Sleeping Tiger Mochamuscle@hotmail.com
The warm light from the venetian blinds painted a pattern of alternating dark and light stripes across the ceiling and walls of my ochre-colored bedroom. The lines began rather narrow on the ceiling above the window, then widened as they reached the farthest corner of the room where my bed lay. The strict symmetry of the lines remained unbroken until they touched the curves of his body, striping the golden-brown skin of his exposed back and arms like a tiger's. I watched as he slept with his head turned away from me, resting on his thick forearms. I studied the contrast of the lines cast by the light from the window against the natural lines and curves of his body. The veins that snaked and twisted their way up his arms and wrapped around his eternally flexed biceps; the peaks and valleys caused by the intersecting muscles of his neck, shoulders and back. His back seemed massive and never-ending at the top, and narrowed as it reached the top of his ass which, to my dismay, was draped by the one part of the bright white top sheet that managed to remain on the bed. Yet even the swirl of sheet could not hide the beauty that was held beneath it. A study in contradictions: round from the side yet narrow from behind, ample but firm, smooth yet dimpled. Four dimples in all: two small ones at the top where it connected to his waist at the base of his spine--just perfect for collecting the pools of sweat that always seemed to accompany our lovemaking. And two larger ones on either side that deepened every time he flexed, making what was naturally tight, even tighter.
Even as he slept he must have felt my eyes on him, for he slowly turned away from me onto his side and raised his top leg. The sheet fell away, exposing his backside completely. There he was before me, all 220 pounds, six foot four inches of him. We too were a study in contrast: where he was brown, almost golden, I was dark and dusky. He was smooth and shaven, whereas body was covered with small, dark curly hairs and my head covered in long, fine dreads I began cultivating eight years ago. He possessed the powerful body of a fullback--which he had been in college--and I a taut body I managed to keep from my former days as a runner. He stood taller than I did, by about three inches. Yet all things were equal in bed. All things.
I began to think about all the things we had done. I thought about how my hands, lips and tongue had explored every inch of him, from his smooth shaven head, his wide, oak-like neck, that beautiful back and, down his thick twisted thighs, rock hard calves to the tips of his toes. He especially liked what I did to those toes. It usually started with a light foot massage, then a lick from his heel across his arch, followed by a nice slow suck from the largest to the smallest toe and all the spaces in between. That alone was usually all it took to get this brutha on his back in no time. He would lie there, twisting and squirming with a pained expression on his face. His eyes closed tightly, biting his lower lip, thighs spread, and hands twisting and tugging at various parts of his body as he pleaded for me to stop.
Now I was no longer content to watch him as he slept. Bored with just watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply, I reached out with my fingertips and lightly traced a path from his armpit down the ridges on his side then back up again. This caused him to breathe even deeper. With the fingers from my hand now splayed, I crossed over his back and lightly rubbed from the base of his neck, down his spine, down the crevice in his ass, and lightly palmed his nutz. They were warm and smooth as they rested against his thigh and loosely rolled against each other in the palm of my hand. I held them there, lightly squeezing and tugging the way I knew he liked them done. This caused a slight hesitation in his breathing pattern, which then resumed as he raised his upper leg higher towards his chest, exposing even more of himself to me.
I moved in closer, slowly pressing my chest into his back, snaking my left arm underneath his body so that my hand could play with his chest. I removed my right hand from his balls to reach around and stroke his abs, and threw my right thigh over his. I listened once again to his breathing, which was still deep and slow, then started to stroke and caress his smooth, warm brown skin. My left hand found his left nipple and I rolled and pressed it between my fingers. My right hand traced the ripples in his abs, which flexed and relaxed as I rubbed. My tongue traced along where his hairline should have been on the back of his neck around to his earlobe, which I quickly sucked between my lips and lightly bit.
His body began to respond, and he pressed back against me and let out a slight moan. This, coupled with fact that his once flaccid dick was now straight up and pressed against his abs let me know that what I was attempting to do was working. I continued to work on his ear with my tongue, and now increased the play as my hand worked alternately between both nipples. I felt the wetness against the back of my hand as his foreskin began to leak a thick clear fluid. I spread my palm and pressed on his lower abdomen right where it's connected to the base of his dick. This was always good for making him press his ass closer against me.
My body also responded to his: I felt my nipples harden against his back, and my dick slowly grew and press against his nutz as my foreskin retracted slightly and I too leaked onto his inner thigh.
I realized my sleeping tiger was no longer sleeping when he reached back with his right hand, grabbed my thigh and brought it higher onto his, exposing my asshole, nutz and dick. He then proceeded to probe, squeeze and stroke all three with his long fingers. His entire body became alive and he began to move against me, pressing and grinding wherever skin met skin. As the movement grew more intense, his left hand reached for my right hand and guided it to his dick, which by now had grown to its usual thickness. He was average in length--about seven and half from base to tip. I was longer than he by about two inches. But he more than made up for it in width. I had to struggle to close my hand around his dick at the thickest part.
I firmly wrapped my fingers around the top of his dick, except for one finger, which I used to insert beneath the foreskin, and swirled the clear cum oozing from the slit around the fat, purplish-brown head. We both began to stroke each other in unison now, each of us working to see who could bring more pleasure to the other.
After about ten minutes of this, his moans came more steadily, and I answered him by moaning and breathing into his ear. Both of our hands began to stroke faster and longer, and squeeze tighter. I knew by the way his dick oozed and his nutz wrinkled that this brutha was about to blow and I wouldn't be far behind. He seemed to read my mind as he quickly pulled away from me, leaving me writhing in the tangled sheet beneath us.
