Footlong Johnson

I nearly creamed in my boxers the first time I laid eyes on him. He was not only a delectable hunk of man-meat, but he also smelled really good, too, leaving me a whiff of his expensive cologne as he passed me by in the hallway.

Although this stranger had been living right next door to me for at least a good six months, I never saw him before that day. All I knew of the man was that he lived with his girlfriend who tended to let everyone on our floor know when he was a complete and utter asshole. The woman did this by spouting off her latest suspicions of his alleged infidelity. She was armed with so much proof she had me rooting for her to throw his sorry ass out on the street. Some days she had the unknown jury convinced she would, letting everybody know she wasn’t one of those women that would put up with just anything to keep a man. The way she said it—so sultry in her raw native Caribbean tongue—she sometimes had me on edge thinking she was a voodoo spell away from turning him into a chicken or something weird like that. She came close a few times, really close, saying stuff I couldn’t really make any sense out of. But then he always managed to say something sweet and sexy and often left her cursing him in pleasure for about an hour or so against the backdrop of a very squeak bed for the same amount of time. Sometimes it felt like the best fuck of our lives, as I sometimes found myself propped up against my pillow playing with my wet hole and proud dripping dick to their vigorous lovemaking through the thin walls of the apartments.

As I finally put a face to the man who forever forced my hand into buying a dildo, I prayed I wasn’t too obvious in my staring as I was unhurried to unlock the door to my apartment. He was such a handsome soul. Just to say he was good-looking was merely an understatement. He was far beyond that. And to call him gorgeous wasn’t going to suffice either. With his smooth clean-shaven face, the ultimate tragedy was he was fully aware of his good-looks, fully aware his alluring smugness to the rest of the world could make knees buckle at his feet. His looks were not only striking, but he also carried a noticeable height and muscles that hugged his clothes. Leaving it at that also was an understatement. The man was a tower of diesel cuts that the gods chose to dust in a permanent coat of fine cocoa powder, standing six-foot-five and two hundred and something or other pounds.

I lingered around out in the hallway a few minutes more before going inside. I wanted to hold on the exact place I was standing when I witness perfection for the very first time, but not before I saw the Caribbean trick stroll out of her apartment with a favorable smile splashed across her face.

It was apparently one of those good days.

“Give Daddy some of that pussy, bitch! Give Daddy that sweet pussy! It’s my pussy, huh? Mine for the taking, huh?! It’s mine for the taking, huh, bitch?!? That’s what I thought, bitch, coming out of your ass all crooked! Ain’t talking that shit now! Yeah, BITCH!!!”

 

She ain’t going to let him get away with that? I heard at least three bitches.

“Oh Gawd, yes,” the bitch screamed breathlessly in her West Indian tongue to the rhythmic beat of the forever squeaky bed.

“Yes, what, ho? Whose pussy is this?!”

 

Now, I know she ain’t going to take that. He called her a ho! He got his ass cussed out for calling her baby.

“It’s yours Daddy. It’s yours for the taking, Dad-d-d-d-y! Yours for the motherfucking taking! Claim your pussy, Dad-d-d-d-dy! Claim your good pussy!”

 

Oh well. She likes it, I love it.

“AarrrghhhhHH!”

Precisely two weeks after I laid eyes on such a perfect specimen of man, his presence lingered with me down to the last detail of his handsome face as it came clear into mind as his growls of passion came rolling through our fragile wall. It probably wouldn’t have been so shameful if I wasn’t buck-naked on top of Oscar thoroughly pumping in and out of my well-slicked hole almost every night—twice when the nameless stranger over there did his due diligence fucking his woman. Oscar wasn’t my man. He was my substitute for the moment, one that came in real handy during these dick droughts. Oscar was always dependable, and frankly didn’t give a shit whose face or body I put on him. Then, of course, he also wasn’t real. Oscar was nothing more than my well designed, custom-crafted chocolate-covered realistic dildo with a suction base cup I mounted on an old telephone book I chose to ride out on top of my bed. While Oscar might not have had any beef with me fantasizing about the straight man next door, I surely did. I had too many porn stars to choose from to begin touring myself like that. Even though my head was on the right track, the seat of my pants was the one in the driver’s seat with the most generous amount of lube mixed in with my natural ass juices running out of me to drench the penetrable beast as I continuously thought about him over there.

