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  • Black ballers

    • Darrell Rice had just finished his college studies for the summer when he got this job at the small town newspaper. Staying in the dorm after the semester was a bit lonely, but he enjoyed the time away from home and the privacy on the floor. The trip to town was a quick ride, and his dad had given him the second car to travel to school and then use for the semester. He came into the newspaper job as an intern, based on his High School stint as school paper editor. He enjoyed the atmosphere in the newsroom, the manly camaraderie, sense of importance, the late nights discussing stories and leads. It was like being a quarterback, a detective, and psychoanalyst in one package. He wanted join in and needed an angle that he could sell to the editor-in-chief.

    Mr. Meyers reminded him of his years in High School, on the Basketball team with his teammates and with the coach trying to figure out the strengths and weakness of the opposing team. He knew that the newspaper editor had played Football back at the same college Darrell now attended but those late nights at the bar he never went into detail, merely pointing to his knee and putting on a houndog look. That was the only time Mr Meyers ever looked the least vulnerable. With his wide shoulders, trim waist and steely grey hair he was an imposing force on the news floor. You could feel the ripple of fear and admiration as he strode through the newsroom barking orders, laughing at the latest foibles with the political staffers, winking at the secretaries who would never consider it sexual harassment, but instead blushed at the attention.

    Darrell decided to do an interview of the local basketball team. He wanted to explore how the under privileged kids had grown up to become model citizens and to become role models to the local teenagers. This was something he could relate to, having played ball since he was old enough to walk.

    The team that he wanted to interview were lost youth about five years ago that later became young men trying to steer the younger boys and girls of the town in the right direction through sports programs. They had the task of reassuring them that drugs were a dead-end road and offered no hopes of ever getting ahead. Darrel had little experience with the drug culture, having grown up in Middle America, always engaged with school activities and after school sports programs. He did know of other teammates in High School who bragged about their exploits, but always chalked it up as locker room talk.

    Not being able to focus on anything else the whole weekend, Darrell decided that he would go to his boss the first thing Monday morning. But first he should ride around town, getting a lay of the land, so to speak. The University was out of town and he had little reason to come in during the semester. The only "townie" he knew was Dwayne, the only African American on his floor at the dorm, who he would nod to when they passed in the hall but rarely spoke. Dwayne was in the Theater Program, and Darrell had seen one of the productions, or rather half a production, when the rest of his buddies walked out of that Tennessee Williams play at intermission. He had wanted to stay, he had seen the movie late night with Marlon Brando as Kowalski, but didnt want to be seen as a dork. When he saw Dwayne the next day, he congratulated him on the set design, and Dwayne beamed.

    He knew Dwayne was back home for the summer session and found his name in the phone book, called that Saturday afternoon, but the person who answered said he was out of the house. He left his name and number, assuming it was his brother, and then quickly stripped to change into shorts and tee to go for a run in the park that surrounded the school. While jogging he always thought through his plans, and this day he needed a long run to clear up the ideas he was considering.

    He was just finishing his last lap along the wooded path when he thought he saw Dwayne, walking across the pathway. He stopped, took a moment to stretch and catch his breath, and was about to call his name when another young jogger walked quickly across the path in the same direction. Darrell started off in the same direction deeper into the woods following. Just at the turn in the path, he saw the young man dart behind a tree off the path, seeming to disappear. This threw Darrell, but he continued on walking as silently as possible. Stepping just past that tree, he turned to see the blond boy on his knees, his face buried in the crotch of a black man, held by his ears, feeding him his long thick dick. Darrell froze, staring at the scene, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He could see the high round black butt tense as it pumped forward on every thrust, hear the slobbering sounds, the muffled groans.

    Suddenly he heard footsteps coming from the path that had lead him to this point. He turned to see a tall, muscled black man striding directly toward him. He quickly turned, stepped off the path to the other side and behind a tree so the first two wouldnt see him. This was clearly seen by the new arrival, quickly sizing him up as he went past. Getting to the point where he could see the action going on, he turned suddenly to Darrell and walked directly toward the spot he was standing. Now there was no escape, the big black stud standing there in the pathway slowly stroking his crotch, the low slung jeans barely on those thin hips. His sinewy arms were laced with veins covering his muscles, his wide shoulders holding that red Chicago Bulls tee shirt loosely across his wide pecs. Darrell wasnt much smaller, after all those years playing b-ball, but he was no match for this thuggy boy and he was frozen at the prospect as he stood there in front of him.

    Off to the side he heard the other couple groaning loudly, breaking the trance. Both looked over, and at that moment Darrell started past the big black man, slipping onto the path and jogging toward the road. He heard that thug chuckle under his breath, and as Darrell got half way up the path, turned to see him walking to the spot where the action was happening. Barely breathing, he started back on the running path home. He had seen enough black dick in the showers to know that this was not the way he every imagined losing his cherry. He knew a few of the team bragged about getting head, choking some girl on their big knobs, and the thought scared him.

    As he jogged away, he became aware that his own dick was rock hard, snaking in those shorts across his hips. Damn, he thought, whats that about. He always thought of himself as straight, even tho' he had never made it to third base. The girls in High School had always thought of the jocks as a conquest, and went from one jock to the other, so he wasnt playing that game. He figured hed meet someone in college, but with the stress of classes he had yet to meet many girls. Now here he was, running in the woods, his hard on painfully flopping in his shorts.

