My curiosity peaked when you swung your dreads at me. I got hard when you started speaking my language.
"That's not a bear. He's more of an otter." (If you don't understand, use Google.)
Being tucked carefully in the closet with my closest friends was the hardest thing for me to do. I didn't know how they'd react to the news. Now I knew they would love me no
matter what, I was just afraid. Would my male friend start reading too far into things? Would they become more "closeted", for a lack of a better term, in what they do around me? I didn't want that. I didn't want to change things. And then they brought John in our circle.
Just as every girl has a thug fantasy, or so they say, so do I. And while I've heard that although thugs go the hardest in the bedroom they most of the time fall short, I still had to have me one. Enter John. Beautiful thug like individual he was. Is. In
the midst of my friends who think I'm straight and know he is. Until that night...
After a long day at work, I decided to head to Bourbon to calm my nerves. It was karaoke night at the Pub anyway. Again, enter John. I'm standing at the bar, buying a drink. I return to the room to watch the show, maybe even sign up. I notice John walk in with a bunch of homothugs I try to avoid on the regular. They sit at the table next time mine. His back is to me. He must not have seen me. Repeat the beginning of the story.
After this he and his friends get on stage and perform "baby got back" while grinding all over each other. I make eye contact with him as he performs. He licks his lips at me a few times, I bite mine. I decide then to turn my gay on. I sign up to perform.
A few songs later, and it's my turn. I perform an extra dirty version of "Dirrty". I works the entire crowd, and when I'm done I hop off the stage and walk straight to the bar and order a drink. When the drink comes back to me, it's already paid for. The bartenders points across to bar to...well you know who.
I walk up to John and make some small talk. His hands are trying to have a different conversation. I decided to speak his language by taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom.
Now, these stalls are small as hell but they'll get the job done. I push him up against one wall as I slide down the other. I undo his belt buckle and pants and let them hang around his knees. I pulled his penis out the slot in his boxers and put my mouth to work. He grabbed the back of my neck and forced himself down my throat. He made the grunt like noises you would expect and thug to make. I giggled and gagged on his dick. I looked up to catch of glance of him, eyes beyond the ceiling, bottom lip tucked tightly behind his flashing teeth. I was doing an excellent job.
Before he had a chance to unload in my mouth, I stopped, got up, and turned him around. I pressed my erection up against his tight ass. I was surprised when he threw it back at me and starting grinding. I never expected this thug to bottom. I unlocked the stall and walked out to get a condom from the dispenser and some lube from the fish bowl. When I walked back into the stall, I removed my growing erection from my pants and unrolled the condom over it. He pulled down his boxers and began positioning himself. I applied extra lube to the condom and a little more near his asshole. I kissed his neck and shoulders as I eased into him. He hissed. As my pumps grew stronger, his grunts grew more forceful as he punched the wall. I reached around to jack him off to my rhythm. A few minutes later, the condom is full and my hand was a mess. I cleaned it off with some toilet paper. I properly disposed of the condom, fixed my clothes and began to exit the stall. He grabs my wrist and lets go just as quickly as he grabbed. I walk out the bathroom, out the club, to my car.
I wonder how our next get together will go...
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