I walked into the bar already half-hard from the way the big black dude at the gym had stared me down all week. He was there again, thick arms folded over his chest, skin gleaming under the lights. I bought him a drink, told him straight up I wanted his cock in me. No games. He smirked, finished the beer in one swallow, and said, “Then get your white ass to my place in twenty minutes.”
His apartment was small and hot. The second the door shut he had me against it, mouth on mine, tongue shoving deep while his hands ripped my shirt open. “Strip,” he ordered. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my jeans. My dick was already leaking. He looked me over, then shoved his shorts down. His cock swung out heavy and black, veins thick, head shiny with precum. It was longer and fatter than anything I’d taken before.
“On your knees, white boy.” I dropped. The smell of him hit me first—musk and soap and pure man. I opened my mouth and he fed it to me slow, letting me taste every inch until my lips stretched around the middle. He grabbed my head and started fucking my throat, not gentle, just using me. Spit ran down my chin and dripped onto my chest. I gagged and he laughed low. “That’s it. Choke on that black dick.”
When he pulled out I was gasping. He hauled me up, spun me around, and bent me over the kitchen table. Cold wood under my chest, ass up.
He kicked my feet apart and spat on my hole. One thick finger pushed in, then two, working me open fast. “Tight white hole,” he muttered. “Gonna ruin it.”
The head of his cock pressed against me. He didn’t wait. He shoved. The stretch burned like fire and I yelled, but he kept pushing until his balls slapped my ass. Full. So fucking full. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He started pounding, long strokes that dragged that fat cock almost all the way out before slamming back in. The table legs scraped the floor with every thrust.
“Fuck me,” I begged. “Harder.” He grabbed my hips and gave it to me exactly like that—brutal, deep, skin slapping loud and wet. Every time he bottomed out I saw stars. My own cock swung untouched, dripping onto the floor. He reached under and squeezed my balls hard. “You love this black dick stretching your guts, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I choked out. “Don’t stop.”
He pulled out, flipped me onto my back on the table, and hooked my legs over his shoulders. The new angle let him drive even deeper. He leaned down and kissed me rough while he fucked, tongue matching the rhythm of his cock. Sweat dripped from his chest onto mine. I could feel every vein on his shaft dragging against my prostate and I started shaking.
“Gonna cum on that dick,” I warned. He grinned and fucked faster, short brutal jabs right where I needed it. My orgasm hit like a punch—cum shot across my stomach and chest without a hand on my cock. My hole clamped down and he groaned, buried himself to the root, and unloaded. I felt every hot pulse of it flooding my ass.
He stayed inside me while we caught our breath, then pulled out slow. Cum leaked out of my wrecked hole and ran down my crack. He scooped some up with two fingers and pushed it back in. “Keep that in there,” he said. “Round two in ten minutes.”
I was still shaking when he lifted me off the table and carried me to the bedroom. He dropped me on the mattress, climbed between my legs again, and shoved back inside the mess he’d already made. This time it was slower but just as deep, rolling his hips so I felt every inch. He made me say it out loud—how much I loved taking his black cock, how I wanted it again tomorrow, how I was his white cumdump now.
By the time he filled me a second time my voice was hoarse from moaning. He pulled out, rolled onto his back, and told me to clean him. I licked our mixed cum off his softening dick until he was shiny again. Then he pulled me up against his chest, one heavy arm around me.
“Same time tomorrow,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
I nodded, already knowing my ass would be sore for days and already wanting more.
