Strange what turns people on. And off too, so it seems. Different strokes for different folks I suppose. One man’s meat is another man’s poison and all that. Even so, after looking at the enormous black dicks on some of the Badpuppy models I was somewhat surprised to see that most of them had really low scores. 6.2 at the most. Is it because their appendages are so big they border on deformity? Some of them make my mind -- not to mention my butt -- veritably boggle at their unlikely dimensions. I mean who could possibly get all that meat inside them? Or even want to.
Of course, as a camera enthusiast myself, I know quite a lot about trick photography but there’s a limit to what even that can do. My personal experience with black dicks is rather limited too. In fact I’ve only sampled two to date. With a twenty year interval between them. Not that I needed that long to get over the first one. It was great actually. Pleasurably speaking I mean. The opportunity just didn’t arise. If you’ll forgive the expression.
I was brought up in a seaside town ten miles from a bustling port absolutely brimming with sailors. Many of them black. My juvenile ears were red with tales of how ‘certain’ women loved black dicks. It seemed there was something special about them besides their alleged length. You might say my curiosity was aroused at an early age. So was my dick. But I had to wait until I was working in my uncle’s Marine Delivery store before I finally found out for myself.
I was eighteen and had just won a place in a prestigious university and needed some extra cash. I hated the job actually. I left home when it was dark and got back when it was even darker. Nearly twelve hours’ manual labour for a paltry pittance. My first thought when I stretched out exhausted on my bed was that I would have to get up again the next morning and start all over again. My feet were sore and my bones ached from packing shelves and carrying a lot of heavy equipment around.
“It will make a man out of you!” my uncle used to say as he asked me to do things I was convinced even Superman would have balked at. Like taking some heavy rope to a ship. At least he gave me a little cart on wheels to get there but it kept keeling over and wouldn’t go up the gangplank so I had to hoist the rope on my shoulder and nearly ended up in the drink.
A beautiful black sailor came to my rescue. He grabbed it from me and hauled it on deck. I suppose he must have been on watch duty as there was no one else on board. The rest of the crew were probably on the loose roaming the town looking for ‘loose’ women or something.
He was dressed completely in white, in the tightest of sailor suits, with H.M.S. Bermuda written on his perky cap. He was pretty perky himself and couldn’t have been much older than I was but he had a sailor’s well-developed body. The muscles were fairly rippling down his arms. And the rest of him too come to think of it. He made me feel like a real wimp.
He also made my mouth go dry although technically speaking it should have been watering.
His plush brown nipples looked like chocolate drops under his tight t-shirt and I could easily make out his dong hanging long and strong against his inside leg. No sign of any support from his briefs or anything.
“How come they let a pretty boy like you do such heavy man’s work?” he said.
That endeared him to me immediately and I didn’t notice at first that he’d called me ‘pretty.’
Maybe that’s what my homophobic uncle meant by making a man out of me.
To tell the God’s honest truth I had to admit I was a little on the feminine side and I always knew I liked men but, besides snide remarks such as those of my uncle, nobody had made any direct reference to my being gay. They didn’t in those days.
But my wise woman of a mother must have known. “You came out of the wrong mould.” she said.
“My name’s Camden,” my new sailor friend informed me. “Fancy a nice cup of tea?”
Tea is an English ritual suitable for every occasion. Joyful or sorrowful. Come rain or come shine.
“Yes,” I said. “My name’s Callan.”
I’d never been on a ship before and was fascinated by it all. Camden made me a big hot mug of strong tea, which unfortunately didn’t seem to make much difference to my dry mouth especially as he was soon coming on hotter and stronger than the tea.
“Will you show me the engine room?” I asked innocently, as if nothing untoward were happening.
“Of course, milord,” he teased. “Only too happy to oblige your lordship. Follow me.”
He dutifully showed me the engine room and then duly introduced me to his ‘engine.’
