Roomating by Donald Ammer

I had a good time in the City of Brotherly Love on a visit back in 1990. When I went back there to live three years later, the simple act of finding a roommate on the internet started a chain of events that … whew! … still makes me hot to this day.

Chestnut Hill’s a nice area of north Philadelphia – when my new roommate Darius picked me up from the Greyhound station downtown, the ride north was awesome; parks and trees and the acclaimed neighborhood itself, with centuries-old architecture. Beautiful.

And speaking of beautiful … Darius was one hot motherfucker. I hadn’t seen him, nor met him, prior to moving to Philly – was taking a real chance, I know – but when this short, sexy, 22-year-old handsome as fuck black man showed up at the bus station, I knew I was in trouble – if not in love.

‘Cause here’s the bitch, folks – Darius was straight.

My white-boy’s pink slab of 7-inch meat started getting hard just looking at the guy. Just one firm handshake, and I was putting my carry-on over my crotch to hide the embarrassment. Darius smiled his perfect-white, killer smile, dark eyes twinkling, and chatted a lot on the way home to make me feel at ease. Maybe 5’6” if that, he was pure

dynamite from head to toe: short hair, a trim body sharply-dressed in grays and blacks, with a man’s hands and sexy little feet with – I found out later that night – toes I would have sold my soul to suck. The apartment was also great; a huge 2-bedroom in a big high-rise off Stenton Avenue, right in historic Chestnut Hill.

Darius was here on a co-op through college, from Michigan originally but living and working in Philly throughout the rest of the year as part of his schooling. That first night was rough, the next few weeks rougher as I lay tossing and turning in my bed at night, this fine-ass man sleeping in the room next to mine. My horny-ometer was on permanent overdrive whenever he was home – not helped by the fact that his sleepwear – what he walked around in before bed – consisted of a black do-rag, white tank top, and baggy boxer/running shorts that were not so baggy as to hide his high, juicy, bubble-butt ass; legs and feet bare. And damnit to hell, me with a foot fetish. Closing my eyes now, I can still see those juicy, sexy little toes that I actually had the privilege to massage one evening that first week – and deeply regret not tasting that night.

Things were coming to a head; I was working 50 hours a week at my new job, second-shift, which helped as Darius worked days. Still, around the house, my dick was constantly at half-mast whenever Darius was home.

Then, about two months in, he asked me if I minded if a friend/co-worker moved in with us for a few months, to bring our individual rent costs down lower, and provide this friend with a closer home to work, as now the friend was staying in New Jersey – over a 45-minute drive away. Stupidly, I agreed – even though it was only a 2-bedroom apartment and it meant he’d be crashing on the couch – having met the guy only once.

His name was Numan. He was 31, thuggish-looking, even had a belly on him (but considered himself a jock). He kind of looked like a handsome Jay-Z, was cocky and macho, with a very dark complexion … tall and stocky, with big feet and a slight overbite. Nowhere near Darius in looks, but the masculinity was there, testosterone over the top.

Numan immediately took over the apartment; sat around watching TV at night (usually a sports channel or BET), spreading his stuff all over the living room, trashing the bathroom every time he took a shower – even taking a week or more to wash any dishes he dirtied.

It drove me nuts. Never had I lived with such a fucking slob. Even worse, his habits began rubbing off on Darius, who great equally lazy in a matter of weeks. My lust for Darius and that hot little bubble-ass of his (note: Numan’s ass was even bigger, and rounder – two basketballs stuffed into tight-ass boxer briefs he often wore around the house after his shower) had turned to frustration. He and Numan had even started doing everything together – no more foot massages for Darius, I guess – to the point where I felt completely like a boarder, instead of an equal roommate.

But by late September, it all changed. All because of bad Chinese food.

I work 12-8pm that Wednesday, and for lunch break tried this new Chinese place that had opened up around the corner, just off Market Street in Center City. Bad move. By 5:00 that afternoon I was sick as fuck, stomach killing me bad enough I had to leave work early and head straight home to the bathroom – just in case.