“That’s it, give Big Daddy this sweet pussy!”

Even though I was no virgin, I quickly found out I wasn’t exactly a whore either, trying earnestly to take the full length of the nine-inch insertable. On a good day, I was able to take about six or seven inches with no problem. But it nearly felt like my asshole was being ripped in two trying to go that extra mile to rock bottom. Yet it didn’t stop me from trying to slide further down the imaginary cock of my real-life fuck daddy over there.

“It’s your pussy, Daddy! Take your sweet pussy!” Caribbean trick screamed like a wounded animal with the sound of her sopping cunt coming through the walls as well.

After I left my own girlfriend sometime back, I had no use for pussy anymore. The way he kept her satisfied every night made me slightly jealous though, even envious, that she should be so free to be with him like that in the same spirit my hungry asshole craved to be free with a throbbing dick inside of it.

I could hear her pussy juices slurping louder and louder with an ear-deafening pop that suggested he was excavating to the back of her lungs. The excitement of the two had my asshole convulsing with some of the clearest fluid to ever soak the telephone book and the sheets beneath me. I was more than ready to drain my balls of its tormented load, but I knew he was quite close to busting his own nutt. And after my mysterious neighbor had brought me this far in vicarious pleasure, it felt like some sort of betrayal if I came first, especially since in months past I learned to pinpoint the millisecond he came.

I couldn’t hold off much longer even though he was close to coming over there. Oscar, thoroughly abusing my prostate, caused my little head to drip and my big head spinning in a sexual frenzy as I tried to keep in step with the ferocious pace over there.

“Open wide, bitch! Me and my freakin’ big dick coming for that nasty snatch!” The nameless bastard grunted. “AaarrrrghhhhhHHHH!”

He came and came hard.

I tried to hold off a few seconds more. His rumblings from next door were just too much. I was shaking and vibrating and I shot my load all over across the bed. As it was all coming out of me, I began to slide further down onto Oscar with hardly any brakes at all, getting down on him further than I had ever done before. It was then and only then I realized I had everything Oscar had to give me plugged deep in my chute. I tried to pull off him, but my legs were cramped. My thick muscular thighs folded on top of them like an accordion.

It was while I was trying to get my legs out of their locked position I heard the telephone ring over there. I thought nothing of it at first. He was telling her to simply ignore it, lay with him for awhile. Her argument was it could be something important. Whatever it was, a deafening silence soon encrusted the room followed by an incessant crescendo of screaming and shouting by the girlfriend that just blasted through the thin walls like bad rap. It went from one end of the apartment to the other with her shrieking for him to get the hell out! Next thing I know I hear the front door slam shut with him out in the hallway. I made it to the front door just in time to hear him mumble something out there. I couldn’t exactly make out what he was trying to say. But I distinctly heard him when he put his fist through the wall out there because it shook my pictures on the front wall.

“Oh my god.” I stressed out each syllable, daring to look out of my peephole to the constant stomping outside of my door. There he was, Mr. Perfect, pacing furious up and down the hall in nothing more than a pair of tight black briefs that looked more like a wide-band thong. If I thought his body was incredible before, with clothes on, my sore hole was getting wet all over looking at his incredible body with no shirt and no pants. His big bare feet supporting his well-sculpted calves and chiseled thighs were just mere compliments to the cobblestone of abs and the series of cryptic tattoos that covered his broad chest and bulky arms.

I looked through the peephole at him shooting in and out of eyesight a few times before he simply disappeared. I had come to the conclusion he decided to stay committed to the other end of the hallway and make his plea to his girl again. I turned away for barely one second and when I got my eye focused looking out of the peephole, he scared the living daylights out of me looking back at me with the upper part of his handsome face distorted.

“Oh shit!” I mumbled louder than I expected. Giving some sort of confirmation to him I knew he was standing on the other side of my door. I held my breath not wanting him to know I had been watching him. But I was too afraid to step away without making a sound not to let him know I was just that close to the door.