    He got back to the dorm in record time, closing the door behind him. He stripped and quickly stepped into the shower, taking a quick look in the mirror. He was flushed, his eyes glistening, his dick now jutting straight out from his crotch. As he touched it, it seemed to spring up, swelling even harder. He stepped into the shower, grabbing the soap, trying to wash away the thought of what had just happened. As he soaped his dick, he noticed the precum glistening on the purple head of his dick, and he stroked it faster, knowing after he came it would finally go down. In a half crouch, he was madly pounding his meat, the water tricking over his chest, cooling his hard nipples and over his washboard abs, running over his tight boyballs.

    Just as he was about to cum he heard the phone and it continued to ring until he heard the machine kick in. He suddenly heard Dwayne's voice, saying he was glad Darrell had called and that he would call back. He had been concentrating on his dick, staring at his hand pumping along his nine-inch thick dick, totally in the zone. Suddenly he saw the whole scene again in his mind, and he started to shoot, his cum landing in thick cannon blasts on the shower wall, and with a groan fell to his knees, still cumming. Opening his eyes, he saw himself in the wall mirror, there on his knees, dick in hand, breathing heavily. He was shocked to see himself in that position, and quickly stumbled to his feet, grabbing a towel, rubbing the water off his body. Unlike times before, his dick didnt soften, and hung there between his legs. He went to his bed, lay down and promptly fell into a deep sleep.

    ***

    Darrell must have slept fitfully, because as he awoke the covers of the bed were tangled around his legs, the pillow was tucked into his crotch, and he was covered in sweat. He blinked his eyes quickly, not knowing where he was, startled out of his sleep. Then he heard the rapping at the door to his dorm, and as he tried to get up, he tripped on the covers and fell heavily to the floor. With the crash of the lamp table, the door swung open suddenly, framing Dwayne in the hallway.

    "Oh, man! Wha happened!!??" he blurted, looking down at nude Irish stud tangled in a sheet, face down on the floor.

    Darrell rolled over quickly, still looking at Dwayne standing there staring down at him. He was looking directly into his eyes, but Dwayne was staring at his crotch, and Darrell suddenly realized he was nude, lying on his side, his raging dick scraping on the rug.

    "Fuck, Man..." Darrell groaned loudly as he reached down and tried to untangle the sheet from his legs to no avail. Suddenly Dwayne was beside him, reaching down and grabbing him under his arms, pulling him to his feet. He now stood there in the arms of that lean black student, leaning against him. As he turned to face him, they just barely missed having their lips meet, staring at each other face to face. Slowly, Dwayne lowered him onto the bed.

    "Damn!" Russell groaned as he sat on the edge of the bed, his legs still tightly wrapped in the sheet. As he reached down, his head banged straight into Dwayne's crotch, and he reared back. It felt like he had hit a steel rod with his forehead, and looking straight ahead, he could swear that he saw the outline of Dwayne's hardon snaking across his hips in those loose sweatpants. Before he could utter a word, Dwayne bent down, took the sheet and unwrapped it from the jock's legs, sneaking a look at the softening dick laying on the side of Darrell's thigh. Then Russell heard a noise at the door.

    Outside the door, still open to the hallway, Darrell thought he saw Tony standing there. The young Italian had been standing there, watching the action and just smirking. Tony had the room next door, and had heard the commotion and come out to see what had happened. Damn, Tony knew the reputation that Dwayne had around the campus, but he never thought that Russell was ever going to be a conquest. But there they were, Russell on the edge of the bed nude and Dwayne bending down over his crotch. He was already thinking what this might mean to the rest of the team when the Fall semester started and Russell showed up for practice. He had never thought the big Irish boy could be gay, he was too Stone Butch. But then, he never came along after the games to go into town to run around for girls, didn't ever talk trash in the locker room with the rest of the team. He suddenly remembered the time the team had to attend that play for English class, the one Dwayne had done the sets for. He wasn't gonna stand and watch as these two went at it! he was outta here. Before he thought he could be seen, he stepped down the hall, running to the exit door. As he passed the bathroom, he stepped in, and started to laugh.

    Damn, this was too fucking good. He always thought he had a better chance on the team if Darrell wasn't such an aggressive player, and the Coach seemed to favor him. He had never warmed up to him for that reason, and now he had a trump card to play. If he could get the team to rass him off the team, Tony had a chance to play more time rather than warm the bench. The cheerleaders always gathered around the star players, and it had been a really dry season. He got his share, but needed the court time to get more visibility.

    Thinking about it all that cheerleader pussy, he realized his dick was hard, and he walked to the urinals to take a piss, hoping to relieve the pressure in his tight jeans. Fuck it, why not just whack off, he thought. But to do that he would have to go back past the doorway, and he couldn't risk being seen. Stepping down the line of booths, he stepped into the first one, undid the button on his jeans and watched his uncut thick dick slap up against his stomach. He was proud of his dick, and damn if it wasn't raging for some attention. He wrapped his hand around the thick shaft and skinned back that foreskin, looking at the glistening head. He loved the feeling, and had been wanking since he was just a kid, loved showing off his thick dick in the locker room. In the silence of the room he could hear the echo as he slapped his meat frantically, standing there with his eyes closed.

