Two years ago.”

“Oh, Aroon, Aroon, how much I didn’t know.” I smile. His relationship with Arron soured after they argued over a restaurant bill.

Something changes. He seems to make up his mind.

“Hold out your wrists,” he says.

“What?”

“Hold out your wrists. Behind you.”

I kneel down on the floor and put my wrists behind me. He fumbles around and clasps the handcuffs on me.

“Tight?” he asks.

I nod.

“Close your eyes.”

“Okay.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

Oh shit. I remember this.

“Yessir. Thank you sir.” I close my eyes, and immediately he slaps me on the side of my face. My cheek is stinging and my ears are throbbing. “Thank you sir.”

He slaps me again. I flinch, and then he unexpectedly slaps the other side. “Thank you sir.” I peek and see him grinning at me, like I’m his new toy.

“You can open your eyes.” He falls back on the bed, sticks his feet at me. “Smell them. Smell those dirty socks.”

I pretend to sniff them, exhaling instead. The floor is full of covid, for all I know.

“Take them off for me.”

My hands are still cuffed behind me. I slide over on my knees, and see that thankfully they are ankle socks. I grab them above the heel and deftly slip them over and off his foot. He doesn’t help at all. He just watches me struggle.

“Lick my feet, slave.”

“Yessir. Thank you sir.” I stick out my tongue. The sole of his foot is cold and thick, and I can see dust on them from the floor. I dance my tongue tip across it. When he sticks out his toe, I take it into my mouth and suck on it, and he looks down at me approvingly.

“I heard you like to suck.”

“Yessir.”

“Get up,” he says. He stands up and I’m kneeling in front of him. “Smell it.”

I can see his boner through his track pants. I press my face into it, tracing its length through the thick fabric with my lips.

He grips me by my shoulders and lifts me up, then slips his T-shirt down over my head. I’m in the darkness of his shirt, with my face pressed against his chest. He lowers himself, and mashes his nipple against my nose. I reposition so I can flick it with my tongue. He stands there for a few seconds, enjoying the flicking, before getting up again. He points to the band of his underwear under the track pants.

“Take them off. With your teeth.” he says.

Like I have a choice? I lean over, cuffed hands aching behind me, and deftly grab his waistband with my teeth and pull it down. It takes a couple of tries as it gets caught getting over his bulge.

I stay there, kneeling on the floor and staring at my best friend’s dick. I’ve often wondered what it was like and I finally get to see it. It’s not huge, but deliciously round and pointing straight out at me.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Suck it.” he demands.

“Yessir.” I breath. I open my mouth and slide in around him. He stands there, hands on his hips, and watches. Bobbing my head back and forth is not easy. If I go too far forward, I’ll fall over, and I won’t have my hands to catch me.

He steps back. “Bend over. Take your underwear off,” he tells me. I lean down, touching the hard wood floor with my forehead, and I here my open a drawer behind me. I manage to slide my underwear down over my thighs, and they stop there, leaving me even more helpless than before. With excitement and rising panic I here crinkling and a plastic tube snap shut, before I feel his body heat behind me.

I’ve been fucked before, but just barely. I am still not sure I like it. I’m leaning towards no. But he’s my friend, and suddenly I feel him slip between my but cheeks, slippery and cold and gooey.

“Relax your hole,” he says.

“I’m trying–” I say.

SLAP. The crack echos in the room, and I yelp as my ass stings.

“Yessir.”

“Relax it…. Relax,” he orders. I’m trying my best but these muscles are still unfamiliar to me. It doesn’t matter. He shifts slightly and then pushes hard, against something that is not supposed to give but does. I grit my teeth and softly whimper into the floor, hoping he does not hear me. He;s fucking me now, pushing further into my body with each thrust. My whole body tenses, and it takes everything out of me just to remain on all fours there, and not fall away from him.

After a minute he stops, and sits on the bed. “Get up,” he says.

As I roll on my side to get up, I pull a little to hard, and the pink handcuffs snap apart, releasing my arms. I keep them together to hide it. If he notices, he doesn’t say.

“Be honest with me. What do you like better?”

I hesitate, and look down. “I like to suck, sir,” I tell him.

“Really?” he asks incredulously. “OK. Get rid of the shit covered condom and suck me, then,”

“Thank you sir. Thank you!” I say, with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. He lays back on the bed and grabs his phone, not even giving me his attention. I use my hands to pull off the thing, revealing his stiff, moist dick. Now I am in familiar territory. I settle down and get to work.

It is difficult to tell what, if anything I am doing right, and I worry that I will not succeed. The minutes pass, and my mouth gets tired, but I am determined. I try going fast, and quickly tire. I try going deep, I try sucking, which gets difficult. The only thing that works is the odd time he slaps my cheek. That makes him harder.

It must have been 20 minutes later when he shifts his legs slightly and finally looks up at me. He’s going to stop me now. I’ve failed. I meet his eyes when suddenly I feel the pulsing, and my mouth is filling with his load.

I don’t get up, but I remain there, with his dick draining in my mouth, for several minutes while he reaches down and runs his hands through my hair, massaging my scalp.

“You are good at it,” he tells me.

“Thank you sir.”

He gets up off the bed. “I gotta piss,” he says. “Come over here.” He moves to stand directly over his computer. It’s lying on its side with the open motherboard exposed to the air.

“Should we get a towel?” I offer.

“Do you want another slapping? Just don’t spill.” he orders.

I sidle up to the other side of the computer, and gently wrap my lips around his dick. I can feel the delicate folds of skin stretched on its underside. I open wider to try not to touch it. We stay there for a while.

“Its just a little hard,” he says, under his breath.

Finally, he grunts and I immediately know it because a few drops of pungent urine drip onto my taste buds. He lets out a deep breath, and some more spurts out.

