“ Let's caput over to western United States 4th for a pickup game, whadda ya say ?"It was a hot summer New York Nox, the variety where it doesn't dip below 80 point and anyone and everyone is out and about, looking for something to do. The estimation sounded like a not bad one to Ernesto ; his friends, however, weren't as enthusiastic.

"Whadda ya fucking disturbed ? It's fucking hot as fucking. What the fuck do I require to fucking go all the way to fucking manhattan for a do it game of fucking hoops to further sweat my big, haired fucking nut off at 10 o'clock at fucking nighttime ? Are you fucking kidding me ?"Ernesto's cousin-german Vinny had the vocabulary of a Soprano and the basketball skills of a third gear grade girl so there was no way in hell he was gon na go anywhere to act basketball game at any time. He needed to play it off so he went on and on about how hot it was and about how it was too far to travel. The residuum of the pack ; Tony A., Tony M., and Joey, weren't the rack up basketball players in the world but they certainly knew enough to know that if they were going to go to W.4th Street for a pickup game, they would get spanked. They all moaned about how hot it was and dismissed the idea.

Ernesto couldn't be dissuaded so easily. It was a hot Saturday dark and he knew the courts would be packed. He needed to go. He just couldn't see himself hanging out in the locality, drinking 40s out of a brown theme bag, talking about bangin'girls, listening to Tupac, and bitching about over how hard it is to be a white man in today's society. Ernesto was unlike. Born in Tuscany, he'd moved to Brooklyn when he was 11 to endure with his aunt and uncle when his parents died in a car crash. Twenty days later, he had lost his foreign accent but never quite acquired a New House of York one either. He stood out like a sore quarter round in so many ways. He was the most worldly of the group always looking to live new adventure, he'd even gone to out of State Department for college. Most of the guys around the way had never gotten past senior high school school, let alone moved out of State. Truth be told, a few had never even been to the Bronx. He had a nifty job in Manhattan as a massage therapist ; his champion thought that was some fag dogshit. It was okay when his clients were hot chicks but they were disgusted by the estimation of him rubbing on some sweaty dude. Ernesto even looked different. His complexion was naturally darker, his jet black hair just touched his articulatio humeri, sword Asa Gray eye, and a 6'2"body he worked on religiously all worked together to make him look like a Calvin Klein model. Most of his buddies stood about 5'10"with curtly hair and were getting beer paunch in their 30s.

For all of their deviation, Ernesto was accepted and loved in the community like he was no dissimilar at all. And he loved his menage and his champion. They had taken care of him when he was at his scurvy, most lonely head. While almost masses anticipated he would have gotten an apartment in Manhattan, Ernesto stayed in the neighborhood to help study precaution of his granny who had come from Italy 10 years ago because she was aging. His aunt and uncle both worked burial ground and didn't have the metre to deal for her in the eve and Vinny and Theresa, his other full cousin, only knew how to cuss in Italian so they couldn't really communicate well with her. Ernesto loved his syndicate and would do anything for them so leaving Brooklyn, leaving Carnasie, was really out of the question.

"I'll arrest you guys later, I'm heading to the city to act as some ball."Nobody was shocked and they barely looked up as Ernesto grabbed his gym bag and headed for the subway. He plopped down on the cool arse and pulled out the ledger he'd been reading, a collection of works by Saint James the Apostle James Baldwin. He was fascinated by the societal comment and the descriptions of racism that peppered the negotiation about being a Black gay man in United States. Being a gay man himself, a closeted gay man, he connected with the words, he connected with the struggle and the craze. His friends, even though he had sucked off most of them when they were new, including his cousin, were as homophobic as they come. They had to be. It was function and portion for the adept chap's persona that they had to carry off. It never occurred to them that Ernesto could be gay because he was masculine, acrobatic, and he had women swooning over him every time he walked in a room. The poppycock that happened when they were untested was just male child being boy, and they would never allow it to anyone the experimentation they had done as Thomas Kid so his secret was pretty safe.

