Interracial Deflowering (mm)
(or How I Lost my Anal Semi-Virginity)
4th, in a series about my initial sexual encounters with other
men
by caelin, February 2008


It had been a few years since my encounter with the dominant
black stud calling himself “DirtyMinded” (as detailed in my
previous real-life story: Interracial Dominance). That session
had been SO hot, and my poor handling of it so frustrating, that
I found I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

All of my attempts to find Dirtyminded had failed. After a while,
I realized it was hopeless and stopped looking. Maybe I could
find some other dominant black men out there, I thought.

But, as is so often the case, I didn’t follow up on any more gay
encounters. I slipped into several “relationships” with women of
different ethnicities – which was very hot and kept my attention,
nicely.

I got a gym membership and started working out every other day.
Let me confess: I am no body builder. But I did achieve a pretty
trim and semi-developed look. My abs were never 6-pack level, but
my waist was pretty slim and my chest slightly muscled, so I was
quite happy with the results.

One day (I think it may have been a Friday), I had gotten off
work late, but still wanted to hit the gym. I went through my
workout, admittedly cutting a few corners to save time.

I had had my membership for a while, but had just recently
discovered a few of the non-weight-training perks – specifically,
the co-ed whirlpool, sauna, and steam room that were hidden in
the back!

Not a lot of women frequented these areas, which were accessible
only through either of the gender-restricted shower areas (which,
in turn, were connected to the gender-restricted locker rooms),
so there wasn’t a lot of eye-candy. Most of the guys seemed to be
older … maybe in their late 60s … which, for the most part,
didn’t do much for me.  Although, some of them …

I wondered what it would be like to get topped by an older guy?

Anyway, this particular day, I had been working on “lower body.”
I had ramped up my workout and was already feeling the ache.
Grinning, I decided to reward myself with a long, luxurious soak
in the pool-sized whirlpool.

Two other guys were already there, as I slid into the warm
(almost hot) water and relaxed as the bubbles surrounded me. I
lay like that for a long time, oblivious to my surroundings.

Finally, with an effort, I opened my eyes.

I was alone. Squinting at the clock (I rarely brought my glasses
with me to the “wet area”), I saw that I had been soaking for
over an hour.

Reluctantly, I pulled myself from the warm, bubbling water and
out onto the tiled floor. My body felt heavy and sluggish, and
the cool air was no substitute for the luxurious warm waters I’d
just left.

I grabbed my towel and padded back to the men’s shower area. Let
me take a moment to describe the shower set-up: Basically, there
is one big pipe/pole in the middle of the tiled room, running
from floor to ceiling. About 6 shower heads are ringed around
this pole, maybe 7 feet high, with corresponding hot/cold
controls about waist level, as well as small metal trays for soap
and such.

Summary: All people showering formed a ring around this central
pole. Always struck me as a nice, yet discreet way to check out
your shower-mate’s “equipment.”  ;-)

This evening, the showers were deserted except for a lone black
guy.

I padded over to a shower head that was “one away” from his,
rather than use the one right next to him. Using the shower head
right next to the lone person in a room may not have been
appreciated, I figured. Many guys are funny like that, so why
look for trouble.

Besides, I have to confess, my mind was really on showering, not
on seeking an encounter. I turned on the water, nice and hot, and
began lathering up.

Now, just because I wasn’t consciously looking for an encounter
doesn’t mean that I didn’t instinctively check out guys sharing
the shower! I’d developed some keen peripheral vision, since
joining the gym.

This guy was about 2 or 3 inches shorter than me, and was quite
stocky. “Probably new to the gym,” I thought, continuing to check
him out from the corner of my eye.

I’d have to say that, even though he was shorter than me, I
suspected he weighed more. He looked very solid. He had dark
brown skin and close-cropped black hair. His face was OK. I had
to admit, he did turn me on, a little.  As I mentioned in some
previous stories, I have a bit of a fetish for stocky, black sex
partners … of either sex. This guy was shorter than me, so he
didn’t really fit into my “Caelin gets Forced to Submit to a
Stocky Black Stud” fantasies, but … what the heck. Not like
anything was going to come of a shower room encounter, right?