    Suddenly, he heard someone clear their throat, and he looked down to see that this booth had a large hole into the next stall. Damn, he never knew this, he always used his own bathroom. Looking down, he saw that there was someone on the other side, and he could hear the sound of him masturbating. Stepping up to the hole, he stood there, pointing his dick straight at the hole. The other man cleared his throat again, and heard him say something. Fuck, a mouth is a mouth, man, and if he wanted to suck dick mine was ready. Tony pushed the tip of hs dick thru the hole, and suddenly he felt lips wrap around the tip, chewing on the overhang of his foreskin. Pulling back, he gripped his shaft, and slipped his dick all the way thru, the head popping out of that sheath. He felt those lips wrap around the head and start gobbling down the shaft, then coming back off his dick. Tony loved to have his dick sucked, and girl's never wanted to do it, even after he had eaten out their hole. All they would do is groan and lick the shaft, toying with his balls. He had never realized before how sensitive his nuts were, and had become addicted to having them milked while he fucked them, making them run their nails over his wrinkled sac. Feeling that mouth chew on the shaft was driving him wild, and with a quick thrust, he slipped his balls thru that hole, and then grabbed the top of the toilet wall, his crotch glued to the hole. That's when he felt the snap of something going all around his crotch, and suddenly he couldn't move. His dick and balls were somehow tied to that hole, and it was painful to try to pull it back, damn it was impossible. All the while, whoever was on the other side continued work his dick, Sucking and wanking the shaft, holding his balls tightly in a fist. Tony wanted to scream, but there was no one who he knew on the floor except for Russell and Dwayne, and he was damned if he was going to be found in this position. He stood there in a combination of fear and lust, his dick feeling like it was gonna burst.

    "Lemme go, man! Lemme go!" he said hoarsely, begging. All he heard was a chuckly, and a hard yank on his balls. He groaned and gripped the wall tightly, not knowing what he could do. He was at the mercy of the person on the other side of the wall,

    ***

    It had been a close, hard fought season, but the team still came just a few point shy of the regional playoffs. There was no one to blame, but as coach he still felt some responsibility for the loss of that final game. It was mitigated only by the fact that it had happened on the road, just over the county line. There were the usual die-hard fans that traveled to see the game, but the opposing team supporters had turned out in force. The energy in that college gym was thick as fog, the roar at the last basket deafening.

    Driving in his car after the game, even the radio couldn't get the echo of those last points out of his skull. He could already see the headline in the sports section of The Town Bugle. He could even write it but his older brother Richard was the new editor-in-chief and he just hoped that he would go easy. Maybe it was a mistake letting that news photographer he didn't know into the locker room after the game. He had seemed to take lotsa pics and the mood was a bit foul. There was none of the usual razzing, the jocular trashtalk. The team broke up for the ride home, some travelling with the parents, some in a carpool. He was glad he didn't have to drop anyone home, because he didn't want to discuss tonight's game and the team's effort.

    As usual, Tony was sulking and mumbling under his breath about the amount of time he had spent on the bench. He had gone with his first squad, and Rico had the quickest hands, Darrell was a strong muscular forward, and Russell was a formidable presence at center. They had held their own the whole game, and finally it came down to free throws, four of which Tony had missed. He would have him in the gym for some after-practice drills next week. He told his assistant Coach Kowalski to plan on a new regimen for the Fall and focus on these weakness with the new squad because this front line were all off to college. But for now, the season was history, and Coach Myers would have to regroup his team, contact them again when he was back on campus in September.

    This summer he had to complete the house repairs he had planned, and that was plenty of distraction. The workmen had started the job sometime in April, and still the house was a construction zone. Not that he minded all that much, and every morning he would see them arrive before he left for the campus, seeing them pack up as he arrived home. And there was just something about workmen in those one piece overalls that still set his stomach fluttering, and this crew was straight out of a porn magazine. The foreman was someone he knew from town, but the rest of the crew were all strangers, new to town and barely legal in all sense of the word.

    One of the cutest was Miguel, a short muscular Latino who seemed to swing effortlessly from ladder to rooftop, always turning to be sure someone saw his style. One morning last week as he left for the campus, he stepped away to the car and looked up, to find Miguel just standing up, grabbing his crotch to readjust his dick, turning to see Coach staring up at him. At that point Coach could swear he saw him wink, as he smiled with those white teeth glinting in the sun, hand still on his crotch.

    When Coach Myers got home that night, he was purposely late to avoid the crew, but when he went into his bedroom there was that doo-rag he remembered seeing on Miguel, on the floor by his bed. He would have mentioned this to the foreman but he wanted to keep it and that night he jerked off with that rag on the floor, shooting his big load onto it. The next morning he didn't see Miguel, but when he got home that night the doo-rag was gone. Luckily it was Friday and the game was that weekend, so he didn't give it another thought.

    Sunday night was a quiet night in town, so all he wanted to do was get home and take that shower he needed. He had stopped taking showers with the team after last season, but would sometimes wait till after the school was closed to hit the gym showers. At 35, he wasn't too old to be susceptible to his raging hormones, and too often he would find himself fantasizing on the team. Better he didn't get in the showers, but he would stay in the office listening to the horseplay and bragging, a hardon raging as he sat at the desk waiting. College boys may be legal tender, but he liked his job and so far no one suspected his secret life as a homo, faggot, buttboy, cocksucker, fairy. He was all man, but he was also all of the above, according to the names he heard thru the wall after the games. But no one was the wiser, and he needed to keep it that way.

    It was one of those late nights, alone taking one of his late night showers that he thought he would lose his job coaching. The water was running, so he never heard the locker room door open, and soon he was soaping up, running his hand over his chest, working up a thick lather on his strapping hairy chest. He lingered on his nipples, twisting them gently, loving the way the water played over his body. His dick had swelled, hanging almost to his knees, too heavy and not quite fully loaded with blood to stand upright. He soaped up and massaged his balls, spreading his legs and teasing the root of his dick. Putting one hand on the shower wall, he squatted and reached between his legs, letting his fingers graze his puckered hole. Lifting his face to the shower stream, he gulped water soaking his head and shaking it roughly side to side.

    Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone standing there, at the entrance to the shower room. Blinking back his surprise, he turned quickly to the doorway to see that it was Jose, the new janitor who had just began last week. Standing in the doorway with the mop in his hand he was stroking his own dick hanging out of his jumpsuit uniform, unzipped from the top, showing his hairless chest. His pecs were twitching in time to his strokes, holding his stare with the coach. With no idea how long he had been standing there, Coach noticed he seemed to be breathing shallow, the steam adding to the gleam of his chest and his fist a blur on his thick uncut latin dick.

    Just like that, he started to cum, the blasts reaching halfway across the room. Jose crouched as his big gun shot at least six thick gobs almost hitting Coach. Standing up he smiled broadly and let go of his heavy cock. It was flopping down halfway to his knee and still dripping with cum. Tugging it into his uniform and carefully placing it down the leg of the jumpsuit he casually zipped up. As he turned with a final look over his shoulder he winked, just as quickly disappearing from sight. Coach stood there, totally dumbstruck, his dick now a raging pole. Turning off the water and quickly grabbing a towel, Coach stepped out of the showers but could see no sign of the janitor. It was not a mirage, he said to himself, but saw no sense trying to get his rocks off, so he quickly dressed and left the gym. During the next season coach had stopped showering after the games, waiting till he got home.

    Pulling into the driveway, he was surprised to see the garage door still open, something he had not done in years. The morning had been rushed, so it was likely he had forgotten. The inside door was locked, so he was relieved and quickly went to the kitchen to open a beer, moving to the living room and turning on the TV. Instead of getting the news, he only saw a blank screen, the word VIDEO flashing. He knew he hadn't been watching his collection of vids for at least a week but now saw that the machine was on, with a tape in the slot. He slowly reached out and pushed PLAY and he stood up quickly as if he had stuck his finger in a wall socket.

    On the screen was the last scene of the porn vid he had bought out of town last year while at an away game. It was called "Black Workout", and it was a fuckfest of black beef, fucking and sucking their way thru an hour of positions on a blue mat in a gym. In the glow of the TV, there on the floor was that doo-rag, crumpled in a ball. As he numbly went to pick it up he could tell it had been used repeatedly, so stiff with cum. Just then, it struck him like a ton of bricks. He had always kept the vids in a box below his bed, right where he had left that doo-rag on Friday.

    ***

    Dwayne was unsure how he would adapt to life on the campus, that sprawling set of building just outside the town limits. When he was younger he only noticed it while driving with the family to relatives on the holidays. As he started to venture out from his neighborhood, he sometimes rode his bike thru the park that surrounded the campus, and it was here in the park where Dwayne had lost his cherry.

    He had almost lost his bike that day as well when he got the flat just as he entered the park. He knew there was a gas station at the further end of the park and it would be a shorter trip, so he was walking his bike along the path when he first saw that jogger. Even at 17 he was lean and trim, naturally muscled from biking and playing ball all those years in high school. He never tried out for the school team, but his cousin Rashid was on the football team. He was a loner, the oldest child and responsible for his two sisters. He really enjoyed his time away from home, so he was in no rush as he strolled through the park. As he turned the corner he saw the jogger again, now stretching his legs on the bench, turning to face him as he heard Dwayne's bike. From his age, he assumed that he might go to the college that was on the outskirts of the park, maybe even on the track team since he seemed to be wearing the school's colors.

    "Too bad...you got a long walk to the end" he said as Dwayne got closer. Dwayne just nodded and shrugged.

    "There's a shortcut...there..." he said, pointing to the dirt pathway across the road. Dwayne thought that was great news and started toward the path. He hadn't gotten more than a few hundred feet when he heard footsteps behind him coming up quickly. As he turned, the same jogger went by, nodding to him. Dwayne was more confident now, and pushed his bike faster up the hill and then started down the other side when he heard something seemingly right at his side.

    He turned and there alongside the tree, just out of sight from the top of the hill, were two men standing there. With their backs to him, Dwayne couldn't see what they were doing, but they were standing close to each other, seeming to have something in their hands. He had stopped to try to see what it was and suddenly one turned and over his shoulder whispered to the other man. Before he had a chance to move, they both turned and quickly stepped directly to Dwayne on both sides.

    "Yo, bro, you got money...ain't no more free dick in this park..." and with that Dwayne saw the knife. He didn't have a chance to move with his hands on the bike. Letting go of the bike he just dashed across the path, crashing into the woods with the two thugs right behind him. He was running deeper into the bush off the path, and he never saw the log that he tripped on. He fell hard, rolling onto his back as the two men towered over him.

    "Nice try, faggot..." one said, even as he started to undo his zipper. A quick tug and his jeans were to his knees, as he fisted his dick with one hand and grabbed Dwayne by the back of the head. He forced his face into his sweaty crotch, rubbing his balls across Dwayne's cheek.

    "While ya down there...You can get busy on this..." slapping his dick across his face. Dwayne never opened his mouth, but soon he felt the other man behind him grab his ear and reach over to close his nose so he couldn't breath. He held his breath for as long as he could, and as he opened his mouth to scream, that dick was forced over his lips and started to punchfuck his face.

    "Hey, Jackie, you think you can cum twice in one hour...betcha can't..." one of the thugs taunted, as he held Dwayne's head as his friend began feeding more of his hardening dick between his lips, punching the back of his throat.

    "Jes watch..."

