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(The acronyn of this entry sounds like it should be a union or a store: The BBCW. Either that or a television channel. We've got the CW. Now there's the BBCW. Brazilians have Big Black Cocks, too.)
I received a random text this afternoon at almost quarter to one from an unknown number, "You around for real now?" I assumed it was for an erotic massage and, rather than get into a bunch of texting back-and-forth, I immediately called back. To his credit, he answered the phone right away and, after a quick minute or so, said he could be over in about a half and could I text him the address. Because of his heavy accent, it still wasn't obvious who he was, what the hell he wanted, when we first came into cyber contact, where he got my number or how he was going to look (clearly I don't remember sharing pics), but the mellifluous sound of his voice had me purring (subconsciously). I decided to take a chance. I pried myself away from Xtube (with much difficulty), cleaned up (and out) and took a super quick shower. In fact, he arrived while I was still rinsing lather. Celine Dion started screaming her face off from the top of the radiator in the bathroom (Alone is my ringtone *big grin*). He was at the door. I quickly toweled off, threw on someone else's boxer briefs (snagged them when I was in the laundry Monday and have worn them most everyday since) and went down to let him in. As I walked down the inside steps, I could see him standing on the sidewalk just at the bottom of the exterior stairs, but he had his back turned. All I could make out were baseball cap, blue and white shorts, gray tee shirt. In a moment of exquisite synchronicity that could only have been orchestrated by a stage director, he crossed up the steps while I came down and got to the door at the exact moment I reached for the knob and opened it. I took my first glimpse into his face and you know what?
Some people have you at "hello."
This dude was all kinds of major sexy. He smiled, greeted me with a firm, friendly hand shake and followed me up into the apartment. I wasn't completely dry. So I excused myself back to the bathroom to towel off and throw on some lotion. When I came back through the living room, he was still standing propped against the kitchen door frame waiting patiently. I brought him into my room and we began to undress over light conversation. V is a HOT and hairy Brazilian bisexual stud (he told me has a girlfriend) with a thick uncut 7 incher. He's about 6'1", 170# solid. I don't care if guys are hairy or smooth, but I do NOT like hair in my mouth. Gross! (It's called oral sex, not flossing.) Neither do I have a preference about cut versus uncut. The dick just needs to be free of cobwebs, detritus and anything funky. V's brown skin was smooth and soft beneath a generous mat of tightly coiled silky, jet-black hair, which covered his entire frame. It was all over his strong legs, firm ass, beautiful chest and ever so slightly overweight (and absolutely delicious) tummy (probably a 34 or 36 waist). His biceps were strong and his pubes were like Baby Bear's porridge - just right. His nipples were fat (not as fat as mine) and he wore dog tags around his neck. The hair on his scalp was just thick enough to cover his head, but still long enough to need a brush. No matter where I looked on him, from every angle, every facet, he was all man. Well, man/boy. He confessed he was very horny and might need to cum twice and asked if I had time for "two." (Insert ginormously ridonkulous shit-eating grin here.) I dropped to my knees and started sucking his beautiful dick. I even got my tongue into the crook where his thigh and crotch met. It didn't take long for him to get into gently coaxing me, as he started to thicken and stand straight out. He wasn't stand offish at all. He wrapped his hands around my head and kept telling me how good my mouth felt. I couldn't see his ass yet, but I reached around to grab it in order to pull him farther into my face. It was firm and furry :) I was facing him on all fours, arching my back. He bent forward to play with my ass. He spit on his fingers and moistened my hole. "I knew your ass would be good, man. Great ass." The whole time, I was stroking my dick with the underwear around my thighs, stretching even more out of shape than they already were.
Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and I wanted to be BANGED. Still on my knees, but now with the briefs totally off, I turned around wordlessly and showed him my ass. Not needing a written invitation, he went to his pile of clothes and rummaged for a condom and lube. (He was prepared.) He knelt behind me and didn't force himself in. He knew exactly what he was doing. The fuck was so good. I needed it. He needed it. Not to take anything away from other groups, but Brazilian heat is like no other. They celebrate sex in a way I haven't fully seen other cultures, as a whole, do. Sex is like eating or taking a nap. It's essential for life :) Part of the enjoyment of it all was because he was so hot, but make no mistake: He owned me body and soul. He lubed my hole, put the head against the opening and applied just enough pressure. He let me control how soon he go in. Within 30 seconds I had swallowed him inside me to the balls like a 12 foot anaconda would a tree frog. Yes, I have a lot of control back there, but I can still be hurt with a guy as thick as he was. He got my asshole so open I heard a foghorn and the siren's song. He was turned on by how wide he'd made me. He'd pull out, look at it, hiss seductively, stick in a few fingers (gently), then reenter. Never did he ram it in or confuse hurting me with pleasing me, which is what a lot of tops do. I even said to him, trancelike, over my shoulder, "where did you learn to fuck like this? I'll bet your girlfriend loves your dick." He grinned with the perfect mix of pride and shyness "oh, she love." (No s). It was warm in my room, even with both windows and the door leading to the deck. His hot, damp skin slapped against mine as he folded over my back and reached around to paw my chest. I ground back into him as hard as I could, as he'd hold onto, first, the back of my neck, then, my hip, next, the sofa. He fucked me doggy the entire time. He was using his left hand to balance himself on the sofa I was kneeling in front of. I was so caught up in the sexual reverie of being his dick attachment that I started sucking one of his fingers placed on the sofa directly in front of my face. He liked that a lot. He put 2 to 3 more in there and held my mouth from the inside, again with just the right amount of pressure. Never did I feel like he was just using me for his own orgasm without interest in how I felt. He treated me as a sexual equal: an important part of the Fucking Equation. Whether that's what he really thought, well, I don't know. I can only tell how it came off.
It sent him over the edge when I laid flat out on the floor and let him lie on top. He stayed up on his arms rather than get close the way I like, but still I loved it. "This is your ass, man. You can have it whenever you want and do whatever you want with it." The only thing uncomfortable at that very moment was the rough carpet under my dick. I was rock hard, but it's still made from skin, not tusk. I reached down and cupped my dick to prevent hurting myself. Suddenly, he raised up on his haunches, ripped off the condom and blew in his hand. Honestly, I saw it as an interesting choice for him to have removed the rubber to shoot, unless he was giving me a facial or watching it spray, which he wasn't. He completely cupped his left hand around his dick to keep from making a mess...So why not keep the condom on? Hey, I'm not complaining because it allowed me to do the following: I moved his hand and throated him to the balls, tasting all that salty nectar. He even let me hungrily slurp and suck the skeet that had shot on the fingers of his right hand somehow. I loved how he splayed his fingers out as my tongue wrapped around each one. It could've been my imagination, but I think he sorta giggled. He definitely smiled. I looked up and saw that. Another thing that made me happy was his level of naked comfort post coitus. We talked with ease for about 15 to 20 minutes afterwards, totally in the buff with no rush. All the while, that open grin arranging and rearranging the molecules in the space between us. It was during this time he told me he was 29 years old, worked in construction and sometimes security. He said he needed to go, but he accepted my offer of a cold drink of water from the fridge. We stood in the kitchen, still naked, and drank our water without saying anything, a comfortable silence between us, still naked. We were two men/boys. There wasn't to be a second orgasm that session, but I was not disappointed. He reiterated how horny he usually is and that, for the most part, his days are free. Hmm. What a coincidence. So are mine :)
The pics above are of me in the permanently borrowed underwear. I've been snatching other dude's clean undies from the laundry over 5 years now. You can see the bleach stains on them, as well as how stretched they are. The other image is of a Latin hottie on the corner of my block from the other week. He's sagging a little. I wonder what his ass smells like. I'd like to sniff.
Sometimes I wish I had a pussy.
