Bring the Nasty- Guest Posting

Notice to my readers…

From time to time I have a reader send me one of his adventures to share on my Blog with my readers.

I guess these readers don’t want to start their own blog. I offer my blog to share their experiences.

This guy included pictures that were actually taken that night. Unfortunately, they were embedded in the document and I couldn’t post them. I searched the internet and have added pictures to illustrate his fucking by a black man who disappointed him, but gave him a good fucking with what he likes best…Big Black Cock.

Comments are welcomed. He is a regular reader.

Enjoy!

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Bring the Nasty

Generally speaking, if you throw me into a cheap motel room with an older black man and his rock hard cock, you end up with one very happy little cockslut. 

With Terry... not so much.  Terry lives on the coast and I live in the "Piedmont" (Google it), so when we decided to hook up, we agreed to meet half way at a 40-dollar a night motel located near the crossing of I-95 and I-40.  It was a 90-minute drive, but I thought it was worth the trouble. 

On my way, I drove through downtown Raleigh and hit the adult bookstore on Hargett Street for a fresh bottle of poppers.  I was out, and Terry's cock was huge, so I knew I'd need some ammo.

(Full disclosure: I love adult bookstores!  In fact, I love them so much that I don't allow myself to enter them.  Over half of the fantasies floating around in my head involve me being naked in a booth taking multiple cocks up my ass.  The fantasies are so strong that I dare not ever entertain them.  I know myself well enough to know that I would become an addict in less than an hour, so I never indulge... Never.)


Anyway... As soon as I hit Hargett my heart began to race.  The sex booths are in the back and the poppers are sold at the front counter, so I knew exactly where I needed to go.  Before I turned off the car engine, my dick was hard from just thinking about what sort of trouble I might get into if I ever chose to walk down that back hallway.

Walking into the store in front of me was a sliver-headed daddy in a pair of jeans and an old, royal blue sweat shirt.  Immediately, my mind began to drift into the darkness.  Would he want to fuck me?  Would he want to bend me over, fill me up, and then pass me off to whoever might be standing in the doorway without even asking me if I wanted another one?  Yeah, he looked wicked enough to do exactly that, and then some.  So see... this is what happens to me when I think about bookstores and sex.  I wouldn't be able to say no to anyone.  I would never leave.

I started to feel weak-kneed as I watched the back of the silver-headed daddy, so I popped the trunk of my car and fussed with some crap I'd dropped in there until daddy was safely inside.  I knew that if he turned and looked at me, I'd probably follow him all the way to the back.  When it was safe to proceed, I squeezed my boner and went inside.  Three minutes later, I left with a double-sized bottle of Amsterdam (25 dollars) and a heart filled with regret.  I know, I know... I'm such a puss, but I know my limits.

I flew down the interstate and arrived at the motel an hour before the agreed upon time.  I like to relax, re-shower, etc.  Terry sent a text while I was sitting on the bed watching the news to inform me that he was 15 minutes away. 

I was naked and still dripping, so I toweled my hair and pulled on a white t-shirt... nothing else.  He seemed the type of guy who might like being greeted by a semi-hard cock, so when I heard the knock, I opened the door (naked from the waist down) and let him in.

                            

It was at this point that I started to have second thoughts.

Terry (AKA: Terence, I think) grinned and then blew right past me in search of a chair.  (Seriously).  Seeing that I was already naked, I assume that he assumed that I wanted some immediate action.  Maybe I did, but some recognition might have been nice, too.

As Terry sat down, he unfastened his jeaned and belt and pushed them past his thighs.

TERRY:  Pull 'em off.  Suck on it.

Terry was holding his cock (completely bone-hard) and waving it in my direction.  He was also kicking off his old, worn-out sneakers and fumbling for a cigarette.  I hadn't noticed at first, but there was a brown bag under his arm when he walked in.  Contained inside was a six-pack of cheap beer, which now sat next to the chair on the air handler under the tattered drapes that covered the room's window.  The man had yet to say hello.