    Suddenly there was a shrill whistle, like the start of a football game, and the two attackers seemed to disappear as if by magic. Dwayne was totally dizzy by all the crazy shit that just went down and just sat there in a daze. He suddenly heard some cracking of branches and footsteps and as he struggled to get to his feet to flee from the two thugs when he heard the voice of the jogger.

    "It's okay, it's okay...shit I'm so sorry..." he said, as he bent down to pick Dwayne up off the floor. Suddenly face to face with the jogger, he saw just how angelic he was, flushed and sweaty from the run and the excitement of the rescue.

    "Here, lemme help..." he said as he took Dwayne's arm over his shoulder and they walked back to the path where his bike lay.

    "I go to the college over there, lemme take you there to wash up..." he said, as he bent over to lift tha bike, again flashing those perfect tight globes wrapped in the light nylon of those running shorts. Dwayne could barely see the light downy hair that covered his legs, giving him a sheen in the dappled light under the trees. Despite the trauma of what had just occurred, he found himself staring at his rescuer, this lithe, blond tousled angel that was now looking directly in his eyes, so sorrowful. He wasn't responsible for what had just happened, and Dwayne almost felt the need to console him. Instead he just smiled, reaching out for his bike, and suddenly he put his hand over the joggers as it held the handlerbars. They both just stood there in a locked gaze in the surprise of that accidental gesture.

    His parents must never to hear this story, he was so ashamed, afraid that he would never get to ride in the park again. He was real glad that this jogger was taking him on the campus to clean up before he went home 'cause his Dad would give him a serious beating if he knew. And he didn't wanna feel the sting of his Dad's belt again so soon after the last whooping that he got when his Mom found those stroke mags. If she hadn't lied and said it was a straight magazine and instead told him the truth, he doubted that he would still be allowed in the house ever again.

    This was the first time he was in one of the dorm buildings since that day with Rod, the jogger who had rescued him and showed him every position that was in that magazine. Of course, he knew friends whose parents worked there, even someone on his block worked there as a Security Guard. He was the brother of the assistant coach, and Karl Kowalski was the man who had that gay magazine after Dwayne had found. It in the garage on a shelf, above his head and he found it while Karl was fixing his bike last month. He took it, never mentioning it and so far neither did Karl as they waved to each other in passing on the street.

    ***

    So it was a shock when he arrived that first day of class, entering the dorm looking for his own room that Dwayne heard his name called in a deep baritone from down the hall. Well, not his name, but a nickname that only his family used.

    "Yo, Dee..." bellowed through the small hallway, and everyone turned. You would have thought that everyone in the hall had the same name. The fact is it was the strong, authoritative tone that took everyone by surprise, as if a public announcement system had just been turned to full volume.

    As he turned around, there was his cousin Rashid, dressed in the formal Security uniform of the school standing stock still as if at attention at the end of the hall. In that gray shirt, matching pants and polished black shoes he was an imposing, masculine presence. But it was his build that caused most people to gingerly step around him as they passed him in the hallways. At 6' 4" and 240 lbs, he was a big man, but with his thick, ripped biceps extending from the short sleeves of his uniform you understood that he was also all muscle. His 34 waist was so much smaller than his shoulders that he had to re-tailor the size 46 shirts to accommodate his massive chest and thick neck that seemed to start at his ears. He was meticulous in his grooming, the fine line of his goatee framing his full thick-shaped lips, which broke easily into a smile and often you could hear his bellow of a laugh from floors away.

    He was just a year older then Dwayne, and it wasn't till he started school that day that he saw him other than at a dinner table with 20 plus members of his extended family. They would look at each other from across the table and share the secret that they had begun just two years ago, just after that day in the park. Rashid had promised never to tell and promised to watch Dwayne's back from that moment on. Of course, even that was a trade off and from that day on he would do anything Rashid asked him to do, starting in the bedroom that day.

    "Damn, Rashid...never saw you in full drag...you look FINE!" was the first thing that came to Dwayne's mind, and he was never one to edit himself. He was here to study theater design and everyone who met him understood immediately that he was very comfortable in his sexual identity. It was only the first hour of the first day at school, and he had just come out to every person in earshot. There were the usual snickers and shocked looks, but most of the students just laughed and got on with finding their rooms as Dwayne and Rashid walked toward one another. There could not be more of a disparity, as Dwayne slowly sashayed down the hall and Rashid seemed almost to lumber, moving with a force of a linebacker and the grace of a cat. All those years on the football team taught him how to bob and weave, but most of the student just cowered as this mountainous man came forward.

    "Okay, cuz'...what's the room number...YOU are officially on the Watch List!" Rashid joked, smiling broadly and winked, flashing a perfect set of teeth as they hugged in the hall. Dwayne was dwarfed by his size, almost disappearing in his massive bulk. No one would ever assume that Rashid was also gay. This was to his benefit as enforcer of the building during the trouble caused by the freshmen class. That was probably why he was always assigned this building detail, as his presence was a definite deterrent. Nobody dared to fuck with Rashid and that was just as he liked it. If there was any fucking around to be done, he would do it, and do it well, thank you very much.

    "Hey...promise, I'll be on good behavior...and when I'm GOOD..." but he didn't have to finish that comment, as they both just started to laugh. They both knew just how good it was when you could get some, and they had been getting some of what each had to offer for a year now.

