Remy, A True Story
In the early 90s a few bars in lower Manhattan opened backrooms where men could have sex. That's where I met Remy. He was standing at the side of the room and I couldn't take my eyes off him -- a muscular black guy, about 5'10", 175 lbs, with a small, tight ass, broad shoulders and shaved head -- the total fantasy homeboy! From what I could see, he had a very large cock.
With my heart pounding, I walked up and gently reached out to touch the erect nipples under his T-shirt. He turned and looked me in the eye, and I could tell he was sizing me up. Then he took my hand and pushed it down until it was resting on his big cock. I couldn't believe any of this was happening.
I unbuttoned his pants and they fell to the floor. My hands moved around to rest on top of his hard ass. I pulled down his boxers and he lifted his T-shirt. This homeboy was beautiful. He had a nice six-pack and well defined pecs with large nipples. I held his tight ass as he started to push his thick eight-inch piece of meat into my mouth. With each thrust I could feel the muscles in his ass get harder.
He reached down and took hold of my head as he started to thrust deeper, getting his groove on. After a few minutes, I could tell he was close. His breathing was fast and hard, and his whole body began to shake as he started to pump his load of hot cum into my mouth. He stopped moving and just stood there, dripping with sweat, until he slowly pulled back and let his cock fall from my mouth, a drop of cum still on the head.
We pulled ourselves together and I asked if I could call him. Remy told me that he was living with his sister. He couldn't give me her number because he was totally on the down low and couldn't risk anyone finding out he was gay. After that night, I never saw Remy again.