My eyes dropped to his groin, to check out his package, and my
jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

The guy was a fucking HORSE! And he was sporting one hell of a
rigid erection!

Several things went through my mind, all at once:

* What IS it with you and black men, Caelin?
* He’s … hard!  Rock hard! He … wants me.
* He’s … big! Fucking huge! And on a guy this short, that piece
o’ pipe looked even bigger, if that were possible! His cock
looked even longer than Dirtyminded’s, but lacked his alarming
girth. This guy probably had about 11 inches, but with a
circumference only slightly larger than my own 6-incher.
* What IS it with black men and huge cocks? I thought that that
was a fucking stereotype! How is it that every black guy who
plans to stick it in me (and why else would this guy have a
hard-on, unless that thought crossed his mind?) is at the far
right of the cock-size bell curve?
* Oh MAN, do I want to suck THAT popsicle!

Now, let me admit something else that you have probably already
realized: I am an idiot. A naïve idiot. I don’t really have much
experience in “real world protocols.” For example, it wasn’t
until this “Larry Craig” political scandal that I realized that
“mirroring” was a way of signaling interest in gay sex.

I tell you this in order to put some perspective on what comes
next.

Both of us continued washing, not making eye contact. Although
naïve, I still remembered the lost opportunity I had with
Dirtyminded. I was ready to be bold, if needed.  How to proceed
…?

I stared openly at his erection and smiled.

You may laugh, but for me, this was bold. Unfortunately, it was
also insufficient. Was he not noticing me, openly ogling him? I
tried discretely licking my lips, trying to signal I wanted him
in my mouth.

No response that I could discern. Other than that huge, bobbing
erection, of course. I don’t know WHY I thought I needed more of
a signal. He had a huge fucking hard-on! I should have just
walked over, dropped to my knees, and taken his big cock in my
mouth. If he wasn’t attracted to me … if he didn’t want sex …
then why was his cock so hard? Only the two of us were in here!

It HAD to be because he wanted me.

I stared at his huge cock, watching it bob up and down as he
lathered his chest.

I wanted it inside me. Anywhere inside me. mouth, ass, hell, if
he wanted to stick it in my ear, I’d have agreed!


In the ass? Did I mean that, I wondered.

Yes! Even if he wanted to fuck me in the ass, I decided. I may
have lost my chance to get fucked by Dirtyminded, but I wouldn’t
lose another chance.

I turned my back to him and bent over, very deliberately soaping
my legs. My legs were splayed wide, hopefully providing a
suggestive view of my pale ass and tight, receptive asshole. I
soaped each leg, slowly, hoping to feel him come up from behind
to take me.

But, it didn’t happen. Finally, I straightened and turned.

Immediately, he turned and spread his legs, lathering each of
them, in turn. As I mentioned earlier, I had never heard of
mirroring at that time and had no idea that he was signaling
interest. I was ignorantly frustrated, assuming that, at best, he
was like me and signaling that he was receptive to taking a cock
in the ass.

Was I interested in fucking him? Maybe … I wasn’t sure. I’d
rather fucked than do the fucking, to be honest. I wouldn’t mind
getting sucked off or getting a hand-job, afterwards, but …
fucking a guy in the ass? I doubted I could get hard enough to do
that.

After a while, he straightened and we seemed to be at a
standstill.

“Fuck this,” I thought. “We’re alone. He’s got a rock-hard boner.
He HAS to be interested. I know I am interested.

To hell with it, I decided. I’m going in!”

Trying to give him what I hoped was a deliberate, meaningful,
seductive look, I slowly walked purposely towards him, intent on
dropping to my knees and taking that big, black beast into my
mouth, when I got close enough. Even though I was anxious that
someone might walk in and discover us, I planned to suck him off,
right then and there.

He watched me approach, an anticpatory smile spreading across his
dark features.

I reached his shower zone, the spray from his nozzlehead now
raining down on my back. I reached to grab that big cock of his,
already starting to bend my knees to go down on him.

But I didn’t get the chance.

To my surprise, HE dropped to HIS knees and took MY cock in HIS
mouth.

Bewildered, several thoughts hit me again, all at once:

* A feeling of shock. I hadn’t expected this. I was used to being
“the submissive one” … the one who went down on a dominant.

