I decided to stand up and walk towards him, I stopped in front of him. Rafael looked up at me, miserable and sorrowful. I pulled his arm, then I raised him off the couch and when he stood, our bodies touched. Rafael never removed his look at my eyes.
I leaned in and kissed him this time. Using his hands, he pushed my face even closer to his so that he could make our kiss deeper. I wrapped him with both of my arms, then I lifted his legs so that I could carry him. He held onto me as we both went to my bedroom.
Once inside the bedroom, we kissed wildly and removed each other’s’ dresses while kissing. I started kissing him from his forehead to his eyes, to his nose, his cheeks, and lips. I licked his pink nipples and earlobes. I marked everything I touched on his body and claimed it as my own. Finally, I took his dick, it was glistening with precum, sucked it into my mouth, running my tongue up and down the underside of his dick head, then, closing my lips to the dick’s entirety. Then, I turned my attention to his balls and stimulated each one with my tongue and lips and then returned to his dick. As I was sucking him, Rafael placed his hands on my head. He started pushing his hips upward, thus, pushing his dick deeper into my mouth. In crazy movements, he started to ejaculate repeatedly and filled my mouth with his thick and creamy cum.
Rafael pulled me up towards him. We kissed again and I was able to share with him the taste of his own cum. Now it was Rafael’s turn to explore and mark my body, his territory. He kissed me from my head to my navel and back to my nipples. Each kiss made me more aroused. At last, he took my erect dick into his mouth, he positioned himself so that his asshole was towards my face and I could lick it out. As he soaked my dick in his saliva, I poked and licked his hole. He released my dick from his mouth and spread his legs apart and changed position so that he could look into my eyes. Rafael lowered himself onto me and I felt the heat of his inner body engulf my dick. We started to fuck when I was completely inside him. He rode me like a cowboy and I gave in to him completely. We were breathing heavily and groaning each time I would push my dick inside him.
Perspiring with the exertion, I shifted position, he lay on his back and spread his legs wide in the air. I fucked him again and we resumed our intercourse. I slowly bent down to kiss him, we kissed like hungry kids again, tongue to tongue, lips to lips. Rafael wrapped his arms around my neck and his feet around my back. I began to push faster and faster. His groaning and lusty chant of “ Ohh, yes, ooohh, yes” made me realize we were both about to cum. I felt that I could not hold out any longer and with one final push, I pushed myself as deeply as I could into him and spurted thick cum repeatedly. I resumed barebacking him, feeling my semen around my dick as I slid in and out of him.
The sensations overwhelmed Rafael and I felt his body stiffen, then he spurted his own cum splashing into my tummy. I pulled my dick and sucked his. I licked each drop of his semen off his chest. I realized that just as my DNA is inside him, his cum is now also inside me. I slowly kissed upwards till I reached his lips.
I laid down then pulled Rafael to me. He rested his head into my chest and whispered the words I have never heard from him before. "I love you, James,"
- THE END -
An Unexpected Fulfillment of Mark's Fantasies
A catastrophe happened in Mark's apartment and he was only left with his laptop and a few cash. He would have to wait until his insurance company sends him his check for the fire his house had caught. It was very unfortunate. He was feeling very depressed until he met Dylan, his long lost friend. It was just on time as the latter offered his help and Mark had no choice but to accept it.
Unknown to Mark, a dream of him way back college awaits to be fulfilled with the help of Dylan. That's when the saying “For every bad situation, there is something good.” For Mark, it would be life changing.
****
I was hoping to get something from the insurance company or the unemployment office, so on Wednesday, I went to the post office. Okay, so here it goes, my apartment had been burned just 6 days after I was fired from my job and I had been living in an “apartel” or an apartment hotel for the past six days. I was waiting for my renter's insurance fund to come in. For the meantime though, I paid for the apartel using my credit card which I was aware that was dangerously near to its limit.
Unfortunately, I didn't get any amount from the insurance company, though, the unemployment office sent a letter telling me my request had been rejected. I was entitled to file an appeal and would expect three to four weeks of trial before seeing any result.
