Axle

The 'regulars' moved aside when he came in and took the stool beside mine.

"Hey."

"How's it going?"

"You waitin' fo' someone?" He looked around twenty, his body so built, even his high-cheekboned, velvet-skinned face looked muscular.

"No--I was just about to leave."

"I'm Axle. Who're you?"

"Todd."

"I don't like this place much, either." He looked around. "Yo' got plans?"

He had no drink--just swaggered through the dance floor drawing all eyes to his five-eleven, big-shouldered, big-biceped handsomeness.

Guys like Axle were an extreme rarity.

"Plans? No. No I don't." I spoke down at my drink.

Axle laughed. "You think I's hustlin' yo' white ass, don't you?"

I felt blood rise in my neck--a mix of surprise and annoyance. I don't much like being second-guessed. "Yeah, I do." I looked him up and down, then into his large brown eyes. "I'm twice your age."

"Shiiiit--get him anotha'--an' I'll have th' same," he theatrically announced to Joe, slapping a fifty on the bar.

Axle turned and stared at the cloying, evesdropping onlookers. They backed off, moving into the shadows, trying to listen-in despite the loud, electronic music.

"I can't help 'dat, man."

"What?--help what?" I raised my eyebrows, finishing my drink.

"That I'm a kid an' yo's a man--dat's what," he pocketted his change, leaving two bucks for Joe. He sulked as he took a sip, then made a face. "What IS this shit?"

"Rye."

"Rye?? What th' fuck's 'Rye'?" he sipped again, his sexy lips curling over the glass.

"It's whiskey."

"Shiiiiiit!"

I had to smile.

"Don' act superior, man--I gets e'nuff a' dat shit at work!"

My smile disappeared. "Sorry."

"It's OK--sayin' sorry's good. I neva' hear that," he took way more than a sip this time.

Once again he turned to stare off the voyeurs. "What's wi' this place, man? They's like a bunch'a women."

"It's a gay bar, Axle," I shrugged, shifting my eyes to glimpse the T-shirted crests of his pecs. "What do you expect?"

"I nev'a been in one. M' girlfrien' kicked m' black ass outta bed--so I came in t' see waz up."

"You want me to believe that, huh?" I didn't smile this time.

Axle came off the stool, turning full front. He wore a black vest over a lavender T-shirt, his baggy jeans falling from his slim hips, revealing Body-Body underwear. He crooked his fingers to gesture at his full-chested, big-all-over, V-shaped body.

"Does THIS look faggy t' yo', man?--shiiit--" He fell dramatically back onto the stool, shaking his head.

Joe looked at me across the bar, rolling his eyes.

"Sooooo...you're not queer, but you want to know if I've 'got plans'??" My voice was quiet, confidential. I didn't care for drama.

"Yeah. Yo' gots it--Bingo!--da's right! Yo's a big motha'fuck'a," he smiled as he drank, those lips curling into dimpled creases in his muscled, ebony face. "T'night I jus' need a man--OK? Dat's how it is wif' Axle--" he completely killed his drink, then looked down at the bar, suddenly serious. "When m' bitch acts up, I think about it--what I need--what I want...."

"...and this time you didn't just think about it." I put a twenty on the bar and nodded to Joe. Axle waited til he was once again fixed up, then slid his glass over to clink mine.

His young, husky voice fell as he leaned closer. "Yo' want t' know th' truth?? I's shakin' inside, bein' here like dis. Dis ain't my scene, man--y' unnerstan'?" He turned, but by now the crowd had learned to stay away. "--creeps me out."

"Then let's go," I pushed my drink away.

Axle looked left and right, the whites of his eyes very white in his dark, young face. "Yeah? Seriously? --where, man?--yo' gots a place??"

I nodded. I wasn't convinced he'd never been in a gay bar before, but I knew that look--that look I myself had had my first time out. That look? That look can't be faked.

He slid my drink back at me, then took a swallow from his. "I don' know--I don' know--yo's serious, huh? Me wich yo'?" His eyes ran over my face--at my nose, bent over from boxing in college. "I don' go back t'night, she's gonna freak--" His eyes fell to the hair curling from the opened collar of my loosened, necktied shirt. "--Look, uh...."

