Jojo

I guess it should’ve bothered me a bit more that in the first week of my brother getting me that job at the moving company I spent every night after work fucking around with Jojo. I couldn’t help it. By some spellbinding luck, I miraculously became my dumb doe-eyed sister running back to her philandering bad boy beau whenever he flexed his big biceps and flashed that smug, son-of-a-bitch grin of his. An innocent infatuation that soon morphed into an unhealthy obsession comparable to a violent addiction no rehab could ever cure.

I knew from jump Jojo was a bad influence on me. Like that corrupt, edge-driven fuck buddy that above common sense feels so damn good to be with. So much so even his name alone is like a fun, dirty little curse word onto itself. Jo-jo. Sure, Jojo had the potential to be a Capital A1 asshole at times. But he was a very likeable asshole…once you got passed the demented Twista-like baby face and the hard thuggish snarl to embrace the cute but loveable mannish teddy bear tucked beneath.

Jojo won me over in the first ten minutes after we met. He bought me breakfast at McDonald’s. He followed that up by convincing the freaky white girl behind the counter to let us tag team her later. Fast forward five hours, Jojo coaxed the rich racist Israeli that we were moving to suck our respective black dicks on top of slipping away with a couple of hundred dollars from his wallet. We got at the cashier the day after that. But not before we hemmed up this sissy in the bathroom stall and this pretty light-skinned girl let us run a train on her over behind the dumpsters at this sit-down restaurant on the same day (at two different times, of course). And not before he convinced me to talk with the beefy brother of the petite Malaysian girl he was trying to holler at. So, by that Thursday and Friday we managed to simultaneously hookup with both brother and sister without the other sibling being any the wiser.

Even with a ton of stories like this I could dip into the vault to tell, the one story that sticks out was the one we took down to Key West.

At best, Jojo was a glorified babysitter courtesy of my big brother and newly appointed boss. He was also the driver and the supervisor that spearheaded our crew that usually consisted of me and him with one other random guy we’d pick up depending on the magnitude of the move.

In the short time Jojo and I had to put collective notches under our belts, we never dared crossed that fine line with just the two of us. He hinted at it jokingly, but I never bothered to entertain such a crude thought seriously. (This was especially weird for me because everything about his brick solid build shouted everything my testosterone-driven lust fancied after. Even with his raunchy zingers and that sexy indent just below his right eye, I could never fall into the erotic zone with him.) Mainly because in my book he was the ultimate bisexual role model I someday wanted to emulate. He was ultra cool with an unapologetic machismo that was certain to be admired. Armed with condoms by the bulk, Jojo was also the first man I ever encountered that genuinely believed that random sex throughout the day was part of the daily fiber. Most men talk a good game, but he lived it by literally shooting two or three loads a day.

Naturally, being a hard black man, Jojo never owned up to his bisexuality. Out there in the world, he was totally straight. (You’d get your ass beat if you said otherwise.) Between us however, he better phrased it as being “in constant search of good pussy”, which meant whatever nook made his dick feel supreme at the time, he went in after it.

Anyway, Jojo had won the internal office bid to take a large freight down to Key West. He wasn’t only excited about the trip because it would be the first time he’d put his CDL-A license to the test, but there was this place down there where he wanted to stay for the night. Since we were boyz, I was his Plus One to go down there with the hope we could “split a bitch (boy) or two” after we got down there.

After spending nine hours packing up this shitload of a house onto this truck, the next seven hours resting up, we got back on the truck around 2am to start out on this 14-hour drive ahead of us. Factor in few stops and some bumps of traffic along the way we got down their roughly around eight that night. We had planned on unloading the next day. But being that there was still a great bit of light, Jojo hired more hands than he originally budgeted for and we finished unloading the truck a little after one the following morning.

Key West could’ve easily been called a wrap for me after one of the wiry Cubans we worked with that night invited us back to his apartment to crash. Free beats trying to pay for a room, right? Even though Jojo and I were tired as fuck and running on pure fumes after being up for more than 24 hours, we were fully aware the Cuban was anxiously looking for some black dick for our keep. I think Jojo and I both settled on going to sleep on him with our dicks hard in his mouth. So, it came as a total shock to even us when the two of us caught our second wind after Cuban boy’s roommate made it a foursome. Jojo and I stayed in stiff competition that night to see who could fuck the two power bottoms the hardest into submission.

No sir. That was only the beginning.