I guess I should just count my blessings, like the fact that I had a renter's insurance or that even though almost all of my stuff and material possessions went up in the fire, I was able to save my laptop, so I could use it to look for jobs.
But in reality, positivism will only get you so far. So, that's why Dylan found me standing in front of the post office, crying into my sleeve.
"Mark?" I stopped sobbing and looked up at the sound of my name and there he stood, Dylan Mikigami, my old college roommate. "Bro, what happened? Are you okay?" I wiped my face.
"Hey, Dylan!"
"Yes dude," he said, he was smiling wide. We tapped each other's shoulder. "Wow, who would have thought, it's been..."
"it's been quite some time," I answered, and pulled Dylan in for a hug. His appearance was better than I recall – a little meatier around the middle, maybe, but masculine. His black hair was cut in an untidy yet sexy way, and he had an untrimmed beard.
“How are you? What are you doing here?”
"Well, um, just crying in the street."
"Do wanna have a cup of coffee so we can talk about it?" We were not able to contain the fire before it reached my place – the research work I'd been studying for that lost its funding, my bastard neighbor downstairs smoked in bed. Dylan listened, and as I told him what happened, I started to realize that he was exactly the person I needed right that moment. We'd been close friends in college. He knew many things about me, like how I didn't have any relatives and family in the area.
"Okay, you're coming with me dude," Dylan said. "We've got a lot of space for you, you can stay at our house until you get back on track."
"Wait, we?" I said.
"Yes me and Zarah, my girlfriend. We have a townhouse together."
I tried to object, in condition as I was to feel blameworthy about needing something, to reflexively reject any type of assistance. Dylan was insistent. "Tsk, stop dude. You are coming with me," he said, as he grabbed my arm, leading me to his car, he stared back to let me be aware that there wasn't any place for debate. I have to admit that his dominance turned me on a little.
Dylan Mikigami. Through random placement, both of us shared a dorm room during our first year of college. We didn't hit it off at the beginning. Dylan was like a hipster, and I was an out and expressive fag. He ran a fraternity; I initiated a program for a leadership position in our school's homosexual/straight alliance.
I never had an idea that he disliked me, nor did I dislike him. We just maintained to our opposite tracks.
Then came the December break. The two of us stayed on campus, which is how I found out Dylan had been raised by his grandparents who were living in Oklahoma and could not afford to give him money to go back home. I told Dylan how I had lost my own parents when I was a kid, and that shared familiarity – plus the fact that campus had fewer people and silent and we only had one another for company – made something flicker.
We had some drinking session together that Christmas break. I was actually surprised by his intelligence, and he realized I was really a nice person and not just some token gay stereotype. When the next semester began, we continued on our separate fields of interests but started getting our feet wet into one another's world. He came to a few LGBT meetings. I started playing badminton with his frat allies and discovered an inner hipster I'd never knew existed. I liked the physicality, the competition. The frat boy eye candy didn't cut back from the experience too.
And if I wa
s being honest with myself, Dylan was some attractive man too. He was half-Scandinavian, half-Italian; tall, dark and handsome with a nicely curved body to match.
We decided to live in an apartment together that summer, and that went well, so we wound up finding another place together in the fall. As our friendship grew deeper I started to feel an attraction to him too. It seemed to come from his peculiar nature – he was always debating with me for my opinion, interrogating me about things. We never did anything explicitly sexual with each other, but a couple of times stand out.
There was this one night, I was in my room studying when Dylan suddenly poked his head around my door.
“Can you lend me your T-square?” he said.
"Well, I am not sure," I said, pretending to be mean, for the fun of it. Dylan opened the door wider, so I would see his whole body framed in my room's doorway.
"What can I do so that you'll let me borrow it?" he asked. I don't know if it was the way he said it, or if I was just being aroused, but I got frank.
