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Every Little Helps!
British readers will instantly recognise the well-known supermarket advertising slogan, and this true story starts in one of their stores on London's south bank.
Not even my supermarket of choice, but it happened to be on my walk home from the office and I popped in regularly to buy food for my dinner. One evening I noticed a new security guard I had not seen before. He was tall, about 6'2", slim and dark black, probably West African. I had lived in Lambeth and Southwark long enough to appreciate the subtle differences between Caribbean and African men, their skin tone, facial features, and body shapes. As I walked past him at the end of fruit and veg aisle we made eye contact and I gave him a smile and a nod. He reciprocated and gave me a polite nod in the same manner. I went to the check out, paid, and left.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I saw him a few times whenever I popped into the supermarket on my way home. We progressed from smiles and nods to saying "hello!" and then to brief chats and exchange of names. He was called Olu, from Nigeria, and it turned out that he lived just a few streets away from me. One evening I discreetly slipped him a piece of paper with my name and phone number and suggested we meet for a beer at the Kentish Drovers, a well-known pub in Peckham. At this stage, I had no idea what his sexuality might be and thought it best to assume that he was straight, probably married, and I doubted very much that he would ever call.
The turnover of staff in London supermarkets is very fast and sure enough, within a few days he was gone and replaced by a considerably less attractive security guard. Weeks passed and with busy London life, Olu evaporated from my mind.
Out of the blue, nearly four months later, on a cold January evening, I received a telephone call. "Hello, is that Alex?"
"Yes", I replied.
"This is Olu."
Of course I had all but forgotten who he was until he reminded me which supermarket he used to work at. He told me he was on his way home from work and asked if we could meet now. Not wanting to go out again in the cold, I gave him my address and directions. He arrived at my flat half an hour later. As he took off his heavy winter coast I could see he was wearing his black security guards uniform. It turns out that he was currently working at another supermarket where 'Good Food Costs Less.'
I offered him a drink. He saw the already opened bottle of red wine on the kitchen table and said that would be fine. I poured him a glass and we sat and drank and chatted. Before he had telephoned, I had been cooking, but had left it unfinished as I quickly tidied up the flat prior to his arrival. He said "something smells good!" which I took to be a subtle hint that he was hungry. I offered him food and ended up finishing the cooking while we continued to chat. We ate together and drank more wine. I cannot remember what we chatted about, but I do remember that I was burning to ask him more personal questions but refrained from doing so in case it scared him away. I still wasn't sure if he would be interested in gay sex. He wasn't giving off any signals of interest that I could detect and I didn't feel it appropriate to risk making a pass for fear of offending him. I was soon to have my doubts answered. He excused himself to use the bathroom.
I need to explain that my bathroom in my London flat was decorated with dozens of pictures of homoerotic art, not pornographic, but a few minutes study of the pictures would leave no doubt as to the sexual orientation of the occupant.
Olu returned to the dining table and sat down, sipped his wine and asked me bluntly "you like men?"
"Yes" I replied.
He started fondling his cock through his trousers. "You like black cock?"
I nodded my reply, watching his now hardening cock straining against the material of his black uniform trousers. Without speaking, he coolly unzipped his trousers while seated at my kitchen table and he pulled out his cock, struggling slightly to free it from the confines of the flap of his underwear. It was fully hard, thick, heavily veined, cut, and with a slight curve to the left. The large glans, wider than the shaft of his cock, was a dark purple wine colour. He slowly ran his big hand up and down the shaft of his cock while looking me in the eyes. I got off my chair and onto my knees on the floor in front of him and looked up at him. He nodded his approval and I took his big ebony cock into my mouth.
The strong masculine crotch smell, a mixture of pubic sweat and stale drops of piss from his cock having been confined in his trousers all day hit my nose and triggered a wave of lust within me. I took as much of his cock into my mouth as I could manage without gagging and sucked and worked my tongue around the glans. I heard him let out a deep sigh and he started to stroke my head.
I continued to suck to the best of my ability. A couple of times he lifted me up so that I was level with his face and he kissed me, his thick lips encompassing mine and his wine tasting tongue explored my mouth while his free hand fondled the crack of my arse through my trousers. He gently pushed me back down onto his cock and I sucked him to orgasm. He groaned and gasped and shuddered violently as his thick hot creamy Nigerian sperm filled my mouth. I swallowed every drop and milked his cock dry of the last remaining drops from his urethra.
My legs and knees by this time had gone numb with kneeling on the hard floor and I struggled to get up. He helped me to stand and again we kissed passionately and embraced. We sat down and drank some more wine. He didn't bother to put his cock away and it remained rock hard. I could see now that it was about 9 inches long. He asked if he could see my arse and I willingly obliged and stood, dropped my trousers and slid down my white underpants and turned around to show him my milky white cheeks. He fondled them and gently bit them with his teeth and slapped them with his big spade-like hand. He started to tease my sphincter muscle and tried to get his finger up my arsehole but without lubricant I knew this would be difficult. I suggested we go to the bedroom.