As he emerged from the bowels of the train system, into the humid night air of Greenwich Greenwich Village, except for the fact that it was disconsolate, it could have been 11:00 in the afternoon instead of 11:00 at Nox. The streets were bustling with natural action, packed with the great unwashed out doing anything and everything you could think of. He made his way to the courts and just watched the inaugural two plot. Ever since he could commend, he'd loved Negroid men. As cliché as it sounds, after his first Shirley Temple lover, he had no desire to be with another white man again so the old"once you go inkiness"adage was true in his example. For the better parting of 7 years he'd dated Joseph Black men exclusively. Sitting there, seeing all of those toned and muscled bodies, gave him an even boost perceptiveness of the Joseph Black male person form. It wasn't a lewd appreciation, well, at to the lowest degree not in the overtly sexual horse sense. It was a profound and deep respect for not just their forcible body, but for the struggle they endured that he read about in the page of his record book.

There's an tongueless code that says that white male child who hang out on basketball courts are looking to get served so hoi polloi were always looking to school them and pee-pee sure they play. Three on three, half royal court, to 21, shirt vs. peel. Ernesto was shirts and he was playing the team who had just won the cobbler's last game. Skins got the ball first and scored three points right off the bat. He was guarding a guy who had dominated the late game and he knew he had to be tired so he was body-checking and going toe to toe under the rim. They were the Lapplander height, even the same body type, but his opponent was the color of yellowish brown with a shiny bald head. It was a faggot guy's promised land, being able to publicly run his helping hand over that smooth physique, the wavelet brawn, sweaty, hard second joint pressed against his own. It was all about the biz for Ernesto and he played hard, making certain everyone knew he was there to ball. The guy Ernesto was guarding gave him an elbow and sent him to the priming coat. There ain't no fouls in street ball so he was right back up and in the game ; he didn't miss a metre. He got the ball and showed he had some skills. The early part of the unspoken code is, that when a white boy has skills on the courtroom, he becomes the unofficial court of justice favorite, getting his own cheering squad on the hobby n'everything.

The score was 19 to 20 with the pelt leading and the shirts had the testis. dandy was blocking him, checking him hard, when Ernesto got the ball in the paint. He pivoted and -- swoosh, nothing but net. In the split second right before the blastoff, he thought. .. maybe he was mistaken, but he could have sworn he felt ole boy grabbing for his cock. Not just consistency impinging that happens during the row of a biz, but actually palming his genitals, almost caressing it. It happened so quickly and the sexual conquest was tied so he couldn't dwell on it. The two antagonist stood toe to toe, making intense eye touch. The Margaret Court spark made every drop of sweat glisten on his opponent's shirtless body. One of the other skins sank the final dig ending the game. The entire courtyard erupted in cheers and back-slapping and kudos about the great game.

Ernesto sat on the work bench and pulled out his towel. His Word was on the top of the bag so he sat it next to him. While he was toweling off and catching his hint, drinking a little Gatorade, he saw a hand reaching out to him.

"Good game man, I'm impressed."

He extended his mitt and looked up,"Yeah, kudos, great game,"Ernesto replied, still trying to catch his breath.

"Name's Flex. Anytime you want to diddle a little biz of pickax up, let me know, I'd sexual love to have you on my team."He smiled a gorgeous smile and Ernesto looked up and then down, his eyes resting on the crotch directly eye level in front of him.

"Your mom named you Flex,"Ernesto asked, trying to go aloof but still out of breather and doing his sound not to indicate it.

"My pappa named me Prince Eugene of Savoy, Jr. but I'll beat person's ass if they call me that. So it's Flex."They both laughed.

"Yeah, my epithet is Ernesto and we got problem if anyone calls me Ernie, so I'm really feeling you. Here have a seat."He moved his book out the way and slid down a half a base to let Flex sit down next to him. They watched a little bit of the next game in secrecy.

"You from around here,"Flex asked ?

"Nah, I live in Brooklyn,"

"Oh, I see."

