Hung Black Guy: A Life

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“The time has come…..” the Walrus said, I have read loads of stories on this site and enjoyed so many of them that I thought I should start collating random parts of my past. I do this for nobodies benefit but mine own. I am new to the principles of writing for others entertainment so treat me gently! I hope I get better at this

The city of London in England is a huge metropolis on a global scale. It has a vibrant mix of people from all parts of the world and for the most part seems to get by with less tension than in lots of other cities.

I am a black guy who has lived here all my life – my family have been here for hundreds of years. I think of myself firstly as British and secondly as black. I am comfortable in my skin with nothing to prove to anyone other than myself.

But, this was not always the case. When I was younger I was on a mission to prove that I was better than other men, bigger than “little white boys”, the best fuck that women would ever experience, you name it I was a man with lots to prove. I guess I was insecure about who I was and my place in the world.

So, these vignettes I will share are all a part of who I have become

Saturday night in a hot and sweaty bar in the Covent Garden area of London, outside it is one of those sultry, humid nights that our capital city does so well. I needed a cold beer and I needed it now! Back from University for the long summer holiday I was looking forward to a night out on the town with my mates.

Despite the fact I am 6 foot 4 and muscular I always become invisible in front of bars. My mates joke about the fact that it takes me longer than everyone else to get served so usually I just proffer money to them and get them to get the drinks. Tonight though, I was the first of our group to arrive so I had no one to help me.

I stood lamely waiting my turn whilst men and women appeared from nowhere, got noticed and returned to their tables with the drinks I so desperately needed to quench my thirst.

I sensed someone other than the bar staff was watching me – that innate feeling defying reason but too real and occurring too often to not exist. I turned to my left and saw her. Sitting some ten feet away from me but staring intently in my direction was a woman of whom I had not yet had the pleasure of. Our eyes met in an instant and she smiled a wonderful deep sincere smile that would have melted the most cynical of hearts. Here was I a black teenager with attitude, a chip on both his shoulders and a desire to establish himself in the world not just to exist but to rebel against hundreds of years of perceived oppression. Yet in that split second I was overwhelmed and defenceless

She beckoned me over with her finger and a lick of her top lip that was irresistible. I was totally lost!

“You seem to be struggling there boy” (I immediately felt my hackles rise with the use of the word “boy”. Oh, there was an edge to her alright; she had a crystal cut accent that was clearly from the upper strata of society. For the first time I looked at something other than her eyes and lips and beckoning finger.

She was tall, probably 5 foot 8 or 9, English rose complexion, brunette hair that cascaded to her shoulders and wonderfully lean body leading up to a suspiciously rounded bosom that seemed almost too perfect. She was aged mid twenties possibly a bit older but no more. She offered her hand and the name of Abigail. I took her hand and shook it offering my name Del in return.

“So you want a drink” Bostancı Fetiş Escort It was a statement rather than a question. There was a directness I didn’t feel entirely comfortable with. Within seconds a cold beer was in my hand. It was almost as if the bar staff were there waiting on her order.

“Not seen you here before Del….” she barked at me

“…..and believe me I would have noticed you” she smiled but not in a friendly way it was more of a challenge to me to see my reaction.

“Ever fucked a white woman?” They way she spoke the words with that accent was really quite intoxicating. I did not expect a clearly cultured, expensively educated woman to come straight out with that kind of question. I nodded and quietly offered “a few” as my response.

“But no one like me boy” she was getting feisty with me less than a minute after our first introduction.

“Probably not” I said feeling uncomfortable. Up until then in my life it had been me that had fucked women they had not fucked me. I had been in charge, the power rested with my cock and my desire to use it as I saw fit. I was not quite a misogynist but I was probably not far off it. I was trying to undo hundreds of years where black men were definitely second class citizens.

“Del, I am the best fuck in Britain, and maybe, just maybe you are going to be lucky enough experience sex like you have never even dreamed of”

“Well Abigail that will be for me to determine won’t it” she looked half shocked and half amused, as if someone of my youth and colour should be so bold with her. Ignoring my statement she carried on

“Cock size?” when I didn’t immediately answer she looked at my crotch and once again demanded

“Cock size?” I looked back at her and felt uncomfortable yet knowing for once in my life I was powerless, no longer was it the black youth in charge of his sexual destiny.

“9 ¾ inches hard” she smiled a warmer smile than before.

“girth?” I had to confess I had never measured round it at that time in my life. She barely accepted that answer and carried on with her inquisition

“But I assume you are not thin like a pencil or anything stupid like that?” I shook my head and confirmed that no, I was not some thinly endowed guy

“Ok, then finish your beer and lets get out of here. I have a car round the corner and it isn’t far to get home” It seemed somewhat futile to argue and I confess I was both intrigued and desperate to reclaim some of my dignity from this first class bitch.

Within minutes of our initial meeting we were climbing into her Mercedes sports car and driving at speed through the streets of London. We pulled up in front of an imposing town house in Belgravia. “This is us” she said and then waited for me to open her door for her. Entering the house I noticed it was exquisitely decorated and furnished. Boy, she came from a different world to me.

“Upstairs then” we climbed 2 flights of a wide flowing staircase and entered her bedroom suite.