I turned down the lights and put on some 'mood' music and we undressed. His cock had softened slightly but he still hadn't put it away inside his underwear. After he removed his trousers and uniform shirt I could see that he was wearing thermal 'long johns', he told me that he was finding London extremely cold after Nigeria and wore his long johns most of the time here. He looked rather comical with his long cock sticking out from the flap. I helped him out of his underwear until we were both completely naked. His beautiful smooth ebony skin contrasted starkly against my very pale white skin. We climbed into bed and kissed, embraced, and explored each other's bodies. He was very lean and muscular and had sensitive nipples. I bathed in the masculine odours of the day- old sweat of his armpits and crotch while he played with my arsehole, now lubricated with extra virgin olive oil, as they say, 'every little helps!'
To make penetration less painful, I applied plenty of olive oil to his huge cock before sitting on it. I could feel the wide mushroom head of his glans stretching my sphincter muscle. It was painful but bearable. I gently lowered myself onto the full length of his 9 inch cock and waited a couple of minutes to allow my muscles to fully relax before I started to bounce up and down playing cock jockey. I knew I wouldn't be able to sustain this position for too long as the head of his cock was stimulating my prostate gland and I would come too soon.
We changed position and knelt on the edge of the bed and he stood behind me and plunged the entire length of his cock up my arse to the hilt. He started to fuck with great force and speed. It hurt but it was also incredibly stimulating having this handsome black guy fuck me this way. I had to bite into a pillow to prevent myself from screaming with lust and pain. After ten minutes or so of ram battering in this position he had me lie on my side and he knelt and fucked me scissor style which was moderately more comfortable. He then repositioned me again so that I was lying on my back with my legs in the air. He continued to fuck me with great force, fully withdrawing his cock and slamming back inside my arse each time. Several times he bent down and kissed me passionately with his thick lips and tongue.
Our fuck session lasted for over an hour until he grunted and shuddered and shot his load deep inside my arse. At this time I was lying on my front with him lying on top of my back. We kissed again and he kept his cock inside of me. Within minutes he fell asleep. Thankfully he was not too heavy and I enjoyed the scenario of having this beautiful Nigerian asleep on top of me with his cock implanted up my arse. His breathing deepened and I could feel his cock slowly shrinking inside my arse. We remained in bed entwined drifting in and out of sleep for another hour until he said he should get going.
We became regular fuck buddies and he came to my flat most weeks, usually on a Tuesday evening, for over two years. He always wanted to be fed and we drank only red wine, summer or winter. He would often come twice during the evening, and regularly fell asleep on top of me immediately after his orgasm. As time progressed we became more intimate and he started to suck my cock, rim my arsehole, and made sure that I came too. We would fuck in every conceivable position in every room of my flat, over the kitchen table, on the washing machine, standing up in the hallway, outside on the balcony, in the bathroom, in the shower. His kissing was so passionate that at times I felt as though we were lovers and not just fuck buddies. After about six months he told me that he was married and had two children. His wife was usually at work on Tuesday evenings and a relative collected the children from school. He told me that he defined himself as gay, but had been obliged to get married by family, church, and social pressure.
One day he asked if I would be interested to have a threesome with a Nigerian friend of his. He told me that his old school friend and lover called Busa had arrived in the UK. I agreed and a few weeks later, on Tuesday evening as usual, Olu arrived with Busa.
Busa was heavy set, not fat, but built like a rugby player. He was shorter than Olu, but still taller than me, had a shaved head, wore glasses, and had a very warm smile. His skin, like Olu's, was a dark ebony. We had dinner and drank red wine and chatted. They told me about their secret relationship when they were schoolboys in their village in Nigeria and how they were once nearly caught when sucking each other's cocks behind the church.
We retired to the bedroom and undressed. Both Olu and Busa seemed a little nervous. I believe this was the first time that they were naked together as adults, and also their first threesome. Once I got to work on their cocks they soon relaxed. Busa's cock was slightly shorter at 8 inches, but as fat as a Coca-Cola can. Olu fucked me first which helped me to accommodate the thickness of Busa's cock. Like Olu, and like most Africans I have been fucked by, Busa fucked with great energy and force, slamming his fat cock into me with a forceful thrust of his hips.
They both fucked me in every conceivable position, tag-teamed me, spit-roast me, and double penetrated me. We rested occasionally and drank more red wine and then the fucking continued. They each came three times, either shooting their Nigerian sperm deep into my arse, or spraying their cum all over me. For three hours I was fucked more-or-less continually by 17 inches of fat black Nigerian cock. Their stamina was amazing. I was truly fucked and could barely stand up.
The threesome with Busa was sadly not repeated as he went to live in Manchester soon afterwards. Olu continued to visit every week and we continued to enjoy great sex.
After two years Olu suddenly stopped coming to visit. I tried to contact him but to no avail. A couple of months later I received a call from Busa in Manchester who explained that Olu's father had died and he had had to return to Nigeria where he still remains.
I still think of him often and have happy memories of our two year affair. I was so glad that I had had the courage to give him my telephone number. As they say, 'every little helps.'
I welcome your comments and feedback - alexandermennerton@gmail.com