"...Todd," I countered his nervousness with an open, no-pressure, blank face.

"...Yeah, man--Todd," he smiled quickly, his teeth dazzlingly white. "--dis ain't no act, hear-what-I'm-sayin'? I's scared, ok?--" he looked to his right, then turned back, his baggy-jeaned leg touching mine. He spoke down at his drink. "Yo' sho' nuff is a BIG motha'..."

"...and you aren't?"

He laughed, his full lips spread. He lifted his rye, purposely flexing a T-shirted bicep. "--I IS, da's true!--takes anotha' dude t' say so, huh? She sho' nuff don't say it!" He laughed, then scowled. "--thinks it's all 'bout HER, man--da' Queen!"

He was getting loose, the whiskey already more than his youth could handle.

"Ok, Axle--let's cut to the chase, here."

"Huh? Waz dat mean??"

"--when you don't want your girlfriend," I fixed my eyes on his, "--what do you think about?"

"Yo' mean wi' a guy?" His voice fell, his eyes shifting.

"Yes--with a guy, Axle."

"Shiiiiit," he grinned, then stopped--then drank--then grinned again.

"Axle...."

"--ok, Todd-man--I hear yo'! Shit. Dis shit ain't easy fo' me, das all. Gimme space, man--" he stirred his rye with a finger, looking lost in thought. "--not th' shit in them mags, man --hear-what-I'm-sayin'?--not that fag shit. I ain't gonna suck...."

"--that's cool, Axle--ok?"

"--good! Ok, then," he cleared his throat, adam's-apple bobbing in his muscular neck. "--don' laugh, is all. Jus'...don' even SMILE, man!" His finger shot out from the glass to point at me.

I opened both palms. "Who's laughing?"

"Yeah--ok--cool. Ok. Yo's cool wich me, huh?" His large, light-brown eyes searched mine.

I suddenly reached over and gave him a brotha' handgrip, knowing he liked drama.

"--yeah--da's it, man--ok. I neva' tol' no one dis shit, is all--" he took a quick sip. "--I see me wi' a white dude--older-- a real man--like yo', man...."

"--OK--"

"--someplace nice--no one gonna bust in, or phone, or dat shit. Door locked...." He turned his glass with both hands-- his hands large and very black. "...an I's posin'..." he looked at me quickly, then back at his drink. "--yeah--posin' fo' th' dude. Buck naked. An' he's watchin'. Openin' his shirt--sittin' there...undoin' his pants..." He laughed--then drank--then shrugged. "--like dat!"

I waited.

Axle raised his glass, his ice clinking. "--dat's it!" He looked at me, sizing me up--looking like even a glimmer of a smile would send him out the door, back to his woman.

"....and then??"

He shrugged. "--an' then?? Why, by then I's popped m' cork, man!--don' want'a think 'bout it no mo'!" His smooth, broad brow attempted to furrow in thought. "--it's like a porno flick in m' head when I's fuckin' her, man. An' I get t' that part an' blow m' wad...an', POOF!--it's ova'!..." He spread open his palms.

"How old are you, Axle?"

"Why?"

"I'm thirty-five--ok? And you're...."

"...nineteen. So what?" he flexed his arm. "--I ain't man enuff fo' yo', man?"

"C'mon, Axle," I pulled out my keys and stood up.

"What??--waz wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

He looked around, still sitting, like he was comfortable just talking.

I wasn't. It was decision time. "I've got a place. No one's going to phone. Three locks on the door. A sofa...."

He pulled me back down onto my stool, his grip like iron, his voice a shaky whisper. "...no fag shit, huh, man? --no...."

"...I've got two bedrooms. You just want another couple of drinks? You change your mind all of a sudden? Don't feel like it?" I shrugged. "It's cool. Whatever. You go to your bed, I go to mine. I make you breakfast. You go patch it up with the girlfriend." I stood up again, waiting.

He tossed back his drink.

"Careful on the roads," Joe said, rolling his eyes once more at me and smiling.

"Shiiiiit," Axle went right to the sliding doors. "--I only seen dis view in pitchers, man! Yo' sit out here, sometimes?"

I threw my jacket over the couch. "Go ahead--could be a little windy, though. You want another drink?"