* A feeling of disappointment. On one hand, it is always great to
get a blow job. On the other hand, I’d hoped I’d get to suck HIM
off FIRST, adding to my enjoyment. Then if he wanted to
reciprocate … great!

* A feeling of shame. As with Dirtyminded, I realized that I was
still flaccid, even though quite excited. Had that been why this
guy hadn’t approached me? Because he was watching my dick and I
saw that I wasn’t hard, so he questioned whether I was
interested?

I didn’t have to endure the shame of impotence for long: Under
his expert mouth, I sprang into my full 6-inch glory. Seemed like
all I needed was a little direct stimulation! He had no trouble
sucking me fully into his mouth and down his throat.

How come everyone could deep-throat except me, I wondered?

He knelt before me, on the wet tile floor, sucking me for quite a
while. I have to admit, it felt glorious. maybe this is what it
feels like to be a dominant – having someone on their knees,
servicing you.

Still, I did have one problem with the situation: I can rarely
climax when I am standing up.

Usually I have to be lying down, preferably on my back. This guy
could be the best fellator in the world, but unless I was lying
down, I knew it wasn’t going to happen for me.

I was about to tap him on the shoulder and ask if we could shift
position when he shifted tactics, himself. Releasing me from his
mouth, he grabbed his bar of soap and lathered up both his hands.
Then he grabbed my pale, erect, spit-coated dick in his fist and
began pumping.

This felt good … even better than the blow job! But I knew I
still wouldn’t be able to achieve a climax. His soapy, pumping
fist was working up quite a lather and I loved it. But I knew I’d
need to lie down before I could cum.

His other hand began playing with my ass. I felt his soapy
fingers slide up my crack and begin stroking. It felt great and I
wished I were lying down, or at least standing closer to the wall
so that I could lean against it. My legs were feeling a bit
trembly.

I was SO close! But I knew it wasn’t going to happen, in this
position. I was shaking in pleasure and frustration.

I gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Look …,” I began.

Without warning, he speared a thick, soapy finger up directly my
asshole.

His thick, fat finger, slippery with suds, plunged deep up into
me. My semi-virginal backdoor clamped on the intruding finger,
but he kept forcing it in, well past the second knuckle. It
didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it felt good, in a sick way. But I
also felt so … violated …

To be penetrated … there … without warning …

Keeping up his rapid pumping on my now-straining, sudsy dick, he
slid another soapy finger up my ass. I whimpered, reflexively
raising up on my toes as he pushed his second finger into me.

He tried for a third finger, but my shocked asshole was clamped
too tightly on the thick, stubby fingers he already had wedged
inside me.

“Well ain’t you tight!” he chuckled, as he began finger-fucking
my asshole, while continuing to jerk me off.

The feeling was absolutely incredible, but … I was still
standing. And I knew that in this position, there was no way …

I came.

I was so convinced from past history that it was impossible that
I never even sense it coming. I cried out in pleasure, trying to
strangle the noise as soon as I realized how loud I was. My body
stiffened and I shot cum across the shower room.

The short black man remained on his knees, fisting my spurting
dick like he was trying to start a fire and continuing to jab his
fingers up my ass like he was trying to poke a hole in me.

My climax was powerful and my knees went weak. It’s only because
he quickly removed his fingers from my ass and grabbed me that I
didn’t fall to the hard floor.

With his support, I stumbled back to lean heavily against the
tiled wall of the shower room, eyes closed, gasping for breath.

“Holy FUCK, that was good!” I panted, holding a hand to my
heaving chest as I wheezed for air.

I slowly opened my eyes to see the guy standing over at the
shower pole. He had a small bottle of baby oil that he’d left on
the soap tray and was now squirting it into his palm and oiling
up that big ebony spear of his.

Maybe it was the unexpected climax I’d just had … I was a little
slow on realizing what he obviously planned next.

He strolled over and hugged me in a tight embrace, pushing me
forcefully against the wall. I was pinned by his weight, which
excited me, although I didn’t know what was coming.

“Now it’s my turn,” he told me.

I felt my heart pound. He seemed quite dominant. Would he force
me to my knees and make me suck him off?

