"get on your knees"

“I wanna see you, but it won’t be till late”
“How late?”

“If I can come through, it’ll be like 1am…”

Crap.

It was only 11pm and also a school night for that matter. I had work early the next day, yet I was horny for some dick and herein lay the predicament. And not just any dick, but that of my favorite dick-bearing black bear. Mr. gigantor. So big I could barely handle him. He towered over me too. Probably a good 6 ft and then some, built like a line-backer (I think. I don’t now jack shit about football beyond what I learned from Friday Night Lights.) I’d been steady fucking this guy for about 2 years now and during that time I’d become more dudely in appearance. Much more. I could tell, as he silently observed my physical transition during the 1^st year of our sexual relationship, he had this internal struggle going on - he couldn’t, didn’t want to admit to himself just how much he liked fucking a boy, especially a faggy boy less than half his size, that he could dominate, flip over into any position and just plough. The first time we met, he answered a craigslist ad of mine and came over a day or two later in the middle of the afternoon and sucked my clit/dick for…a long time, then slapped on a magnum and fucked me sweetly on my rickety, squeaky bed for…an equally long time.

 “You got that sweet shit,” he whispered throatily into my ear, sweat trickling down both our faces; his barrel-ly chest pressed against mine, pinning me down on that bed of mine, entering me deeply, moaning and biting my ear. God. That was one of the highlights of my highly promiscuous years. It was the vivid memory of this first moment between us that compelled myself to stay awake. More than anything I wanted to be forced on my knees, a hard dick thrust into my wet, eager, mouth.

A painful 2 hours of bad tv watching and equally bad porn- watching later, he’s knocking on my door and his burly self breezes into my apartment and settles comfortably into my lazy boy, his usual spot. That’s how familiar we are with each other, muthafucker has “his chair” in my own damn apartment. Funny, considering that I’m not even sure if his first name is actually C___. So he sits down and, still, he looks like a big ass mutherfucker. He pulls out a blunt, which he immediately starts to peel, and asks for a glass of water. I oblige. That’s the other thing about C___, he likes to order me around and I like to take it. While he rolls, he tells me about the latest piece he’s working on, some acrylic on canvas thing that his cats are going wild over. I ask if I can see it sometime, then he looks at me like he’s really giving this some serious thought. In all our two years of fucking I’ve never once seen his art, though he’s quite prolific and sells shit all the time, all over the damn place. To tell you the truth, the art and his art-making process was low down on my priority list when we first met. Though as we’ve played over the years I’ve become increasingly curious.

After taking a couple hits he hands me the blunt, which by now has stunk up my small apartment, and leaves without a word. I’m thinking that this dude is actually going to show me his work. On one hand, yours truly is quite ready for that cock to emerge. His khakis are baggy and all, but I can see the bulge okay. Apparently he’s ready too. This showing me his art thing must all be part of his foreplay, his way of making me wait. A wait to exert some sort of power, since he knows I’m always eager as fuck when he comes through. Or he just wants to show me his art. Either way, in 5 mins or less he’s back with a canvas depicting miniature black people on a giant chess board, surrounded by spirits of some kind. The colors are intense, while the images are rather abstract and complex. I’m suitably impressed, yet still terribly horny which hasn’t been helped by the blunt that I’ve been pulling on while taking all this in.

Sketches put away. Blunt smoked within an inch of its life. He’s talked my ear off about politics. I’m both hard and wet…and very eager.

He crushes the blunt in my ashtray.

 “Go take your clothes off and get on your knees,” he says while crushing said blunt and I hesitate because it’s so unceremonious. He looks askance at me. It’s a did you hear me look and I hop to. This is what I’ve been waiting for.

In the dark of my room, I’m on my knees, wearing only boxers because I want him to peel them off me like he was peeling that blunt earlier.

I wait patiently.

He comes in, already butt ass naked, dick hard as a rock and stands directly in front of me. Without a word I start to suck. But first I lick, moistening the bulbous head with my tongue. Around the pee hole first, then the head. My hands are on his hips, his hands are on my head and gently he pushes the head into my wet mouth, then withdraws. I’m so hungry for more, so I don’t let him pull out too much. He pushes back in and I take more of his cock in this time. It’s a tight fit. He steadies my head with his giant hands and rocks in and out of my mouth slowly. The suction sounds are loud. His breathing is louder. Then he starts to fuck my mouth, my tongue wrapping and unwrapping around him, the head hitting the entrance to my throat.

“Look at me,” he orders while his huge hands cradle my face.

Again I oblige, my eyes locking with his as his now wet dick slides in and out. I’m so turned on by this that I start rubbing my dick fast.

“Yeah, jerk that dick.” Him and his throaty sexy-as-fuck whispers. I swear I could come just like this. His dick buried in my mouth while I jerk mine like my life depends on it.

Suddenly he pulls out.

“I don’t want to come yet,” gesturing me to get up as he says this.

“Lie down.”
I obey. He bends over me and slowly pulls those boxers off me. This is what I’m taking about. He lifts me and positions me on the bed so he can lie down while he does what he does next, which is to run his hot tongue around my clit/dick. I jerk because the sensation is just too much, but it’s the delicious ultra-sensitivity I like. His big hands stead my hips, and  he lowers again onto my dick, flicks it gently with his tongue and each time I gasp. He’s enjoying torturing me and, yes, I consent to this. I want to be teased and tortured, toyed with while I beg for more. When I adjust to the flicking, when my squirming stops, he takes all of me into his mouth and it’s just this side of heaven. I’m sucked and licked and gently bitten. I can see my orgasm building and I have to fight it, because once I come it’s good night, which would be tragic because we have a t least an hour of hardcore fucking ahead of us.

Just when I can’t fight my orgasm any more, he gets up and the condom is slapped on lightening fast. He grabs me, flipping me into doggy. Oh a different starting position. Usually we start with  modified missionary (me on my back, legs pinned above my head). In doggy, he pins my upper body down on the bed, so my ass sticks up high. Hanging onto my waist, he impatiently rams into me without the usual slow n easy prelude. God he’s big or I’m tight or both. I can feel every single inch of his dick. It takes up every inch of space inside me. His grunting, my moaning, it’s some kind of distorted musical. He’s fucking me so fast, switching rhythms, doing figure 8s, alternating between shallow and deep fucking. And then he hits it. That spot.

 “I’m gonna come,” I barely get out.

“Good. I’m waiting for you.” That’s all the egging I need. I feel my pussy tighten around his dick.

“Shit…you got that good shit…” Damn that throaty whisper. I come right then and so does he. His pace quickens, then he groans and goes still or freezes.

Many moments later, he shakes me awake with a “I’m off." I must have passed out. I open an eye and peek at him. Yep, already showered and dressed, smelling faintly of my lavendar soap.

“What?” I was groggy as fuck, but still noticed that sly smile registering on his face.

“You were snoring.”

I gave an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Go back to sleep. I’ll catch you later.”

And just like that, he let himself out while I fell into the most delicious slumber.