I am a rather large man. Alright, to be accurate I'm over six foot tall and around two fifty pounds in weight. That weight is muscle, not fat. I work in the construction industry and you won't find any weaklings there. Being a glutton for punishment I also work out at the local gym, mainly on the punching bags as I also box for a hobby. Amongst other things I'm also as black as the ace of spades, being of African descent. (Not recently from Africa, but several generations ago my ancestors migrated here -- voluntarily.)
So there I was, big, black, tired, dirty, and smelly. These last three attributes were just a temporary thing, me currently arriving home from a hard day's work. A decent shower as soon as I got home was going to remove the dirty and smelly and a strong cup of coffee would probably do wonders for the tired.
I live halfway up a high-rise in quite a nice unit. A good construction worker who's willing to put the hours in can make a nice packet, and that described me to a T. I sure wasn't hurting for the odd dollar. I'd just parked and was heading towards the elevators. There was one already stopped at the garage level and it could only go in one direction -- up.
The doors had started to close so I made haste and managed to slip through the doors before they closed, leaving them to bang closed behind me.
Does being big, black, and smelly, make me a potential sex offender? Not in my opinion. There was already someone else in the elevator, a sweet little white mouse of a girl. She was blonde, quite curvy, and would have to stand on her toes to reach five and a half feet, and I wouldn't guarantee that she'd make it even then. It seemed she was also of a nervous disposition.
When I suddenly jumped into the elevator she took one look at me (or possibly one sniff), went white (whiter than white, seeing she was already white), screamed, and jumped to the far corner of the elevator, staring at me. Not wanting to be outdone I promptly screamed and jumped to the opposite corner, plastering myself against the wall.
She relaxed a little, just a little, got some colour back in her face, and gave me a filthy look. Not to be outdone I also let myself relax a little and returned the filthy look. (I stayed black, though. It's a hard colour to change.) It turned out that my filthy look was better than hers as she went pale again and cringed back into her corner. As did I.
"Do you mind?" she snarled at me.
I cringed away from her. "What?" I asked. "What am I doing?"
"You're trying to make me look like an idiot," she retorted.
"Not really," I said thoughtfully. "I think you were doing that quite successfully all by yourself."
The elevator stopped in the foyer but she didn't take the chance to vacate it. I suspect that she was too embarrassed to. No-one else got on and moments later we were ascending.
"I wasn't acting like an idiot. It is quite reasonable for me to be a little worried when a man suddenly jumps onto the elevator the way you did. It was a normal reaction for me to scream when you startled me."
"Uh-huh. Same here," I said.
"What?"
"You startled me," I pointed out. "I didn't want anyone to think I was molesting you so I just naturally made sure there was as much space as possible between us."
She glared at me. "I never thought for one moment that you might molest me," she snapped.
I just smirked at her in a way that probably really infuriated her. I was about to make another snarky comment when the lights went out, the elevator stopped, sank a short distance, and then remained still. Little emergency lights came on.
I reached for the emergency phone and called the foyer. Whoever was on duty down there promptly answered and let me know that the problem wasn't with the elevator but with the power supply. We'd been hit by a blackout.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't the building have an emergency generator that is supposed to kick in if we have a power failure?"
"We do, sir," I was assured, "but today it's undergoing a major service. They won't be able to finish putting it back together until they get some power. Terribly sorry, but there's not much I can do."
"Not your fault," I said with a sigh. "It's on a par with everything else that's going wrong."
By chance I was looking at the little white mouse when I made that comment and she bridled immediately.
"It's not my fault that we have no power," she pointed out. "Look at it from my point of view. I'm locked in a tiny box with a monster who might be a sex maniac for all I know."
"Women," I snarled. "You all have tickets on yourselves. What makes you think that I'd even be attracted to you? I mean, look at you. A midget masquerading as a person."
"I'm not that small and I know men. They always think with their dicks and they can't keep them in their pants."
I submit that it was the dirty, smelly, tired part of me that caused me to do what I did next. Without moving from where I was leaning against the wall I calmly unzipped and hauled my cock and testicles out. Even in the dim lighting I could see she was blushing and deliberately looking elsewhere.
"You -- you -- put it away."
"I'm doing this for your benefit," I derided. "I mean, even you must know that while it's in this condition I'm not likely to jump you. You can consider it an early warning system. If it suddenly stands up and waves at you you'll know to take care."
"What do you mean, even me?" she asked, sounding irritated.
"Oh, you know. The perpetual virgin who doesn't know what happens."
"Who said I was a virgin. I just reserve the right to be careful when I'm with a strange man. Will you please out it away?"
"Being careful is one thing. Being insulting is something else and you were being insulting. Sex maniac indeed."
"I didn't say you were a sex maniac. I simply said you could be one."
"You're not helping your case. Lucky the early warning system is out."
She was seething and trying to not let it show.
"I'm sorry," she said and it sounded as though she was chewing on her tongue to stop saying what she wanted to say. "Will you please tidy up your clothing?"
"No. If it upsets you, though, I won't stop you tucking it away and zipping me back up."
I had to give her full marks for gumption.
"Fine," she snapped. "I will."
She marched over to me and grabbed hold of my cock. There was nothing tentative about the way she took hold of it. She just reached and her hand closed around me very firmly.
I suspect that that was where she made her mistake. If she'd just taken hold of me tentatively and nervously, using two fingers to do the dirty deed, I probably wouldn't have reacted. However, when a young lady's hand closes firmly around my cock I couldn't help but react. She went from picking up a garter snake to wrestling with an anaconda.
If she'd had the sense to scream and let go, taking sanctuary as far from me as she could get, I'd probably have laughed hysterically and tucked myself away. She didn't do that. She compounded the problem by grabbing me with her other hand, so I now had two hands holding me, with my cock swelling rapidly to show its appreciation for the attention.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she yelled at me.
"Hey, don't blame me. You're the one who grabbed me and started stroking me. What did you expect to happen when you did that?"
"I wasn't stroking you," she protested. "I was just tucking it back in your trousers. You'll have to do it. I don't think it'll fit now."
"Uh-huh. So why are your hands exploring?" I asked.
"They're not. Oh god, they are. This is your fault. You deliberately did this to embarrass me."
By an effort of will she stopped stroking me (pity) but also continued to hold me, which was a plus.
"I don't see why you insist on blaming me. You're an adult. Surely you know the effect of touching the other sex's genitals. Feel for yourself."
I wasn't referring to the way she was feeling my erection. I was referring to the fact that I pushed my hand up under her dress and slipped it under her panties and started to rub her mound.
"Argh," she squawked. "You can't touch me like that."
"Why not? You started touching me first,"
"I did no such thing. Argh. What are you doing?"
