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Tony and Ty
Tony Fanelli was enjoying his first semester at Westerfield College, a small, select, liberal arts college in the Midwest, to which he had won a scholarship to study music and dance. What made it great for him: excellent faculty, terrific facilitites both for music (they even had a small studio where he had been laying down hip-hop beat tracks, his favorite) and dance (including a small weight room for dancers only), a nice place to live (a loft right off campus he could afford since his scholarship paid for classes and books), and a small student body of under three thousand, a large percentage of which included some hot-looking studs. Tony was very into gay sex. He wasn't ready to call himself gay, yet, because he still had sex occasionally with some of the women dancers he'd meet, who were always coming on to him, and as much as he'd enjoyed it (especially with the lithe young girls who looked so much like boys), they never seemed to turn him on as much as a serious fucking and sucking session with another guy. That was the kind of ecstatic, physical passion he enjoyed most.
He'd felt he might be gay starting when he was about fourteen: his incredible interest in developing his own body and his fascination for the muscled torsos of other men and boys had started him wondering. He'd never tried to make a pass at anyone in his mid-teens - too chicken, maybe - but just kept on working out and guy-watching. By age 17, even he had to admit he was a total hunk, as hot as any of the hottest guys in the porn he looked at constantly on the net. He had very sensual Mediterranean looks: rich curly black hair, soulful eyes, a full pouty mouth, and beautifully smooth olive-tan skin. His body, after 3 years of constant devotion to weight training and nutrition, not to mention seven years of dance, was superbly ripped; his arms were thick but lithe; his lower body included solid thighs with every muscle fulsome and visible beneath only skin and vein, no fat; and the same was true for his very ripe, pronounced calves - he had a strong dancer's body. But his most jaw-dropping feature, he knew, was the greatest set of abs he'd ever seen. His "stuffed pasta" he called them: lusciously thick and bulging, with deep crevasses between the muscles.
The year he turned 17, his mother, who was a violinist in the symphony, sent him to stay for the summer with her brother in Rome, who was a principal dancer with an Italian ballet company, so he could get immersed in Italian culture. He did -- not only in the fine arts of the Eternal City, but in the fine arts of gay sex, as well. It took hardly any time for his Uncle Roberto to seduce Tony, who was only too willing to allow his pent-up passions to flourish with his suave, sexy relative. Tony spent the summer learning everything about sex between men that the older European could teach him. Tony mostly liked to top (unlike his uncle), but experience with a few other men in Rome, friends of his uncle or tricks he met on the streets, taught him the pleasures of bottoming for the right guy. He became an artist at cocksucking, and loved to have guys eat out the crack between his beautifully firm globes. The sparse black hair that grew on his balls and in his ass-crack, Tony kept shaved, as his uncle had taught him, and the thick Italian bush around his cock was trimmed into a thin, sexy strip right above his dick. That dick, though only about six and a half inches soft, was thicker than most others Tony had seen; it curved down like a huge fist over Tony's two enormous balls. Plus, from his Italian genes, maybe, it was a darker, duskier shade than the rest of his body, which Tony found very sexy. Every guy he'd ever fucked had doted on it.
Although he'd seen many fine-looking men at Westerfield that fall, his sexual activitiy had been confined to exactly 2 brief, anonymous encounters in a men's room in the library's basement. Those were hot and fun, but unsatisfying. Tony loved men, loved being with them, talking with them, horsing around with them, eating and drinking with them, kissing with them, touching them casually or exploring their bodies intimately, making real love to them, talking dirty with them, waking up next to them. His time in Italy had spoiled him for that. He was at the point now where he knew he was going to have to be more aggressive. One likely candidate was his English professor, an older stud who Tony thought would be one hot fuck. The guy was thirty at most, kept himself in incredible shape, and had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a bright, flashing smile. It was like having class taught by a Ralph Lauren model. The guy shot enough knowing looks at Tony to make him pleasantly confused and encouraged.