My doorbell rang. And before I could make a move, he rang it again, called out for anybody being at home before knocking on the door.

Because I was still buck-naked, I slowly stepped away from my door and ran into my bedroom to throw on a pair of briefs I left on the floor.

“Who is it?” I shouted back as I pulled my underwear up.

“You’re boy from next door, man.”

“Yeah,” I said moving back towards my front door. “What is it that you want?”

“My girl and I live next door to you. I got locked out of my place, man.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked, trying my best to sound green to their recent argument.

“I was hoping I could come in and make a phone call, talk her into letting me back in.”

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? I don’t know anybody on this floor like that.” I added to reinforce we weren’t such good neighbors for me to just extend a helping hand like that.

“Man, forget it!” He barked throwing up his hand as I overplayed mine.

As I watched him move disappointedly out of the eyesight of the peephole in the other direction, I decided to slowly open my front door and wave him on in.

“What did you do?” I asked, closing the door behind him noticing the peephole, too, failed to do him any justice with these two hard fleshly globes coming together to form the world’s most perfect ass. If I was a bolder and much more shameless man, I would’ve just reached out and touched!

“Man, the evil bitch is tripping!” He shouted, snapping me back into moment. “She’s on her period or something! She thinks just because my ex-bitch is still in stalker mode I’m still fucking that nasty ho!”

“Damn.” I mumbled.

Had the circumstance been normal, it probably would’ve been a cute way to express to him openly about what I thought of him as I passed it off as a clever response to what he was saying. But at that particular moment, my phrase was geared towards the slight funky whiff of my clean but recently open asshole running up my nose. It wasn’t a bad scent as it was vaguely noticeable to me as I hoped I was the only one who got wind of it.

I barely had a second to question my insecurities when I cringed at him taking a seat on my couch in front of my coffee table. I was cursing myself every step of the way for not doing a quick inspection of my apartment before letting this stranger in.

As a grown man living on my own with no family in the region my home was my domain as well as a place where I bring my pieces back to slay. So, in kind, it is decorated with an erotic aura that is meant to be a conversation piece to arouse those that are just passing through on their way to the bedroom. On the coffee table was a blatant display of half-naked black and brown men along with a poster from Tony Butcher’s Studies in Black series, featuring a well-endowed black man with nothing on other than a white sheet over his head in the corner I knew he couldn’t have missed even if he tried. Don’t get me wrong. I have absolutely no shame of being gay nowadays as much as I wasn’t in the mood to prove my manhood to this heterosexual stranger. I mean, Yeah, I got down. Yeah, I like to get my asshole pumped! But not once had I ever forgot I also had a dick swinging between my legs also.

“You must’ve done something terribly wrong for her to put you out in your drawers?” I said hoping to draw his attention away from the coffee table.

“No. Tracee is like that pop song: she’s hot and she’s cold sometimes. She can be in pure heat like she was about five minutes ago and then after she got her fill of the stick she goes back to being the royal Ice Queen of the hood.”

“She got her fill of the what?” I asked aiming for him to repeat part of the answer.

“This stick,” he said bluntly. “The magic stick. You know the d-i-c-k,” he emphasized even greater by moving his long thick hand over towards his soft noticeable bulge. “Judging by these books you should know what that’s all about quite well.”

He chuckled. And it wasn’t one of those sexy laughs that left me with butterflies in my stomach either. It was one of those hard, hearty laughs that cut the stomach and dashed any hopes that a man like him played for a team like ours.

“Hey, there’s no shame in my game. At least I didn’t get tossed out in my drawers by some cunt.” I snapped, listening to his laugh slacking off.

“You just like walking around in yours, huh?” He snickered.

“When it is mine and nobody can throw me out of mine then I have that luxury.” I tried to deliver coldly.

He snickered some more, only this time trying to break the remaining tension still left in the room. He reminded me I was playing in dangerous territory. That I was just like a hormone-driven teenager, just a hair away from sprouting a full-on erection without much encouragement.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, man. It’s just that it sounded like you wanted me to explain what I meant when you got solid proof in those damn books right there.”

