Sweet Black Cock

I jacked off twice after that and fell asleep directly thereafter a few minutes after daybreak began to seep through the trees outside. I woke up a short time later to the full light beaming through the window. I wasn’t sure what time it was exactly other than I came to dead tired with an arm draped over me. I wasn’t greatly surprised given the insane night, encased with certainty there might be another warm body in the bed next to me.

I was wrong.

I glanced over behind me, behind the arm, certain the other body might be on the other side of the arm. Drew?

I was wrong.

I turned back around to where I was facing ready to make the assumption that there was once a body in front of me and it left for somewhere. Where? The bathroom? Breakfast? Something or other? As I looked at the smoothness of the cover before me, remarkably undisturbed as there were no trace of the body or the night as we certainly covered every inch of the bed.

“Good morning.” Chase babbled in my ear and stirred with his erection prodding proudly at my rear.

“Good morning.” I rolled around to face him.

My leg instinctively goes for his cock, though I’m too sore and thoroughly fucked to want to take him again.

His natural understanding is wonderful planting a peck on the lips of my cleaned face.

“So?”

“So?” I repeated after him.

“How was last night for you?” He said enveloping me deeper into him.

“Good.”

He glared at me.

“Excellent.”

His face softened but not loosing its intensity.

“Okay. It’s a dream come true!”

He chuckled his satisfaction at this.

“Now that I finally got you alone,” he said.

“Yeah,” I smiled, licking my lips.

“I want to know what the hell you’re doing here.”

“Huh?” I said a little dazed and confused.

“Why are you here, Archie?”

“Here? Why am I here? If I wasn’t here, I would be over there somewhere without being here with you?” I joked.

“Archie?”

“Okay. Let’s just say a crazy night led me here, okay.” I smiled with my eyes, or tried to after hearing the expression on the train some time back.

“Archie, I want the truth.”

“You can’t handle the truth!” I stole from Jack Nicholson.

Chase loosened his grip around me.

He was serious and he wanted an answer to reflect that.

I started off dancing around the truth, not wanting to appear more of a slut than I already was. How do you tell a handsome guy that is looking so good and holding you so tight that before he dumped his load there was five other guys to beat him to the punch, not including him and the friend he shared you with?

Eventually, I told him the truth, starting from the beginning. I started off strong, unashamed, that I set off into the night with a goal in mind. I did rather well and saw him get a little excited talking about Cecil and Teddy and pointed to the kneepads on the floor to verify my story. Then as strong as I started, kept on, I fell apart when I started talking about Romy and that small room.

“The fucked up part about it is I think I fucking enjoyed it!” I sobbed.

He gripped me tight, comforting me. “That was just your body reacting to what was going on, man.”

“No,” I shook my head. “I watch Law & Order: SVU. I’ve heard that shit few times, too. This wasn’t my body reacting. This was my body craving this and probably up to that point in my night, my life, it was the best fuck and then came one, two, three, and four.”

I explained walking away from the station in heat craving to be fucked some more, talking about walking down the street, the many times before in my youth, how I craved a guy or two might find me in the street to want to fuck me.

“I practically had to circle back around to beg them to fuck me.”

I told him about the one time with Nino and the three times with Drew.

“Look,” I continued. “I didn’t mean to lay my sob story on you. I set out to suck and fuck a black guy, and I did. It may not have been the way I’d planned or that it would include seven guys in less than a few hours with all but one being complete strangers up to this point.”

I was looking for him to grill me on as to why I didn’t take my butt home after Cecil or Teddy, weighing my options between the two of them. Why did I hold back at the train station? That it was rather sketchy to blatantly call what happened back their rape—it was, no doubt, but mental reconciliation of what I thought it was and what happened were too different things.

I was looking for him to question me on the things I started to question myself on as I spoke and talked my night out to him, but instead he asked a rather simple question. “So why did you set out like your friend, the one with the black boyfriend or have his boyfriend set you up with one of his guys?”

I pulled away and turned around.

“What?” He asked leaving me be.

“That’s a young man’s game. If I was younger and braver, I might have,” though in the recess of my mind I wouldn’t have changed a damn thing about my night or any man that influenced it for one thing led to another after a fifteen-year deferment.

“I say a guy that just got raped and decided to hop into bed with four other guys as to not put a damper on his night is plenty brave to me. Has to be—have been, all this time just to carry on. If it’d been me or anybody else, we’d probably jet off into a corner somewhere and probably wouldn’t have thought about any sexual contact for about a millennium or six months or something. Why can’t you carry that bravery into something more meaningful?”

“Meaningful?” I asked facing him again.

“Like something more substantial?”

“Like a relationship or something?”

“Yeah…or whatever.”

I patted him on his squished chest. “A young man’s game, Chase. A young man’s game.”

“And how old are you, Medusa?” Chase asked jokingly.

“Probably about four or five years older than you?”

“Forty-two? The way you talk about youth, I thought you were sixty something!”

“Do I look sixty-something?”

“Fuck no! You look like you’re about your in your early thirties or somewhere around there. I would’ve easily taken you for someone younger than me.”

“How old are you?” I said mentally counting back five years from forty-two.

“Thirty-seven.” He said.

“Thirty-nine.” I answered him.

“So, if we’d just crossed paths later on down the road, we might’ve….”

“Nah,” I shook my head. “If I hadn’t done what I done, we more than likely wouldn’t have crossed paths other than in passing. I’ve lived in this neighborhood for a lot of years, right before gentrification hit, and this is the first time I’m meeting any of my neighbors other than the one that live right next door and right across the street from me.”

“What about now?” I presumed at he was hinting at something more meaningful.

“You?” I chuckled. “No offense, I think you can do much better than a thirty-nine-year-old who whored himself out to just about every man he came across last night!”

He chuckled. “I’m not a kid.”

“I know.” I said finding that to be a strange statement. 

“Look. What I’m saying is I’m grown enough to know that we’re driven by sex last night and when we’re not committed to any particular body we’re free to go wherever the wind takes us, even if it is into the laps of a dozen men.”

“Half a dozen plus one,” I corrected. “I’m not that big of a ho!”

“Yeah, you kind of are.” Chase winked. “So where do you go from here?”

“Home.” I answered with a nervous calm. “You’re welcome to join me there for a meal if you’re serious about what you said about getting into something more meaningful.”