I hoped he would.

But, he didn’t.

Still pinning me against the wall, he lifted my left leg and held
it. Confused, I didn’t say anything, figuring I’d just ride it
through and play it by ear.

I felt his big, greased snake slide up along the bottom of my
butt, gently parting my ass crack.

It was at this moment that I finally realized what he wanted.

I was frozen with anxiety … this guy had a fucking TENT POLE down
there!  It was even bigger than Dirtyminded’s!

The memory of Dirtyminded brought me up short, shifting my
perspective.

I’d lost an opportunity to get fucked by him, due to fear. But
now, I was in a position to experience what I had never REALLY
experienced fully, but found myself craving: Taking it in the
ass.

“His cock may be longer, I rationalized, but it isn’t as thick.
And thick is what hurts, right?

The short black guy looked up at me, with a slight grin. I could
feel him breathing heavily as he held me.

Looking into the dominant, black stranger’s eyes, I slowly
nodded.

“Take me,” I whispered.

“Fuck me.”

There. I’d said it. The die was cast.

A broad, white smile creased his dark features. I started to drop
to my hands and knees, to let him take me from behind, but he
held me firmly against the wall.

“No,” he whispered, voice slurred with lust. “Like this. So I can
see your face.”

Both his hands dropped down to grasp my hips. Instinctively, I
wrapped my now-free left leg around his hip.

I was scared shitless, to be honest. But I gave another small
nod.

I felt that big, black snake of his slide up the length of my ass
crack and I marveled at its reach. “Son of a bitch!” I thought.
“His cock can slide almost the full length of my crack … when
he’s standing in front of me!”

He continued to move forward, painfully crushing my balls in the
process.

I grimaced and tried to push him back, but he was not to be
denied. Frantically, I slid my hands down to protect my balls
from further damage. He was stroking that big fucker of his up
and down the length of my ass crack, leaving a slimy trail of
baby oil. When he pulled back for the next thrust, I dove my
hands down and cupped my groin. He came forward again, this time
pressing against my hands. It still hurt a bit, but not nearly as
bad.

I could take this.

He pulled my hips a little further from the wall, continuing to
pin my upper body with his chest. I slid down a little, but
finally stopped.

Releasing my hips, he grabbed my left thigh again and lifted.

What happened next took me by surprise.

He grabbed my OTHER leg and lifted!

I thought I was going to fall, but discovered that I was balanced
between the support of the black guy holding me up by the legs
(hands clasping my butt cheeks) and by the wall I was leaning my
back on.

My white legs were spread wide, wrapped around his thick, dark
body. He used his arms, still supporting my full weight, to boost
me up. Instinctively, I clasped my legs tightly around his thick
midsection. His arms were wrapped around my outer thighs, with a
death grip on each of my butt cheeks.

I knew I couldn’t have wriggled free even if I wanted to.

Slowly it dawned on me that this guy was not a newcomer to the
gym. He was fucking strong and what I had assumed to be merely a
“thick body” must really be a pretty thick slab of muscle!

It was out of my hands, now. There was no way he was going to let
me out of this shower room without fucking me in the ass, first.

“This is it,” I thought, excited and afraid.

His eyes were locked on my face, gauging my expression. I think
my fear was exciting him.

“You nice and tight, white boy,” he whispered. Hearing him call
me “white boy” sent a sick, erotic thrill through my body.

“Couldn’t even get 2 fingers up that tight hole!” he told me. He
gave me a calculating look.

“I’ll bet you ain’t never been fucked afore, have you?”

“No,” I lied, in a hoarse whisper.

Well, technically it was a lie – my roommate had given me 2 or 3
strokes up my ass, back in college, before the pain had made me
stop. But for all practical purposes, I’d never been truly fucked
up the ass, before.

I was an anal semi-virgin.

The stocky black man grinned. “I’m your first?  Oh man!” His
smile couldn’t have gotten any wider.

“Boy, I gonna WRECK you for any other man or woman who follow!”

With that, he pushed his big cockhead hard against my tightly
puckered anus.

Part of me wanted desperately to be fucked. Part of me was afraid
of the pain I knew was coming. Fear won out and my hole snapped
shut like a camera shutter.