Even more to Tony's liking, though, was one of the other students in that class, a black dude named Tyrell. Tony loved blackness and black style. Not just the men, but the whole culture. He had become the world's blackest Italian guy as a result of his immersion into the hiphop scene in his native Chicago. He played basketball whenever he could, especially if there was a pick-up game with a lot of black guys (his dancer's training and natural athleticism easily allowed him to hold his own as a white guy). Black skin was just way sexier, he thought, deeper and richer, and so many brothers seemed maddeningly muscular. He'd only had sex with a handful of black guys, so he couldn't swear if their dicks were usually longer, but that didn't matter that much to him, and anyway, judging from all the gay porn he'd seen, no race had any monopoly on a fine slab of meat. This Tyrell had been driving Tony wild for the first month of class. The dude was tall, and from the few times Tyrell had worn a skimpy top to class, it was obvious his body was made of that long, lean, tender meat that drove Tony wild. Ty's skin shade was a rich dark cocoa, and he had a thick mass of dark hair he wore in long, nappy dreads. Tony could spend the whole day watching Ty's lean jaw, beautifully thick lips, or long, slender fingers. Between Tyrell and his professor, Tony rarely left English class without a wet spot in his pants.
Ty Washington found college to be the most interesting challenge of his life so far. He flipped when he got the letter from Westerfield, which had been his first choice, because of its strong pre-med program, and double-flipped to hear about the full ride he was getting due to high achievement and high need. Growing up in Milwaukee, Ty had seen how hard his momma had to work. She got absolutely livid about school with her three children. You had to be in advanced stages of the plague before you could get a stay-home sick day out of her. Ty took to that ethic totally. He was physicaly strong enough to stand up to any of the ghetto kids who ribbed him about "poindexter" or "trying to act white." And so he finished up one of the top ten merit scholars in the city. The party his mother threw for him, the wet eyes from his aunts and grandma, the hearty laughs and handshakes from his uncles, Ty would never forget. His mother had the news story about the state's top students framed and put right in the center of the living room wall which had all the family pictures hung on it.
Ty knew that he would study hard in college, get as close to a four-point as possible, and then all he had to do was ace the med school boards, and his future was set. The challenge for him at Westerfield, then, was not so much academic, as social, and maybe - Ty was starting to think - sexual, too: first, there was being in a mostly-white environment for the first time in his life, not having the solid home and community support he hadn't realized he'd relied so much on. He even missed his pesky, bratty sister now. Plus, Ty was going through bodily changes or psychological changes, or something. He had dated a lot in high school: around-the-way girls mostly, some pretty fly and fast. But his momma had discouraged too much dating if it seemed to cut into school work. He'd had his nut busted plenty, though, but it had never seemed the be-all, end-all that it was for most of the brothers. And now here at school, the few girls of color on campus were different, a little snootier, not so earthy and appealing.
Plus, the damnedest thing was that Ty caught himself most of the time checking out the guys on campus. His dorm, for example, seemed filled with jocks. They'd parade around the halls and bathroooms with maybe a pair of boxers on at most. The majority of the guys did their bathroom routine totally nude. Ty found his gaze lingering longer and longer, his dick getting fuller and fuller. He'd be drawn into the bathrooom whenever he heard a few guys in there, just to check out the action. Am I bi, he wondered . . . gay?. Being gay was just not an option on the streets back home. 'Punk-ass faggot' was the worst insult out there, worse than 'bitch'. Ty figured now, though, that he'd probably always liked stealing a glance at some of the finer-looking brothers in the neighborhood, but he thought then (when he even thought about it) that it was natural for guys to check each other out. Now he began to wonder if his low-level interest in sex back home was because he was having it with the wrong gender.
Here, it was like that germ of his interest in men was sprouting; he didn't have the code of the streets to shame him away from even thinking about it any more. Because of the dearth of black male flesh on campus, he had only Caucasian dudes to secretly ogle, and he was becoming a connoisseur of the white brothers: he could tell the pale, almost alabaster ones were from Northern Europe, the darker ones from Southern Europe or the Mideast. He could tell a California surfer-boy from a corn-feded Midwestern farmer's son from an East Coast preppie stud. Rather than fighting this feeling, Ty was pleasantly, though nervously, giving in. He'd fantasize about what sex with a guy would be like: licking a dick didn't seem awful all of a sudden, it seemed exciting, luxurious, something he wanted to do and wanted done to him. He'd look at some naked white jock standing next to him at the sink, and that dangly pink slab of meat seemed to tease him: he wanted to reach over and stroke it longingly, look into the dude's eyes, smile, and bend his head down; then tongue the head for a while before he devoured the whole member. As he watched those big hunky guys on his dorm floor now, he could imagine lying next to one, stroking that firm, ripe whiteness, putting his own thick lips around a quarter-sized pink nipple, then licking lusciously up the dude's ass like it was some girl's pussy.
