When Fantasy Becomes Reality

Lewis was Nigerian in origin but we had become friends in the gym.

But there was a complication in all this: I found him sexually attractive.
I couldn’t look at him without imagining sucking his big black snake cock.
He would just be running around the gym and I just could not help thinking about pulling his shorts down and
taking his cock in my mouth.

And when we met in the locker room showers, I couldn’t take my eyes off his huge, monstrous cock,
causing my shy little cock to shrink inside my balls sac.

Imagining the tasty of his cum overflowing from my nostrils and
the corner of my lips when his ejaculation hits my deep throat.

And for a bisexual man that was quite disturbing.

It got even more disturbing when, my imagination, had me kneeling behind him in a hotel room, licking his ass, and loving it.
When I was home, if I was alone I often had to unzip my jeans, take out my cock and masturbate.
I fantasised about him wanking in front of me, cumming in my mouth.

But the worst part was when I found myself wanting that shiny, black body all over me. As the years went by,
my fantasies changed and I now wanted to be fucked by him.
I wanted to feel his excess upholstery d****d all over me as I knelt and he mounted me doggy-style.

It would never happen, of course, so I was safe in my debauched imagination.

It came as a surprise to me to find myself that Saturday driving to that club.
The bar was only half full and I didn’t know anyone so I just sat and drank red wine.

He came on at about nine o’clock and we talked for an hour, telling stories about his upbringing.
He was actually more entertaining than I expected.
And yes, I did get turned on watching him waddling around with the baggy trousers of a dark suit flapping around his buttocks.
I imagined his balls and cock swaying inside the loose boxer shorts he probably wore.
Or were they cooped up in tight white underpants?
Whatever was the reality, it was his business, not mine.

The crowd dispersed quickly and soon there was just him and another guy and me. He called me over.

“Haven’t you got a home to go to?” he joshed loudly.
“Come on, everybody’s buggered off, so who’s going to keep me company, a lonely guy far away from home?” I smiled uncomfortably.

“Seriously,” he said, turning to the other man. “Peter, how about a nightcap at my home?”
Peter made some excuse, so Lewis turned to me.

“How about you, young man?”

I drove him to his home and he insisted I go in and have a drink with him.
“My room,” he said into my ear. “Got a bottle of scotch”

I was as nervous as a schoolgirl as I entered the room – I could have said schoolboy, but I was thoroughly in feminine mode by that time.