black – 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.”

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.”

Strangled

“I’ve been reading your stories,” he writes.

It’s an 18 year old black guy. His profile picture has him looking up seductively from a pillow.

“Which one did you like?”

“I like them all. Can I see ur pics again?”

We met once about eight months ago. It had to be on campus, because he was between classes.

“I’m on campus could I come” he asks.

It’s almost 6pm. Those pesky janitors will start to poke around the washrooms soon. “Sure, I’m around.”

“Kk.”

I continue reading some stuff online. I get about two minutes into it when I see the message.

“I’m here. In the washroom.”

Shit. I scramble my stuff together and run to the nature building. My favourite washroom is in the basement of the nature building. It’s where I did my second ever BJ, and many since. It is usually pretty safe. But now, I can see the cleaning staff’s supply cart is already wheel out and waiting.

I knock quietly and the door opens by itself, to an empty washroom. When I walk in, he is tucked behind the door.

The youth is tall, and wearing a gray hoodie. I stare at him while I take off my coat and shirt and set them on the diaper change table. I can’t stop staring at his face. His brown skin glows with the youthfulness of a teenager, and his lips are plump and inviting. Yet he is tall and strong. I can’t believe I get to suck his cock.

His hands are large, and he unbuckles his belt with long jointed fingers. “You want me to piss in your mouth?” he asks.

He really has been reading my stories! “Sure!” I tell him, kneeling down. He lowers his black underwear and pulls out his dick, which must be 8” long, and points it down at the floor. I get down and put my mouth on it and wait.

Right away, he puts a hand under my chin and yanks my head up to look at him.

“When I’m ready, I’ll let you know.”

“Yes sir.” I kneel before him and wait obediently. In the silence, I can hear the sink dripping. I stay perfectly still, just waiting and ready to take his stream.

“It’s too hard, so just suck it,” he says.

I obey, wrapping my mouth around it and suckle it like a popsicle.

He grabs my shoulders with his large strong hands and shoves me against the wall, leaning into my mouth so much that he rests his knees against my triceps, and then he face-fucks me.

He grabs my hands in his, and places them on his butt. Then he slaps his ass with my hand. The slap echos in the bathroom, and I fear it could be heard outside the thin door. Still, when he takes his hand away, I slap him again, and squeeze his butt cheek, rolling it in my hands. In response, he shoves his dick further in my mouth.

He stands up and I stay there obediently, letting his dick plop from my mouth. In response, he grabs my chin and makes me look up at him. “Don’t stop,” he commands. “Don’t ever stop for anything.” When I nod my head, he uses his other hand to pick up his massive dick and shoves it into my mouth once again.

I comply, bobbing my head back and forth between his body and the concrete wall.

Then I feel his hands caress my shoulders. They slowly move up my neck, caressing my skin. His hands are so large they can wrap all the way around my neck with no effort. Suddenly they start to squeeze. My windpipe is being compressed by his grip. I am being strangled. I look up at him, eyes wide, and see his face. The world slows down for me. His lips move: “Don’t stop.” he mouths soundlessly. My blood is pounding in my eyes and I am afraid. My mind is racing. He digs his two thumbs painfully into the side of my windpipe. Every detail of his face is burning into my brain now. His plump lips glisten in the bathroom light. His left ear has small a gold star earring. I even notice his eyebrow hair, one errant black strand juts out longer than the others. His eyes are deep brown staring into mine with cold fascination, as he squeezes the life out of me, because nobody every let him do this before. We are intimately connected; we are aggressor and victim. I can see his thoughts and I am scared. The sound of blood rushing in my ears is deafening as he continues to squeeze.

At last he lets up and I gasp for breath, sucking in air around his dick which is even harder now. Don’t stop, I tell myself, and bob my head up and down. He reaches down my back and pulls on the back of my underwear, giving me a wedgie, as he bends forward it becomes difficult to move, my cheek is mashed up against his abs, and I struggle to flick my tongue against his giant throbbing cockhead. Still, he keeps on pulling up, and I can hear the first of many seams of my $35 pump underwear ripping. He relentlessly pulls, and I wince as I hear each stitch rip apart. I feel the fabric bunch together into a tight thin rope and it digs into my anus. My ass is exposed to the cold bathroom air now. That’s when I feel his hand slap my ass. The slap rings out in the bathroom. Again, he slaps me, five, six times, each harder than the last. I cry out in pain, but my cries are muffled against his thigh.

It just makes him hornier. He stands there before me, cock jutting into my mouth and watches while I suck him. “Slower,” he says. I slow down, almost stopping. Too slow. He grabs my head and moves it for me, showing me what he wants.

“I’m gettin’ close.”

I slow down again, obediently, almost stopping.