The guy who was really turning Ty's crank these days, though, was this Italian dude in his English class, Tony. Mo-ther-fucker, Ty thought, now that he had began to savor male beauty unashamedly: that guy is just about the finest stud he's ever seen. Tony often came to class this first warm month in just a tight sleeeveless T and some shorts. Ty could get lost in the guy's chest, upper arms, and those ridiculously massive calves, achingly visible thanks to the various shorts he wore every day. Once, when he leaned back, the army-green cargo shorts he was wearing let Ty look up those thick, firm thighs. Ty just wanted to reach his hands right up there and feel around in that ass-crack. Plus, Tony had that rich dark bronze skin Ty loved best on the white brothers. It was like lightly burnt gold, like caucasian flesh slathered in olive oil. Once he wore some silky basketball shorts to class, and Ty swore he wasn't wearing any underwear cause he was sure he could see the kid's dick swinging around in there when he walked. Ty was hard the whole class period thinking about it. He thought there was an outside chance the kid might be gay, since he had heard he was a dance major, and weren't they all supposed to be gay? But the kid carried himself like such a raw, macho jock, Ty doubted he was queer.
Ty also thought there was an off-chance this dude might be into the brothers because he acted like one of those wiggers, always talking with a definite black style to his speech (but it was sexy, not stupid on this kid), and he seemed to be able to quote hiphop lyrics in class any time he wanted to make a point in class discussion. And he definitely dressed the part, with the backwards hats and the FUBU shirts and team jerseys, but on him they looked good. Hell, anything would look good on that body. Plus he had the sexiest diamond stud in one ear. And he kept his dark hair shaved right to the skull on the sides and back, then on top he had this thick mass of oily black curls. Too fuckin sexy, Ty thought: he'd like to let his fingers play on top of the boy's head while he licked his long pink tongue along one side; then he'd reach down and . . . damn! Around his mouth Tony had shaved a very thin, sexy goatee; Ty liked to imagine those hairs tickling his thighs as the white boy gave his balls a tongue bath. All in all, it was like the boy wanted to look as black as he could. Nothing wrong with bein' down, thought Ty. Maybe it means he ain't a racist. Ty had even come to class a few times himself in some skimpy top, showing off his own fine body, trying to let Tony know he was into male flesh, but the Italian hottie didn't seem to notice. Ty figured nothing would come of this fascination. He could barely spit good game with the ladies, he had no idea what to say to any brothers, white or otherwise, he might try to get next to. Plus, those voices from the hood still echoed in his brain: he didn't want to make anything that remotely resemebled a pass, and get shot down and laughed at for being a punk. Or beat down by some homophobic white muscleboy. Oh well, just lookin' was OK for now.
Tony started going to his classes on a mission now, ready to try to smoothly get some guy into bed. That day in English class, his prime fantasy came in wearing a cool short-sleeeved button-down that he kept all the way unbottoned. Tony made sure he sat right next to him so he could cooly check out that gorgeous chest and lean rippled abs whenever he wanted. After class, he figured what the hell and decided to go for it.
"Hey, great comment you gave in class today, man. That girl was going on and on, and you just put it so beautifully."
"Thanks, man. I hope I wasn't too harsh."
"No way, you just dropped science on her with a kind of cool authority. Hey, my name's Tony, by the way." Tony offered his hand and the black youth took it warmly, firmly.
"I know. And I'm Ty. So how you like this class?"
"Oh, I love it. The discussions are always deep, and it never hurts to have a prof who's a total stud, right?"
Ty was unprepared for that last comment. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Is this kid really gay?
"You must like hip-hop," Ty changed the subject, "you're always working rhymes in when you answer."
"Aw man, that's my life. I'm from Chicago. There's a pretty dope scene there. I did a little DJ'ing for this crew back home, nothing major. But here at school I'm laying down a lot of tracks that I'm using for performances. I'm a dance major, and I weave in a lot of club moves and beats. I got some really sick shit I've done."
"Sounds hip. I'd like to hear it some time."
"For real? Cause if you're not doing anything, I've got the dance studio reserved this next hour. I'm doing a final run-through of my midterm project, this solo performance I did the music for. You might dig it. Seriously. I'd love to get someone's feedback."