The train ride home was scary, but by the time I walked into the apartment my grumbling gut had settled down. It was quiet in the place, which was kind of odd – almost six o’clock, I knew Darius and Numan got home about 4:30, with Darius often heading out again soon after for his night job in retail.

From my position at the front door, I could see the six-inch stack of dishes piled up in the kitchen sink. Shaking my head, I closed the apartment door quietly, heading for my room …

And that’s when I saw it: Darius’s bedroom door was nearly closed. Maybe a six-inch crack remained open. Weird – Darius never closed his bedroom door except when he slept at night, or was dressing; and even then, he closed it all the way. Curious, I pressed my face to the wide crack as I stood in the semi-dark hallway – and all stomach pain was forgotten as my jaw dropped at what I saw.

Numan, stretched out across the bottom of Darius’s bed, jeans around his ankles and bagging over the Nikes on his feet, which dangled just above the floor. His tight, black boxer briefs were pulled down off his crotch, waistband tucked under his big, heavy balls, and Darius had about 90% of Numan’s 8-inch cock down his throat, sucking his friend’s dick ‘til his cheeks caved in. Numan, propped up on his elbows to watch, sucked his big Jay-Z lips in between his teeth, exhaling out through his lips, juicy mouth forming a big “O” as a small moan escaped his throat. Darius, still dressed in his blue and khaki (complete with bright yellow nametag), leaned over, one hand wrapped around Numan’s thick prick, his mouth greedily sucking cock.

I almost came in my pants just watching them. Then, when Darius suddenly glanced at his watch, jumping up as he pulled Numan’s hard cock from his mouth with a pop and said he was late for work, I almost shit in my pants. I had to get out of there; didn’t want them to know I had seen.

I hustled into my room, stepping into the closet just as Darius came out of his room. He snatched his keys up off a table in the living and hurried out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

Silence. My heart was beating faster as hell. Then, I heard the rustle of clothes and Numan’s belt buckling. As he came out of Darius’s bedroom I stepped from my closet, where he could see me … and I could see the huge bulge of his hard-on that still tented his tight jeans.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, busted. The look in his eyes told me he knew I’d seen.

I dropped to my knees, stroking his hard cock through those jeans even as a thin line of pre-cum appeared on them, and replied, “Picking up where an amateur left off.”

He tried to pull away but I held his hips, then in one swift move unzipped his fly and pulled out that big throbbing piece of black beef, sucking its 8+ inches to the balls with blinking. Numan freaked, pushing my shoulders away, then a long hiss and he began fucking my throat, almost against his own will, fists tangling in my blond hair. This dude could fuck, too, all that running and shooting hoops creating thick and muscular legs he used to ram the back of my throat, forcing every centimeter of his dick inside my mouth – my nose buried in the muskiness of his wiry black pubic hair.

I stood, watching his super-sized cock dripping my spit onto the hallway carpeting and, pulling him by the shirt, led him back into Darius’s room – his jeans and boxer briefs by now around his ankles. His fat, black dick stood straight out, a little marine at full attention, the whole time.

As he sat on Darius’s bed, I stripped off his Nikes and white athletic socks and started sucking on his big jock’s feet. Numan fell back onto Darius’s bed, moaning as I licked and slurped and suckled each individual toe on his size thirteen feet, taking my time as his head thrashed back and forth, cock oozing a long dribble of pre-cum onto his hairless belly.

I worked my way up from those thick, wet toes, tracing my tongue along those beefy footballs player’s legs to the fuzzy sac of fat, low-riding balls that nestled glistening with sweat in the triangle between his legs. When I sucked one into my mouth, then the other, Numan let out a grunt that was probably heard four apartments away. His big hands clenched and splayed and clenched again on Darius’s rumpled bedsheets … it was obvious the guy had never gotten his balls tended to with this much TLC before.

His thick fat pole slid down my throat to the pubic hair again, the blond stubble on my chin caressing his nuts, and Numan started sucking his teeth, breathing hard through his mouth again. When a couple of war whoops from this hot, macho jock minutes later told me he was close, I back off.