***

Somewhere over in the middle of the afternoon the next day, just as were about to graze the Florida mainland, we got a call from my brother telling us to fall back for a couple of days. He was securing a load out of Miami so that Jojo could get paid coming back home.

While I groaned at the eerie news, thinking this was some kind of evil conspiracy to eat into my hard-earned profits, Jojo was over the moon. This didn’t just make him more money, but, if instead of heading onto Miami like we were we could turn back around to Key West, a nearly couple of hours back.

Out of courtesy, Jojo asked my opinion (even though his mind was made up). I agreed wholeheartedly once he assured me there would be no out-of-pocket expenses on my behalf due to this sudden change in plans. He had everything covered still plus an inconvenience bonus. With that said, I was good.

Jojo explained to me that this was really good for me, too. I was ready for him to say something smutty like he usually did, like it gave us time to score a chick this go around. Rather, he got real grave in wanting to share with me the details of his old job. Given that it was my brother’s dream with their recent promotions I would step in as a permanent standby for Jojo’s old job. (Standby being that when Jojo was on the big rig, I would be there to drive the straight-lined trucks since no special class of license was needed.)

Don’t get me wrong. Moving was fun. Everyday came with a daily exercise program that left my muscles cheerfully sore and slightly swollen. As far as a career or even a part-time gig went, I wasn’t too sure. The major draw of the job for me, behind the money, was hanging out with Jojo and the pool of sexual partners he introduced me to. If we couldn’t work together, then would I really want to work there?

***

“I’m not going to lie,” Jojo barked in his bayou-fried baritone barreling back towards Key West after some time. “I wanted to run up in your butthole when I first laid eyes on ya. But since you’re my man’s baby brother and all, I had to let that go. As they say, can’t eat where ya shit. Shit where ya eat. Ya know how that thing goes. I can’t fuck with my paper trying to milk baby juice out the angry anaconda for ya. Nor can I have ya running up to your big brother saying I raped ya with this big lead pipe.”

“Lead pipe? Angry anaconda?” I roared laughing. “I’ve seen you naked enough times to see what you’re working with to know the pointy end of a dull thumbtack would do more damage.”

“Really? Alright, then, baby boy, talk that shit ya talk so well, now. I’ll pull this fucking truck over right now over this water and show ya how good this thumbtack can damage ya.” He smirked coyly licking his lips, taking his large mitt over the bulge his crotch beneath the steering column.

I shot back with the Bird.

Jojo laughed. “Ya know what. You’re cool as fuck. Ya know that. It is shit like that that makes me want to pull over and do the damn thing!”

“Notta chance, my man,” I gloated. “I see how you do ‘em out here. We’re too chill for that mess, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But if we went there, ya know I wouldn’t play ya like that, right?”

“Uh-huh. Ain’t that what every player says?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. I’m packing the real lead pipe. I know how the game goes.”

“You’re right. You’re right. But ya know I wouldn’t play ya like that. For real for real, though.” Jojo promised.

“Yeah, man, whatever,” I trailed off as his cell phone rang.

It was his girl on the other end complaining about him not being home to spend time with their two kids.

An hour and some change later, we were back in Key West dropping off our things just to get in some sightseeing.

It was roughly after eleven when we returned to the lodge after a moonlit stroll along the water. But first, Jojo had to stop by the truck to retrieve his fishing gear. While it certainly raised an eyebrow, I didn’t question it, if he wanted it when he got up in the morning. Once we got back to the room it began to make sense. As I realize the reason Jojo wanted to stay at this place was because the rooms sat out over the water. Not against it. On it! He opened the door and went out onto the balcony, cast his line, grabbed a chair, kicked up his heels, and put his hands behind his back waiting on the great catch.

The next day I woke up to the big man with the terracotta hue and thick nappy afro lying next to me in bed. Not in his bed over there, but in my bed snoring his little heart out. And I didn’t wake up to him per se as I did his naked morning wood tenting the sheets. Feeling mischievous, I reached under the covers to give him a playful handjob.