He stops and says, “Swallow it.”

I’m sweating now. The computer is right under me. I gulp down a mouthful of hot piss, then open my mouth again for more.

He’s relaxed now, and immediately he unleashes a torrent. The stream hits against my tongue, making it tingle. I can hear it splashing around inside of my mouth as it fills up. Then, when I’m almost ready to pull away cause I’m gonna spill, he stops. “Swallow.”

It takes two gulps to get it down this time. Then he puts his soft dick in my mouth, grunts, and bangs it against my lips, shaking out the last few drops for me.

I sit there obediently, not moving, waiting while he zips up.

“Uh, you can get up now,” he says. “It’s over.”

Later, over a Starbucks, we’re talking, and he asks how it was.

“Actually, it was quite a big load,” I tell him.

“Really? Wow, cause I had sex with Spanish Guy last night too.”

On the stairs

It’s November during the pandemic, I haven’t been out in a long time. A guy named A messages me. He’s black. That’s all I know. He tells me we’ve been together a couple of times last winter. I try to remember. Pre-covid times seem like years ago. Two? Three? Yes, black, around 20 years old–that narrows it down to three possibilities. I don’t tell him that. I’m busy tonight on boring things.

One Friday he messages me at 6:55 am. How about now? I tell him I can come at 9:30.

“Can’t you come any earlier?” I love his impatience. He is desperate for me.

I get to his place. It’s a massive group of townhouses that share the same address, but he won’t tell me the unit number. He say’s he’s standing outside. I walk around, looking. People are everywhere. Some are construction workers, others are just out for the heck of it. They’re watching a back hoe back up. I walk past it, until I get to the end of the complex.

No no, near the construction, he writes. I turn around, wondering how many people are watching me and thinking I’m crazy as I walk in a slow circuit around the complex. “Just tell me the unit.”

He does, and I see him standing outside the door. Instantly I know who he is. We met twice. I remember the first time now.

It was at the university. He was equally mysterious about meeting that time too. We had texted each-other and I tried to figure out where he wanted to meet. Finally I worked out that he was in the cafeteria building. I sat down in the crowded cafeteria on a bench near the water fountain. It was crowded. Moments later a a black kid wearing a dark winter coat and a toque had sat down beside me. He’d tapped on his phone, and I got a message that I still remember to this day:

“It’s me. You can leave now if you want.”

I didn’t leave then. Now, 11 months later, we’re meeting again.

He disappears into the unit and I walk in the white door, closing it behind me. He’s standing there with his phone, in pajama pants and a white t-shirt, and I can see his long hard dick through the plaid pattern. He steps onto the stairs leading to the upper floor, and turns to face me, blocking my path. It’s clear I would only be welcome in the entrance way. I kneel in front of him on the carpet, and he sits down on the fourth step, spreads his legs open and looks at his phone.

I lower my mouth to his crotch and mouth his hard dick through his plaid cotton pants. I look up at him. Expressionless, avoids my eyes, focusing on his phone.

I pull down his pants, but he does not shift his body at all so I can only pull waistband down under his balls. I’m stuck holding the band down, because if I let go I’m afraid they’ll go snapping up into his balls, which are black and pleasantly wrinkled. His dick is long, but not thick. I bend down to lick his nuts but he quickly pushes his dick toward my mouth. I pull it inside happily.

His cut cock is smooth and tastes freshly showered. I smell only the fabric softener of his pajamas. I mouth his dick and see how much I can take in. It is a good 8″ long, but just thick enough that I can comfortably get it all the way into my throat.

When I come up to breath, he pulls my head away and grabs my hand, which I have been using to hold his waistband away from his nuts. I let it spring back, and he places my hand on his dick. I barely begin to stroke it before he pulls it away and pushes my head down again. I hear heavy breathing, but it is only the tinny sound of porn playing on his phone.

Glad he’s not filming.

He yanks my head away again and puts my hand on his dick. He does not speak. Instead, he motions stroking in the air. I give a few strokes, but again, almost frustrated, he yanks my hand away and pushes my head down.

“Faster.” His voice is raspy, almost a whisper.

I try my best, and he grabs my head and pushes me up and down. I try my best to match his speed, and go all the way to the base. His cock head bangs against the back of my throat.

He pushes me off, and I reach for his dick. Instead, he slaps my hand away and stands up. I reel backwards on my knees, stumbling over the shoes all over the ground before hitting the wall behind me with my elbows.

He shoves his dick into my face, rubbing it, and I open wide. He slaps it in circles against my lips and I try my best to cover my teeth, making a funny O with my mouth for him. I look up at him and I can see his nostrils flaring. I really hope he doesn’t have Covid. I can feel his hot breath over me as he uses my lips to get himself off.

With a grunt, he lets go of his dick and thrusts in. I feel him spurt out a big glob of nut onto my tongue. I take over, closing my mouth over it and stroking it with the warm, wet insides of my mouth. He keeps cumming, filling my mouth. My hands fly up to his pajama covered ass and I pull myself to him, impaling my face on his dick. I can feel his dick pulsing, and with each pulse, hot spurts of the black boy’s cum down slide my throat into my belly. My nose scrapes against his tiny black curls of pubes, and I suck in a breath through them. I could get drunk on his scent. He smells so clean, it is the scent of pure black. When he is done I pull off a little, and suckle him long enough to pull out a few more tasty drops. I look up again into his eyes, and he is expressionless, maybe even a little bored, so I let him go.

As soon as I stand up and take a breath, I start to cough. Hurriedly I put on my mask. I see him tear up the stairs as fast as he can. My throat is burning. I can’t even talk because I can’t stop choking on it. I open the door and leave.

When I get to my car, I message him, “Thanks. I was just choking on your cum. Not coughing:)”

A minute later he writes back, “I’ll stay in touch.”