“I don’t need those damn books, partna. All I got to do is look straight down and see the magic stick for myself!”

“I feel you. But like I said I honestly didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just not really myself after that bitch put me out like this.”

“What’re going to do about that?” I asked matter-of-factly.

“I was hoping I could make a couple of phone calls to some of my homeboys. I was thinking if I can’t get her to get right tonight maybe I can couch surf with them until this blow over.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I said walking over to the breakfast bar that separated my kitchen from my living area to retrieve my phone.

He had a shouting match with his girlfriend and neither one of his boys whose number he knew by heart were at home so he left a pleading message for them to call him back on my number.

I stayed behind the counter, of course, once again self-conscious that my dick was willing to tell on me—in spite of my distain for his arrogance.

“Want something to drink?” I graciously asked looking at him with his head in his hands pondering his next move.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “What do you got?”

I rattled him off several choices, ranging from water to some libations I had sitting on the breakfast bar. He was reluctant to accept anything at first. Then he decided to take me up on an offer of a glass of water before changing his mind and asking for the soft drink before changing his mind once again for some liquor, but only at the request I join him for a nightcap.

“Here you go,” I said bringing over the drinks, missing the freedom to admire his body from afar behind the counter.

We knew where his mind was. He saw it was getting late, and if nobody called him back, he was going to be hung out to dry. Obviously, I wasn’t going to put him out with nowhere to go. Being he knew I was gay now he probably figured I was desperate and hard up to try to work me over for a place to stay for the night. And he knew better than to just blatantly offer up his sex, so he thought if he got me tipsy enough a loose-lip invitation to stay the night—preferably with no sex.

As badly as I wanted to get mad at the sad little tired little game he thought he was running on me, I couldn’t. I’ve been where he’s been too many times to remember, with both guys and girls, to suddenly turn my nose up at him, learning the raw lesson sometimes closed legs don’t get fed. Back then, of course, I was slightly younger and still playing the field on the down low hoping to keep up with my next late-night creep.

After we downed our fourth round of the cognac-laced concoctions, I came to the brilliant conclusion I was right andwrong about him. I was right about him trying to get me drunk. I was totally off about his motives though. I can’t exactly pinpoint what gave him away as much as I can say after it was revealed to me, what it was I concluded, he wasn’t above getting down and messing around. In fact, the way his eyes glossed over, looking dead at me, he was genuinely hoping for it. And with the two of us being drunk and horny and only in our underwear didn’t matter either, with our bulges growing and dying right before our eyes.

After a while it was starting to play out like one of those bad pornos where we both already knew we were about to have sex, but we were forced to give useless dialogue for the unknown audience in a desperate need of a storyline. As I was trying to find a way to cast aside my preconceived notions of us not having sex, he came out of nowhere and started attacking my face with sensual kisses. Maybe my senses were heightened by the alcohol. Maybe I was just sexually frustrated from my six-month drought. Whatever it was, I was lost in this sea of tongue and lips feverishly caressing my face and neck.

Because of the alcohol, it took me a moment to get that I wasn’t spinning upside down. Rather I was on my back on the sofa with the armrest supporting the back of my head enjoying this magnificent god grinding on top of me. As his body was calling for my touch, I couldn’t find the will to move my hands away from his head, rubbing as if it was a wishing lantern. I was too busy not to notice I wasn’t groping his muscles and that I was unaware his strong hands weren’t roaming my body until he started to pull my briefs off my ass.

“Wait!” I mouthed, not really wanting him to stop.

One might think getting ready to fuck a guy whose faithful girlfriend was right on the other side of that thin wall might have stopped me, but no. My thoughts weren’t even studying her. My distinct thought in that moment was he was too good-looking of a guy to ever have everything going for him. By everything I was thinking of the size of his dick. I would be foolish to rationalize a drunken state of mind. I would also be lying if I said it wasn’t on the forefront of my mind. Even though I saw the bulge and knew the man had stamina, the way Oscar ripped me open like he did back there, I wasn’t worried about not taking it from this guy as I was worried not feeling it when I gave it to him.