"Can yo' put somefin' in it this time?--like Coke?"

I headed for the kitchen, watching how his low-slung jeans couldn't even try to hide his soccerball butt--an ass only his height, broad back and developed shoulders kept in proportion. I heard him clattering lawn chairs around as I searched for my Crown Royal--Crown Royal, and a Diet Coke.

Axle was right. He had a man's body--an amazing build for any man, much less someone so young. It was his face and energy and teen confusion that gave away his age.

Not allowing myself even a moment of fantasy-- presuming what I might be allowed to enjoy of that teen-thug physique--I used my foot to slide open the door.

"Whoooee, man! I nev'a seen th' lake befo'! DIS is Chicago??--shiiiit--" he'd put two wooden chairs together --close together--his Nike feet propped up on the railing. "--not MY Chicago, man--fuck!!"

My balcony's in the middle of a semi-circular condo, visible by those on the outer edges. I prefer privacy when at home, but Axle looked like a kid in front of Macy's Christmas window. He clinked my glass so enthusiastically, it almost sloshed out.

"I nev'a been up this high in m' life!" he tasted his drink, "--what're them buildings?--them round ones down there?"

"--graineries--full of wheat. They fill those barges with it," I positioned myself to view the breadth of his upper back and shoulders, surprised by the cuteness of Axle's little ears. His head was almost shaved, the nape squared-off and razor trimmed. He obviously took pride in his natural appearance --no earring--chains--no flashy watch or rings--no apparent tattoos.

"Barges?? Waz dat?" his look was of open curiosity--an amazed, seeking quality in his large, dark-lashed eyes.

"Flatboats--and out there? Cargo ships--the ones with the little lights on them."

"Shit--I'd work on one'a dem, man--no questions axed, man! I hate construction..." He removed his long legs from the railing, splaying open his jeaned thighs. "--they give me da' dumbass jobs--bustin' up concrete --like fuckin' slave-times, man." He complained out at the night sky--his large hands making rap gestures. Meanwhile, I pulled my tie loose and began undoing my buttons.

"--'hey, Axle,' they call out, 'swing dat sledge, man!', they tease m' ass--a'ways hootin' n'....." The whites of his eyes grew very white all of a sudden. "--hey! Waz up??"

I shrugged. "It's warm out here."

There was a long, long silence. A police car whined through the streets far below.

"Yo's sho' nuff built, huh?"

His voice dropped nearly an octave, his eyes softening-- growing heavy-lidded--the man in him awakening. "--bigass hairy ches', huh?" He tongued his bottom lip.

I pulled open my shirt.

"Bigass nipples, too." His eyes moved slowly now, lust changing his rhythm--his pace.

I imagined Axle in bed with his woman, and slid my hands over my abs to push my tits up at him.

This wasn't the way his fantasy scenario was supposed to play out. He wasn't posing in the living room while I passively watched. It was me, on the balcony, stripping for him, wondering how shy he'd be with a man.

His right hand came over, the movement natural, at one with his body. He squeezed my meaty pec, his little finger thrumming my nub into erection. "Nice," he whispered into my face, bending over me. "--better'n Wanda's man. Fuck."

My hand came down over the back of his nappy, close-cropped head. I groaned to feel his teeth rasp my nipple bud, his tongue then lapping like a cheetah. "You like those don't you, Axle?" I touched my forehead to the top of his fragrant scalp, half-whispering in his little ear. "--you've seen big hairy chests like mine on the job, huh?"

"--Bossman Scarlotti gots one," he whispered back, his breath hot in my chest forest.

"You see the guys mopping their open shirts with a rag--watch those mantits slog up n' down when they're working..."

"...jackhammerin'," he murmered in sync with my sentence. He used his badboy lips to slowly frenchkiss each nipple, suctioning them, nursing on my maleness, making me pant against his head, making me plant wet kisses on his sweet-smelling, kinky scalp.

In one feline, graceful move, he was out of his chair and kneeling between my legs, pulling my shirt free of my shoulders, burying his handsome face in the hairy valley dividing my mounds.

"A boy needs a man sometimes, huh, Axle?--a man who understands--won't give you grief--a man who'll...."