"Show me your cock,” I demanded. I had never seen Dylan naked. Even in the dorm room we'd been careful to take our clothes off out of each other's line of sight. So it was to my surprise when he held the band of his sweatpants using his thumbs and slid them down his thighs to reveal his hairy, heavy, hanging loosely yet looked like the yummy dick. I just beamed a smile and handed him the T-square. He pulled his pants back up. "Thank you," he replied, and then laughed. I laughed with him too and he left the room and that was it. We never discussed it, though it made me wonder what else he would do if I asked. And I had no idea it was that easy to convince him.
I think it was after that night that I'd catch little comments he would usually make, most of the times when we were drunk.
"I'd dated a guy," he said one night. "Yeah, but, what's the big deal?" Another time he told me about jerking off with a friend of his in grade school.
"Did you suck each other, admit it?" I said.
"Well, I didn't, but I might have if he'd asked. I probably would've performed more tricks with him if he'd been game, I mean, we were just young, it was all for fun."
By that time, we had been living together for almost two years. My desire for him was at an all-time high, though I was afraid. I account up his comments to his promiscuous and horny, reckless past – it was something he said he'd never try again.
Plus, he made his room's door open silently for girls. Most only stayed around for a night, a few girls for a month or two, but none became serious.
The closest Dylan and I ever came to “making it” around was one evening when he came home drunk from a fraternity party. I was up late working on a big project that was about to be submitted the next day. Dylan poked his head in my room to say goodnight, though several minutes later, he came back in my room and collapsed onto my bed. He had changed his clothes and was wearing a thin and sleeveless shirt and boxer shorts that left very little to my imagination.
"You're working hard huh?" he asked stretching out on his back. I turned my chair towards him. Dylan had his arms rested above his head, making his thin shirt ride up his stomach, a hairy one I must say. The thin boxer shorts grasped to the tube of his dick, hanging like a yummy fruit between his nice thighs. "I think I'm drunk," he said. "And aroused. Can you remember Paulene?"
"Yeah, is she the sexy volleyball player?"
"Yes. She was making out with me all night suddenly her boyfriend showed up."
"That's very sad," I said.
"Paulene had her hands down my crotch," he said, and, as if to demonstrate, Dylan slowly slipped his hand under his shorts, grabbing his dick. "Paulene got me so hard," he said.
I had a good feeling of anxiety and lust. This was the moment. All I needed to do was ask – something like "Really hard? Can you show it to me?" Or "Do you want some help?" But I didn't do it. I couldn't. I was frozen by fear – fear of rejection, fear of destroying up our friendship. So I shifted the subject and instead talked about my project. In a short period of time, he'd taken his hand out of his boxer shorts and we was back on boring, solid ground. I think we were both relieved – and somehow disappointed as well.
Dylan got his first real college sweetheart shortly after that, and he ended up moving in with her that fall. Our friendship has slowly faded after that. I had always thought it was because of his sweetheart, but now; as I was sitting next to him in his car, our easy affinity picking up right where it'd been left off; I asked myself if I should keep a distance from him and I also assumed he would.
We strolled out of the city, through the tunnel and over the bridge. Soon we parked in front of his townhouse – a tiny two-story on a street.
"You can come in right up but I'll need you to hang out first in the living room for a few minutes while I talk to Zarah."
"Uhm, can we call Zarah first? I don;t feel comfortable just barging in like this."
"No way, it's cool. I just need to talk to Zarah for a minute, it's nothing I swear." I felt hiding from someone as we entered the back door and he ushered me silently up the steps to the guest room. Well, the house didn't look like a guy lived there – there were "Sex in City" DVDs on the shelf, flower bases filled with plastic flowers on the table and Oprah Winfrey posters on the walls.
I lay uneasily on the sofa and listened: a female voice, pitched. I then stood up and collected my stuff, ready to leave. But just as I was about to flee, I heard them stepping.
"Mark?" Dylan said in the doorway. "Meet my girlfriend." She then came around – a tall, black-haired girl with an unattractive, angry face. Zarah managed half a grin as I shook her hand.
