This story features a graphic depiction of sex between concenting adult males. If you are under the age of 18, or live in a society in which these activities are illegal, or illegal to read about, then you have my sympathy, but tough luck. Stop reading now and do something uplifting for the Dear Leader.
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Bottom Round
It is the weekend when I get to do my chores, the cooking and cleaning, and this was no exception. I have been working all day and my energy and libido are flagging.
In addition to the weekend chores, Albert likes me to cook Southern, and while I don't do soul food, per se, though I think that the way to a black man's heart- or his cock, anyway, is through his stomach.
So, before I went to bed I put a nice bottom round roast in the oven to slow-cook overnight, wrapped tight in in foil so there were plenty of rich juices. I put some onion soup mix on the fat on the top and rubbed sea salt in it,. Then I set the oven on 180 degrees and padeded oiff to bed, licking my lips at the present that Albert had left me when he stopped by in his car a little earlier.
He was a man who not only had good taste, but tasted good, too. The kitchen smelled extra jummy from the beef when I got up and staggered in to make the coffee.
Albert had said that he was questionable for lunch, since he had some church thing he was comitted to with wifey, so I got busy on doing the Fall cleaning. The radiators needed to be disinfected and cleaned, and with the windows open to welcome in the clean air from Canada, there was all manner of dust to be swept up, and little spots of mold that needed to be sanitized before it turned into big green gloppy patches.
I got out the bucket and amonia, and some rubber gloves to protect my hands- I am a licensed pianist, and that is important to me.
I like to do my housework in the nude, so I was wearing just an apron and a handkerchief tied around my head. I was bent over one of the radiators, trying to get out the little tiny streaks of mold on the louver when I heard the door open.
I figured I knew who it was, so I just spread my legs a little and scrubbed harder. Between the smell of the beef and the amonia on my plastic scrubbing pad, I was a little giddy. I knew the door had closed, but pretended that I did not hear it. I wondered what Albert was going to think about my bottom presented to him with such exquisit domestic vulnerability.
I heard a zipper zip, and something hit the floor and I curled my back in full presentation mode. Sure enough, I felt hands on my ass and the tip of what seemed a familiar cock run its way in between my cheeks.
Albert is such a kidder! I heard him hawk and a moment later something thick and viscous hit my skin at the top of my crack, and it began to dribble down to my rosebud. That insistent cock rubbed at it a bit for lubrication, and then it was off to the races.
Albert can be quite insistent sometimes, but this was unusually brusque, even for him. He gave it just about three hard strokes and he was in up to the hilt. I had to gasp with surprise and pleasure and then grip the radiator with both hands as he went at me in earnest, and I held on for dear life as he began to thrust urgently.
It must have been the sermon, I thought, maybe something about the Sodomites and imminent trips straight to hell in a decadent world. I was certainly onboard with part of that, at least the sodomy part, but the topic of the sermon faded from my mind as that delicious warmth began to flow through me as he hit my inner button, and my toes started to curl with dumb delight.
I must say that there is something about the smell of cleaning products and rubber gloves that gets to me, and I moaned, thinking that sometimes urgency and pure lust is the very best thing in the world.
Albert didn't let out a sound, which he does, sometimes. He likes to humiliate me sometimes, telling me what a fucking bitch whore faggot I am, but he just seemed to want to dump a load in me hard and fast.
I could feel him tense, and I wanted him to go on for a while longer, since I could feel my dick throbbing as the apron rode up and it rubbed against the front of the smooth cool metal of the radiator.
I moaned and sighed. He is the Boss, after all.
He gave me three more mighty thrusts and then quivered violently, which was unlike him. Normally he says something reallly dirty to me, calling me a cum-sump white faggot bitch, or some other humiliating endearment to make me understand my place, but he just went rigid on me.
What could I do but play along?
He pulled out suddenly, and I could feel his semen bubble out of my well-stretchd asshole. It cooled as it ran down the inside of my leg, and I thought, great, now another mess to clean up, but at least I had my cleaning supplies. Then I heard him zip-up and then step to the door.
I am just about paralyzed with langour after a brisk fucking and I heard the door close before I could stand up turn and ask him if he wanted some bottom-round sliced up on a bun with horsey sauce and melted Muenster cheese and some shredded lettuce on top.
I rose, puzzled, feeling empty and with cum dripping down my leg and onto the floor. That was quite a load, and I had just serviced him the night before, in the front seat of his car. he had given me quite a load then, and I swallowed greedily, since I am quite addicted to him. I made sure he was licked completely clean before getting out, and watching him speed away into the darkness, grinning that grin of his with his teeth as bright as the keys on a piano.
Black guys are remarkable, but he really must have needed to bust his nut to cum in such volume. He likes my cooking, which is one of the ways that oI keep him coming by. Maybe he was in a hurry, or I thought, brushing my apron down over my rampant hard-on, maybe wifey was out in the car waiting for him.
I thought that was an interesting thought, and then thought about his seed that was running down my leg. I bent over and ran a finger through it and tasted it.
It seemed familiar, but there was an acrid taste to it that I didn't recognize. Maybe it was the amonia in the bucket. Tht is powerful stuff! I am such a ditz sometimes that I almost couldn't figure out which to do first, clean myself up or the floor.
I finally got it sequenced properly and things cleaned up. I was looking down in satisfaction when the phone rang. It was Albert, saying he had gotten hung up talking tothe minister and he was not going to be able to stop by and feed me his fat black cock for lunch.
I looked at the phone blankly. "Well, then who was...."
My words faded off.
"Who was what?" asked Albert.
"Never mind," I said. "I slow-cooked a nice bottom round roast and I am going to slice it up. You will like on a sandwich, whenever you can make it over."
He said something complementary about my bottom and what he wanted to do to it, and what sort of sauce he had in mind, and then he said he had to go and he would be by when he could.
I made myself something to eat, and wrapped up the beef so it would be fresh, whenever. I thought maybe I shold make some cle slaw to go along with, something nice and cool but a little sweet to complement the flavor.
I honestly have no idea who had the gall to walk into my house, see my butt waggling in the air and then come in and fuck me silly without so much as saying thank-you.
It is a strange world.
Anyway, that is why I don't have much of a story to leave you with, since I still have the other radiators to sanitize.
I noticed I spent some extra time working on the one you can see from the door. And as it happens, you can even see it from the street through the front window, if you happen to be looking.
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