He slipped my briefs passed my ankles and feet before he stood up and took off his briefs as well. What I saw next nearly astounded me. Now, before I go any further, I’m not one of those guys who get crazy about a big dick because even throughout all of my whoring around I never became that skilled of a bottom. But when I say size queens everywhere would’ve dropped their jaws at the size of the anaconda dangling between his legs, I’m not lying! I quickly sober up after seeing that, cringing at the thought he wanted to put ALL that up in me. Oscar damn near tore me a new one and this guy had the mythical foot long Johnson and wanted to ensure I never walked straight again!

I mean if his dick was some random man on the street, it certainly would be a ruthless motherfucker thst simply did wrong shit just for the hell of it. And it was ready to go to battle with my still very tender butthole.

“I see you like what you see,” he said, moving back and forth letting the long sleeping giant sway between his thighs. “Why don’t you work your way down to your knees and give my friend a closer look?”

I froze. I was still afraid of what possible harm it could do to me. Yet, I was also mildly curious seeing I had spent the last six months fantasizing about this man.

He must have been the snake charmer or something because I have absolutely no recollection of how I got from off the couch to kneeling in front of his awe-inspiring dick. But I did notice it still had her on there, or rather her vaguely fishy-feminine scent.

“I know you want to taste my dick after I finished fucking my bitch over there, right? Taste all of her on every inch of me…all in your mouth! Finishing up where she started off.”

I wanted to put it in my mouth, but I greatly feared being that guy. You know that guy—that guy that is thirsty for dick. That will do just about anything for a piece of dick. Then I realized this was going to be a give and take. I was going to give him a place to stay for the night, and I was going to take his dick to the head for a sizeable deposit for the night.

I took the head of his enormous dick cautiously passed my teeth and slid it over my tongue. He moaned in pleasure, which only encouraged me to foolishly take more of him into my mouth. He was not only a good-looking man packing a long, magnificent dick, but he was also enormously thick, like a two-handed lead pipe-thick. I tried to get wild with it, turned on by the euphoria of it all, reaching through his wide-stance legs to get two handfuls of his hard, sexy butt, pushing him into me. I guess he reasonably took that to mean I was very skilled in taking on magnum men his size. He had me held down by the hook of my head choking and gurgling against the never-ending feast of meat filling my mouth. And yet, I tried to be accommodating to him, relaxing my mouth with short circular strokes of sweet-tasting pre-nutt painting the back of my narrow throat.

“Lick my balls, boy,” he commanded in a calm tone. It wasn’t like he was trying to be domineering as he was going for being firm.” I want them vibrating in your mouth.”

I hummed against his balls, still tasting her on him.

“When was the last time a real man got in that ass?”

“Huh?” I asked pulling my face out of his crotch. I heard what he said quite well. I was still breathless from gulping down his stiff shaft and overcoming the aromatic intoxication of his natural man-scent invading my nostrils.

He repeated the question, and I gave him some obscure answer he didn’t pay much mind to. I was still melancholy the last time I had sex with another man. It was the day before my beloved boyfriend chose to have a threesome with two of my so-called closest friends while I was at work building our supposed future together.

“I’m not worried about your last dude.” He offered. “As long as that hole can put a grip on this wood, I’m good!”

I sucked him off a few minutes more, bringing him so close to the edge we were about to rule out fucking altogether, but we stopped short of the marker. After I had his dick soaking with spit, he had his tongue drilling my ass. I probably would’ve been reluctant for such a treat, given how I was still greased up from Oscar, except I used the pineapple lube on my ass rather than the regular stuff which drove his taste buds into a frenzy.

I was just getting used to my legs being rolled over my head when he let my ass fall to his waist. I was expecting him to tease the hole just a bit more, giving me the mental resolve to finally go through with it, when he again let my ass fall to his waist and slid right up in me like it was nothing.

Although the spit and the lube were forgiving in letting him roam my guts like that, my insides felt like they were on fire.

“Take it out of me!” I cried in pain I never experienced before.

He looked at me and laughed, knowing for certain that this time he most definitely had the upper hand as he rolled my body to the front of the couch where he had more room to execute his most baneful plan.

