It's Sunday afternoon and I'm waiting for Fred. Last night, I met him at a gay nudist party. We had sex in front of a bunch of naked men. Today, it's just going to be us.
The doorbell rings. I sing, "I think we're alone now / Doesn't seem to be anyone around" as I get up and cross the living room floor.
Fred's a big black bodybuilder with skin the color of chocolate milk, tightly buzz cut hair, and an angel's face. I'm tall, rugged, and moderately athletic, but he makes me look tiny. He's four inches taller and 40 pounds heavier then me. It's all muscle—arms, legs, chest, butt—all bulging muscles, more machine than flesh.
He's wearing sneakers, an athletic tee-shirt, and tight sweat pants that show off his muscular legs, sculpted butt, and big basket.
I say something and he answers. It doesn't matter. We're on each other as soon as I've closed the door, kissing hard with open mouths and aggressive tongues, grinding crotches, and kneading each other's butts.
"Damn, you're hard!" I step back and grip Fred's rod through his clinging sweat pants.
"Help me with it." Fred puts his big hands on my shoulders and pushes me to my knees. Fred's stiff cock makes an immense tent in his tightly-stretched sweats.
"Oh yeah." I fondle Fred's heavy rod through the soft cloth, running my fingers over its shaft while licking and kissing its head, getting the cloth covering it wet.
Fred's dick is still pointing downward. I push it into an upright position and close my hand around it, then jack his hard rod and knead his balls through the sweats.
"Fuck," Fred whispers. He puts his hands on the waistband of the sweat pants and pushes them down, freeing his cock and balls.
I stare at Fred's crotch. His cock is long and thick, with a broad, deeply furrowed, plow-head. Not all black men are well hung, but he has the biggest tool I've ever seen. His balls, like the rest of his body, are hairless. He probably gets it waxed, but I don't care about that or the obsessive workouts required to build and maintain those amazing muscles.
"Oh man!" I wrap my hands around Fred's shaft. Both hands, one over the other, like I'm gripping a baseball bat. It's too thick to close my fingers completely. His broad plow-head and the upper inch of his shaft stick out from my closed hands. "Your dick is so fuckin' big."
I stretch my mouth and clamp my lips around his crown, then swirl my tongue over his cock-head, probing its cum-slit and stroking its deep furrow. Fred moans softly and runs light fingers through my hair. I move one hand to his hairless balls and knead them gently while I run my not-quite-closed fist up and down his thick shaft.
The taste of precum and raw man is strong as I suck Fred's oversized cock-head. My painfully stiff cock is trapped in my blue jeans. I let go of Fred's cock and balls, then unfasten my fly and release my straining rod. It snaps up instantly, tall and proud, already leaking precum.
I grip Fred's pole again and lower my mouth onto it, taking more of its head and shaft. I manage about four inches and end up with his giant cock-head blocking my throat. I can lick a little of his shaft, but that's about all I can do. One thing I can't do is breathe, but I'm not thinking about that right now.
My hands are free, so I go back to jacking his baseball-bat shaft and squeezing his nuts as I hold his monstrous cock in my overstretched mouth.
Fred slips his hands over my ears and laces his fingers behind my head, holding it immobile. The prospect of him fucking my face with his giant dick is terrifying . . . but my cock gets even harder, jerking in time with my pounding heart.
Fred pulls back and I'm able to get some air. I inhale deeply through my nostrils, feeling slightly dizzy. He pushes back in, stopping just before the point where he cuts my air off completely.
He slow-fucks my face, pulling completely out so I can grab a couple of really deep breaths, then pushing his big plow-head through my compressed lips to the back of my stretched mouth. I've never worshiped a cock like I'm worshiping Fred's massive member. And I've never met one so worthy of worship.
I'm getting him close to coming—sucking his cock-head, jerking his shaft, and brutally squeezing his bulging balls—and he's working his oversized rod harder and faster.
Fred releases my head and pulls away. I look at his cock, rock hard and slick with my spit and his precum, and then up to his face. He's smiling.
He pulls me to my feet like an adult lifting a child. "Let's see your bedroom."
"Oh yeah." I step out of my jeans and leave them on the floor, leaving me dressed in a tight-fitting tank top. I drop it on the floor beside the jeans. "Let's go."
Fred pulls his sweat pants back up so he can walk without tripping. I kiss him and then take him down the hall and into the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed to take his shoes, sweats, and tee-shirt off.
