There I was in the janitor's supply closet with Latish; I had been wanting this moment for a long, long time. I had worked hard to get into this girl's jeans, and now I was getting my reward. My hands were all over her, and our mouths were locked so tightly that anyone might think I was sucking the very life from her lungs. My dick was sliding in and out of her pussy smoothly, and I was really in the zone. I also knew I had to hurry before we were discovered. Latish would break free from my mouth periodically and say, "Yo, hurry up; I gotta get back to class."
Without missing a beat, I would just shoot back, "Baby, yo, you can't rush perfection. You know you want dis as much as me. Let's enjoy dis, babe."
And I continued with those long strokes. I began to feel that surge building in my nuts.
"I'm a cum, baby; dis is it."
Still I continued thrusting. I grabbed Latisha's waist with both hands;
then I felt my warm, thick cum filling up the condom. I left my dick inside her pussy as I moved closer to lips to resume our kissing, but she pushed he away, saying, "Yo, I gots to go to class. I'm a holla at u lata." And with that she began composing herself, straightening her clothes, checking her hair and make-up.
As if that were my cue, I began pulling my own jeans up, pulling down my wife beater and throwing on my shirt. Afterwards, I paused to catch my breath and composure, taking my handkerchief from my back pocket and wiping the sweat from my face and neck. Latish cracked the door open, peaked through, and then poked her head out. The next moment she disappeared through the door.
I waited a discreet amount of time, then I made my way back to class, throwing the used condom into one of the hall trash bins; it wasn't like I would be the first kid to put a used condom in one of these bins. I didn't pay attention to what the teacher was saying. I was thinking about my experience with Latish and how disappointed I felt. I had put a lot of effort and time into getting her to agree to have sex with me. This was a real challenge -- not just for me, but for any guy at the school. She was so fine looking, and she knew it. Those tight jeans, those tight blouses -- for her age she had it in all the right places; her skin was perfect, and her hair was so beautiful. She was no slut; none of the other niggas had been able to score with her. So, why did I feel so disappointed?
She was a good kisser, but she was lacking in passion. I know we had had to hurry in our sexing. Still, it was like her body was present but her passions were somewhere else.
Between classes I asked her to meet me in the janitor's supply room after school; I would walk her home afterwards. She smiled with those incredible lips and agreed to meet me. Hopefully, round two would be less disappointing.
The rest of the day all I could think about was hooking up with Latish after school; the time seemed to pass so slowly. Finally, the bell rang. I knew I had to wait a discreet amount of time before I could make my way to our meeting place. When the halls were empty enough, I sneaked into the janitor's supply room.
Ten minutes passed, but no Latish. Then, twenty minutes ... twenty-five
... half-an-hour. "Where ad hell is dat bitch?" I thought to myself. It was getting hot in there. I took off my shirt and my wife beater. Forty minutes. "Got dammit! Shit! I can't believe dat bitch fogot about dis."
Finally, I heard the doorknob turn. "It's `bout damn time," I was thinking to myself. But to my surprise it wasn't Latish.
It was Mike, the janitor. Mike stood about six foot one, deep brown skin, shaved head, goatee, thick neck, bulging biceps, sculpted back and shoulders, slender waist, and huge pecs. His short-sleeve uniform shirt was untucked and unbuttoned -- really showing off his powerful biceps and forearms. Underneath he wore a tight fitting wife beater with stains on it. His uniform pants sagged a little on his muscular ass, and there was a noticeable bulge in crotch.
"Whut you doin' in here, son?" he asked, all the time starring at me.
"Oh, shit," I said to myself. I hadn't thought about the janitor coming to his supply closet. The second thought in my head was, "How da fuck am I s'pose to explain why I'm here?" And, what was worse, I was standing there with no shirt, sweat beading on my chest, trickling down my back. How could I have been so careless? I was totally unprepared for this possibility.
The room was quiet. I was completely speechless. All I could think about was how much trouble I was going to be in now. I thought my plan had been flawless. Just then, something dawned on me; Mike was looking at me. At first, there wasn't anything unusual about this; no doubt he was waiting for my answer. But, then, I realized that his focus wasn't so much on me as it was on my chest. His head didn't move. His eyes were fixed.
Without moving his head or changing his stare, he asked again, "Son, I axed you whut you doin' in here?"
Being a straight shooter, I knew there was no point in lying to Mike. I wasn't stupid; I knew I couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation in such a short time. Plus, I didn't want to make things any worse than they already were.
Suddenly, I became aware that I was staring at Mike's chest. At first, I had been trying to avoid his eyes, but for some reason my eyes became fixated on the parts of his muscular chest that were visible through his wife beater.
"Um, I was s'posed to meet my girl here."
Now Mike's eyes looked directly into mine. One corner of his mouth began to curl up, forming a slight grin, less than a smile but more than a smirk. He didn't say anything; he just grunted, "Unh huh." His eyes went back to my bare chest. He straightened up tall and, without taking his eyes off me, he pulled off his uniform shirt. Now, I could see his incredible physique, and I saw his hard nipples pointing out through his wife beater.