"Cool with me. I got no classes the rest of the day. Let's check it out." Ty's heart started beating way fast.
"All right!" Tony was totally amped up, but he told himself to stay cool, his could probably come to nothing, this guy's certainly as straight as they come. But it was just cool being thrown together with his fantasy-man like this.
The door at the other end of the studio opened, and Ty was startled to see Tony emerge, dressed in a tight white leotard that started about 3 inches below his belly button and ended right below his knee. He was wearing some thin, low-cut jock strap underneath - Ty could see the straps along each side of that beautifully dimpled ass - but the jock was made of the same sheer mesh as the leotard; it did nothing to hide the boy's dick. The more Ty focused on it (and it was all he wanted to focus on; he felt like some kid who'd got his hands on his first porn mag), the more he could make out the exact contours of that beautiful Italian sausage. Damn, Ty thought, that is prime meat. It wasn't so much long as it was thick and powerful-looking. Ty just wanted to go over and hold it tight, rub his face back and forth over it.
As Tony walked closer, smiling, every beautiful muscle in his upper body rippled, but Ty only had eyes for that dick. He couldn't take his eyes off it, couldn't believe how apparent it was through those two layers of sheer fabric, like they were just talcum powder dusted on. It curved out sexily from the lithe stud's body, sitting proudly over two huge balls, the side bulges of which Ty could also see clearly. He could even make out the little bit of the tip poking out through the thick fold of the foreskin. Damn, I'm gonna bust a nut right here, he thought, feeling his stiff throbbing hardness.
Tony, meanwhile, was loving it. He could see his gorgeous black fuck fantasy was riveted to his dick. Whether this dude's gay or not, he's totally into it. After the performance, if I can't get this guy into bed, I'm hangin' it up for sure. Tony let Ty stare, saying nothing, just going through his stretches, thinking about slowly stripping Ty's clothes off, then tonguing that rich brown chest. Tony stole a glance at the dick tenting Ty's baggy jeans. About 8 inches hard, Tony thought. He hoped it was one of those thin, dusky-purple ones that felt so good in his mouth and then up his ass. He could ride on one of those all night.
"All right, I think I'm set. Let me just get the lights programmed, start the music and take off these warm-up pants." As he walked toward the control booth, Ty's mouth went dry and his dick, if it was possible, got harder. Take off the little nothing he had on already? Oh fuck, this guy should be a stripper at some gay bar, he thought. He should sell tickets to this, fo sho. Ty sat back against the wall as the room grew dark. A spotlight appeared in the center of the space and a very thick techno-beat started oozing up into the room.
Ty couldn't help but voice a moan as Tony appeared under the spotlight. He was doing a slow, muscular grind in just that thin mesh jock. The material was all but invisble given the lighting. The spotlight made Tony's body look incredible, shadows lusciously highlighting the musculature. As he twisted and turned to the beat, Ty didn't know where to focus; those curvaceous pecs; his full, ripe cock, seeming to strut and bob around like a little dancer itself; those mammoth, commanding calves; the ripped, curvy abs; or that perfect, squeezable ass. It's totally obscene to look that good; Ty almost felt ashamed for watching. His heart was racing with lust; he could feel a steady drain of precum. He knew now he was gay or at least bisexual cause he just had to have intense sex with this boy.
As the dance progressed, Ty could only dream of things they would do together: he would trace his hands all over that body, licking and sucking as he went; he wanted to lavish deep oral love all over that gorgeous cock, licking, sucking, tonguing, rubbing his face all over it, worshipping it; his ass started to spasm, as if calling for that beautiful cock to be shoved up there. Ty realized he felt like a weak lovesick bitch, but he loved the feeling, luxuriated in it; he wanted to be Tony's bitch, wanted to please that beautiful white stud however he could. But part of him, too, felt the other way, like a black stud who had to have that golden ass, had to fuck it harder than he'd ever fucked any pussy. All of Ty's repressions were burned off in the boy's jerky, muscular sex-dance. He found himself hooting and whooping at Tony's sexiest moves now, emboldened by lust. Finally, the music stopped, Tony took a bow, and Ty burst out in applause. He rushed to his feet and spontaneously hugged the gorgeous dancer who had thrilled him to the core of his being.
"Damn, dude, so you liked it, I take it?" Tony laughed, taken aback by Ty's boyish energy.