"It's nice to meet you," I said. Zarah nodded. "I feel like you allowed me to invade your space like this but don't worry, I won't stay for too long…"
"It's okay," Dylan said, looking at Zarah. Zarah took a deep breath.
"Okay, look, I'm sure you're a nice guy..." she said. I braced myself. She spoke in a fast pace, she talked about how it was so unexpected, and how she was not used to having someone around, but as long as it wasn't for very long, and maybe I could help with the house chores – like the bathroom, the kitchen or something. As Zarah spoke her eyes looked at the floor, the ceiling and the window behind me – I noticed she looked almost everywhere, but not in my eyes.
"Okay, uhm, really, I'd be fine going back to the apartel," I said.
"No way," she said, finally glancing in my direction, smiling a big smile like a Venus flytrap plant ensnaring me with a creepy hospitality.
Dylan came to my room later that night. "Bro, I'm so sorry if that was awkward," he said in a low voice.
"It's okay, but, what's up with her?" I said.
"Nothing, seriously," he said, getting defensive. "What do you mean?"
"I apologize. It just seems like Zarah doesn't want me here but doesn't want to tell it."
"No bro, my girlfriend is totally cool with it. Everything's perfectly fine."
He made a soup that night and invited me downstairs for the most awkward and uncomfortable dinner ever, full of forced conversation and jokes and prolonged silences. Zarah barely looked at him, let alone to me. It seemed obvious that there were some major issues going on underneath the surface. I convinced myself that my insurance check would come any day, maybe even the next day and I would be able to leave.
Sadly, it didn't. I took a bus into the post office to check and, depressed, took the long bus ride back to the exurbs, to Dylan's house. Fortunately, both of them were still at work. I crouched down in the guest room, looked for jobs online and took a nap for a while. I woke to the sound of Zarah's car outside the house.
I intentionally avoided dinner that night, sneaking out to one of my friends' house down the street. When I went back I ascended faster upstairs. I heard the two of them downstairs, having an argument. Their voices got louder – it was a big argument, and I was certain it was about me, so I decided to just listen to music, I put on my headphones.
Dylan came upstairs a little later.
He squatted on the bed next to me then lay back, he put his arm over his eyes.
"Hey, everything okay?" I asked.
"Yes," he said and took his arm away. He stared at me – it was a long and real look, getting rid of the facade that had been there yesterday.
"Look, bro, I saw a friend of mine today when I was downtown," I just lied. "I think if you ride me back in I guess I can – "
"Wait, hey, it's Friday," he said, referring to nothing. Dylan sat up.
"What?" I said, then he went to the closet.
"Can you promise me to keep this as a secret?" He reached inside the closet and pulled out a bottle of red wine. I smiled. Wine had always been Dylan's drink. And with one eye on the bedroom door he took a large draft of drink, then passing it over to me. I did the same. Then, he put the bottle back in the closet. "Let's wait till Zarah goes to sleep. We'll later play some video games and have a few shots of alcohol..." he told me and that sounded good to me.
He appeared in the room a few hours later, just as I was beginning to feel kinda bored. Dylan walked straight to the closet and I smiled. With no task or real life to speak of, I had the intention of getting in a talk shit.
We played Street Fighter while drinking the remaining wine, passing the bottle. It only took a few gulps before Dylan's “mask” eroded.
"Zarah drives me insane sometimes," he said. "Actually, all the time. It used to be okay because we're good in sex. Though, we don't even do that anymore." He handed me the bottle. "So, are you not seeing anybody?"
"Nope. I broke up with my ex over a year ago," I answered.
"Does that mean you haven't gotten much lately either?"
"Tsk, well, I wouldn't say that," I said.
"Yes? But who?"
"Well, I've got some fuck buddies," I said.
“Are they hot?”
Interracial Romance: Gay Romance: Bound By His Own Desires (MMM Endowed Black Men Bondage Threesome Romance) (A Billionaire's Freedom Book 3) Page 30