Now that I had made him mine, I wanted more.

I’d already spied the few loose condoms Darius had left behind on his bedside table. As I pulled my mouth off Numan, reaching over for one, he sat up quickly.

“Aw, hell no, man! I am not gonna fuck no dude! Let alone no white dude! I mean, head is head, but – shit!”

He began tugging up his underwear. His cock, rock-hard and still standing straight out but now curving upward – as hard as it could get – told a different story of what he wanted. Gently, I pushed Numan back onto the bed. Amazingly … he let me. Tearing the condom open with my teeth, I rolled it slowly onto his big black prick, having a tough time ‘cause his dick was so thick; evidently, Darius ain’t hung like Numan.

“Relax,” I said softly as I undressed. He watched me like I was going to maybe jack his watch, or something, but that supercock never went down. In fact, when I stripped off my white briefs and turned to lay them on the chair by the bed, the sight of my own round, white ass caused another line of pre-jizz to bubble from his piss-slit of his cock like lava.

My problem was, the lube was in my room. If I left long enough to get it, I knew Numan would be dressed and out of the apartment before I could say “boo”. I had to make do, and as I am normally a top myself – and Numan’s cock was so fucking thick … this was going to be tricky.

Another five minutes of sucking that latex-clad slab of beef, and I crawled up beside him, at his left side. If I was going to do this, it was going to be in my favorite position, damnit. I turned my back on him, my butt rubbing against his hard left thigh as I said, “Give me your right hand, Numan.”

He did so, probably propelled by curiosity, and his big paw felt calloused and rough in my smaller, pale fingers. I pulled, and as he rolled right over I felt that fat dick lining up with the crack in my ass, and my already-hard, pink seven inches somehow got even harder.

I slurped on the first and second fingers of my right hand, getting them dripping with spit, then raised my pale right leg high in the air and inserted them into my ass to the second knuckle – trying to prepare myself for his cock. I had to hurry – the spit on that condom was drying fast – and when I pulled out I grabbed his beefy black arm, wrapping it around my chest. Pulling his front even closer to my back – two spoons in a drawer – I shut my eyes, said a prayer, and raised my right leg even higher as I bent my knee and whispered:

“Fuck me.”

He pulled his right arm away, needing his hand to guide his cock, and as that fat black mushroom head forced itself slowly into my unwilling sphincter, explosions of red and yellow and green blasted behind my eyelids. My teeth clenched, lips going white with tightness, and I tried to make myself to relax as Numan forced about half of his eight inches up my hole. God, the pain was intense, consuming me, and it was hard as hell to keep myself from screaming, or pulling away as he kept pushing in more deeply.

Then, when he was just about all the way in, warmth spread through my belly that grew in heat and intensity. I was suddenly more sexually aroused than I had ever been before in my life, and I wanted Numan so badly I would have killed for him right then and there. I felt his heavy balls graze my ass as he pushed in the last of that fat black prick, and when he began fucking me – slowly at first, then building in speed until the headboard of Darius’s bed banged against the wall – I thought maybe my brain had exploded and I maybe I was dead, transported to heaven as this sloppy jock son-of-a-bitch that I thought I couldn’t live with, I now couldn’t live without.

Over and over again, relentless he was on me, this horny jock pounding my asshole as we lay on our sides, his breath grunting hotly in my ear. Raising my right leg as high as a Rockette, I found it suddenly pushed down, as Numan rolled over – his cock still buried up my ass – and in seconds was on top of me, my pale legs and feet wrapped around his broad mahogany shoulders, knees in my face as his rhythm increased further, cock ramming my tight butthole until I thought I would pass out. He watched me, watched my pain and ecstasy, his black eyes emotionless as a shark in the gloom of Darius’s room, then suddenly he leaned down and we were kissing, making out like teenagers, slurping and sucking hard on each other’s tongue and lips, those fucking thick and juicy lips of his, my hands cupping his face and devouring him as he simply, roughly, kept fucking, fucking, fucking me.