"Shit, man, that was the hottest dancing I ever saw. You're fucking awesome." Ty hugged him again, this time letting his hands tenatively explore shoulders and arms, the bulging broad back, but not quite daring to drift down to the ass.
"Thanks, man," Tony said, pulling away. "Listen, how about I change, and we have lunch at my place? I've got a loft just a block away from the dance studio. You can settle down and get a little more critical about my performance."
"Cool, man. I'd love that. But I can't criticize anything. I loved watching you. Man, I'm glad you talked to me today. I was thinking for the past couple weeks you seemed like a cool dude to know. I didn't know you were this hot fucking dancer." Damn, Ty thought, why did he have to say 'hot'? Tony's gonna think he's some kind of bitch-ass queer.
But Tony just put his arm around Ty and said, "Thanks, man. I'm glad I talked to you, too. It's been harder than I thought making friends this first month. You were someone I definitely felt would be cool to hang with." He let go of Ty and walked over to the small control room. "Let me just get my tape and lock up the tech room. Then you can come back to the locker room with me while I change." 'Locker room?' A rapid montage passed through Ty's excited mind of Tony in a jock, naked, walking to the shower with dick swinging, water rushing over his perfect body, hand luxuriantly soaping cock and abs. He thought he might cum right there.
Ty sat on a bench in the changing room and gratefully drank in the scene of Tony casually stripping off the mesh jock and then towelling off his body. It was like watching a greek statue in the art museum come to life. While Tony had the towel over his head, Ty felt free to stare at his cock, marvelling at its incredible thickness, its slight curve up. Almost as hot were his stomach muscles; up close, Ty could see they were the most developed he'd ever seen: most guys who had washboard abs looked like they started from nothing and then got the six-pack, but Tony's abs looked like he'd started from a six-pack and then built up from there, getting them marvelously curved and rippled with grooves Ty wanted to get his tongue lost in. I'm really gone, Ty thought, I'm totally in lust with this dude. He finally understood gay sex: it was total physical passion, hard and raw like dudes liked. He felt he had to say something, had to steer the course of things into fucking and groping with this hot stud.
"Damn, dude. I gotta tell you, you have an incredible body. I ain't never said that to no dude before, but I ain't never seen a dude as good-lookin' as you."
Tony stopped towelling and stood proud and statuesque. His thick dick was rivetting Ty's eyes, he could see.
"Thanks, man. I train hard, so it's nice to think it's worth it."
"I mean, I room on the same floor as a lot of the football team, and they're bigger than you, sure, but you're way more defined. You must have like under 10 per cent body fat."
"Three, to be exact," Tony laughed, still in no hurry to get back to towelling. In fact, he dropped the towel and relaxed against the wall, crossing his beefy arms. "But, dude, I gotta say, from seeing you in class, you got a fine body too." He looked down, a little embarrassed, adding, "A great body."
"Shit, dawg, that's nice of you to say, but my skinny-ass frame ain't in the same league as yours."
Tony was suddenly energized, struck with an inspiration. He started rummaging in his locker. "Skinny? Dude, you're a fucking stud. I bet there ain't but an inch difference between us here and there." He reached out a paper tape measure he kept in his locker, always fanatcially checking to chart his development. "Here, take your shirt off and let me measure your chest."
Ty was a little surprised but definitely interested. This was going the way he wanted. He quickly whisked off his shirt, and Tony stood face-to-face with Ty, their dicks just barely not touching. He brought the tape measure up and reached it around Ty's beautifully dark cocoa upper body, making sure to play with those small purple nipples a bit as he fake-fumbled with the tape. Ty was instantly turned on. Tony pretended he didn't get a good measure and had to start again, brushing Ty's tits a little harder and pushing their dicks together a little more insistently.
"OK, 34 inches. I bet I'm not much more than that. Here, measure around."
Ty took the tape and slowly spread it around this white god's chest, his mouth starting to involuntarily drool and his dick now hard and leaky again in his pants. Ty didn't even try to keep his own body away from pressing against this hunk's ass.
"Shit, dawg. 38. I told you,"
"OK, so I'm a little bigger in the chest, but I bet waist and thighs are just about the same. Take your pants off and let me measure."
Ty, all hot and head-spinning now, gave an awkward laugh, "Dude, I gotta warn you, all this close-up stuff with a good-lookin' naked stud has me throwin' some serious wood. I'm a little embarrassed."