As off as it may sound to other people, I honestly didn’t do it with any sexual intent in mind. I simply pegged it as being a funny fucked up way for him to wake up. Ha ha! Your fat ass thought you was gonna get some! My thing was it was no different from when I dicks rubbed together during a double stuff. Fucking, but not fucking each other. I had my hand on his dick and started pumping it. He’s moaning, mumbling for me to go faster on “Big Daddy’s stick”. So I did. He started groaning louder, more coherently, begging me to put my mouth on it. I probably would’ve been offended by this if it wasn’t for him calling out for his baby’s mama in his sleep. Being the generous man that I am, I struck a compromise. Taking a wad spit from my mouth and smearing it onto my fingers and back onto the underside of his shaft. My spit must’ve surprised him because he quickly jumped up. I started laughing think he was going to laugh back or say something crazy out of the side of his neck. Jojo didn’t do anything of those things. Instead, he just rolled onto his side and looked at me with those awakening eyes. I read them well, his intent was clear. Before I could tell him I was just playing, his face was all over mine, locking my arms to my sides. Next thing I know Jojo was on top of me nibbling on my ear whispering sweet nasty nothings that made my dick betray me. I then distinctly remember thinking he was heavy but not too heavy. Not as heavy as I would’ve thought for a man of his stature and size but heavy in a nice, comfortable and secure fashion. He was also very very smooth. Slyly slipping off my pajama bottoms and plunging his thick fat cucumber into the slit of my boxers. His dick was obvious hard, and yet hot and arid like a dry heat sauna made especially for my balls. Damn, it felt good! He started grinding against me. And every time he drove down to the bed it clipped right into the dangling part of some ass crack.

Everything in my head told me to push Jojo away. I couldn’t do this. Not with him. We couldn’t be cool again if we crossed that line. No more tag teaming girls or guys. Student, teacher, pupil, mentor, how stupid are we! Are we already passed the point of no return? I was trying to use some kind of level head through this whole fiasco and once again irrational rationale had me lustfully gyrating back. Giving him something for his pleasure, lost in a sea of overwhelming kisses that wetted our face. Left us full and lightheaded and covered in a thin film of sweat.

“We better stop, man.” Jojo mouthed twenty minutes later, holding back from getting his routine nutt of the day. “Ya got me wanting to do stuff that two dudes have no business doing.”

“Like what? Having sex?”

“Nah,” Jojo puffed, wiping his forehead. “Something more, ya know what I mean?”

The seriousness in his eyes said what his mouth wouldn’t betray his known character to say. He was starting to catch real feelings for me. This might’ve been flattering if Jojo was the “love of your life” kind of guy. But he was a true rolling stone. Hardwired to get a good nutt out of anybody and leave them be. Because, at the end of the day, Jojo had a problem connecting love with sex and the importance most people had with it. So, even if I agreed to be his side mister, behind his girlfriend and his mistress, I would be one in a very large school of fish.

“Look, I ain’t saying I’m looking for another bitch to hold me down. Ya still get yours. I get mine. We can get ours together. Ya know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” I said with everything inside of me wanting badly to get him to grunt a load out of me.

Jojo paused for a minute. “Still, though, whatever goes down from here on out, I got ya. Ya understand? Real motherfucking talk.”

He leaned in to kiss me. This kiss was far different from the others he eagerly put on my lips. It was like he finally put all his cards on the table and threw the ball back in my court.

I cupped the nape of his neck, kissed back, and gently said, “Stop trying to run game…and let’s do what needs to be done.”

***

There we were a few hours later with the shame of hardcore dry humping slick between our thighs taking the mover’s roommate from the other night up on his invitation to attend this soiree that turned out to be a full-blown sex party. Had it been before that morning, we would’ve had the time of our lives. But even with penetration right there at our disposal, it didn’t compare to the spontaneous non-combustion we enchanted earlier. Not because we were tired from before. Not even because we weren’t highly intrigued by the sexual gamut of scenes or our lax participation in them. No. Strangely enough after what happened it felt like we were blatantly cheating on each other. The wild thing was, Jojo felt like that more than I did, but tried to dress it up as if I was the one not feeling the scene.

“Yo, ya bust tonight already?” Jojo asked walking me back to the room.

“Nah,” I said, answering his need to break the silence.

“Me either.”

“Why not?”

“Ya know why.” Jojo smirked. “Same reason ya didn’t. Ya want me to flood ya out and I want to flood ya out. Give ya that Grade A first load.”

“Oh, is that so?”

He chuckled, “As sure as I’m trying to walk straight with this thumbtack in my pants.”

“That lead pipe is a major burden to carry, huh?”

“Ya know what it is, partna. Ya know what it is.”

We got back to the room. It was as if our brief exchange never happened. He went back to his corner fishing. I went to watching TV. I must’ve fell asleep because when I woke up I felt something heavy come across my bare chest. It was him with his fat leaky fishing pole raring to go. Had the lights still been on, I would’ve shown my reluctance. With them off, it was something freeing about the clandestineness that made me willing to open my mouth.

