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!