That sat in muteness some Sir Thomas More, watching the secret plan and neither one of them leave to address what had happened on the lawcourt. Ernesto figured he'd been mistaken. It was a physical game and maybe Flex didn't know he was grabbing his stopcock. Maybe he thought it was his arm or something. That had to be it.

“"Is this your leger ? Man, I love James Baldwin. ‘ I am what time, setting, and story, have made of me, certainly, but I am also, much more than that.'Now that some deep shit rightfield there."Just then, it was as if the wall of ice had been broken. The two men started talking and sharing and letting down their guards. They had a link more than mutation and it was electric."Are you meddling right now, I mean, are you in a rush to manoeuver back to Brooklyn, because I only live around the corner from here. We can go to my office and hang out if you want. I'm not a series killer. .. any Sir Thomas More, I promise."They both laughed and Flex flashed that gorgeous smile again and before Ernesto knew what was happening, they were walking towards 10th street and in a cunning little studio apartment. Flex was a graphic designer for an advert firm and had moved from his own ascendent in Queens to his minuscule flat 7 long time ago.

Once inside the flat, the only place to sit comfortably was the futon. Ernesto looked uncomfortable. He didn't want to put his smelly, sweaty ass on the post where Flex slept and sat on a daily cornerstone. He was really feeling this guy and wanted to be invited back and he didn't think that would progress to such a with child first of all belief to leave his fragrance, so to speak, so he was trying to figure out how he could sit on the floor without looking like a jerk.

Flex came to the saving before he could even process the thought completely in his head."Hey, it's pretty hot out there ; you can subscribe to a shower if you want to cool off. Guests first. Here's a towel and everything's in the bathroom you should need."Ernesto dropped his gym bag by the door inside in the humble can. He took off his sweaty dress and stepped in the shower, feeling the ardent weewee wash away the layer of fret. Shutting his eyes, he thought back to the court. Had he gotten his signals mixed ? Maybe Flex was just a squeamish guy who wanted to hang out ; maybe he happened to wish Jesse James Baldwin because he was a enceinte writer, not because he was a heavy gay blackamoor writer. Maybe that hand caressing his pecker wasn't really caressing it ; maybe it was just persona of the secret plan, maybe to form him lack his shot. Whatever it was, Ernesto was abstruse in thought, remembering the feel of Flex's hired man on his peter, the Saami turncock that he had in his hand now and was stroking, thinking about his sexy, sweaty new friend.

He shut his optic tightly and started thinking all sorts of tight sentiment, jerking off and fantasizing. A smash at the door shocked him back to reality.

"Hey, don't mean to interrupt or anything,"Flex yelled through the threshold, but do you want something to salute ? A martini, a beer, a glass of wine, water supply, Kool Aid. Anything ? Iced Tea, maybe ?"

"A beer's cool, thanks,"he yelled back and quickly turned off the water to dry off. Ernesto wasn't trying to put the same stinky clothes back on so he tied the towel around his waist and headed out to see if Flex had anything he could put on. His hammer was still arduous but he pushed it down and test to will it to stay put soft.

That thought lasted an entire 1.5 seconds because when he opened the bathroom threshold, he saw Flex, standing naked in forepart of the W.C., grabbing for a towel to put around him."Hey, how was the shower ?"He turned, wrapped the towel around himself and, not waiting for an resolution, he said,"Your beer is on the coffee tabular array, fix yourself at family, I'll be powerful back, I need to take a shower myself."

Ernesto was impressed with the lilliputian apartment. Flex's music collection was eclecticist but mostly all Black : jazz, Amytal, R & B, hip hop, and some church doctrine. The art on the rampart was amazing and inspecting further, he saw that most were signed with the name Flex. Because the plaza was so small, every lame inch of space was utilized. Oddly enough, the place didn't tone cluttered at all ; it might have been small on place but it was big on style. The timekeeper on the oven went off and Flex was still in the shower so he decided to take out whatever was in there. Opening the oven doorway, a tremendous perfume came wafting out. He pulled out the dish and it was some sort of dip that had been heated to go with the tri colored chips that had been put out on a platter. Ernesto was blown away."This guy can play ball, he can quote James James Arthur Baldwin, he has a great apartment, he's creative, he can misrepresent, and he's sexy as hell. Damn, I think I just met my future tense married man,"he said under his breath.

