My Initial Encounter with a Black Bull
Once upon a time, in my youth, I had the chance of being intimate with a fellow slim, toned, and young man. We're both white, with a shared love for bottoming. We met during a point in the night and found ourselves in the backseat of my Ford Thunderbird, exploring one another. We indulged in passionate kissing before shedding our clothes. We spent time sucking each other off before having sex with one another. However, I discovered that I didn't like being a top. We both reached orgasm fairly quickly, but the experience was enjoyable while it lasted.
Even though I ventured into such sexual encounters later in my twenties, I had been drawn to men since I was around 15-16 years old. The internet opened up a whole new world for me with its interracial porn, captivating me with the bodies and personalities of black men. The mere sight of them made me shiver, and even then, I found myself touching my crotch as if I were the pretty girl in those videos.
By the time I was 25, I came across my first black man on Craigslist. He was a sensational, tall man with a football body, those broad shoulders, a slight dadbod, and a meaty cock, about 8-9 inches thick. We shared flirty conversations over e-mails and texts for weeks, and one evening, I drove to his apartment. Dressed in booty shorts, he met me at his door with a warm hug, then kissed my lips and pressed my ass tightly against him. His grasp of my ass made me feel his fingers could fit both my cheeks. We sat on the couch, chatted, and flirted before he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. His lips trailed down my neck, while I reciprocated by grabbing his crotch, feeling his cock grow in his shorts.
The next 90 minutes, I spent my time licking and kissing his thick erection, cherishing his every moan and praise. The depth of his vocal expressions made me feel delicate, eager to please him. The more he uttered, the more my maturity seemed to melt away in my panties, making me feel like I was mere inches tall. I was born to pleasure his cock, and I dutifully did so. Afterward, he led me to his bedroom, where he instructed me to return to my knees so he could cum in my mouth.
For the first time, a man claimed ownership of my body. I removed my panties, and he entered me with lubrication. As he thrust into my tight padded pussy, I craved him more. His mockery and verbal abuse - calling me names like 'bitch' and 'little cum slut' - tripled my excitement. An energetic pounding that lasted 30-40 minutes left me whimpering into each thrust, and he asked if I enjoyed the feel of his thick black cock. I was under his control, and it left me craving more.
We continued our tryst a few more times, but their craving of a relationship went unsatisfied. I reverted back to women out of obligation, and every time I think of my "black bull," I also remember my other male lovers (only two more) and the positive treatment I received from them compared to my abusive relationships with women.
Despite finding pleasure with both genders, I'm neither exclusively attracted to women nor men. Perhaps, I'm bisexual. Then again, gay according to black men. However, I'm not a transgender person. I'm just a feminine boy trying to find my place in the world.
Now at 39, I'm not the lithe fellow that I once was. Instead, I'm still lean but have a stomach I'm trying to shed, and this ass? It's still fat. 😘
Read also:
- Kristin, Tasha, and I: Chapter 2
- Chapter 5: The Corruption of Innocence: Part 8
- Katie's New Beginnings: Chapter 11
- Recruiter for Skill: Chapter 7
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