But camera shutters never counted on baby oil.

Even though his cock was many times wider than my poor asshole,
it turned out that there was no way my hole could keep that
well-lubricated monster from pushing past its defenses.

He began sliding back and forth, along my crack, now aiming his
cockhead at my asshole with each slow, deliberate thrust.

The first thrust felt like someone’s fist pressing against my
anus. Instinctively, I knew it was too big and it would never fit
in.

Maybe he’d take a hand job, I thought.

To my shocked surprise, on the next thrust, I felt the tip of his
big cockhead dilate my asshole slightly.

The next thrust spread me wider as more of the tip pressed into
me.

It was too slippery! I couldn’t keep it out!

The third thrust hurt. About a quarter of his bulbous cockhead
penetrated me, spreading my weakening asshole wider than it
wanted to go.

The fourth thrust was excruciating as he forced that huge
cockhead in about halfway. That was maximum circumference and, as
it turned out, the maximum pain point. I gave a yelp of pain and
he smiled.

With the next thrust, I gasped as I felt his entire cockhead
enter me. Unable to tighten enough to prevent entry, my
traumatized asshole clenched on his shaft, once his big cockhead
passed inside.

Instead of pushing forward, he pulled out again, causing me to
cry out in pain. It took him a while to pull free, though –
that’s how tightly I had him clenched.

With the next thrust, he was home free. He didn’t withdraw
completely again, instead establishing a rhythmic stroke that
pushed deeper with each thrust.

He had officially taken my cherry. I was no longer an anal virgin
… or even a semi-virgin.

I was now being fucked.

Surprisingly, now that his huge cockhead was already inside me,
it didn’t hurt so bad. Oh, don’t get me wrong – it still hurt
like hell! But the biggest part of his cock was that huge
cockhead and the tightest part of m ewas my actual asshole. Once
he forced that that huge knob inside me, the worst of the pain
was past.

The sensation was almost unbearable. I felt an incredible
pressure sliding up INTO my ass, into my bowels, up into my very
guts. I never dreamed I could be so “filled.” Each stroke brought
a new “maximum pressure” and I cried out softly each time he
pumped into me.

Deeper. Deeper. I wondered if there was any end to how deep he
could go. How long was his fucking cock, anyway?!? For as big as
it had looked, it felt like it was stabbing way deeper than
should be possible.

I was still protectively cupping my balls, so when I felt his
coarse, wiry pubic hair brush against my knuckles, I knew he was
in almost to the hilt. This brought a huge sense of relief.  He
was about at maximum, now.

My head had dropped weakly onto his shoulder as he delved deeper
into me. He released my left leg, which remained clamped
helplessly around his waist, and grabbed me by the hair.

Jerking my head up, he forced me to meet his gaze, so that he
could continue to watch the effect his ass fucking was having on
me.

I saw his dark features clouded with lust. He was panting like a
dog in heat and a trickle of drool ran from the corner of his
mouth.

His expression told me that he was loving this conquest.

I looked little better, I realized. Tears streamed from my eyes
and I was whimpering, except for the loud grunts that were forced
from me whenever he thrust home.

And he did thrust home!

He made sure that every thrust went right to the hilt, slapping
his big, heavy balls against my knuckles and spearing me deep
inside. That huge black anaconda of his stretched my insides and
seemed to force the air from my lungs with every stroke.

His coarse pubic hair was rubbing my knuckles raw as he increased
his tempo. He began thrusting furiously, pounding his pelvis
against my hands, making my vulnerable balls ache when I couldn’t
cushion enough of the impact.

I thought I might pass out for a while, but finally realized that
I was starting to enjoy it. The pain was ebbing and the
incredible feeling of fullness … of being fucked … owned … of
succumbing to another man’s lusts …

My fucker – I never did find out his name – saw the change in my
expression, and began taunting me, as he continued to hold my
head up, by the hair.

“You like that,” he hissed, breathing like a bellows, as he
slammed into me. “You like getting your white ass fucked, don’t
you, boy!” I didn’t think it was possible for him to pound me any
harder, but he did.

“You like having a big, black cock inside you, don’t you!” he
persisted, never letting up. You like getting fucked by a
nigger!”

