BarneyRubble Posted June 28, 2018 Report Posted June 28, 2018 N'awlins is a black guy. Fat, fat cock. It is fat. It's I'm guessing 8 inches, or maybe 9. Probably 9 by the time it's tipped deep into my throat. Actually, remembering tonight's final push inside my guts and how his fat apple -shaped head expanded further, it's definitely nine inches. It's truly an ass-splitting experience. We met in New Orleans when I was there for a conference. Probably 28 to my 50. Maybe he was 30. Strong. Built like a tank, and in my hotel room, when he pulled down his sweats, he said, "I got hard on the way here." It was already ridiculously plump, growing into its glorious destination at nine inches. As I knelt, I knew with certainty at that moment we wouldn't be using a condom. (Aside: For many of you, that's like, "duh...". Condoms would never into your equation I get it. I'm not quite like that. Trust me...I have a fantasy of having maybe 3-5 different men nutt in me in the same session, all their semen swimming together. Some of you are probably like, "Dude, that's a slow Tuesday for me." High-five to you, because that's super hot. I love reading about that shit. But I don't think it's my speed. I'm not a total prude. In an earlier story in this same forum, I described the night the same dude nutt into me 13 times (of a 16 load night) and we celebrated each load. So, I am a huge, huge lover of the deep injection of semen.) At the time I met N'awlins, I was probably using condoms 50% of the time. The deal was for me (and still true though more flexible these days...) I like knowing a little about my breeder. Not like a twenty-minute interview about career goals and long-term plans, but something. I'm not quite as good at anonymous (though I have had more than a few insanely hot bareback encounters with a stranger.) Bottom line for me, if there's isn't a powerful physical connection between us , taking his load is not as much fun. Anyway. That first time, N'awlins sauntered into my hotel room and I thought, 'we might not use condoms.' Then he explained he was half-hard, and knelt down and thought, 'Yeah. No way on condoms." Lucky for me, he likes older bears who look like big dumb rednecks, and who can take his cock without choking (well...a little choking when he wants it) . That day, he blew his semen so deep and so hard, that as he came, he landed his teeth on my neck, not biting, but screaming. I was blown away at the immensity of that breeding. After a stunning silence, both of us trying to prolong his softening penis, still dripping...eventually, he slipped out. Four minutes later, he was like, "That was awesome. Gotta go." Even his exit was hot. LOL I felt my ass got used by a STUD. He went off to think about his day, maybe forget about me, and I spent the rest of that day thinking about what was hot about him, and the lake of melting goop he left behind in me. Arranging the hookup that day, we had exchanged phone numbers. Before he left, we both said, "Keep in touch." I don't go to New Orleans for work ever, and we didn't really discuss our careers, so I didn't know if he ever traveled. That was 2017, almost a year ago. Over Pride weekend, I saw him online in my town. He had a different online profile from last year, and I had a new phone, I didn't realize it was N'awlins from his newer photo--thicker beard. Tonight, he said didn't recognize me either. He just saw my idiot grin and was like, "I wanna fuck that dude." Right now, N'awlins' southern boy nutt is swimming in me. Still warm. Turns out he was in town for work, not Pride, and wasn't available all weekend. He is spending a few weeks here, using my city as a hub while visiting smaller towns. After some missed scheduling earlier this week, we made concrete plans for tonight. When I was leaving the house tonight, I texted him, "Are you gonna nutt in me tonight?" He texted back, "Yes. I am." On the drive to the hotel, I wondered it that same chemistry would reignite as the first time. When I got to his room and he stepped back after letting me in, I think we both felt that same shock of, OH. YEAH, THIS WORKS. We didn't talk about our mutual reaction, but his whole body jerked in the shadow of the room, lit only by ESPN on the big screen. He was pleased. He sat on the couch and grabbed his crotch through--once again--sweats. He lost them as soon as I started unbuckling my belt. He got off watching me strip off my shirt and then camo shorts in front of him. His cock rose, like a cartoon of a cock rising, first rising to go straight out, then into the up position when he touched the precum on the front of my jock. He leaned his whole body up and gently twisted my nipples, covered in blond fur. He leaned back into the couch and I knelt to suck his cock until it was spit-soaked, which he loved, and then started deepthroating it, and he acted like he'd never had that done before. We stayed on the couch this way for about twenty minutes. I spent five or ten minutes slobbering over his balls, sucking them individually and then together, while rubbing his wet dick against the bridge of my nose. After that he clamped his hands on my head, and pushed his drooling cock so deep into my throat I thought his balls were gonna straddle my tonsils. Every now and then, he'd say, "Oh, Daddy...fuck, Daddy...fuuuuuuck." After the tenth time of him groaning out the extended word, "Fuuuuuuuuck," I said, "Should we?" He said, "Go." It was a Marriott courtyard, so we left his living room for the bedroom, this enormous high-off-the-ground bed and I crawled up on top, like the frosting on the pristine white cake. He immediately aligned his cock to my hole. I said, "I brought lube." He said, "Don't need any," and began pressing my anus. Even though I suggested fucking, I didn't realize we were quitting right that second, but when he said, "Go," I obeyed. So, his cock was coated in "average slickness," and not "slobbering wet before pressing inside me." He wasn't interested in giving me a moment to make it wetter. He was relying on whatever spit I left on his enormous fat dick and his personal persuasiveness. And he definitely used the power of insistence. His dick popped my hole as I was doing my first hit of poppers, and right when I should have said, "Hey, slow down," the poppers hit, and the clenching resistance was replaced by a wet slide, and I opened to him fully, and he sank to his balls. He stayed there. He made noises, kinda like, "I'm home," noises, grunting, and pleasuring himself in small strokes and longer ones. I growled and swore, and told him what it was like to be impaled on a tank gun, unyielding and growing more aggressive with each slow, wet stroke. He stroked my insides. I thought about trying to recreate some of the dirty talk we had between us, what I can remember out of the moment. I praised his strength, over and over, honored him for showing me what a man he was, grinding himself deeper, opening a man's ass so there was no resistance. In those moments when he allowed himself a longer, deeper breath, he'd growl out a "oh, Daddy," and it would make his cock swell when I called him, Son. I won't remember all the correct details so I'll quit. I do remember at one point discussing his slimy, goopy boys and how they would soon make their liquid home in me. He would know a father's love as he squirted them into me. He liked that. so much he ripped me open. He fucked with his whole lower body, insistent and assured, though sometimes he'd lose control and spasm in me, his cock skidding sideways and fucking an asswall that wasn't part of his usual routine. Those times, I screamed face down into the thick white pillows, and that just made him fuck me harder, merciless. He only took two short breaks. He said he had to or he'd cum. But at last, in a whimpering voice asked me if "Daddy wanted that nutt," and I began begging him for it, over and over, giving him permission to do what he was gonna do anyway. He pushed my head down with his and unloaded. He fucked harder on the initial four or five squirts, and that wasn't the end of the orgasm, that was just the opening volleys. He came a lot. He later confessed it had been three solid weeks of jacking off. He kept spitting into me. As he thrashed on top of me, his fat nine-inch dick still firing, I said, "Right now. It's happening right now." Then I shut up to just deeply feel it, relishing the final squirts, and then his panting, the dribbling of sperm into a big puddle, his ongoing shudders in disbelief. Second breeding with N'awlins was as good as the first time. Better. 7 3
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