The young man sitting at the bar was the very picture of dejection. I have never seen someone so down in the mouth, so morose, so depressed looking.
And I could not at first glance guess why. He was a very nice looking young man. Early twenties. African American guy with pretty eyes, a smart tight haircut, graceful features, slim build, smooth pretty skin.
But, oh, he looked seriously unhappy there, sitting at that bar. One palm on his forehead, elbow on the bar. Just looking like his best friend or favorite pet had died.
Now, I'm a friendly guy by nature. I like to flirt. I like to play. I like to tease. But I'm also a compassionate guy by nature, and when I see someone in such a state as he appeared to be, my human curiosity takes over, as well as my desire to make things better if I can. I'm a people person.
"Smile," I said to him. "Surely it's not that bad."
He sighed heavily and looked down at the bar. "Yes," he said. "It is that bad. I can't smile."
"Oh, surely you can give me a little smile," I said. "I bet you have a great smile."
"It's not so great," he said. "And I can't. I've got a problem."
"I'm sorry," I said, leaning forward. (And I was concerned by this point.) "What's your problem?"
He sighed again. "I can't get sexually satisfied."
This surprised me. He was, as I said, a very nice looking young man.
"Well," I said. "That sounds like a problem. But I can't imagine that a nice looking guy like you wouldn't attract the attention of any number of eligible guys in this place."
"Well, it's not that simple."
"What do you mean? I'm just looking around right now, and I can spot three or four guys who are checking you out right now even as we speak."
"Oh, that's not the problem," he said. "I can pick up guys easily."
"Oh," I said. "So you're looking for something more serious, then?"
"No," he said. "Just sex."
"Ah," I said. "Then none of these guys is your type."
"Oh no," he said. "They're nice looking. I'd take any of them, except..."
"Except what?"
"They wouldn't be able to handle me."
"Come again?"
"I'm too big," he said.
That was the "problem?" I wasn't sure I could believe my ears.
"You mean your dick? Your dick is too big?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "It's really big."
"And that's a problem?"
"A big problem."
Reader, please forgive me. I wasn't seeing the problem.
"How big a problem?" I asked.
"About thirteen inches," he said.
That didn't sound like a problem to me.
"Wait a minute," I said. "You're telling me that the trashy queens in this bar can't handle thirteen inches?"
He shook his head sadly, "You'd be surprised."
"Amateurs," I said with disdain.
"You probably couldn't take it, either," he said.
"I most certainly could!" This was an insult to me.
"Everybody says that," he said.
"Well, I'm not everybody. I know what I can handle."
"It's really thick."
"That's not a problem."
"It might be," he said. "You never know until you try."
"Well, I know. I can handle thirteen inches, even thirteen thick ones."
"I bet you can't."
"I bet I can."
"You're just talking."
"I am not just talking. I know what I can do."
"Prove it."
"You're on."
He finished his drink and got up. "Let's go to the restroom."
"We're not doing anything in the restroom! That's crazy."
"I know that," he said. "I'm not stupid. I'm going to let you look at it just to make sure."
"Okay," I said. "That sounds reasonable."
"You'll change your mind after you see it. Everybody always does."
We went into the restroom. I did not change my mind.
We went back to my place, which was conveniently close to the bars.
"This is a nice place," he said.
"Thank you."
"You need to get ready?"
"No," I said. "I'm all ready."
This surprised him.
"I always get ready before I go out. Just in case."
"Oh," he said.
"I told you I'm not an amateur."
"Then take your clothes off. I want to see your ass."
I dimmed the lights a bit, and we both got undressed. He came up to me, put his arms around me, and started feeling my ass. His smooth skin felt good against mine.
We kissed.
Then we kissed again.
And again. This time with tongue.
I lay back on the bed, and he lay on top of me, grinding his hips into mine. He turned me over onto my stomach.
"Where's the lube?"
"On the nightstand."
He scooped some out of the jar and began rubbing it on my ass. He put some on his cock and began stroking it with his other hand.
I felt his fingers begin to explore my ass. One. Then two. Then three.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
He inserted another finger.
"Still okay?"
"Still okay."
In went his thumb. He slid his hand further in.
I moaned. It felt incredible.
He rolled his hand into a fist and pushed further in.
"You like that?"
"Yes," I moaned.
"I'm getting really hard," he said.
"Good," I said. "That's the way I like it."
He gently slipped his hand out and repositioned himself on top of me.
"Are you ready for my problem?"
"I'm ready for your problem."
"Are you sure? It's a pretty big problem."
The head of his problem was pressing against my ass. It slipped in, stretching my hole.
It felt like heaven.
"Ready for more?"
"Ready."
He pushed in a few more inches. I sighed in delight.
"More?"
"More."
He gave me more.
"I'm about a third of the way in."
"Take it to halfway."
He pushed in further. "I'm halfway in."
"Give me more."
He slid in further. I moaned.
"Ready for the whole thing?"
"Yes, Baby."
And in he went. The whole thing. It hit me deep inside, filling my ass, stretching it wide.
"I'm in," he said.
"You sure are," I said.
We lay like that for several minutes.
Then he began sliding it in and out in shallow, slow thrusts.
"You've got a nice ass," he said
"I've got a happy ass," I said.
He picked up the length and speed of strokes, pumping in and out in a leisurely, deep pace.
"Let me know when I can start fucking for real," he said.
"You can start anytime you want. I just need that dick up my ass."