I’d half expected something similar and put up no resistance. After all it was exactly what I wanted. Deep down. And I must say that’s how I eventually got it. Deep down I mean. Or maybe ‘deep up’ would have been more accurate. In fact I was soon overcome by the feeling of him rubbing his long hot dong against me as I bent over the guardrail to get a closer look at the engines. This was immediately followed by another delicious feeling as he put his hands round my virgin waist, undid my fly and peeled my pants down to get a close look at my bright white ass. At the same time he cupped my balls in the palm of his hand and caressed my dick so expertly he made my head swoon.
Nobody had ever caressed my dick and balls quite like that. Not even Paul Owen when we played ‘touche-pipi’ in the bushes behind the church after Sunday school.
Camden’s caresses made my knees buckle and pushed my ass harder against him. He responded by releasing his dick from its confines and nestling it between my ass cheeks.
Later as I poetically replayed the scene in my head I thought of all the beautiful horny contrasts.
The hardness and blackness of his Bermuda dick. The softness and whiteness of my British butt.
“Your cheeks are like two beautiful light bulbs,” he said. “Hold on tight. I’m going to turn them on.”
He put his fingers in my mouth and asked me to suck them real good. Make them as wet as possible
I did as I was told although I didn’t immediately understand the reason. I soon found out. He began to moisten my ass with my own spittle. And not only. His dick was doing a bit of moistening of its own. It was leaking pre-cum. My ass was even thirstier than my mouth had been earlier. It lapped up the ooze that smeared his cock head.
“Ride me a little,” he said. “Rub your ass against my dick as if you’re on a hobby horse.”
Once again, eager to please, I did as he told me and felt the thrill of his dick growing between my ass cheeks and his mushroom head trying to find a way in between them. No way.
My entrance to paradise was tighter than a fish’s ass and that’s watertight.
“Wait a moment,” he said and manoeuvred me over to a shelf nearby.
He dipped his fingers into something that smelt like axle grease. It probably was too but it felt so good as he lubed up my ass and slipped his fingers in. First one and, very soon, two or three.
“I’m looking for your light switch,” he said. “It’s called a sphincter.”
I felt like a rooky schoolboy getting his first sex lesson from a horny teacher but panted like an excited puppy as he rubbed the tip of his finger along what he gently told me was my prostate gland. That felt good too. Talk about big vibrations! It also gave me horny thoughts of Judy Garland singing a different version of The Trolley Song, “And it was grand with his hand on my gland and the band playing on….” Then he slowly but surely inserted his thumb and drove me absolutely wild pulling it in and out, and up and down, till my ass yawned open with desire for him. And I sure as hell lit up. I had enough fires down below to set a ship in motion.
“Are you ready for me?” he said when I couldn’t stand it a moment longer.
I was ready and I was willing but not quite sure I’d be able to take all that meat in one mouthful so to speak. He put his palms on my thighs and said, “Fasten your seat belt we’re in for a bumpy ride,” and before I could say All About Eve he was inside me.
The only word that comes to mind now is ‘Gulp’ which seems to sum up the sensation as I gulped down (or rather up) his magnificent dick and rocketed to the skies with it. You can imagine the rest.
At one stage I was absolutely positive he was touching my tonsils with it. I freaked out and lost all measure of time and space. I felt like one long extension of his measureless dick.
“C’mon baby, light my fire,” I heard a distant voice say, “You can do it. Take it all. Take it all baby.”
And I did. And then some. Eventually, as I was in imminent danger of falling over the rail, he picked me up on his dick and carried me over to the worktable so he could lay me out on my back and work me over using my flailing legs as levers. He fucked me senseless so, however hard I tried to describe it to you, I wouldn’t make much sense. But if you’ve been there (and I hope you have) you’ll know how I felt. A bit like a chain saw had drilled its way right through me or a suspension belt had come flying off my crankshaft. See what I mean? Sorry to get mechanical on you but we were in the engine room after all. Anyway that’s how it was. A real trip! Or maiden voyage. And I’d go there and back again anytime.
Unfortunately he was sailing the next day but my ass vibrated with him for quite some time. Now when I got back late at night not only my body and bones were sore. I was red, black and blue all over. Which reminds me -- my uncle was curious to know why I’d taken so long. I told him I’d got lost. If he only knew the half of it.
The Badpuppy.com model in these pictures is Camden
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