Minutes slid into hours, it seemed, then without warning my cock, flapping hard and flat between our two bellies, exploded on its own, my cum jettisoning out in fat white, steamy globs of liquid snow, flying in an arc between our chests and coating one of Numan’s rock-hard nipples before I licked it clean and went back to kissing him, his pelvis grinding in a circular motion into my tender ass.

He grunted again, another loud one, then pulled out, ripping off the rubber just in time to blow a load of the whitest cum I had ever seen all over my deflating cock and empty balls, streams of the stuff just shooting and shooting over me like thick rain, some of which reached as far as my hair.

Squeezing the last droplets from his cock head, shaking it out onto my drained balls, Numan collapsed on top of me, eliciting a small whoosh of air from my body when he landed. We kissed again – amazingly, sweetly – then he seemed to remember where he was, and whom he was with, because he leapt off the bed. Grabbing up all his clothes, not looking at me, he dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door. The shower kicked on seconds later.

I grabbed my shit and fled Darius’s room, too, buttcheeks quivering in the chilly air conditioning, rivulets of our mixed jizz already drying on my body. Not daring to guess what Numan’s reaction would be once he had a moment to really think through what had just happened between us, I hurried into my room, closing and locking the door behind me. Night was fast approaching outside, my closed blinds keeping my room dark and stuffy, but I just threw my clothes and shoes and shit onto the floor and dived for the bed, worrying about cleaning up (and changing the sheets) later.

Jesus, my ass hurt. Good God, did it feel great. I dozed off in a euphoric state of afterglow, exhausted and sore, after what was undoubtedly the best sexual experience of my life.

I woke to a pitch-black room; an apartment silent as a grave. Rolling over to check my alarm clock, I saw it was 9:04pm. I had been asleep about three hours. The back parking lot lights were barely visible through the slats in my blinds.

I sat up, asshole protesting my movement loudly. Oh my God, it wasn’t a dream, after all. Numan had really fucked me. On Darius’s bed. Shit, my dick was getting stiff again just thinking about it.

Still, it was with a shaky hand that I unlocked and opened my bedroom door, dreading Numan’s reaction when he saw me. Throwing on some blue workout shorts, I crept down the short hallway to the living room, where the faint glow of the television proved the only source of light in our big apartment.

There he was, on the couch. Asleep on his belly, snoring lightly, his head still turned to face ESPN, where a basketball game played on with sound turned low. A white sheet draped itself over his body from the waist down, and I could barely see the waistband of hit trademark underwear – skin-tight black boxer briefs with gray trim. Even under the loose white sheet, the huge globes of his perfect ass rose majestically. I stood there, staring in awe, and suddenly – God help me – I had to see.

I moved closer to the couch. Past experience with the telephone and doorbell had taught me Numan could sleep though anything, yet I still approached with caution – and more than a little fear.

Slowly, I pulled the white sheet down off his body, toward his big-ass feet, untucking a corner that had slid under one of his bent knees in sleep. Unable to stop myself, I gasped at the most flawless butt I’d ever seen, 100% bootylicious, those huge cheeks stretching the fabric of his Jockey boxer briefs like they were a couple sizes too small.

Numan snored on.

My fingers felt like ice as all ten of them oh-so-gently tucked themselves under the snug waistband of his underwear, pulling it down as well. I got about halfway when Numan grunted, shifted, and actually pushed his ass up off the sofa, maybe a fraction of an inch and only for a second – but just long enough for my fingers to do the thinking as my brain went out to lunch; I quickly jerked the briefs down to his beefy calves in one smooth movement before his heavy body fell back to the overstuffed sofa. The action must have been automatic, done in his sleep, because his snores picked up again immediately, louder than ever.

But at that point in my madness, I wouldn’t have cared whether he was awake or not. I wouldn’t have cared about anything. All I could do was sit beside him on the very edge of the sofa, cock hard as stone in my sweats as I stared, transfixed, at those big round balls of chocolate before me.