The racial slur jarred me. I never use that word and it felt
wrong, just hearing someone else use it, even if he was black.

Yeah,” he huffed, pulling my hair a bit as he pounded into me.
“Well, you know what, white boy? Now you MY nigger!” I felt my
own dick start to grow, as I cupped my crotch. His dominant trash
talk was getting to me.

“Say it, white boy!” he demanded, banging away at my defenseless,
stretched asshole. “TELL me you my nigger!”

“Yes,” I gasped, weakly. “I’m your nigger!”

“Show me!” he demanded. “Show me you my nigger!  Show me how much
you like getting fucked!”

Dazed from the violent ass-fucking, I could only look at him in
confusion.

“Cum for me!” he demanded. “Cum for you master!”

Obediently, I started jerking off. I kept my left hand cupped
around my balls, trying to keep them from getting crushed as he
continued to slam into me, but I used my right hand to start
rapidly pumping my dick.

“That’s it, white boy,” he panted, driving ever deeper. “Cum for
me!  Show me how much you like getting fucked by a black man!”

His racial talk was shocking – he obviously had issues. But,
looking back, I guess I have issues, too, because I was so turned
on that I could barely stand it. Looking back, I think it was the
flagrant domination I was responding to.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, I came, squirting up
to spray both of our chests.

I think this was the final “victory” he needed, in order to
achieve his own climax. His sweaty, dark face contorted and he
made one final, powerful plunge, deep inside me.

I gave a cry, mostly from pain, since this last powerful thrust
really did crush my balls. I saw stars and almost puked.

But it was also partly from pleasure; from feeling so dominated
and from the sensation of feeling him shoot his load, deep inside
me. I’d never experienced that before.

And it was also partly because I knew it would excite him and
help get him off even more strongly.

I felt warm jets of liquid spatter inside me. I was distantly
surprised that I felt it so far up into my guts. He released his
grip on my hair and grabbed my hips, pulling me closer, driving
that big cock of his up as far as he could.

He shuddered and continued to shoot.

The stocky black guy held me pinned against the wall as he
continued to empty his nut-load into me. I felt a little like a
white butterfly, pinned to a collector’s wall, affixed by that
huge cock that was stabbed so deeply into me.

How much did he have stored up in there, I wondered?

After about 20 seconds or so, he finally stopped shaking and
collapsed against me.

Putting his big hands on my shoulders, he pushed away.

I felt that huge cock slither out of me and was embarrassed
because the sensation felt like I was taking a massive dump that
just wouldn’t stop.

When he pulled completely out, I felt a gush of dammed-up cum
explode out of my overly-stretched asshole and run down my legs.
My legs wouldn’t hold me and I slowly slid down the tiled wall
until I was sitting on the floor, in a puddle of cum and shower
water.

My dark fucker strolled back to his shower, rinsed off, and left.

I sat there for about five minutes, recovering. My asshole felt
like it had been ripped apart and set on fire. Gingerly, I
reached back to explore the damage. I was shocked to find that my
‘rosebud” wouldn’t close now! It was gaping obscenely, like you
could plop a golf ball in it and it would fall back out!

I sobbed, afraid I had been ruined and that this would be
permanent.

I examined my fingers. I saw traces of cum, baby oil, and shit …
but no blood, thank God!

Relieved, I stood and tenderly limped to the shower pole,
dismayed at how much it hurt to walk. Could I make it out to my
car?

I took a long, slow shower, soaping up thoroughly. The warm water
really seemed to help. Then I went out to the deserted locker
room and dressed before heading out to the parking lot and going
home.

I was sore for several days, but my asshole did finally regain
its muscle control, to my great relief!

I did start going back to the gym every other day, but at my
usual time.

A couple of times, I admit, I did go back late on a Friday,
probably secretly hoping to get dominated and fucked again.

But I never did see that guy again.

To this day, I’m still not sure how I feel about that savage
fucking I received. I was scared at the time, but the more time
passes, the more I find the memories turn me on.

Some nights, I will still jerk off to those memories.

In case you’re reading this, anonymous stocky black guy: Thanks
for making my official “deflowering” so memorable!