    ***

    Actually, it was Rashid who had given him that nickname that day in his room before that Thanksgiving dinner. Dwayne was just a year younger, and since there were always lotsa kids at the holiday dinners they would often be on their own in another room, challenging each other, fighting over toys, being kids. Dwayne and Rashid were the oldest and had little use for kid games and now would retreat to Rashid's room. Over the years it went from comic books to sports to music to sex, in that order. The sex play started when Dwayne told him the story of the mugging, and that's when his cousin continued to expand on his Sex Education 101.

    At 19, Rashid had started running with a fast crowd and was star of the basketball team. He got what he wanted, and he was getting plenty. The house parties were grope fests, the girls were more than willing to be seen with the team. Boys being boys, there was always competition on the field and in the locker room, and Rashid always wondered if his dick really was the biggest he would ever see. The white boys were no competition, the other black boys on the team came close, but still no match for the thick heavy billyclub that Rashid was swinging. Some of the girls would joke about it and often he would scare some away when they actually got near to going all the way.

    So that Thanksgiving, Rashid was feeling mighty, having started working out hard with the team in the weight room with Coach Kowalski. It was his favorite part of the training, the time spent pushing his body as far as he could with the weight machines. It was almost magical how he was transformed from a slightly overweight boy to a massively built teen. Having been left behind in freshman year, he was a bit older than his classmates, but they knew better than to razz him about that. He put his teammates to shame with his dedication to graduate next June, and if he wasn't in the library cramming he was always the last to leave the weight room.

    Kowalski was just the assistant coach, and his job was to keep the boys at the top of their game. He took Rashid on as his own private responsibility, both because he saw his potential as well as his innate "talents". You could not miss the massive meat on that boy in gym shorts, and the few times he had sneaked a look while the team was changing to convince himself that Rashid had even a bigger slab of manmeat than his own. Kowalski was married, but that was only 'cause he needed to do the right thing by his kid after he got his wife pregnant. He loved to see the look of horror and amazement when he dropped his trousers and wrapped his big hand around his 9" dick, thick and uncut, shaped like a torpedo. The thin pointed head of his dick was sheathed in a loose flap of foreskin, almost translucent and wrinkled like the rosette of a well worked asshole. Often time when he was done working over a tight hole, when he was done it resembled that same look.

    Over the years he had plenty of opportunity to punchfuck someone a new asshole. Even after all those years, even after she gave birth to that baby, his wife Brenda had to be cajoled into opening up for a pounding by his thick fuckclub. No one would suspect that he also liked to throw meat to a willing ass. Nowadays, he would sneak off to the nearest city to hang out in gay bars for a motel scene, but it all started when he would go off to the park surrounding the school for a quickie. There was nothing else to do, since his wife wouldn't take it. Pretty soon he was hooked on fucking the men who trolled the park surrounding the school.

    That is, up until that year when the local vice squad did the crackdown. It was lucky he wasn't caught in that sting, and he would have had he not been warned by Jack Harding, an old schoolmate that was on the Football team. He was now a policeman and he had met him there in the park late one night. It all seemed cool, he even had a few regulars that he would meet there and drive out to the country roads and do a quickie in the fields or even a roadside motel for an all-nighter. If Jack hadn't been square with him he'd be in jail. Even that fantasy sometimes made him randy and he'd call Jack for a prison scene but they would reverse roles. Sometimes he would leave Jack handcuffed to his own bed, leaving him there all night and go home to sleep with his wife. He would return for a fresh fuck in the morning before Jack reported for duty and Coach Kowalski had his morning gym class.

    But he was amazed when he saw the club that Rashid swung, and if Rashid had not made the first move he knew he might never have sucked dick himself to see what it was like. After all those years those men never came close to getting him to do anything, certainly not kissing. But that day in the weight room, when he was spotting Rashid for his final set of chest flys, the moment seemed like a dream. The air was thick with mansweat, cloaking the room like a veil. With that big body stretched out across that incline board, standing above his head and following those weights with his hands, Kowalski's eyes were glued to the swell in Rashid's sweatsuit. The small pair of shorts he was wearing could not hide his own swelling dick as he leaned over Rashid's face. Before he knew it, Rashid had dropped the weights and lay there looking straight up into his eyes.

    "Yo, you see sumpin' you want!?" he said as a challenge.

    "Whadda ya talkin'..." Kowalski said, confused. Rashid then took a hold of his own crotch, rubbing the thick swell as it snaked across his thigh. Rashid never wore a jock and the boys used to joke that there wasn't one big enough for his meat, even when it was soft.

    "Maybe ya wanna count my pushups while I feed you dis..." he said, he said, while suddenly pulling the waistband down and flashing his long slab of boymeat that laid across his hip. Even half hard, damn if it was bigger than mine, thought Kowalski.

    With the animal grace he had developed on the field, Rashid suddenly sat up, spun around on the board and was facing Kowalski. He had his hand wrapped around the shaft, with the other half of his dick looming above his belly button. He was looking directly at the coach but Kowalski just stared, mesmerized by that thick dick as Rashid slowly stroked it.

    "C'mon, I seen ya watchin' me in the locker room..." he announced, and Kowalski suddenly went blank. As Rashid stood, still straddling the board walking toward him, he reached out his hand and grabbed the tight fabric that stretched over his Kowalski's dick tucked tightly in that jock.

    "I heard you got a big one too, man...tell ya wha...." He said, weighing the big mound in his hand as he stood looking at Kowalski face to face.

    "...whoeva has da smaller dick loses...." he said as he took both hands and yanked down on the gym shorts and jock, suddenly freeing Kowalski's dick. It sprang up like a jack in the box, slapping his stomach and looking like a coathook bobbing in the air. With one more step forward, Rashid had both their dicks wrapped in his two hands, and even in a slightly spongy state, the head of his dick still cleared his tight grip.