Tony just looked him dead in the eye and dropped all poses.
"Maybe you ain't noticed how hard this Italian stallion has gotten bein' next to such a fine-ass black stud, dawg."
Ty looked down and sure enough Tony's cock was now fully hard, outrageously thick and veiny, curving up, pert and blunt, in a strong, sexy sweep, and leaking pre-cum.
"Damn, dude," Ty murmured in a low voice, "I ain't never been this hot for a guy in my life. I ain't never in my life feened for dick. But dude, you're just too fuckin' beautiful."
Tony reached over, grabbed Ty's dick through his baggy jeans with one hand and pulled the black boy's head down to his face with his other.
"Fuck, Ty, I been turned on by you since the first day of class." They both ground their mouths together, slavering each other's tongues madly. Tony brought his hands together to rub Ty's ass, and Ty did the same, letting his long finger's play in the crack between the Italian boy's firm melons. There were mysteries in there he had to get to know. He backed off the kiss to get some air. His voice was coated with raspy lust.
"I gotta tell you, man. I know nothing about sex with men. All I know is I want it real bad with you. Worse than I ever wanted it with a girl. And nasty, too, real freaky and nasty and hot. I ain't know if I'm gay or not, but I ain't never been turned on by someone as much as I am by you."
"Fuck, bro," Tony's equally husky, lust-filled voice croaked, as he hurriedly unzipped Ty's pants and pullled them down, anxious to gorge on that black dick, "I don't know if I'm totally gay either, but I damn well know you are in for the hottest fucking sex you ever had."
His head was right across from a long, thin dark ebony dick, pointy-hard and wet. "Aw fuck, man," he moaned as he feasted on the drippy sight of it, "this is what I been feenin' for the past month." While his lips went up and down on that dusky meat, his tongue was swirling all over it.
It drove Ty wild; the black youth put his hands on Tony's head and moaned, "Aw shit, dude, I done dreamed about doin' shit like this with you for weeks." Tony pulled his mouth off Ty's cock for a minute, looked up at that lean black beauty, those beautiful thick dreads spilling down his shoulders, those full reddish-brown lips, and that lean muscled chest, and said, "Me too, dawg. Me too." He let his hands play across Ty's abs and thighs and then settled them back into his ass while he resumed cock-sucking.
"Aw shit," Ty said, massaging the Italian boy's head, delirious with the joy of lust being consummated, "where the hell did you learn how to suck cock? This is the best head I ever got. Aw damn, this is like real head, not that prissy stuff bitches do. Damn, and keep playing with my asshole. Oh fuck, is that hot. You got me itchin', dawg, you must know that. Itchin' to have that fat Italian sausage of yours all up in that ass. You gotta fuck me, man. Fuck me hard, man, make me your bitch."
Tony had taken his mouth off Ty's dick, but kept rubbing his face all over it, while he lathered his fingers with spit; then he'd started slowly probing the black boy's lean luscious ass. Between long syrupy licks of that black cock that drove him crazy, he started cooing,
"Fuck, dude, I'm gonna fuck you, don't worry. This fat hunk of prime Italian sausage will make you scream like a bitch, fo sho. You're gonna get so high off my love-makin, you're gonna beg for it every day."
"Aw, yeah, dawg, I be beggin for it now. Do it, dawg. Fuck my bitch-ass man-pussy 'fore I go crazy. This is fuckin' incredible, dude."
Tony had his mouth on the outside of Ty's long, slender dick and was kissing and tonguing it all up and down the shaft, taking the head in every so often to suck on and swirl his tongue around. He reluctantly drew off in order to concentrate on Ty's hole.
"Turn around, stud. Let me at that sweet black boy-pussy."
"Oh you know it, Tony. Damn, hurry, dawg. I just gotta feel that fine fat cock up there. Freak me good, dude."
Tony put both palms on either side of Ty's rich cocoa ass. "Oh yeah, here's my new dawg's ass. Mmmm, dude, you gonna love this." He started lapping at it, teasing Ty.
"Oh yeah, lick that pussy, baby. Get me good and wet. Aw shit, my dick's harder than it's ever been. I'm leakin' like a motherfucker. Damn, I'm lovin' this."
"Here comes my tongue-cock, stud. It's just a tatse of what's to come. Gonna open you up nice and big and juicy so you can take all this pimp-ass fat cock."