"...hold me tight," his voice muffled into my furry pecs, his fingers tugging at my shirtsleeves.

I quickly pulled free of them while he himself managed to peel both vest and t-shirt right up his wide torso and off his head. Rising fully up on his knees, he crushed his giant, teen body against mine, his loaf-sized biceps around my shoulders, his face planted against my neck. "Hold me, ok? Hold yo' boy some now," he kissed my leathery jaw, his voice suddenly urgent.

Proud to have the kind of body he hungered for, I slid under his armpits, impressed by the breadth of his flared lats. Spreading my legs fully, I pulled him deep into me, our naked chests rubbing--my hairy swells massaging his smooth, sloping, youngbuck pecs--our nipples erect, frictioning together.

"I don' mean yo' 'blackboy'," he kissed and whispered into my ear, "--not dat way--not that racist way...."

"....it's ok...don't..."

"...I mean 'boy' like yo's m' daddy n' Axle's yo' boy, y'unnerstan'?--huh?--y'hear what...."

"...yeah, I do Axle--you need a Dad, maybe--a man..."

"I ain't got dat--jus' m' mamma. An' Wanda? She ain't no man!--no big..." he licked my neck, his big lips all over my earlobe, "...strong muscleman t' praise me n' make me feel like I's somebody--give me some hope..."

His need fed my heart, my lust, my biceps flexing to full power against his thick back. "Don't worry, ok? I've got you now, Axle."

His hands came behind my head, pushing me into his sweet-breathed teen mouth, his sexy lips pulling at mine, his pink tongue finding my own.

The wooden chair rocked, almost tipping as Axle rose up from the kiss, slipping free of my grip to straddle my thighs, his bubble-butt cheeks perched on each knee, his huge, black-shiny tits in front of my face. Like the dark side of the moon, they blossomed from his collarbone--pure, expansive, solid muscle--wide-circled, dark, saucer-like nipples bullseyeing each mammoth, curvacious swell.

His boulder-sized biceps enfolded my neck, planting my face between his muscular pillows. "I ain't got what otha' brotha's got--no bigass dong--but I got what they DON' got," he whispered into my scalp. "I gots me some tits--an' somethin' else, too, white-daddy...."

Axle rose up again--this time to stand--interrupting my chest licking--leaving me panting and wiping my mouth --watching him pull open his jean button, his pants falling to his ankles. Not boxers, but Body-Body, snow-white jock-type briefs mounded out from his smooth dark thighs, the contrast against his black skin dazzling in the dim light from the living room.

"...no, I ain't got th' horsecock, twelve-inch thang goin' on...." his hand cupped the incredible bulge of his pouch as he started kicking free of his Nikes and tried to get rid of his jeans.

"...I don't care, Axle--" my eyes were telling me he was way too humble--that something very large had to be aching to spring out of that pouch--a pouch that looked like someone hadshoved a zucchini and grapefruit inside it, "--size isn't important..."

"...they's lots'a brothas who got big wangs--skinny dudes--a'ways grabbin' their jeans--braggin' n' shit--" Now free of his pants, Axle stood against the railing, his bubble ass bouncing over the edge. "Shiiiiit," a smile spread open those lips, "--they can't even get hard--have t' squeeze th' bottom half befo' they can fuck!" Axle's hands slid up his satin ab ripples to cup his perky-nippled pecs. "--I seen them porno flicks, man--" he laughed, the sound rich and husky, "--no, I ain't gots a dick like that--jus' normal one-- gets hard as a rock in no time--big fat head on it...."

I watched him fondle his pecs, squeezing the black half-moons of those meaty, sloping slabs. "...what I got me is some bigass tits fo' m' white daddy t' play wif' n' suck on..." He looked down at them, removing his hands, then pinching his cones into bullets. "--sorry they ain't hairy..."

"Jesus, Axle..."

He laughed again, full of teen horniness and tease "--but I gots manhair where it counts, daddy! Under m' arms--" He raised both elbows skyward, hands behind his neck, his muscular pits full of ultra-curly hair, his triceps bulging, along with his delts. "...an' down below, man--lots'a it! Turns me on, man. Fuck...." he used his thumbs to pull his waistband down, a puffy wedge of kinky black wool piling out at me between his smooth, hairless, black thighs.