    "...and you lose!" Rashid said sarcastically, taunting Kowalski who was staring down at the sight of his pale Polish dick against the coal black tubesteak. Looking up, he knew he was beat, but all he saw was Rashid's smile, his eye's wide in triumph.

    "..'side's, if you don' do it, I might tell 'bout your late nites in the park..." he whispered, bringing one finger to his mouth, breathing a long "...ssshhhh"

    ***

    After Dwayne had told his story about the mugging and his rescue by that jogger, Rashid had noticed that his dick was totally hard, snaking out of his boxers and lay snug against his thigh in those dress pants. As he looked down, he noticed the wet spot where the precum had soaked thru the pantleg, and he got nervous that everyone downstairs would notice as they came to the table. Damn, he had to take them off or else he would get in real trouble. He knew how his dad could be when he was crossed, and he didn't wanna go there again.

    Dwayne noticed his stare, and followed his eyes to his wet spot on his crotch. Ever since that day, he got a hardon thinking about what had happened in the park and later in the dorm with Rod. He had not told that second part of the story to Rashid, thinking that he would never understand how he wound up in the arms of his rescuer after such a traumatic event. His own dick was rockhard, and he tried to casually hide it so Rashid wouldn't notice but Rashid saw his cousin's hand reach out to adjust his swelling dick.

    He looked up into Dwayne's eyes and just grabbed him by the neck, pulling his face to his and locking lips on his cousin's open mouth. As they kissed, eyes closed, they each reached out and grabbed the others crotch and suddenly both opened their eyes in sweet surprise. It was like holding onto their own dick, each the same long length and thickness. They could have been twins, Rashid thought. Damn, he had finally met his match.

    Breaking the kiss, they both stoond, and each silently undid their belts, unzipping and letting their pants fall around their ankles. Dwayne wasn't wearing underwear, and his long 12" dick stood straight out from his crotch, bobbing stiffly. Rashid reached out and wrapped his hand around the shaft, realizing that he couldn't close his fist around that thick club. As Dwayne sighed, he reached over and tugged on the waistband of the boxers and Rashid 's thick heavy dick literally sprang up and whacked Dwayne's balls as it got free. Rashid let go of that dick, and grabbed his cousin's waist firmly, pulling him face to face. His long dick slipped between those long thin thighs, nestling under Dwayne's balls. His cousin's dick rose like a coathook and was smashed between their stomachs as they began to kiss. Rashid slowly started to grind his dick, punching it slowly between those tight thighs, feeling the air on his thick spongy head when it came out the other side below those tight globes.

    Dwayne was slowly undoing the buttons on Rashid's dress shirt, and he felt hands tracing his round pecs, kneading his hard nubby nipples. He now knew what the chicks felt like as they moaned under his own mauling, but Dwayne was almost gentle as he ran his hands down to his waist and reached behind to gripped those taut round globes of his ass. With a final deep punch, Rashid broke the kiss and leaned back, their bodies joined only at the hip.

    "I gotta..." was all Dwayne could utter, as Rashid slipped the loose pullover off Dwayne's waist and pulled it over his head. Even before it cleared his face, Rashid was sucking on his nipple, chewing it roughly, causing his cousin to start struggling. With his arms caught in that sweater above his head, he couldn't see but could only moan loadly as his cousin moved to his armpit and started sucking on his sweaty hollow. For a moment, it looked like some chicks twat, a short patch of hair all wet and glistening and Rashid liked to make those chick squirm while he ate them out, their legs held by the ankles, spread wide as he tortured them with his thick meaty tongue. Too often, that's all the pussy he got.

    "I wanna..." was all Rashid said, as he yanked the sweater free, releasing his cousin. Looking at the clock, he realized he didn't have the time to do all that he wanted, and with a quick turn, he nudged his cousin to the edge of the bed and he crashed on top of him. Grinding his dick against his cousin's hips, he started to fantasize on all his teammates and what he would like to do to each of them. He was feeling mighty mighty.

    All those years in the locker room, all that jocular name calling was like a background buzz. He never saw himself as anything but all man and all the other teammates made it clear that he was all that. Now here he was, working on another man, even tender as he fantasized what he could do with his weapon to those thugs in the park preying on all those real faggots. He almost felt like an Avenger, one of those comic book characters who appear out of the blue, saving those who were helpless. He almost felt sorry for those men who had to hide among the bushes to do what he was doing with such tenderness.

    His legs tangled in the pants still around his ankles, all he could do was use his thick dick to grind against his cousin's own weapon. He thought about the look on the face of those thugs if him and his cousin had been the one's who were doing the mugging. He would love to punchfuck that white trash with this black billyclub, use it as the only weapon he would need to make them cower and plead for mercy. He knew how relentless he would be, making them choke on his dick as he fed them. No chick could ever take that dick down their throat, and only one man had ever even tried, but he had no choice. But that night in the jail cell was a lifetime away.

    "I'm gonna..." was all he said, as he bent his head down to look at the two dicks laying side by side. Damn if his cousin wasn't just as big, just as hard and just as horny as he was. Damn, he never imagined he would be here in this position atop his own cousin, grinding his dick that felt ready to burst. Yea, this weapon was dangerous, loaded and ready to explode, and he would like to point it into the face of those punks, aiming it at them as it shot blast after blast. They would still be choking from the face fuck he had just given them, holding them by the ears and fucking this 12 inch dick past their tonsils, feeling the tight grip of their throats as they milked his dick.