"What did you say ? Oh sound, I'm glad you pulled that out. Thanks."Flex looked even more amazing fresh from the shower bath with his towel around his shank. Ernesto didn't pain answering his question and instead took the tray and set it on the coffee bean table while Flex was opening up the futon."Here, this will be more comfortable. Have a tail, have a warhead off."

The two men lounged on the futon, talking about everything under the sun, sharing details about their sprightliness, drinking beer, listening to music, and eating. It was soon very apparent that Flex was gay, out, and very confident in his sexuality, so much so, he didn't even make it an issue. Because Ernesto had been ruled by his hidden individuality, everything had More impact on him, he had to analyze and analyse everything as if there was a obscure meaning behind it. When Flex offered to let him spend the night, he didn't know if it was a sexual invitation or not ; he didn't know how to react.

Flex could sense his vacillation and he left the interrogative open for him to make up one's mind. He got up, turned off all the Christ Within, lit a few wax light and came back, this time, taking off his towel and letting it diminish to the floor. He stood there for a few seconds, letting his new friend take everything in."Does this pull in you uncomfortable ?"Ernesto shook his head but didn't say a word. He climbed back on the futon, this prison term even closer. His substance started beating faster, the blood started pumping in his veins ; he was being seduced. Flex reached out to kiss him softly ; Ernesto forgot to close his centre ; he wanted to see everything. The kiss was soft and blue-blooded and in many elbow room atypical of almost of osculation Ernesto had ever shared with someone. Usually the men he was with were closeted, intent on proving their masculinity, on dominating the proverbial albumen boi behind close doors, playing up the thug/Mandingo role. He let his center close gently, experiencing the kiss with the remainder of his Mary Jane. He could smack the fairly scent of Flex's hide, still newly from the shower ; he could feel the indistinctness of his mouth against his own. He could taste his tongue gently exploring his oral fissure and he could get a line the soft moan escape from his own sass in awe of the sensations he was feeling.

"Okay, Mr. Massage therapist,"Flex said,"let me check out some of your magic,"as he pulled away from the sensual kiss. He stretched out on his stomach, adding,"Let's see if you can work out some of this tension I have in my shoulders."

Ernesto said,"clasp on, let me get my bag."He returned a few seconds later with a special blend of massage oil he used for work. This clip, he also took off his towel and let it fall down to the flooring as well, exposing his cock that had been half heavily since they left the motor lodge. Flex didn't even flavour, he had his question resting on his coat of arms and his eyes closed, waiting for his massage. Ernesto straddled his pegleg and looked down at the gorgeous consistence he was about to caress. He warmed the oil on his hands and started at the shoulders, aroused by the dividing line in skin color. Flex let out a moan and shifted a small but he didn't say a word of honor. Working his way downwards, he found the spots that were blotto and loosened them ; he rubbed the sore musculus and left that smooth embrown skin glowing in the candlelight. He worked his way further down, hesitating for a few minute before he started massaging the wax, attack ass impertinence of his new Quaker. Flex let out Sir Thomas More of a moan and started grinding his hips, even adjusting himself to take a leak his thickening pecker more well-off under him. Grabbing the bottle of oil, he drizzled it on his skin and started massaging those glorious mounds of flesh. He wanted to stroke his own dick, now fully erect, but he didn't, he was purpose on doing a respectable job, sound than he'd ever done before.