I asked him, "You gonna turn me in?"
He didn't answer right away. He just rubbed his rippled abs, and then flicked his thumb on one of his nard nipples.
"Naw, we don't havta do dat," he said, as his hand moved to the button on the waistband of his pants. "A boy could be in a helluva lot of trouble if I did dat, you feel?"
"No dowt." Then after a moment of silence I said, "So, how we gonna handle dis, yo?"
"You a smart kid; no dowt you wanna avoid any problems."
"Iight," I said, "you holdin' all da cards, man. Let's deal."
Mike said nothing at first; he just unfastened the button of his pants, and then unzipped them. He slipped his right hand into the opening, and I could see he wasn't wearing any shorts under his pants. His hand just massaged his pubic area.
"Aw, man!" I thought. "Damn! Dis shit ain't fair." I couldn't believe my bad luck, but I knew if Mike reported me to the office, the office would tell my parents, and my pops would punish me for a long time. I wasn't stupid; I knew what Mike was hinting at. I didn't know which would be worse: giving Mike what he wanted -- the way he wanted it -- or losing all my privileges at home, no cell, no computer use, no dating, no trips to the mall with my boys, and the list went on and on. "Damn! Damn! Damn!"
Mike just pulled his dick out of his pants and let it dangle. No lie; this nigga had a huge dick and thick with a huge mushroom head. None of my boys in gym class had anything even close to what Mike was working with. Mike wasn't slow either.
"You came here to make out wit ya girl, no dowt. Look like she a no-show. Don't seem right you should go home wit out gettin' a li'l somethin' somethin'."
Damn! Why did I have to spend that $20 I had to treat my boys; I could have offered it to Mike to get me out of this jamb. I didn't have anything against Mike; he was a cool nigga. But this just wasn't a fair deal.
"Aw, come on, Mike. Do we gotta do dis shit?"
"Naw, we ain't gotta do dis; we can go talk to Mr. Rogers." The principal's name wasn't really Mr. Rogers; we just called him that because of the tacky sweaters he always wore.
Mike was no perv; I knew that -- hell, everyone knew what Mike was. He was one-hundred percent thug. On weekends he could be seen hanging around clubs with those thug-ladies: slightly sleazy and demure. Mike was cool, always laid back, not a hot-head; if he was a pot-head, no one could prove it, since he always passed the mandatory drug testing. Niggas knew not to mess with Mike, but then Mike never tried to start trouble. He had been the janitor for four or five years -- and never with any disciplinary problems.
So it came down to this. I had nothing against Mike; like I said, he was a cool nigga. He never missed work, and the school was always clean and well-maintained. If anyone spoke to him, he would politely respond and, then, go right back to work. He was no goof-off. "Do dis shit stay between juss us?" I asked.
Mike was careful not to be specific -- plausible deniability; he knew I understood where this was going, and I knew he knew.
"I ain't got no skills at dis," I said.
"No sweat; I'm a hep you out dere." By this point, Mike was stretching out his dick, a very slow stroking. It was obvious that he didn't want his dick to be all-the-way hard.
I got down on my knees directly in front of him. Mike took a couple of steps toward me, putting his left hand behind my head as he touched the head of his dick to my lips. "Open up," he said casually. I opened my mouth, and he began to push his dick in as far as it would go. "Suck on it, son."
I wasn't kidding when I said I had no skills at this. I had never even thought about the process one follows in sucking a dick. I had had girls give me head, but they had always done a poor job at it. Mike, on the other hand, had obviously had previous experience teaching someone to give him head, because he talked me through the process, as he caressed the back of head and neck, pushing his dick into my mouth and pulling it almost out, back and forth. "Relax your throat, son," he told me, "I wanna see you take it deepa."
I don't know exactly when, but at some point I actually began to enjoy this. I never thought I would enjoy sucking a nigga's dick; especially a big, thick dick like Mike was thrusting in my mouth.
"You like dat?" Mike asked, then he followed it with a slight life, "ha ha."
I just moaned and kept sucking. Mike evidently could tell I was starting to really get into this. By now, he was fucking my mouth, telling me to take it, both of his hands on head. Then, he slowed down his fucking motion, and his hands began sliding down my back. His hands felt so good. They continued down my back towards my ass. "Lemme see dat ass, son."
I continued to suck his dick as I loosened my pants and pushed them down so he could get at my ass. He rough hands grabbed and pulled at my ass, as his dick slid deeper into my mouth. I was starting to gag, but he would ease up a little and remind me to relax my throat. He continued to encourage and help me take his dick. "Yeah, like dat, juss like dat. Yeah, dat's right, yeah... dat shit feel good, yo... juss keep doin' dat."
I couldn't believe how good all this was making me feel. I hadn't felt this good with any of the girls I had had sex with. I wondered if those girls had felt this good when I was sexing with them. My dick was hard as steel now.