"Aw, dawg, do it, I want it all. Oh shit that tongue feels good up there. Oh man, this is what sex is. Where the fuck I been? Oh keep that tongue in there." Tony's strong, experienced tongue found Ty's prostate. "OH SHIT, YEAHHH! Oh yeah, dawg, that's DOIN' it!" Ty put his hands against the wall and ground his muscular ass into Tony's face. They were both in heaven, one lapping furiously, the other moaning loudly. "Oh man, I'm yours. You got me. Oh now fuck me, you fuckin' white fucker. Fuck me now. That tongue's too small, I done want the dick now."
Tony stood up and reached around to grasp Ty's pecs. He buried his face in Ty's massive dreads, then licked at the gorgeous chocalte skin of his back. "Oh fuck, Ty. Aw fuck, Ty you are so fuckin' gorgeous, man. I love sex with you. Now let's go, dawg. I'm a make a man outta you now. You bout to taste real sex now, dude."
Tony reached down and grabbed his own cock, thick now as the top part of a baseball bat. The head was poking all the way out of his taut foreskin; it was slick and slimy from the steady precum he'd been chugging out. He got the tip in easily and then reached around to jack Ty's dick, whispering in his ear. "OK, get ready. Relax, homey, and let me show you how to get fucked."
"Aw hurry, dawg, start pumping. I'm no pussy, man, hurt me. I gotta have you fucking that ass hard, I gotta have it. I want the hardcore shit, dude." Amazingly, Tony was able to slide his thick dick in further. "Oh God man, you are so tight, fucking perfect. Fuck, this dick was made for that ass." He stated pumping back and forth; Ty's ass was tight but well-lubed.
"Oh yeah, man. That's what I'm talkin about. Damn, I was born to take that cock up my ass. Shit feels so fine. And keep stroking my dick. Oh fuck, dude, you are the hottest playa ever. You could give all the brothers lessons. OH! OH YEAH!"
Tony was in his rhythm now and was pumping away at Ty's ass, Ty meanwhile was pushing his ass back to meet his every lunge.
"Dag, dawg, who's fucking who?" Tony laughed, sweat now streaming down both their bodies. He ran his fingers through Ty's dreadlocks, and leaned over and kissed his ear. "Aw, this is sex, man. This is the best. Damn, I never felt nothin' as good as plowin' this sexy black ass." He reached back down to Ty's torso and ran one hand over and over the black youth's abs while the other jacked his cock and balls.
"God, it feels so good. Mmmmmm. I love it when I back this ass up into those big Italian balls of yours. Aw fuck, Tony, You got me hooked; you got a nigga wants you to fuck him every day. Aw fuck, I'm gonna cum, dude, keep pumping me."
"I'm gonna shoot, too, Ty. Gonna . . . fill that chocolate ass . . . with sweet Italian cream. Uggghhhhh!!!" Tony's fierce, sweating body collapsed hard against Ty's back in a series of jerks as he shot spurt after spurt into his new lover. He made sure to hold his hand firm against Ty's cockhead so not a drop of his cream got away. When Tony was done he slowly pulled his thick, semi-hard dick out of Ty's ass.
Ty turned to face him in dreamy ecstasy. "Aw, Tony. I never had sex until now, man. You're amazing. Thank you, man."
He embraced the white youth, letting his hands play all over those firm, sweat-slick muscles. They kissed deep and slow, twirling tongues together in ecstasy. Ty loved feeling Tony's strong, ripply abs against his, loved their slimy cocks grinding against each other. He could feel the blood coming back in his and could feel Tony's getting almost totally firm again, too. Tony pulled away from the kiss to look at his new lover.
"Oh man, that was the best fuck I ever had. I'm your bitch, dude, your sex slave. I gots ta have you every day." He reached his hand up and licked every last drop of Ty's cum off his fingers, putting on a small sex show with his tongue.
"Fuck, man, you got me hard again. I ain't never been able to get this hard this fast again."
"Mmmmmm," Tony purred, finishing off the last of Ty's cream, "I know just what you can do with that hunk of black steel."
"What's that," Ty asked, before he grabbed Tony by the back of the head and pulled him close to him, to linger over those beautiful lips while their hard dicks pressed together.
"There's some hot Italian boy-pussy," he panted, as he moved up to breathe hotly in Ty's ear, "needs a fucking as bad as you did."