In the flickering television glow they seemed huge. I had seen Numan in his underwear around the house before – many times – and had become desensitized to his ass, to a degree (still thought it incredible, though).

But nude? Entirely different story. And a page-one story it was, too. His big brown buns were smooth as a pair of billiard balls, and as perfectly round, glowing in a light sheen of sweat from the TV’s glow, sprinkled lightly with tiny black hairs that ran down the crack of his ass. Moving of its own free will, my left hand reached out, trembling, to gently cup his left buttcheek, caressing it’s glistening smooth surface. Never had I felt anything so firm but smooth. As my palm rubbed lightly over both cheeks, my breath caught in silent awe, I could feel pre-cum dribble out of my own cock as I stroked the fine, taught flesh of his wonder-ass.

Numan’s breathing deepened, snores growling now from his chest as I lost all contact with sanity and leaned over with both hands, spreading his ass cheeks as softly – but widely – as I dared. In the gloom of the TV I could barely make out a tiny, puckery, darker-than-midnight asshole, lightly swirled around its circumference with those thick, tiny curls of delicious black hair.

My breath was heavy, body tight with tension and stark terror. But beyond all that, a lust had grown in me like something I had never known before. It prevailed. Slowly, I doubled over, spread his ass cheeks as wide as they would go, and my fat pink tongue slid silently and completely – as far as it could – up and deeply into his beautiful black ass.

His musky, masculine scent – with a lingering of Zest soap thrown in like a breeze – filled my nostrils as I moaned, eating him out hungrily. A long, low groan of animalistic pleasure escaped him in sleep, his face twisting up in childlike confusion, brows knitted together. His right hand flew back, tapping me in the head but not pushing me away, so I spread those black beachballs apart even further, and got even deeper inside his ebony behind, in such ecstasy I barely noticed Numan’s thrusting his butt up to meet my tongue, riding my face as every one of my senses exploded at the sweet muskiness of his ass; I thought it would be days before I washed my face, wanting his scent on me forever.

Numan was full-out groaning now, hanging on for the ride of his life, instincts taking over even in sleep as his ass still bucked my face, goosebumps spreading like wildfire over the surface of his buttcheeks. I pulled up for air a couple of times, at which time he’d fall back to the couch, gasping himself as if in the throes of an asthma attack.

Quickly, I ran for my bedroom, out of breath and so aroused I could have come right then. I was back to him in seconds, nude now, my prick standing, rigged, straight up against my belly – my lube and two condoms in hand.

I dropped the rubbers onto the floor next to the couch and went back to eating out that glorious asshole, squirting a good-sized blob of lube onto the first two fingers of my left hand as the same time. God, if you have never eaten out the ass of a black man, you are literally missing a taste of pure heaven – the musky manliness that only African-American men seem to have at that level between their legs (front and back) is tasty, addictive, and better than ice cream. Pulling my face back, I held my breath as I placed my greased-up fingers to his wet asshole, rubbing the lube liberally all around the black hole I wanted to posses.

Slowly, I inserted my index finger.

“SHIT!” Numan bucked on the sofa, his knee-jerk reaction forcing my finger all the way up his butt in one gooey slide. Crying out in pain and anger, he fell back to the couch as my finger slid out again, turning his face to the back of the couch as he yelped like a kicked puppy at its exit.

I sat rigid, ready to run but unable to even flick an eyelash. Shit, was I in trouble.

But then, in the silence of the darkened living room, under the glow of the Lakers game, I barely heard his muffled voice as he spoke into the couch cushions – and what he said changed my perception of straight men forever:

“You hurt me again, I’ll kill ya.”

It took a few seconds for his words to register – and when they did, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Had I heard right? Was what he’d said … what I thought I’d heard … wa – was he telling me, in his own thug-jock way … to continue? To just not dare hurt him again, but to … continue?