"Yeah," he smiled at me impishly, letting his waistband snap back, "--this baby's jus' normal," he patted his pouch, then made sure he caught my eye, "--but these babies sho' ain't!" Axle hooked his finger into the side of his meshed pouch, letting loose a sack of velvety balls so fat and heavy, they flopped out like two avacadoes.

"Sweet Jesus...."

Axle laughed, slinging them inside his pink palm, one of them falling out. "Yes, oh YES! I may be a kid, but I KNOW what makes a man, a man!--it's how big a load he got! An' these honeys're holdin' a whole BUCKET'a jazz inside 'em!"

With youthful abandon and casualness, Axle climbed out of his briefs to stand preening and buckass naked for my voyeuristic pleasure. Only the pale glow from the living room illuminated his jetblack physique--a muscular, glimmering work-of-art, cloaked in darkness, the night worshipping his body.

"You're so beautiful, Axle..." I heard myself murmur.

"...boy! Call me your BOY, daddy." He reached his arms to the sky and sucked in his abs, his stud nipples standing in bold releif, reflecting the available light. His cock--bigger and fatter than any cock I'd ever call 'normal' --jutted forward, half-hard, over a pair of truly enormous, hair-sprinkled, skin-puckered balls. And yeah--his kinky, black-woolen cockhair looked erotic as hell-- stuffed in the sexy vee between his bulging thunder thighs.

"Pose for me, boy." The words sounded racist and absurd coming from my politically-correct mouth, but to Axle, they were like an aphrodisiac--a verbal Viagra --making his midnight-black cock suddenly throb upward to an eight-inch, vein-throbbing, very-big-around totem, capped by a flared, purple mushroom.

Training his eager-for-approval eyes on me, Axle swung into a double biceps--his arms turning to polished black marble--his shotput delts striating into a weave of amazing bulk and power. He flexed his abs, his intercostals V-ing to the sudden gush of cockhair haloing his beercan hardon and gigantic, black-velvet balls.

Finally Axle was living his fantasy--posing naked for an older white man who was shirtless and undoing his pants. I pulled apart my belt as he swept down sideways on one knee--turning his magnificent torso to face me--then throwing his arms stiff behind him, clasping his hands and flexing his triceps along with his cantalope pecs. He smiled broadly, then watched me open my snap, suddenly transfixed.

Not one to tease and carry on, I was about to just shuck both pants and shorts off in one quick move when I noted Axle's catatonic stare--his thirsty, is-this-really-happening look of wonder. It made me remember my own first time--how the guy got naked before the door was even closed--how he had no patience for my wanting to play with his body--how he....

Stopping short of unzipping, I stood up, then leaned down to help Axle up--not that he needed any--my hands lingering over the definition of his triceps and delving into his deep pits. I felt his trudgeon-of-a-cock brush my pants as I turned him, nudging him down into my chair.

"If I had your body," I backed myself up to the railing, "Id just want to stare into the mirror all day long."

"Yo' body's th' kind I wish I had, big daddy," his voice was so worshipful, I almost laughed--not that I'm ashamed of my body--but hell, at my age, my abs are furry and not as defined as they once were. But there was no mistaking that look--the look I myself had as I gazed over at Axle's naked, spread-legged beauty. He was as turned-on by me, as I by him.

"You mean my big, hairy chest, boy?" Unlike Axle's skintight, gleamingly-full pecs, mine have become beefer over the years--not quite bearlike--but beefy, nonetheless.

"Yes'sir--them's a MAN'S tits--a REAL man!"

I punched each mound with my fist, then flexed them into mountains.

"Awwwh, shiiiit!" Axle grabbed his big cock, wetting his lower lip.

I made them independently jump and flex while pulling down my fly, watching Axle fighting over where to fix his eyes. And when my pants fell around my ankles, I realised I'd not put on my usual jockeys that morning. For some reason, I'd chosen a pair of red bikini briefs. I fought free of my shoes, socks and pants.

"Fuck! Yo's hung like a brotha'!"

I smiled at the compliment, strolling between his open thighs, my upthrusting, red pouch level with Axle's awed face.