Suddenly, Mike pulled his dick out of my mouth, grabbed me under my armpits, and pulled me up on my feet. He motioned me over to one of the walls and turned me around so that I was facing the wall. At first, I didn't understand what was going on. But, in a low voice, he said, "Are you a man or a wuss?"
Without even needing to think about my response, I said, "Man, I ain't no wuss."
"Aiight, we `bout to fine out, yo."
"Man, whut you talkin' bout?"
"You `bout to fine out. Juss don't be scared, son."
Mike was kissing on my neck and that was making me even better. His hands were firmly planted on my waist. I wasn't even thinking about the fact that I was having sexual relations with another man, nor the difference in our ages. I wanted this to continue.
I feel his dick rubbing on my ass, so now I had mixed feelings. His kissing and touching had me in an almost trance-like state, but I knew that his dick rubbing on my ass meant he was taking this to a new level.
"I wanna know if you a man or not. Can you take dis dick wit out cryin'
like a fuckin' baby?"
"Damn! Did that nigga just throw down a challenge?!" I thought. I'm such a competitive person that I don't always take time to consider the possible outcomes of a challenge. Whenever I'm presented with any kind of challenge, some switch in my brain flips, and I go into some kind of "WIN" mode.
"Come on den; let's do dis!" I managed to say.
I felt his hands all over my ass and his middle finger teasing my hole. My ass was already wet from the sweat running down my back because the room was so hot. Mike was still kissing on my neck on shoulders. Soon, I felt his thick dick sliding up and down my crack. Damn! He was really working me. He certainly wasn't new at this.
Mike slipped my belt from my pants. "Bite down on dis, son." I didn't have to be told what was coming next.
JESUS CHRIST!!! OH SHIT!!! GOT DAMN!!! SONUVABITCH!!! Every curse word I knew shot through my head as I felt his thick dickhead penetrate my hole. I had never experienced any pain even close to what I was feeling at that moment. It felt like my ass was going to rip apart. It wasn't long before I felt my eyes welling with tears; I was just glad that Mike couldn't see my tears since my face was to the wall.
His forced his dick deeper and deeper into my ass. My legs were starting to feel weak, but there was no chance of falling. He had a firm grasp on me. I wasn't going anywhere.
There were no words of encouragement -- just pain, and more pain. Then, in almost a whisper, I heard the words, "Relax ya ass, son; relax it." He spoke smoothly and calmly. I tried to relax, but the pain was just unbelievable. I knew he heard my grunts, my stifled cries. My fists were clinched so tightly my knuckles were turning white. It was a real struggle to breathe. Then, suddenly, I could feel that he had stopped forcing his dick further inside me.
"Oh hell yea, nice... tight... ass," Mike whispered. His hands reached around in front of me, and he began to fondle my nipples. He just left his dick in, letting my ass become accustomed to it. Now, he concentrated on me, or on my body to be more precise. Pain and pleasure simultaneously.
Probably from all the pain, my dick had gone limp, but the stroking of his hand soon had me rock-hard again, despite the intense pain I felt.
Then, I felt his dick starting to slide out of my ass. But just when I thought maybe he was going to pull out, he started forcing it back it to me. Soon, he had a smooth rhythm going: in and out, in and out, in and out. The pain was subsiding. It really started to feel good.
"Yea, now you got it. Take dat dick, yo." Slowly, he began to move us both away from the wall. His thrusts were becoming faster with each stroke. He was using long, smooth strokes. His dick was sliding in and out easily.
When I was used to that, he began fucking more forcefully. His dick was ramming into me now, but that didn't bother me. It felt good, so good, in fact, that I took my belt out of my mouth.
"Oh yea, do dat, nigga. Fuck dat ass."
He moved us close to the wall again. He was fucking like a madman now, thrusting inside me deep and hard. "Take it, yo. Take it!"
Once again, he moved us away from the wall, then he reached around in front of me and began jacking my dick as he continued to fuck me. Both of us were sweating, but neither of us paid any attention to that. I wondered if the girls I had fucked felt anything like I was feeling now.
"Oh shit, I'm a cummin'!" I said through my clinched teeth.
"Hell yea, son! Shoot dat load, man! I cummin' too!" he answered back.
I felt my cum start squirting out in thick globs; the globs splattered on the wall. At the same time I felt a warm spray filling my ass.
"Oh, fuck! Shiiiiiit! Damn, son, dat felt good, yo!"
"Oh, hell yea! Damn, nigga! Dat shit was tight, yo!"
He left his dick inside me for another minute. He just held me; his chest pressed tightly against my back. His arms were rapped around me. When he finally withdrew his dick, he turned me around and kissed me hard on the lips. I opened my mouth to receive his tongue. His hands were planted on my ass now as mine were grabbing his.
I got dressed as did Mike. He winked at me and held the door open for me to leave. He had his push broom in his hand so he could get back to work.
After that day Mike and I had an unspoken understanding between us. He had only to wink at me as I passed to summon me after school. We had many other
"accidental" encounters in his supply closet, and I learned a lot of skills to use on my all my future partners