A hot suprise
Last week I was at this really bouncing bar that had recently opened in town. High energy music was playing, and tons of guys with lean muscular bodies had stripped off their shirts. Their skin was glistening against the mind-numbing strobe and the flashing spot lights, which hit their hard chests in just the right way.
I'm not much of a dancer, but I sure did admire the view. The sexual tension in the room was palpable and as the night wore on, it seemed to build. I needed to take a break! With all the new anti-smoking laws, the bar had built a dimly lit back patio that was almost completely enclosed. No one from the street could see into it, and its design left interesting nooks and crannies where one could sneak off into even more dimly lit areas for 'who know's what'.
One little alcove appeared already to be occupied with some shirtless dancer who had come out to cool off. Even in the dark, you could see the beads of sweat rolling down his lightly hairy chest, pooling at his navel, and continuing to seep down into his 501 jeans, which had been partially unbuttoned. Although I couldn't see his face, he could certainly see mine, and he caught me staring at his pecs and his bulge. Without a word, his hand raised up and motioned me in.
I thought I should return the pleasure of such great skin contact, and I quickly peeled off my shirt. We both seemed to flex our chests and arms at the same time, making each other sure that this was what we really wanted. He had somehow positioned himself outside of the slivers of light that came through cracks in the decking, so I still couldn't see his face, but my god...the body was a product of years at the gym, with a stomach you could bounce quarters on.
It didn't take me long to get close enough to touch. I'm not sure how he did it, but as I came closer he pulled forward, grabbed my arms and pivoted me around to stand where he once had been. And I was facing the BACK of the alcove! His hands were all over my back and he reached around with just enough forcefulness to massage my pecs and tweaked my nips. When I felt behind me, he had already dropped his pants and was working his penis up and down my jeans, every once in a while letting the head of his uncircumcised dick rub against the small of my back. I was going crazy.
Without any resistance, I let my pants drop to the floor and the sweat of his body began to mingle with the heat of my skin, nature's perfect lubricant! Even though I knew the limits of what this encounter could be, the grinding and muscle kneading was one of the most sensuous experiences I had ever had. Finally, he gently bites my ear and whispers, 'Work your meat man. I need to see you shoot.' I happily complied with the request!
I started stroking with one hand, while reaching around behind me to feel his. I'm fairly content with the 7 inches I have, and really am not overly concerned about size, but this man clearly had a remarkable appendage between his legs! Lots of precum was oozing out of what had to be an 8 1/2-inch penis, with a width the rivaled a beer can. I am certainly glad this was only going to be a J/O rendezvous!
With the dance beat pounding through the wall, we worked up a rhythm that matched, and with the increasing energy, we both knew we were getting close. With one hand he continued to massage my pecs, and with the other he cupped my scrotum and squeezed to the point of perfect tension. By the way he was acting, I knew his focus was on me and he wouldn't allow me to pay back the favor of all this great touching. With as little as I saw of this finely built man, my mind had the chance to make him appear as any fantasy I wanted, and I wasn't missing the chance to close my eyes and let it happen!
As the stroking increased to an intensity that could only result in release, his massage became a light pounding, the squeezing a little tighter, and the thrusting of his sweaty crotch against my bare ass was getting as forceful as I could ever hope.
I passed the point of no return, and at the moment when I began to shoot, he pivoted me around and directed my stream of cum onto his rippled stomach. Without a word he took my hand and had me rub it into his skin and push some remnants into his bush and onto his still rock-hard penis.
I was spent. But even as weak as I was, I wanted to return the favor. As I tried to wrap my hand around his penis, he gently removed it and placed my fingers in my mouth and had me suck off the remainder of my cum. This man knew every move!
A crowd seemed to be gathering near our spot, so we thought it best to regain some composure, to get some clothes back in place, and to move on out, letting some other fortunate soul take advantage of what that space could offer.
It wasn't until we got out in the light that I noticed he was BLACK! No wonder he had me turn around so I couldn't see his face! I was mortified. I'm not a racist or anything, but I just don't get it on with guys who aren't white. What a shame, with all that intensity, I thought an exchange of numbers might happen, but I wasn't about to give a black guy my number. But I did thank him for his great touch (and was thankful I didn't have to return the favor).
If the last paragraph (which is complete lie) threw you into indignation, you can then imagine how I and others feel when I read the words, 'I'm not gay or anything...' as if it were a fate equal to death. Get a grip. Enjoy sexual encounters with fellow human beings for what they are. Dump the labels and be a man with a modicum of courage to enjoy the presence of another person with whom you feel comfortable. 'I'm not gay or anything' just means you're scared; scared of what others may think of you, and how you might be treated as a result. Being a man means being true to yourself and taking pride, and sometimes the abuse of others, for doing what you honestly want to pursue.