My answer came as Numan shifted again, ass rising, and got to his knees on the sofa, that big black ass shiny in the air as he spread his thick legs far as they could go on the couch, his big right slab of a foot hanging partially off the sofa’s edge as I had to stand to make room. I reached down and grabbed up a condom, ripping it open with my teeth, mute as a mime. I don’t think I could have spoken if I’d tried; my mouth seemed full of cotton.

Rolling the Trojan onto my nearly-bursting cock, I lubed it generously before applying a fresh new coat of Wet to Numan’s delicious hole. Then, positioning myself behind his two perfect, black butt-melons, I slowly inserted the stiff head of my pink prick into his ass.

“Mmmpthpthmm!” is the best I can describe his scream into the thick sofa cushions. I saw his fists clench, could feel his body and ass go rigid with pain.

“Shh … relax …” I told him. “It only hurts if you don’t relax …” I slowly slid another few centimeters of hard, seven-inch cock into his virgin jock-hole.

He fought me at first but I was in charge now. I took it slow, teaching him to chill. His asshole was tight on my cock, unstretchable, and by the time my dick was up him all the way, to the balls, his cries of pain had turned to those deep growls of pleasure that turned me on so much. When I was sure he was okay with me buried inside his ass, was feeling that numbness that spreads through your body when your sphincter is teased and pleased, I worked up to a rhythm that had me pounding his ass with jack-hammering speed, humping that big ass with everything I had as sweat coated my body, flying onto his back. Numan was still crying out, only grunting in deep pleasure now, also screaming the occasional Fuck! or Shit! into the sofa, losing it completely as I took his ass-cherry hard and fast, fucking him and myself senseless until I yanked out, ripped off the condom, and sprayed a big load of thick, white-hot jizz all over that heaven-sent black ass, my cum landing like the squiggly lines you see on a Hostess cupcake.

So tired and spent now that I had the beginnings of a migraine, I used my still-hard prick as a paintbrush to smear my cream all over his incredible behind, which was so huge even all the load I’d shot was barely enough to cover it like frosting. Darius forgotten, fears forgotten – shit, even my name forgotten – as Numan pulled his face out from the couch cushions and rolled over, I started to lie down on top of him … but both his arms shot out at once, stopping me.

“Dude,” he whispered, out of breath. He licked his lips in the dark to try again. “Dude, just … just get away from me. Ai’ight?”

“Uhh … okay.” I rose off the couch, grabbing my shorts and lube, both the used and fresh condoms. “Sure.”

He watched me the whole time like an alligator, eyes impassive, distrust – and maybe fear? – there. Shell-shocked, I think he was. “I – I just wanna be by myself, man,” he said softly.

“That’s cool.” Still naked and clutching my stuff, I hurried down to my room. For the second time that night, I went straight to bed – only this time, I checked twice to make sure my door was locked.

They asked me to move out two days later. No reason given; Darius said Numan wasn’t “comfortable” with me living there anymore, though he himself seemed perplexed as to why. Ooh, was I tempted to tell him, but I didn’t; I had a good idea what Numan was going through, even if he was avoiding me completely now.

I got lucky – someone at work was looking for a roommate – and my last night there, at the apartment, I went to bed early; my co-worker was picking me up at 7 the next morning. Now, I can’t be 100% sure, but I think I woke up around 2am to hear Darius and Numan arguing. At least, I remember Numan’s voice, clearly shouting, “I said back the fuck off, jack!” before I dozed off again, smiling. Guess I was better than Darius, after all.

He was already off the sofa and gone from the apartment when Christopher came to move me out the next morning. But taking Numan’s virginity – being his first, and probably the last, guy to butt-fuck him – left me tingling and wanting more, even as I went to his dirty-clothes laundry bag (while Chris was downstairs) and fished out the pair of black-with-gray-trim boxer briefs lying on top.

Holding the crotch up to my face, I could smell Numan’s musky man-scent all over them. Instantaneously, my cock grew hard again in my jeans.

Sighing, I folded the shorts up neatly and placed them in a plastic Super Fresh Food Market bag, which I tied in a knot and deposited in my carry-on before leaving the apartment.

After all, even Disneyland expects you to take home a souvenir. THE END


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