“You strip off and wait on the bed whilst I freshen up”. I nodded and started to take my shirt off. “Mmmm” she whispered as if to herself, “you will do very nicely Del” she lightly stroked my shoulders and kissed the back of my neck before disappearing into her en suite bathroom. I removed my shoes, socks and trousers before deciding to keep my boxer shorts on. I sat on the edge of her huge bed like a little lost school boy. It felt odd for me to go from a Mandingo warrior of Bostancı Gecelik Escort my previous conquests to someone now at the behest of a white woman. My cock was semi-hard at the thought of what I thought was going to transpire. Minutes later she returned wearing just a bra and panties – her impressive tits straining against the lacy material

“I thought I told you to strip? So why are you still wearing those shorts? Off with them right this very instant” and without a pause she continued “oh very well come here and let me do it” she took both her thumbs and slid them under the bottom of my shorts and yanked them down. My cock though not quite hard sprang out. She smiled a big broad smile. “Yes you will certainly do”

She opened up a bedside cabinet “first things first, let’s measure you” I was amazed by her almost clinical nature and the casualness that she dealt with me. Pulling a tape measure from a drawer she placed it on to the bed – put her hand to my cock stroked it then placed it into her mouth. Sensing it was becoming fully hard she took the tape and measured it both for length and girth “for your future reference it is 6 ¼ inches round”. She then took out a pocket book and wrote in it – all I could do was shake my head in disbelief.

“So how do I compare then?” she looked at me intently and smiled

“Oh you are by far the biggest, you sweet black boy” she stood up and in an instant unfastened her bra and pulled down her knickers “and how do I compare? You like my tits? They are the best money can buy, 15,000 Pounds – they were a birthday present from my husband but whether they were for me or him is a moot point” She stood before me, a vision of almost perfect beauty and I wanted her so bad. My cock stood hard and proud at a dramatic angle from my body, my large balls pulled tightly up by the ferocity of my erection yet despite my longing I had to ask her

“Your husband?” and then added “and are you still married?”

She laughed loudly “oh yes who do you think pays for all this?” she waved her hand round her bedroom.

“Now fuck me harder than you ever fucked anyone in your life” Grabbing hold of my cock aggressively she sucked and worked her hands up and down its full length causing me to groan loudly. “come on black boy, fuck me, make me your little white rich bitch” at that point I lost my control, composure and shyness. I leant over and pulled her on to the bed and started to lick, bite, stroke, paw and devour her body in a wild, uncontrolled display of my masculine sexuality.

Her body was flawless perfection, tits felt real but were just too perfect to actually be real– her nipples hard and full, her legs long and smooth, her pubic hair trimmed and immaculate, her skin smooth and soft, her perfume lost in a mix of excitement and her natural musk. Fuck, I wanted her so bad.

We rolled around on the bed kissing and touching until I pulled her on top of me, reaching behind her I massaged her ass cheeks with one hand whilst sliding my other hand onto her clit and rolling it gently between thumb and forefinger. She groaned and started to shudder. Looking me deep in the eye she pleaded with me to fuck her and then if I hadn’t got the message she shouted out “I want you and I want you now!”

I thrust my hard cock into her as she straddled me, gone was any pretence of subtlety or of this being an act of love making, for me it was an urgent need to fuck this upper class bitch like she had never been fucked before and Bostancı Genç Escort for her it was to experience the reality of a thousand fantasies, She took my cock deeper inside her than any man had ever been. Her cunt was wet and tight and eager to be filled by my oversized manhood. She was totally lost to the moment as she rode me like her own black stallion. She was almost delirious with pleasure screaming, whimpering as if she was speaking in tongues, and then she suddenly became lucid

“Gerald get out here right now, see how a real man fucks your wife” I sat up with a start, a pasty faced, balding guy in his 30’s emerged out of the bathroom, naked save for a dog collar and leash. He was not fat but he was out of shape and he sported an erection that would be at most 4 inches. He looked chastised and excited in equal measure

“Gerald, Del is filling me like you never could, and more than any other man ever has. He is fucking like a real man should and like you never will” Gerald you are a poor excuse for a man and if it wasn’t for your money I would have fucked off years ago. You will watch us until we have finished fucking and you will be grateful to Del for what he is giving to your wife” Gerald nodded and said nothing.

We continued to fuck, initially I could not get the image of her cuckolded husband out of my head but as the pace of our fucking built to a climax I started to forget him. Abigail’s beautiful visage started to contort, her eyes flickered and she screamed at me that she was about to come. I pumped deep into her faster and faster until I felt my cock twitch and the liberal amounts of pre-cum I had had oozing out of me previously was replaced with long thick strands or cum being shot deep into her as my buttocks tensed and I resorted to some primeval urge to push my cock as deep inside her as possible and to splatter her insides with my man muck.

We collapsed into each others arms and forgetting herself for a moment she kissed me long and deeply and thanked me for fulfilling her needs, desires and fantasies. The recomposing herself she lifted herself off me and lied on the bed and sternly barked at her husband

“Gerald, now that I have been fucked by a real man you can act like the little puppy dog that you are by licking out the cum that Del has so generously filled me with” saying nothing he obediently walked over to the bed and did as he was told. Abigail leant over and kissed me again. Pointing to the bathroom door she told me to go shower as she would be sometime.

I went and washed myself – stroking my cock with the soap in the shower I felt the first tell tale signs of hardness returning to my loins. Would I required to perform again I wondered?

Refreshed and wrapped in an expensive plush towel I returned to the bedroom to watch Gerald continue to lick his wife whilst she feigned disinterest and filed her nails. Looking up she smiled and motioned me over to her. She tugged away the towel and stroked my cock slowly and sensually.

“Del, I could give you a very good life courtesy of my husband, and my friends will absolutely adore you! Leave me your telephone number and I will be in touch tomorrow. There is money in Gerald’s wallet over there take it all and buy yourself something nice as a thank you from him for what you have given his wife tonight”

Gerald looked up at me from between Abigail’s thighs “Thank you master” was all he said.

I slowly got dressed and left them in their bedroom, I took some money but not all of it – I figured I could get a taxi back to Covent Garden and buy my friends some drinks to appease them for my late arrival and maybe a bite to eat later.

Abigail was right – my life never was quite the same again – but more of that in future instalments of my sexual encounters through the years.

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