When the subject came up days earlier, I informed him that I wasn’t much of a cocksucker. I didn’t get the youthful training experience most knob-slobbers are granted in this world, and later I was “cock-blocked” from trying by a number of pure oral bottoms that genuinely loved dick filling their mouths. So, I never really bothered to learn.

When I showed my readiness to at least try, Jojo kneed the bed next to my crooked head, slowly squeezing the rubbery foreskin against my flickering tongue. I felt silly at first. It didn’t taste good. More than that, not knowing for sure if what I was doing was doing anything for him. Then silly became erotic when he started to tickle the outer rim of my hole. From there, it got a little scary when he mistook my youthful enthusiasm for ready to get face-fucked. He made up for his misguided excitement by sucking me off, too. There we were in this sick 69, me imitating him every step of the way and understanding the hype, when he abruptly changed the game plan by clipping the back of my knees and rolled my puckered hole up to his mouth. Spit then licked and dove right in.

“Oh, motherfucking shit, you didn’t!” I screeched loudly, taken back by this novel sensation.

Jojo didn’t hear a staggering word. He just held me tight and ate me out as I squirmed against his strong unrelenting grip.

After a while, he did relent, spinning his body and making his way down to my feet where he took my toes into my mouth. He did this with a certain purpose, one by one looking for something in particular. I didn’t know what it was. But once he found it, I understood fully.

There were no describable words to express the raw whorishness I felt when my poor puckered asshole flared open like that. I was already wet back there, but for another first, my booty hole had this serious hankering to fit some dick in it. Jojo sucked that second toe on my left foot until I was ripping holes in the sheets begging to be fucked silly.

“Ya really want this lead pipe, huh?” Jojo toyed arrogantly.

I had lost breath and some consciousness throughout this ordeal to really answer him coherently. I could barely scream against the excruciation pain as he diligently slipped the tip of his dick into my hole.

The torturous hell for him to get inside—all the way inside of me—felt like an eternity. When he got it in and held it there for about five minutes, I felt hurt and jam-packed right there on my back. Then, as if someone had cast a spell on me, I began to feel my spine tingle and my butthole flutter against him to this whole new wonderful world.

I had been fucked a handful of times before, being broke in was a first this time. With every lunge Jojo delivered, I wanted to scream things that no self-respecting man should ever want to scream aloud. I stayed in reasonable control, nevertheless. Though, I came close to losing it a couple of times when I though I had no tight grip back there because I was just that opened. The weird thing was there wasn’t anything particularly unique about Jojo’s dick. It wasn’t overtly big or long like the size queens like to sell good sex on. It was average, six possibly seven inches and generically round in circumference. It wasn’t the dick that simply felt good. It was the callus hands, the strong work-hard muscles, the urgent stamina to want to own my ass that made the ride worthwhile; that made me feel extremely comfortable in wrapping my powerful legs around his chunky torso while he fucked me good.

Covered in sweat, I felt Jojo’s strong muscles begin to tighten over me. He called out a few times over the eighty-three minutes we fucked that he was ready to shoot. This time he was for real. Drilling like he was drilling for oil with each stroke until he slammed into my well-stretched hole with all his might, feeling his dick tremble and shake and throb with it’s substantial load.

Jojo was an avid condom user, but it wasn’t until he came I realized he had no such thing on. I felt mildly safe nevertheless because he got regularly tested. But my greater concern after he pulled out was the amount of semen he dumped into me. He filled me up to the brim. With my legs in the air, I was afraid to move. Suddenly hit with this urge to want to push out. I was nervous and scared but went for it anyway as I began to feel his burning hot jizz rush down my crack and onto the sheets beneath me. I barely touched my dick when it sputtered its own thick wad of cream at my waistline and down on the bed.

***

Jojo and I fucked around terribly for three years after that. The first couple of months or so it stayed just me and him before we brought others back into our mix. We probably would still be going strong to this day if it wasn’t for the last six months of our fling. I was tired of being his exclusive bottom and pressed for us to switch roles. He agreed. The more I fucked him the less he wanted to fuck me back. The more I treated him like a friend and equal fuck partner, the more he wanted to act like my man, kicking his girl and everybody else to the curb. Eventually I had to do the same with him.

We still hook up occasionally before heading our separate ways. Sometimes it still feels good to grope a big bicep and cuss a little.