He worked his way down Flex's thigh and even used a few reflexology techniques on his infantry."Here, do the fronts of my legs now, I'm sore from that workout you gave me earlier."He turned over and Ernesto couldn't motility. Flex flashed that gorgeous grinning yet again but that paled in comparability to the body of perfection before him. Shoulders that were full leading down to brawny toned weapon, a hairless, well-developed chest and six gang abs that looked like a washboard. His dick stood up flat and magniloquent and his testicle were resting on his second joint. Ernesto didn't even want to look at the ease of him ; he just wanted to toast in the beauty of that magnificent gruelling dick.

Flex teased him, stroking it casually with his other arm behind his head."You like that ? Go ahead, tint it."He put his early arm behind his head and repeated,"Go ahead, it won't bite."

Ernesto swallowed hard and held the light beam in his hands. The heat from it was incredible and the thickness was impressive to say the least. He grabbed it at the groundwork and brought his bridge player all the way to the top, twisting his hand just a bit for a piddling more stimulant. Flex moaned his approval and licked his lips."Don't stop,"was all he said. Putting more than oil on his hands, Ernesto started stroking more, bringing him to full hardness, coaxing out precum from the head of that delightful piece of substance.
"Go ahead, suck it, you know you want to, suck my dick."The confidence that oozed from Flex made the place that much Sir Thomas More acute, more titillating and Ernesto felt light headed. He wasn't being bounderish or domineering, he was just sure as shooting of himself, uninhibited.

Ernesto positioned himself between Flex's ramification, stroking him some more, teasing him, and Flex spread his legs to accommodate him. Fingering his balls and holding them up, he started his mouth job there, licking and gently sucking his nuts. Rolling them around in his fingers, he was getting them wet with spit and licking the sore sacks. Flex appreciated the attention to his testicle and let him have intercourse how good it felt."Oh shit, it's been a retentive prison term since someone paid attention to my nuts like that. hoot, that feels so good. Ohhhh yeah."He grabbed his stifle, pulled them to his chest, giving Ernesto near access code. Stopping momentarily to enamour his breathing space, he put one bollock in his oral cavity and started flicking his lingua back and forth rapidly. Flex could barely breathe it felt so good."Damn, if you suck my balls that dependable, I can't even imagine how good it's going to feel when you suck my dick and eat my ass."

Anxious to get to both of those job, he said,"Which of those things would you favour I do first ?"Flex's dick jumped at those speech, his idea reeling with all the erotic possibleness.

Flex grabbed his dick at the base, tapping the head against Ernesto's lip, teasing him. His instructions were clear."suck my dick."

Not needing any more of an invitation, Ernesto set about his task. He replaced Flex's hand with his own and started stroking it, using massage techniques to stimulate spots that would make Michelangelo 's David squirm. Using his tongue, he began softly licking the drumhead, swirling it around and flicking it gently at the maw. Flex moved his hands down to Ernesto's head, but not to confront fuck him or force him down on his swollen member, but to hold his hair out of the way in society to see the proficient job he was doing. He licked up and down the sides, getting the shaft wet, running his tongue over every mineral vein. Flex couldn't help but evidence his appreciation by moaning. Lowering his mouth on that beautiful column of flesh, he took just half of it in his oral fissure. He started sucking it like a baby would suck a nipple making sure enough to transfix the Qaeda of the stopcock firmly in his hand. He took his lingua and started swirling it around the caput and calamus and increasing the suction on his sucking. Moving his hand away, he started bobbing up and down on the tool, taking it further and further into his mouth each meter. He was getting it surfactant and wetter, taking the head teacher to the spine of his throat. Flex could do zippo but grip the rag for dear life-time and groan,"Holy piece of tail, damn, bastard, that's some near darn. Oh my god that spirit so good."

Just when he thought it couldn't feel any better, Ernesto relaxed his throat muscles and let the foreland of Flex's thick pecker go several in down. His lips could feel the tickle of his hair so he knew he had accomplished his mission of taking his full length. Then, he decided to perform his magic, he started bobbing up and down, from the head to the floor, taking him mystifying in his pharynx every time. Spit was dripping down his balls and Flex was breathing so hard he thought he might hyperventilate.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop. I can't take much More of that. Damn, where did you. .. oh diddly-shit, you are going to defecate me cum before the political party even starts."Flex sat up a little bit and the looking of sheer panic on Ernesto's face was plain."Hey, what's wrong ? What's going on in that pretty head of yours ?"