“No, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” With that, I feel his hands reach around my neck again, his large hands closing around my windpipe. This time, as he tightens his grip, he starts to fuck my mouth. I look up, trying to see his face again, but this time he has not bothered to move his shirt, and all I can see is the thick fabric of his hoodie. The blood rushes to my ears, and I begin to notice things. The zipper of his hoodie, the gray and white fibers of this fabric, stitched into microscopic triangles. Time slows down and I can no longer breath, or move in his strong grip. His thumbs stab my throat painfully and he thrusts deeper each time. Although seconds have passed I feel like I can’t breath and I am filled with dread… I am not going to be able to take another breath until he is done with me. My eyes feel huge, like they are going to explode in their sockets. My mind circles in panic. Can he even think straight like this? What if he squeezes harder? Every sense is heightened. I can even taste the subtle saltiness of his pre-cum.

After an eternity, it happens. He grips my neck not releasing it and gasps as his cum courses through his massive penis. With each pulse, his grip slackens and soon I am gasping, sucking in life-giving air so fast I accidentally choke on his thick cum.

“Sorry about the underwear,” he says.

“That’s OK, I have lots,” I tell him. My voice is hoarse.

“Good. You better fucking write a story,” he says, and the door closes behind him.

I immediately lock it so the janitor can’t come in, and look in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot and my hair is wild. My neck has two blotches of red skin where his thumbs were. I lean over the sink and splash some water over my face, run my fingers through my hair. It has never felt so good to be alive.

Midnight Snack

It’s after midnight on my last night in Toronto and I’m in my hotel room in bed, drinking a beer. The laptop is on the pillow beside me and I’m watching Sheriff Hopper drunkenly beat up people on Stranger Things. My phone vibrates.

“Pics” the text demands.

Its someone I messaged hours ago. I send a face pic.

“Name. Room.”

I check who it is, and message back with excitement. The profile labeled “Kum in ur 👅” is a black dude, so I don’t even ask for a face picture. I’ve been trying all week to entice someone of the darker complexion to come over, but they are rare, hard to get, and “Not your fetish.” This one says on his profile that he shoots big loads and is looking for a talented mouth drainer. We’re a perfect match!

“When can you be here?”

“5” he fires back.

I blink my eyes open and feel a surge of energy. I have only five minutes to prepare. Priorities! I leap out of bed, grab my wallet, the tip for the housekeepers, and laptop and throw them in the safe. Then I root through a pile of clothes in the corner, pull a pair of briefs off the floor, sniff them and put them on. I pace the room like a caged mouse until I hear a knock at the door.

It’s him. I let him through. “Hi! Come in,” I greet him warmly as I open the door.

He walks past me and puts his Tim Horton’s bag and coffee on the dresser, and adjusts the Apple earbuds he’s wearing.

I rush back into the room, past him, to get a good look at him. The young man has a presence that exudes coolness. He wears a thin, gold earring, and expensive jeans.

“How’s your night?” I ask him.

He ignores me. He won’t even meet my eyes. Instead he is unbuckling his thick black belt. I move closer to him, stand right in front of him. Maybe we will hug?

He stops and puts his hand out, flat in front of him, then swats downward, motioning for me to kneel in front of him.

“So you’re ready to go, eh! OK.” I get down on my knees.

Once his jeans are unbuttoned, he lowers them and his underwear to just above his knees. His cut cock is average size, but it is perfectly round, perfectly straight, and has a large mushroom cap head.

Intending to give him a show, I open my mouth, stick out my tongue and slowly move forward, sliding my tongue along its underside while I slide him into my mouth. I feel a large hand grasp the top of my head, stopping me. Then, he slowly starts to thrust.

Since I’m immobilized, I can only use my tongue to help. With each thrust I flick it against the underside of his penis. I reach up and stimulate his balls, grasping them in my hand. I place my other hand on his smooth, muscled ass, pulling him forward, helping him to thrust into my warm mouth.

He immediately stops and removes my hands from his body. I let them drop to the floor, and he holds my head still with both hands now. When he’s satisfied that I won’t try anything further, he resumes his slow thrusting.

He wanted a talented mouth-drainer, but my job could be done by a fucking watermelon. A little annoyed, I sit there on the floor and stare at his pubic hair. It’s neatly shaved into a triangle of tiny black curls. I look up, and see only the smooth underside of his chin. He’s staring straight ahead out the hotel window. From the 20th floor we have an amazing view of the neon lights of Zanzibar and the Eaton’s Centre. I can hear a tinny beat coming from his Apple earbuds. But whatever he’s listening too, its for him only. For me the only sounds are the traffic below, the buzz of the hotel air conditioner, and the smacking sound of his penis moving against my wet lips.