I figured it was best to play along until he relaxed a bit.  Our email exchanges had been extremely sexual in nature, so it's possible that he was just playing the part exactly as written.
                                     

I dropped to my knees and pulled off the white t-shirt I was wearing and kissed the head of his cock.  This act of generosity (meant to symbolize my appreciation for the gorgeous piece of meat he was sporting) also went unnoticed.  Terry simply exhaled a large cloud of smoke into the room and grabbed the base of his cock, forcing it into my mouth.  Once he'd pushed it past my lips, he placed his palm on the back of my head, indicating that I was to swallow it completely.

TERRY: Suck on it.  
                                         

At this point, I remembered something he had said in passing on one of his emails.  As I recall, he had stated that during sex, he liked for his cock to be buried inside the "bitch's mouth or puss at all times."  (Yep, he's one of those Tops who likes to refer to my ass in the feminine, which usually drives me a little crazy).

There was a quick gag reflex on my part, but he hardly noticed.  Once I got comfortable with his cock in my throat, Terry opened a can of beer and began to sip the cheap beer he'd brought along. 

I think I sucked on his cock for about 20 minutes.  Every time I'd move to his sac or try to lick the shaft, he'd grab the base of it and shove it back into my throat.  I was losing patience and not particularly turned on by his style.                         

Terry had another little "something" that was bothering me... an annoying vocal tick.  I can't describe it really, but every 60 to 90 seconds he'd make this odd noise with his mouth and tongue that echoed through the room.   After a while, it went from annoying to torturous.  It killed the entire mood.  I won't mention it again, but just keep that in mind.      

TERRY:  You got lube?

I nodded.

TERRY:  Ok... get on the bed and show me some puss.  I wanna fuck.

I should mention that Terry had bragged online (several times) about his staying power and his ability to fuck "until daylight".  Right.  Well, we were about to see... but at this point, I wasn't really sure that I wanted to fuck until daylight. 

I just wanted a good hard ride, an explosive orgasm from him, and some quiet time for myself before driving back home.  In other words, I wasn't real keen on spending the night with this guy.

So I hopped up on the bed and aimed my ass in his direction.  I could hear him fumbling with the rest of his clothes.  He then pushed a dry finger past my rim with one hand and lit a cigarette with the other. 

Jeezus, I thought, just fuck me and get this over with.

I wiggled my ass a bit, and Terry hocked a fat load of spit onto his hand and continued to dig into my hole.  I pushed the lube bottle back towards him, but he ignored it and fired off a second load of spit.  He patted my ass and then popped it twice.  All of this was nice... he was clearly enjoying himself... but some actual lube would have been better.

I like it when a hard-ass Top takes me from behind... especially when the Top has a large cock.  Everyone's ass is different, and mine is shaped in a way that makes doggie, or bitch-fucking, ideal. 

Terry had other ideas.  He wanted me on my back with my legs up and my ass hanging off the bed.  He likes to fuck standing up while he stares down at his conquest.  Fine, as long as I'm stretched and high, but as a starting position, I wasn't keen on the idea. 

No matter... Terry flipped me over and dragged me to the edge of the bed.  He was in charge, which I liked, but his choices weren't my favorite.  Oh well... at least I had a fresh bottle of juice.  

So as for the "juice".  Terry quickly took care of that as well, and not in a good way.  While he was lubing his cock (we were barebacking), I took a heavy snort from the brand new bottle and began to twist the lid back on as I offered him some.  He took the bottle, but I failed to warn him that it was full.  He pushed his cock in just as I was slipping onto a cloud and then I guess he opened the bottle and took a hit.  When he did, he spilled a small amount onto my leg (fine, whatever) and then capped it and tossed the bottle onto the bed.  A minute or so later (just as he was getting his rhythm going), I reached for the bottle again and found it completely empty.  DAMN.  Twenty-five dollars worth of Amsterdam had leaked out onto the bed.  The cap wasn't even attached to the bottle.  He had completely fucked it up.  Damn Damn Damn.  Wasted.


Terry just grinned as he pushed his cock farther into me.  It looked as if he didn't really give a shit.  I capped the empty bottle thinking the fumes might be beneficial at some point, but then I just tossed the whole damn thing onto the other bed and figured I'd just deal with it.  Damn, I really do hate getting fucked in a cheap motel room with a clear head.