“Relax that hole like you relaxed your throat, pussy boy.” He offered licking his full sexy lips, trying to be assuring, leaning forward and steadily pushing his thick inches into me.

I wanted to tell the bastard to fuck off. Get out of me! I wasn’t even able to relax my throat because I was too intimidated by all the thick remaining inches of dick that were unable to reach my lips. Sensing he wasn’t going to stop just because I wanted him to I had to do exactly what he said. Either that or have an untimely death by killer dick.

“There you go. Give Daddy that sweet boy-pussy,” he groaned, moving stretching me out to the limits I couldn’t even believe I could be stretched.

I always hated it when guys called ass pussy. I figured if that was what I needed to get him off quick, fast, and in a hurry, I was game.

The way he grunted through my screaming to get it deeper inside of me I was damn near certain he was seconds away from losing his load right there. Though the only one who lost their load was me. I felt this tightening grip in my rectum suddenly give way like a tight rope to a heavy load, letting his dick skewer my body like jelly.

“Oh Gawd!” Were the words that escaped from my dry trembling mouth, not knowing if I was going to survive this uncalled for assault.

It was only after he got it down to the hilt twice, keeping the head of his dick inside of me when he retreated did the burning in my hole begin to subside. It never fully went away really as this heated pleasure dwarfed it, with him burying his massive snake down to the balls with his pubes playfully tickling the outside of my newly reamed-out hypersensitive hole.

“Oh, man, you’re giving Daddy Dick some of that tight sweet boy-pussy, aren’t you? Aren’t you, punk?!” He moaned in confirmation with my kneecaps somewhere under my armpits just to receive him.

“Yes, Big Daddy,” I mumbled with the breath taken out of me, letting his face find the crook of my neck again. “It’s yours to take! It’s yours to take, motherfucker! Gawd, yes! Take it!”

I thought he was in the throws of fucking me before. The fact was he was just getting started. I didn’t really understand the real difference until he was ramming that anaconda of his into me as if my purpose in life was to lay there and joyfully take it.

I did.

He filled me up like no other, the surreal sensation I was getting my ass reamed by this cushioned piston. I bit down on my lip, feeling my dick stir heavy with cum needing to be released with every forceful stroke he delivered to my prostate. He had me arching my back to relive some of the tension. It only turned me on more with his savage fucking, with his hand wrapped around my neck. He wasn’t choking me as he was using it as a tool to keep me steadily in place. It was both scary and hot at the same time, knowing if he got caught up in pounding out my hole that his grip could get a little tighter.

“Bang my hole, motherfucker! Bang my hole, you sexy-ass motherfucker!”

“I got you, baby,” he said in a sinister fashion.

 

Baby?

Remembering the tempo he kept up when he was next door, I couldn’t help but fear I was about to experience the same hyper drive fate. Instead, he took to slow-stroking me, which proved to be more intense than his other rhythm. My body reacted, with my hole just hungrily pulling his dick deeper into me.

“Oh, goddammit!” I moaned. My body tremors surging from my supersensitive colon through the rest of my body as this new urgency took over his. “Damn you!”

He didn’t go back to the rhythm he had per se, but it was nonetheless intense, pulling his dick all the way out and pushing it all the way back in, proving to me he had my hole stretched wide open.

“Where you want me to put it?” He asked, snapping me back into my senses.

“Flood it out, baby boy,” I screamed. “Flood it out! Ohh!”

“Yeah, Big Daddy got you covered,” he groaned with his voice coming out of his guts with his sweaty hands clenching my body before I felt his humungous dick swell even more followed by this stuttering war cry that filled the apartment. “I’M GOING TO NUT OF IN THE BITCH! BITCH! GIVE ME THAT SWEET PUSSY, WIT CHO SUGAR IN THE TANK ASS!”

***

I was still filled with his sloshing load the morning after when I realized I didn’t have a name to go with the handsome stranger. When I rolled over, I found there was no need as he was back over there next-door rocking what’s-her-name’s world again. But whenever I catch him out in the hallway in his drawers, he always leaves me with a smile on my face.