    ***

    The deep bassline was throbbing in the speakers, but all Dwayne felt was the heavy beating of his heart. He lay under his cousin, looking up into his heavy lidded eyes, as his cousin kissed him, chewing on his lips as if they were the main course and he was ravenous. His cousin held his arms by the wrists, above his head, his full weight pinning him to the bed. He was helpless but totally trusting, and as Rashid broke the kiss he sighed. Those thick sensuous lips were wet with saliva and he watched them as Rashid spoke slowly.

    "Ain't nuttin' to do..." he he said slowly, as he freed one of his wrists and traced his fingers down Dwayne's arm and started to knead his pec and armpit.

    "Nuttin' you could do..." as he ran his thumb over his nipple, and suddenly Dwayne started to groan, his eyes rolling up into his head. It was almost like shock therapy, a Chinese torture like in those Superhero comic books they had read as children. All he could feel was the scratching of that big thumb over the nub of his raised tit.

    Rashid was now in a half pushup, looking straight down into Dwayne's eyes. There wasn't any glimmer of fear he sometimes saw I the eyes of the chicks that he got into that position. Pinned to the bed now just by the weight of his hips, he ground his dick against Dwayne's stomach, feeling the thick long outline laying directly against his own.

    He had finally met someone who could match him inch for inch. The fact that they were cousins made that all the more understandable. They couldn't be more different in body type, but under the hood they both had the same engine. At that thought, he started to slow-grind his dick, the pools of precum gliding the shafts like engine pistons. Out of habit, he found that he had started to count just like in the gym when he did his reps of pushups. Suddenly he was aware that Dwayne was breathing heavily in his ear, babbling.

    "Fuck, cuz...oh, man you are so fuckin' big..." he was saying, his fingers deep in the pocket of his thick pecs as he raised himself off the bed. He was hanging there, floating in space and feeling weightless. As his tongue swabbed Rashid's neck, he saw a string of saliva connect his tongue to the wet spot he had been chewing on. He now knew how Spiderman felt as he swung from buildings by just a strand of webbing.

    Rashid was doing a slow grind, but suddenly started to thrust harder and faster, keeping the beat to the music blaring out of the stereo. Suddenly there was a hard rapping at the door, and Dwayne gasped in fear. Just at that moment he started to cum, twitching madly as Rashid stroked feverishly against his dick, jerking him off against his taut washboard muscles. It was the same fear he had felt on his knees with those two muggers standing over him. But this time he was being held down, pinned to the bed by his own cousin. It was all too confusing and in the excitement the various images flashed before him. Getting caught by his uncle was no better than being found out by his father, and after all they were brothers.

    Rashid raised his head, like a wolf about to howl, his lips open as he breathed raggedly. He was shooting his own thick wad all the way up to Dwayne's chest. The wet sloppy cum was splattering all over him, shooting like a gun, over and over. It seemed to release Dwayne from the fear, almost like a baptism. The music, the bathing in the cum, the perfect surrender to this man who he trusted since he was young, was a religious experience he had never felt in the pews of a church.

    "We're cumming, man..." he howled over the music, finally collapsing on top of his cousin. With that, he heard the footsteps start down the hall. With a quick gasp, both of them started to laugh, and it just echoed in the room, releasing the tension. Held together in each other's arms, slipping on the love juice that now glued them together, they laughed even louder. Just then, as they looked at each other with their mouths open, Rashid bent down and kissed his cousin deeply, softly.

    Halfway down the stairs Rashid's father just smiled. He really liked the fact that the two had remained friends and maybe Dwayne would be a good influence on his son.

    Last year, he wasn't sure that Rashid wouldn't just become another statistic on the local Crime Task Force tally board. When he got that call at 3 AM from Officer Jack Harding his own past rose up like a specter in the dark of that room. It all got resolved, but even driving down to the station house was an effort, and he was tempted to wait till morning to pick up his son. But he then remembered the night that he had spent in jail that hot summer so many years ago and he raced to get his pants on. His wife was frantic, saying his name over and over, or was that his son's name she was calling out.

    They had named their only son after him, and for so long his had stood as a symbol of his own rebirth, another chance to do it right this time. They had been High School sweethearts, right here in town, and she had stood by him through all those crazy times when he had almost lost it all to drugs and gangs. After that summer they rarely spoke about the crazy shit that went down, but now he wasn't so sure that was a good idea.

    But here on the stairs, with all his family around, it all seemed right and all the pieces fit together. It was like a puzzle that his wife liked to do, those big 1000 piece crazy-colored scenes of somewhere far away they would never see. She was so proud when she was close to finishing, always knowing that there would be just one piece missing, knowing that she would have to beg her husband to give it to her. He always did, but first he made her beg a little and later he gave it to her, bigtime. He couldn't wait for that night, but they didn't need to talk about it. They both knew what would happen and those last few days he would come home from work hoping to see that puzzle completed.

    After that night picking up his son at the precinct, the puzzle on the table remained untouched for weeks. That only added to the stress of those days and sometimes he would take it out on his son. It was during that summer that he started to really focus on his son's athletic talents, noticing that he had real talent on the Basketball court. He had spoken to his son about not joining the Basketball Squad that was now a fixture in town for the juveniles that also got in trouble with the law. The school had a fist class team and knew Coach Myers. He knew some of the people behind the scenes who had started the street league, and remembered them as trouble then.

    His pastor always preached to forgive and forget but he had a long memory and a short fuse, so he was just as glad not to be around them. He was sure the feeling was mutual, after that long night in the jail cell.


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