He pulled his dick almost all the way out. I felt my ass closing around the newly empty space.
Then he plunged it in. Hard. All the way to the hilt. I screamed into the pillow.
"That too much?"
Jesus, it was. But I'd be damned if I'd tell him that.
"No," I whimpered. "It's fine."
He rammed it in again. I swallowed a scream.
"This is great," he said. "You really can take it! I doubted that you could."
Then he rammed it again. And again.
It hurt like hell at first, I won't lie. But after all my trash talk, I wasn't going to admit defeat at this point. No sir, not me and my big mouth. I was going to be a trooper, damn it. I was going to ride it through.
And ride it, I did. For the young man on top of me had youth and pent-up horniness on his side. He had found his piece of ass, and he seemed determined to wring every last bit of pleasure he could from it. He began pumping faster, slamming harder, riding his hips up and down with a hard slapping sound as his hips bounced against my butt.
I chewed the pillow. The pain started slowly to subside somewhat. My ass loosened up with the repeated assault, and it began to feel good.
Then he pulled me up onto my knees and started fucking me doggy style. The angle was different, and the pain shot through me all over again. I screamed into the pillow.
"Yeah!" he yelled. "Make that noise and show me you like it!"
Again, the pain started to subside, and the pleasure began to return.
Then he started grinding his hips around, his massive cock scraping around my insides from every angle.
Oh, God. Me and my big mouth!
Then he mounted me jackrabbit syle, his hips above mine, and plunged straight downward against the front inside of my ass. I believe this is the point where I actually tore the pillow with my teeth.
It was a down pillow. I blew out a mouthful of feathers.
"Hell, yeah!" he yelled. "This is the shit!"
Then he dropped back down to doggy style and began a piston-like action, pulling my ass onto his cock with hard, rapid motions. I felt like I was sitting on the wrong end of a jackhammer.
He let out another holler. "This is some good ass!"
He pulled out abruptly, flipped me over on my back, and rammed his cock in again. Another tuft of feathers flew from the hole I had bit in the pillow.
He fell on top of me and devoured my mouth with his. Making grunting noises, he pushed his tongue into my mouth and chewed on my lips.
"Fuck, yeah!" he yelled. "Who owns this ass?"
I could only whimper. That wasn't an acceptable answer to him.
He pulled all the way out, his cockhead pressing threatening against my bruised hole.
"WHO...OWNS...THIS..."
Then he rammed it in hard.
"ASS?????"
"YOU!" I yelped, about four octaves above my normal range.
"DAMN STRAIGHT!"
"Ulp!" was all I could say.
"You want this cum?"
Please, God, yes. Lord in Heaven, yes. By all that is holy, yes.
But I just said, "Yes."
"Then make me cum!"
I gave his cock a squeeze with what was left of my ass muscles.
"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!"
I squeezed again. And again.
As he pulled out, I squeezed tight. As he rammed in, I let loose. And again. And again.
And it started feeling good.
Not just tolerably good. Incredibly good.
"Make that pussy talk!"
I kept squeezing and releasing. Making it talk.
He let out a growl. "Oh, shit!"
"Yes, Baby!"
"Oh, fuck!"
"Give it to me!"
"Here it comes!"
"Make a baby! I want your baby!"
"ARGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
His entire body started shaking. He let out a yell. His cock inside me was pounding like a heartbeat, pulsing within me, shooting load after load after load.
He collapsed on top of me, his cock still deep inside. His face and chest were drenched in sweat.
"Unhh," he finally said.
"Oh, God," I said.
His cock was still inside me. And it was still hard.
He raised my legs to his chest and began thrusting again. This time slowly. Grinding his hips. Probing my spot.
It felt amazing. He smiled at me and continued his thrusting and probing.
I put some lube on my cock and began stroking it as he kept up the slow fucking.
I was getting close. He smiled again and began playing with one of my nipples.
"That's it, Baby," he said. "Get yours. Get yours."
"I'm close."
"Get yours."
"I'm close."
"Get yours."
Then he pulled out and plunged in hard.
"Get yours."
He did it again.
"Get yours."
And again.
"GET YOURS!"
I got mine. The cum splattered across my chest. He rubbed it with his hands, leaned over, and gave me a long sweet kiss.
"That was good," he said. "I really didn't think you'd be able to take it."
I kept my mouth shut.
---
"Girl! How the hell are you?" It was one of the regulars at the bar. A week had passed since my encounter.
"Baby!" I said. "You wouldn't believe who I was with last weekend!"
"Who? Do tell! Spill the shit!"
"See that guy sitting there at the corner bar?"
He looked over. "Oh, Baby! He is good!"
"You've been with him?"
A roll of the eyes. "Been with him? Of course! Who hasn't? Girl, he's the best!"
"Well he has trouble finding people who can handle it."
Another roll of the eyes. "Oh, please! In this place?"
"That's what he said."
My friend patted my on the shoulder. "Honey, that's what he always says. Believe me, he's doing just fine."
Another friend giggled and rolled his eyes. "She fell for it!"
"Hooked like a fish!"
"But it was worth the fall, I bet!"
They hooted, high-fived, and walked away giggling.
This was deflating.
I made my way to the entrance. As I neared the young man at the corner seat, I could see that he was engaged in conversation with another regular. Out of the corner of my eye, he seemed the very picture of dejection. He positively radiated sadness.
And as I passed by, I heard him say morosely to his sympathetic listener:
"I can't smile. I've got this big problem."