I knew what he wanted--knew what I had wanted my first time with a man. And again lust brought out the man in him as he slung his big arm clear around my butt, his other hand touching and exploring the thickness of my bikini-stretching nine-incher. His fingers traced the whole, thick length, rimming my big head. Then he squeezed my hard cock like it was his own, making me wince, making my cockhead buck against the cloth and juice out a wet stain.

"Bigass white-daddy COCK," he stared, wetting his lips, his hand coming up between my naked, furry thighs, pushing my pouched balls into one big mound. "Awww, fuck!" he used his thumb and fingers to squeeze under them, the twin orbs punching-out against the cloth.

I thought I'd die, watching those lips suddenly open before he mouthed my bundle, the flat of his tongue lapping the fabric, jiggling my horny balls around. I panted--my hands pressing into his huge shoulders--watching him pull open the side seam, my hot, hairy, naked bag tumbling down free against my leg.

Axle stared at my ample, skin-draped peaches, then looked up into my face and smiled. "Damn!" he grinned, before cradling them up to his hot mouth.

"UUUhhhhhh," I was losing what little control I'd had--my head falling back--feeling his juicy cocksucker-sized lips pulling at my generous skin, his tongue washing the fleecy hair, then teasing each orb before he sucked my whole cum-loaded scrotum into his pink mouth.

His other hand was pulling my bikini down over my big round ass, making my cock cry out over being wedged inside its pouch prison. Popping each ball out wetly, Axle stared at my trapped cock, both his hands now pulling my wasitband down over my cheeks.

It was being pryed backwards against the cloth, a big wet stain at the head. Sweet thrills shot up my resisting shaft as the downward pressure continued--my balls bunching-up in sympathy over the tender shocks my indignant cock felt.

Loving the erotic drama, Axle showed no mercy, dragging my bikini down to my thighs, making my cock scream at me for allowing this torture. The head was hooked under the lip of the waistband, sending shocks of horny agony into my balls. My dense, soft-brown cockbush gushed out the over-stretched top.

"UHH!" It suddenly knifed free, smacking Axle's chin, thwacking my abs, then swinging to-and-fro, nine inches up from my swaying balls, the flared head maroon and shiny.

"Goddamn!" Axle grinned, his chin wet from my juice.

"C'mon, Axle--pull 'em off me, now--Jesus...."

He quickly got me naked, then stood up, grabbing our excited rods together in one hand and feeling my hairy tits with the other. His big eyes were all over me, staring at my biceps, my nipples, then down at our cocks, then back up to my face.

My hands got busy, too, reaching around to finally get a feel of those spherical cheeks of his-- my fingers peeling apart each globe--pulling Axle into me. His lips took in my whole mouth, his tongue spearing at mine til we were waging battle, flicking and panting. He'd let go of our cocks--his hands now full of my balls--his hard, black dick thumping mine, both of them oozing cockhoney.

I rubbed my hairy chest across his incredible, shelf-like pecs, my finger delving inside his deep, deep asscrease, trying to find his buried treasure.

Axle moaned into my mouth, my middle finger tracing his tiny slice, probing its tightness. "Oh daddy!--what'chu'all DOIN'??!" He arched his muscular back, his ass suddenly opening like two moons, wanting more--his slit pushing into my rigid finger. "Do dat!--play wi' it," he husked, his hands suddenly pumping my hot, wet cock. "She neva' does dat wi' me!...Awwwwh, FUCK!"

It was impossibly tight--totally cherry--his hot black butt shaking with lust, our hunching, naked bodies on display to whoever happened to step onto their own balcony for a smoke.

I pulled away--my nine-incher sything about-- and sat in the chair. Without having to say a word, Axle bent over--looked at me over his big shoulder--and backed up into my waiting face. I smelled traces of talcum powder in his well-showered crack, my nose prying open the cleft of that smooth, beachball butt. I smacked his rounds with both hands, making him groan as my tongue sand-papered his pink, virgin pussy.

"OOOoooh, yeah!--das' it--das it!--ooooh, daddy--watch'ch'all doin'???" Axle craned his head around, trying to watch me slobber up his hot ass.