                         
TERRY:  You got a camera?

ME:  Aaah, damn... yeah, man... on my phone.

TERRY:  It a good one?

ME:  Yeah.

TERRY:  Snap a few, baby.  Send 'em to me.

ME:  Yeah, ok.... cool.

Terry pulled out and I back rolled across the bed and grabbed my fancy computer phone from the bedside table drawer (I'd hidden it).  Terry walked around the bed and then got me back into position. 

With no additional lube, and no poppers, he plowed into my ass again and motioned me to snap some photos.  I assume he has a collection... or maybe he just thought he was so hot that I might regret not having had the idea myself.  Whatever.  I snapped a few and then tried to zone out while the man rode my ass.

Terry was right about one thing... he has a lot of staying power.  The man just doesn't cum very easily.  Trust me on this one.  

We fucked... and we fucked... and then we fucked some more.  He relaxed a little and eventually let me flip over onto my knees, but he stayed standing on the edge of the bed and pushed his greasy cock in and out of me so precisely that it felt as if he were listening to music.  (And yeah, that old vocal tick was really getting on my nerves).

After an hour or more of virtually non-stop fucking, my ass was starting to get sore.  No, my ass WAS sore, and I needed a break.

ME:  Ok... cigarette break, man.  

TERRY:  Ok, I need to piss.  You drink?  

ME:  Drink?



Terry waved his mostly hard cock my way and grinned.

ME:  Not often.  Tell you what... Hose me down instead.  (Seriously, I had to do something to add some fire to this freak show.  The man was starting to bore me.)

I followed Terry into the bathroom and sat on the can.

ME:  Go ahead.  Fire away.

Terry shot a hot load of piss all over my chest, face, and crotch.  To be honest... this was the best part of the night.  I was sober as hell and my ass was aching, but I loved the way his piss felt as it splashed across my flesh.  The best part (listen up, Tops) was that he didn't insist that I shower.  He just shook off the last few drops and walked back to the bedroom.  I stood up, rubbed off some excess, and returned to the center of the bed. 

I felt like a bus stop hooker.  Perfect.  Just what I needed...

I had saved those popper fumes, so I figured now was a good time to use them.  Terry greased up his cock one last time and shoved it inside.  I managed one final ride on the cloud and was finally starting to enjoy this man's cock, but I really did want the fucker to pop his nut.  To do so, I tightened up my ass as best I could and shoved it right back at him.  I think this finally got to him.  It took a while, but he FINALLY got to the point of orgasm.

Just as he was about to cum, he leaned down on top of me and grabbed a handful of my hair (bastard) and started to pull.  SHIT, that hurt.  One... two... three... four more strokes... and bam... BINGO.  The man had finally unloading into my gut. 

Holy fuckin' shit... the things I do for cock.

I knew (absolutely knew) that I would never see this man again, so while Terry lit up a smoke, I stood up and walked back into the bathroom and sat down on the can and let his fresh cum drip out of my ass.  I never even closed the door.  I really didn't care.  Sure, it's nasty to visualize, but it's not like it's something that no one else does.  We ALL do it... I just did it with the door open.  I figured it might make him leave.  It didn't.


When I finished, I stepped into the shower for a 60 second rinse (piss, remember?) and then flipped off the lights and draped a towel over my head.  When I returned, I found Terry under the sheets, smoking, and flipping the TV on.  Ah hell.  He was staying.

I said nothing.  Instead, I climbed into the other bed and tried to fall asleep.  I would have left, but the room was in my name and God only knows what he would have done if I'd left him there alone.

I awoke at 5am to a light in the bathroom.  Terry was dressed and standing at the foot of the bed.

TERRY:  I's leavin'.  I gotta take my momma to church, so I need to head out.  It was fun.  Thanks.

ME:  Yeah man.  Me too.  Drive safe.

Terry slipped out the door and I rolled over and slept 'til 8.  On my way home, I stopped in Raleigh and bought another bottle of Amsterdam.  This time I didn't hang around or daydream about what might be in the back booths.  It was just too tempting.


End