For weeks Idris and I have had hot sex without meeting. We phone bone. And I do something with him I’ve never done before. I take provocative pics of my erect dick with my cell phone camera and send them to him, even giving him shots of the semen flowing down the side of my shaft after I jackoff and cum.
We also talk or text most every day. Oddly though, the subject is rarely sex. It can be golf, college fraternities, our family history, advice, anything. I even begin to look forward to the calls. They help make the day go by.
“Maybe we should never meet,” I tell him one day. “It might be better just to have a relationship on the phone.”
But this morning he sends me this text: “I want you.”
Today I have a meeting in the city and some free time afterward. I tell Idris I can swing through his neighborhood on the way home. His girl is at work so the place is free. I’m nervous as hell. Will we find each other unattrative in real life? Will the sex in the flesh not live up to the sex we’ve already had in our imaginations?
But I’m still relieved when Idris says, “Sure, come on.”
I park and Idris opens the door so I can enter. He is intimidating in real life. A tall, brown skinned brother with a broad chest and bulging biceps. Unlike many down-low brothers there is nothing even remotely feminine about him. He is handsome in a very man’s man kind of way. The angles of his jaw and his close-cropped hair remind me of a young Yul Brynner.
“Would you like a drink,” Idris asks me.
“Nah, that’s okay,” I answer. He still gives me a bottle of water but I take just a few sips. The heat between us is rising and I don’t want to waste any time.
Idris takes me down to his dark basement and sits on a sofa. But I never sit down.
“Do you mind?” I ask as I take off my tie and shirt and lay them over the sofa.
“No, not at all,” he answers.
Then Idris gets up from his seat and starts taking off his clothes, too. It is dark and I can only see his outline. But I hear the hisssss of fabric slipping off as his basketball shorts come down around his legs. When we are totally nude he comes forward in the dark and embraces me and we start to kiss. It is hot today and I was really thirsty but after kissing Idris I don’t need that bottle of Deer Park any more. And the darkness makes the scene more erotic. I can feel him but not see him. My sense of touch is heightened.
There is a bedroom in the basement with a queen-sized bed.
“Can we use the bed?” I ask him.
“Sure,” Idris answers and leads the way.
We roll around in that bed for almost an hour, licking and tasting every part of each others’ bodies. We’ve talked enough, so there is little need to do that now. Just two toned, tall bodies rubbing together, embracing, releasing, resting and back at it again. Despite the hardness of his body, Idris is very tender and affectionate. I feel like a baby in its father’s arms.
Condoms and lube are in a drawer on the bedside table. So I try to fuck Idris. He lays me on my back and straddles my abdomen. Then I try to take him doggy-style on the bed. The view of his waist and firm, brown ass is enticing. But he is tight — my dick is too large so I stop trying to force the issue. So we jackoff — he very rapidly in short strokes. We moan and talk nasty to each other. I call him my nigga and he calls me his. Among black folks nigger can sometimes be the sweetest word in Webster’s Dictionary.
We cum within seconds of each other, laying side by side. I bust that nutt on his stomach and Idris’ squirts all over my thigh and his stomach. His semen is watery and plentiful.
“I cum a lot when I cum,” he explains.
We shower together and talk. His manner is so warm toward me I’m put off guard. This isn’t like most sex hookups. This is not a slam-bam-thank-you-man, you-busted-that-nutt-so-get-the-fuck-out type of hook-up.
Then Idris pops a question. Why not give up all the other hookups and just give each other man sex when we need that? No strings. No pressure. Then he admits he was jealous when I told him about a recent hookup I had. And I admit I was a little jealous when he went on a recent out-of-town trip. I hoped he enjoyed himself and even gave gave him a referral — the phone number of a married, down-low lawyer from that town who I had hooked up with when he visited our city. But a part of me still wished I could hop on a plane and join Idris in that hotel room.
But I’m also thinking to myself. “Is Idris full of shit with this one-on-one talk? Guys talk a lot of ying yang, especially after they bust a nutt. And others just want to play with your mind.”
Yet I have to admit Idris is on to something. I can’t keep having sex at this pace. It’s getting to be just a habit…something to do. I have guys calling and texting and emailing me to come back and do them one more time. I can’t be everything to everybody because its not fair to anyone.
Plus Idris has a girl and I got a girl and we want to keep it that way for now. We live too far apart to meet without planning so won’t get in each other’s way or arrive at each other’s doorsteps unannounced.
I grab a burger on the way home — all that sex made me hungry as a bear. And I have more time to think about what he said. I dial Idris’ phone.
“I’ve already climbed to to the top of Mount Everest twice,” I tell him, explaining that I’m tired of being Mr. Stud. “How many more times can I do that?”
So I agree to consider the one-on-one thing. We will see how it goes.