I couldn't get enough--eating, chewing, snorting into that segmented oval, my hands playing with his huge, swaying, black bag of balls, his cheeks sealing-in my entire face. And when I pulled away to catch my breath, Axle swivelled around, his hard, purple-headed, eight-incher jabbing above his bushy, hair-piled vee--between his smooth, bulging thighs-- his over-sized balls thudding, as he straddled my sitting legs. "Yo' gots what I want, white-daddy," his usual smile was now a slack-mouthed mask of lust, "--an' I's gonna HAVE it!"

Axle squatted a little more to let my mushroom bulb rub its cockhoney against his cherry butthole. He used his hips to friction his horny slit as I held the base of my nine-incher steady and shuddered to feel the ripe thrills sparking over my kettledrum-taut, glassy-wet helmet.

"It's too big for you, Axle..."

"...I ain't yo' Axle! I's yo' boy--an I wants it!...." He suddenly squatted right down, my cockhead squeezing past his virgin lips, the flange of my big knob popping inside his clasping 'O'.

"OH! Oh, daddy!" His eyes grew wide, his lips parting, his big erection suddenly flagging.

I grabbed his forearms, directing his hands to my shoulders for support. "Don't move. Get used to it--let it stretch some...."

"....Goddamn, daddy!" His muscle-corded thighs quivered, his spread, black ass impaled on my first two pink inches.

"....give it a minute," I reached in and filled my hands with balls, rolling them in my palms-- massaging and petting them--his thick black meat lolling around from his black-wool bush. It was as much a horny distraction for me as it was for Axle. Hell, it was all I could do to stop my hips from just knifing up and digging for gold.

"MMMmmmmmm," he purred, feeling up his pecs, his ass squirming down another few inches til both he and I felt my nerve-studded head press his boy-buzzer. "UUhhhhhhhhhh," Axle's mouth broke into a smile, his half-soft cock pulsing, the heavy piece tocking upward in heartbeats to stand in all its proud, full-throttled glory.

His hands shifted from my shoulders to anchor themselves on the tops of my thighs, the wooden chair groaning under our combined weight as Axle began riding my rod--slowly at first--each time trying to find that magic spot, his cock throbbing at the thrills.

"Awwwh, fuck," he moaned. His knees were hugging my thighs, his broad back arching, his sweet, virgin ass eating all nine inches--rising to the crown--then squatting back down to rub into my electrified bush.

Hell, even my chest hair was alive--every nerve-ending in my body vibrating--feeling his asslips milking my skin rocket, strangling, squeezing, frictioning the shaft as his ass rose and fell. "Uhngg! Ung! Ung! Ung! Ung! Ung!" he bounced, his hard, black cock slapping his flexing abs, his fat balls thudding my lower belly.

I took hold of his rod, feeling it fuck my fist as he pistoned his round, black ass up and down my nerve-stripped love muscle.

"UH!--daddy!!--Uh! uh! uh! uh! uh! UH!!! I's gonna....OH! oh! oh! oh!" He stopped and stared into my eyes, his clasping asslips clamping like an o-ring around my meat just below the head, making me grunt in alarm, my balls bunching, my whole body quivering.

Waves of sexual current rushed up my shaft, my hips suddenly plowing upward to bury my whole, erupting cock in his hot, teen boycunt.

"D-D-DADDY!!!----Ohhh, daddy! UHHHHHhhhhh!"

A fountain of hot lava volcanoed out his flared purple head, splatting my tits, then shooting skyward, painting his shoulder. He grabbed it out of my hand and took over--his face wracked with alarm and joy--his huge pecs slogging up and down, his biceps rolling into a flexing mountain. Ropes of rich white shot all over his black body, the sight igniting my fuse, sending me off the deepend, sailing into space--my mind spinning into that ecstatic void where all I saw was muscle and cock and Axle's ripe, fat balls slapping my belly, his hot ass rippling as I blugeoned it full of my cannonading cream.

"Oh my boy! my boy! oh, Axle!" My head tossed around, the chair creeking, my hands flying out to squeeze his meaty pecs.

With one last lunge, I buried my jizzmaker deep in his ass and rode the wild, rollercoaster of lust--revelling in the thrills--my heart nearly bursting as volley-after-volley filled Axle's steamy guts.