"I just wanted to relieve oneself you feel honest, that's all."What he really wanted to say was,"I am used to guys using my mouthpiece as many times as they want and I feel like I've failed if I didn't make you cum."

"You did stool me feel honorable. Too good in fact, that was incredible. I just didn't want to nut too soon. I like to take matter live, go slow, you know."He leaned over and kissed Ernesto again, as gently and as tenderly as before. Flex lay down on the bed, pulling Ernesto on top of him. Their fondling became more urgent, more passionate. Their clapper and lips were sucking and licking, their pecker were sensually rubbing against one another. Flex was caressing his hands along Ernesto's spine, grabbing his ass, spreading his face and teasing his fix with his fingertips.

Ready to guide things to the next level, Ernesto said,"I want to palpate your big turncock in my ass. Fuck me."Quickly repositioning himself, he crawled to the foot of the bed, got on his genu, and looked back over his articulatio humeri and said in a lust-filled daze,"Fuck me."He gripped the frame of the futon tightly, prepared to get his asshole savagely fucked but what he felt was entirely different than the searing pain/pleasure he was anxiously anticipating."Nooo,"he hollered out.

Flex had repositioned himself as well. He was laying between Ernesto's thigh underneath him and started sucking his dick. He wrapped his subdivision around Ernesto's back and held him in place while he delivered some equally spectacular head to his new buff. Try as he might, Ernesto could not pull away and he felt his trunk succumb to the oral examination delight he was receiving."No, no, no, no,"was all he could say. He thought to himself,"Can't he severalize that I'm a bottom whose only use and function is to serve and delight ?"Flex was fucking with the entire cloth of the universe. Ernesto was in the closet and he was sub to Negroid men, meaning he got his pleasure, alone, in the solitude of his bed in shame and in silence, long after the sexual experience was over, reliving it in his creative thinker, jerking off to how he had pleased his fan, how he had been the unadulterated bottom, never expecting any pleasure in return whatsoever. Flex couldn't hear any of that internal dialogue ; all he was doing was focusing on tasting Ernesto's dripping precum and returning the sensual favor.

The function had changed again, this time with Ernesto trying to change the counsel of affair. He was able to pull away and this fourth dimension he lay back on the bed and disseminate his legs, holding them up and pleading with his new devotee to be fucked."Ram that big dick in my pussy, fuck me backbreaking. make love THE SHIT OUT OF ME. come on, daddy, I need it so bad. Pound that meat in my slutty bastard and make me beg for more. I'll be your trivial cyprian and your bitch daddy. Spit on that hole and make it nice and wet and thrust that fucker in me and make it hurt."

What happened next sent a tingle of panic and pleasure through Ernesto's body. Before he could agnise what was happening, he felt the voiced, blue tongue of Flex exploring his cakehole, kissing it, licking it, tongue fucking it. He'd never felt that superstar before in his spirit. He grabbed his knees and pulled them cheeseparing to his chest, exposing his golf hole even more. All he could feel was the warm, wet sensation of that probing tongue and while his head wanted to say,"Stop."His mouth was saying,"Oh jack, that feels so fucking good, don't you dare stop."As many times as he'd rimmed his lovers before, he never imagined that being on the receiving end could finger so blessed sexy.

Flex, inspired by his lover's words, didn't disappoint. He licked and sucked and lingua fucked that hole, making it wet and make. He got on his human knee and aimed his bloated dick at that aphrodisiacal hole. He teased it, teased him, by rubbing his head on that hole. Just before he pushed it in, he leaned down and whispered in Ernesto's ear,"I want you so fucking bad."They kissed again and Ernesto felt the headspring of Flex's stopcock enter him. It was slacken, stiff, work out and giving him pleasure in every cell of his ass body. They were grunting and sweating again as the pace was slow and agonizingly sensual. Ernesto was being made love to and he knew it. He used his fingertips to softly explore Flex's body while the two worked out a calendar method. Flex stroked, Ernesto squeezed, they fucked each other like gorgeous wild animals. The hammer became more acute, the stroking harder, mystifying. Their moans grew fantastic and their caressing more frenzied.

