My first frightening Friday entry referenced a gritty blue collar suburb to the northeast I'd previously visited for an assignation. Actually I had made previous visits (ahem): first to a pristine section inhabited largely by Latino homeowners (the home I'd visited earlier was quite quite lovely.) The host, however, grew quickly obnoxious besides not liking to kiss and wanting just a quick hump session ("you like to take forever! Just cum, but not in me!!!") and despite regular entreaties I stopped returning. But, earlier this summer I was lured one exit further north by a fellow whose moniker is "Mr. Wonderful".
This was in response to a CL ad; he'd responded to earlier ads and had tried to lure me up mid to late evenings when I don't have the opportunity to venture out much. This particular, hot, day he engaged my interest and we went back and forth on email. I was ready to hang it up, as the afternoon was waning and I was envisioning brutal traffic heading north. And, he'd mentioned a housemate who would be arriving home soon; I wasn't enthralled by the idea of fucking someone while his roommate was roaming about in other rooms. He responded "he's my roommate, not my mom, and we have separate bathrooms." I liked the attitude in the response and decided to give it a shot.
Well, I got a bit turned around but eventually found his house. The neighborhood was okay, but a bit run down at the heels: few flowers, brown lawns, and sun bleached homes devoid of trees. As agreed I texted him upon arriving, walked up to the door and after ringing the bell and standing there was greeted by a rotund thirty something African American fellow in a towel. He secured an enormous lunging dog (friendly) and ushered me into his very untidy home and quickly down a hallway to a bedroom with an enormous television playing and it seemed like all the clothing he owned dumped onto the floor as well as the open doors of a closet. While covered with sheets the bed was unmade and the sagging mattress was rump sprung.
He told me he needed to finish up and spent an eternity in the bathroom: I was factoring how to make an exit when he appeared, gave me a kiss, and dropped the towel. This man does not conform to the black stereotype (trust me, I do not have a Mandingo fantasy, but the black guys I have been with have been considerably smaller than me/average or less. Perhaps just black bottoms are on the smaller side, or only the big ones get featured in porn.)
This fellow also has quite the tummy, which drooped; not offensive, actually he wears it well (better clothed though) but it made the correography more of a challenge, particularly getting my cock into him and keeping it there. Overall, however, he's a handsome guy, but one who would look better if he lost 60 lb.
He was incredibly clean; not a trace of musk so I had no hesitancy in rimming him, which he loved. I tried sucking him and he got moderately hard. Finally I got him on his stomach for a bit and rubbed my cock up and down his crack and after many probing efforts managed to find the hole and to push into him. He loved it, but it was a hot day and being a big boy needed to take breaks to rehydrate. He also started digging through the pile of clothes looking for a towel (he managed to find an unopened water bottle in the mess as well.
The bed was a nightmare that wasn't at all conducive to sex; it sagged and nearly threw us off throughout the session, which added to the challenge of getting back in him and getting a rhythm going. It was incredibly distracting and uncomfortable. Finally I got him on his side, and felt the friction and decided to focus on cumming. He was thrilled to feel me breeding him. Next he was vigorouly jerking off and did manage to shoot a load.
I didn't want to dash out and he was into making out and also wanted to try to get another load out of me. The bed, however, wasn't conducive to our mutual weight; working out the first load was a miracle, but getting him positioned to enable me to fuck him a give up another load was proving an impossibility. Also by that point the bottom sheet kept pulling off the bed, there was no mattress cover, and he was really sweating. Finally I rolled on my side and stroked off (I think my subconscience told my cock that this was the way to escape) and shot faster than I imagined. He scooped my cum up, rubbed it on his hole and pressed it inside him with his fingers. Okay, this guy was serious about wanting to get bred. By that point I was hot, clammy, tired, and weiry of it all, and as it was dusk I thought I might be well advised to find my car and to leave.
The roommate was home and I'd smelled him cooking dinner; my sex partner first got up, located some random articles of clothing to don, exited the room, and assuring me his roommate was out of the way, got me out the door. When I got to my car I found I didn't have my cell phone: I couldn't very well text him, so I had to go back and to ring the door bell. After several minutes, my "pal" appeared at the door (thank God, I didn't know his name to tell the roommate I wanted to speak with him), and had to remove the jumping dog to another room to speak with me. I mentioned my phone and he left me standing in front of the house for several more minutes. All I could imagine was that finding it in that mess would be impossible; amazingly he came back with the phone in hand.
As I got into my car and mentally collapsed I wondered why I allow my dick to think for me sometimes. This was definitely a less than "wonderful" experience.