“Make your lips tighter,” he orders. They are the only words he’s uttered. When he thrusts in again, I let my lips curl inwards over my teeth, and then bite down on them, applying the tight pressure he craves. I can immediately feel the results. His cock grows stiffer, fighting against the pressure. “Good.” I can taste some salty precum now.

He’s been so steady he must be following the rhythmic beat of music. Only now he breaks from it, and goes faster. His movements become shallower and I feel him squeezing my head harder, ensuring him absolute control over his own pleasure.

Even as he thrusts, I feel him squirting his seed. I taste it filling my mouth, mixing with my saliva. He keeps going, draining the contents of his balls into his obedient fuck toy. The black man’s cum tastes nutty and delicious. When he finally stops, although I know he is sensitive, I don’t care. I’m just a lifeless toy to him, and he is just a snack for me. I bite down hard through my lips and pull up along his softening penis, so I can wring out every drop of my reward.

He gasps and flinches away as soon as I release him. Keeping his eyes averted from mine, he busies himself with buttoning up his jeans, buckling his belt up.

“Thanks for cumming,” I quip.

Without so much as a nod, he picks up his coffee and Tim Horton’s bag and leaves.

Make out

I meet him by the fountain. The 18 year old is out-of-Africa black. I promised him we’d make out and a blowjob. Right away we both head toward the direction of my favourite campus bathroom.

“You’ve been here before, eh?” I ask.

“Yeah. Do you work here?” His deep voice drips with an African accent that I’d only heard in movies.

“I work close by,” I tell him. I follow him down the stairs and we both slip into the bathroom. He locks the door behind us and turns to me. As he comes up to me, I can tell that he’s a good three inches taller than me.

He takes the lead, bends down and presses his lips to mine. They are plump and soft, and he kisses with a soft gentleness at first, barely opening his mouth. I feel his hand reaching behind my back under my shirt, caressing me. I do the same, reaching under his sweater, running my hands along his back. His hands venture lower, slip into my pants. I’m overjoyed to do the same, feeling all the hills and valley of his tight butt, and slowly venturing under, where I feel his wiry pubes. As we kiss, I slowly lower his jeans until they are only half covering his butt cheeks. With great interest, I caress the front of his pelvis, and slide my hand down his penis, finally wrapping my fingers around it. They do not close – I realize with excitement it is about the same thickness as my arm.

He stops kissing me. “Take off yo shirt,” he commands. I raise my arms as he carefully lifts my T-Shirt and tosses it into the corner. Then, without hesitation, he reaches down and undoes my belt. My jeans slip down and he grabs my cock in his hand and starts to stroke it. “Oh yeah,” I moan, letting out a sigh as I lean my head back and shut my eyes. That’s when he leans down and plants his lips on mine again. He thrusts himself forward and my back hits the cold tiles on the wall, knocking the wind out of me.

He is breathing hard now through his nose, and our lips are locked together. His tongue bursts through my lips, then withdraws, and thrusts forward again. I cannot move. His whole body is pressed against mine, and his large hands are gripping my ass. I feel his hard cock through his pants, and his finger slips into my ass, poking my tight hole, forcing its way inside.

My hand is also gripped around his cock. I pull up and with great difficulty it pops out of his pants. It rests on my abdomen for all of two seconds before he starts to thrust into me. The thing is like a third arm between us, rolling against my rib cage, almost reaching my nipple. But there is little I can do but succumb as he invades my mouth with his tongue.

He stops to catch his breath, gently kissing my neck, and I can finally open my eyes and drink in the perfect body of the black teenager who’s groping me. I run my hand up his penis. “Can I put it in my mouth?”

He smiles and nods, finally releasing me. I drop down to my knees before him. Even though it’s hard, his cock still hangs down under its weight. The end is cut and shaped like a missile, cleaved in half by his giant piss slit. I open my lips and press forward, and I feel it bump against my throat. I’m looking straight down a tree trunk, at his tiny black curls, and realizing that I’ve only just got the head in. It fills my mouth completely although I have opened as wide as I can. I’ve only once before been granted the privilege of sucking such a massive member, though it required him to do most of the thrusting. I tentatively try moving it in and out, feeling like a python trying to swallow a jeep.

“Just a minute,” he says, and moves away. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then he turns to me and I almost have to duck.

“What time did you say you have to go?”

“11:40,” I answered, not sure what time it was. “But I’m OK to stay a little.”

He kneels down and pulls his phone out of his jeans on the floor, then barely glances at it. “Actually, I have to go,” he announces.

“Oh, sure.” I’m disappointed. I can’t help but stare in amazement as gets dressed and casually tucks his manhood down the inside of his left pant leg with practiced ease.

Well, he was a good kisser.