My disappointment was not for long. He leaned over his side of the bed and reached for the large bottle of olive oil we kept next to the bed for occasions such as this. Once again I saw his perfect ass flex and make those dimples. I quickly bent over and gave the peak of his left one a quick bite, which caused him to jerk and knock over the bottle of oil. He quickly recovered it before it rolled under the bed and turned his head to flash his "what the fuck you do that shit for" look at me. I quickly looked at the ceiling as though I had been looking there the whole time, and he let out a sharp grunt.
"Sneaky muhfucka."
"What?" I said, mustering up the most innocent look I could given the situation.
"Just like you to bite a brutha in the ass when he ain't lookin." He was right: that was my nature.
"Yo black ass betta be glad it was my teeth and not my dick, clumsy muhfucka." I glared at him, which he found particularly funny. Especially since his big, ruffneck ass could have knocked me clear through the wall with one punch. But he knew better.
"Here, now handle yo bizness" he said as he slapped the bottle of oil into my hand.
He raised up on his knees, spread his thighs, bent his waist and rested his head on his forearms. His upturned, brown, beefy ass was a beautiful sight to behold. On my knees now, I opened the bottle of oil, tilted it and watched as it streamed down the cleft of his cheeks, over his dark brown hole and onto his nutz. I placed my hands underneath his nutz to catch the excess, which I spread liberally over his ass, rubbed into his nutz, and stroked onto his dick. I then poured another stream of oil and watched it make it's way down his spine to the base of his neck, and rubbed it into the big slabs of muscle into his back and shoulders. The final pour was meant for me as I turned the bottle against my chest, and poured it liberally down the front of my body, collecting the runoff with a cupped hand beneath my nutz. I leaned over to place the bottle back onto the floor, then rubbed the oil into my chest, abs, and slicked my dick by twisting and stroking.
I planted one hand on his left asscheek, and used the other to slide my dick head slowly up and down the crack of his ass. I watched as the tip of my dick rubbing across his asshole made it tighten and relax. He reached back between his legs for his dick with one hand and slowly began to stroke, which made him relax even more. Using my hand, I guided and pressed the head of my dick against his hole applying slight pressure. The tightness of the opening caused my foreskin to slide back as the head slowly entered his ass. I looked down to see the muscles in his neck, back, ass, and his thighs strain as he grimaced. The texture of that ring of muscle against the exposed head of my dick made it pulse and made me lose patience with the slow procedure. I raised one of my legs, grabbed his waist on either side, and made one quick stab with my pelvis to help it through. He grunted into the pillow beneath him and his hand flew up and back against my hip to halt any further progression.
"Slow down, yo!" his voice muffled by the pillow.
"What? You say sumthin?" I responded.
I leaned over, kissed and rubbed his back. After what seemed an eternity but was more like two minutes, he slowly relaxed the hand pressed against my hip and went in search of his dick again. This was my sign to proceed. This time I slowly let the weight of my body press my dick into him. The slowness combined with the tightness and the heat inside of his body heightened the sensitivity of my dick. I felt every inch of him slowly open then envelope itself around me. At one point the head of my dick grazed against his prostate and his body shivered in response.
I knew that was the spot, so I withdrew an inch or two and hit it again and received the same reaction. I did this a third time, and his ass began to twist and grind against me. He then reached back with both hands, grabbed my hips and ground himself into me, taking me in completely. Taking his cue, I grabbed his waist again and picked up his motion, grinding myself as hard into him as he ground into me, each time hitting his spot. His movements became less sporadic and more rhythmic. And I matched him, stroke for stroke.
It was getting real good to us both because we began to break into a sweat. The sweat collected on my chin and dripped onto his ass. His sweat began to bead and roll down his back and sides. The sweat and the heat from our bodies warmed the oil. Its scent, along with the natural scent of our bodies now filled the room.
Our movement grew more feverish and more determined. He raised up, pressing his hands against the wall for leverage and slammed his ass into me harder and harder until the bed began to move away from the wall. I reached past his back for his shoulders, grabbed them and began to pound into him with all of my might. I watched as his back straightened and strained. I looked down and saw the pools of sweat in the dimples on the small of his back (just as I suspected), and the cheeks of his ass shake with every stroke. His hands left the wall and went straight for his dick as he pumped in time to my strokes. Feeling that feeling well up at the base of my balls, I tried to slow down to no avail. My dick and pelvis had a mind of their own now and nothing I could do at this point could stop them. His rocking back and forth on his knees, slamming his ass into me didn't help the situation either.
As we began to fuck in earnest the grunts, growls, and moans became louder and louder. We began to experiment with different rhythms: two sharp, short strokes then one long grind; me grinding my dick in to the hilt and keeping it there while he clamped and released his ass; or him taking me to the point of almost releasing me, then slamming back into me. Every once in a while he would stop, rise up, and kiss me over his shoulder, stopping the motion in order to prolong the pleasure and feel my dick deep in his ass. Unfortunately this pleasure couldn't last forever.
"Aww shit" was all I heard and his ass clamping tight around the base of my dick was all I felt as his body began to shake uncontrollably. His arms gave way and his body fell down into the sheet. He continued to convulse as he lay in the pool of cum he had just released. Pressed tightly against him and feeling the clinching of his ass around my dick I lost all control and shot jet after jet of cum into his ass. My heart, head, and dick pounded out of control.
We remained that way, me lying across his back and his body splayed across the bed until our hearts stopped pounding. I slowly released myself from his ass and rolled over onto my back, looking up at the ceiling. The sun was higher now, and the stripes that once filled the room were now gone.
But the sleeping tiger remained.