Flex pulled out and replaced his prick with his mouth, tonguing out that gaping, well-fucked jam. Ernesto made a sound that couldn't be described. It was the singular form most erotic, cruddy, fleshly tactual sensation he'd had in his life. He grabbed his cock and started pounding it furiously, ready to regurgitate his load then and there. Flex had other plans. Grabbing the feeding bottle of massage oil, he flipped the top receptive and poured it on Ernesto's prick. Ernesto held his breath, almost trusted he knew what was going to happen future but terrified to think about it.

Flex moved into position and straddled his torso. He could feel his prick rubbing between those full, round off ass impertinence. In that second, in his mind, Ernesto outted himself. He knew that he could no longer remain in the closet ; he realized that he had handicapped himself by not being able-bodied to love whomever he wanted freely. He knew that he could not hold back his secret any foresightful to anyone. In the darkness of his self-imposed closet, he was a subservient bottom. In the glaring Light Within of his sexual freedom, he was a man who loved other men. The feel of his tool penetrating Flex's tight asshole distracted his Apocalypse. He felt the ring of Flex's ass gripping every millimeter of his erection, squeezing it, riding it up and down. He looked up to see a aspect of sheer delight and transport on his buff's face, unencumbered by roles of top or can, just expressing his gender freely and genuinely.

With his ass settled down on Ernesto's dead body, Flex started grinding and working his ass, using his ass muscles to milk that hot cock. Ernesto grabbed Flex's hips and started thrusting, fucking him back, working his dick in harder, trying to go deeper. Flex started bouncing up and down on his hawkshaw, riding him hard. The looking on his face was one of pure bliss. Ernesto shut his eyes and got lost in the sensation,"Oh Flex, I love. .. this, I love this."He really wanted to say I love you. It was as if every vulcanized fiber of his being wanted to profess his dear for the man who was giving him pleasure in way he'd never imagined.

Flex leaned down and whispered in his ear,"I love you too."Both of them knew it was the lust talking, both of them knew intellectually that it couldn't be love based on a pair of hours. Both of them knew that there was a connection there that would cobbler's last well past a one night point of view or occasional sex as well.

Using his muscular weapon system, Ernesto flipped Flex over and placed him on his knees. Flex looked back and said,"piece of ass me, ram that dick in me."They both groaned as Ernesto pushed the stallion length of his cock in that hot hole and started pounding away. It was pure, unbridled, sensuous fucking. He gripped that browned figure and pulled him closer, he could see the contrast in cutis coloring material, the way Flex's asshole would grip his dick as he slid in and out, faster, harder, deeper, faster still, harder, using every muscle in his eubstance to give pleasure. He was hitting that hot point, making Flex moan like a small bitch. The way his cock felt, surrounded by that hot, fuddled ring, he was cursing in a string of Italian and English and what seemed like another key language only understood by buff.

He could sense the cum about to explode from his cock. He began pistoning his cock in and out, difficult than he thought he was capable of doing. Flex was taking it all and begging for more. He crushed Flex beneath him and used his ass to pump and pound, His fingers intertwined with Flex as he unloaded his cum deep inside him.

Six month later, Flex and Ernesto stood as a will to lawful interracial gay making love. They didn't flaunt their sexuality but they certainly didn't hide it either. All of his friends in Brooklyn disowned him, wouldn't speak to him again. They would deliver been a little more large-minded of the theme if Flex hadn't been inkiness but they couldn't get it out of their minds that their admirer, their paesano, was the squawk to a black guy. It was beyond their inclusion that the two were far more than top and behind, they were reciprocal, versatile lovers with no roles or recording label.

Copyright 2007 AfroerotiK