Idris’ Offer


var gaJsHost = ((“https:” == document.location.protocol) ? “https://ssl.” : “http://www.”);
document.write(unescape(“%3Cscript src='” + gaJsHost + “google-analytics.com/ga.js’ type=’text/javascript’%3E%3C/script%3E”));

try {
var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker(“UA-9825448-1”);
pageTracker._trackPageview();
} catch(err) {}For weeks Idris and I have had hot sex without meeting. We phone bone. And I do something with him I’ve never done before. I take provocative pics of my erect dick with my cell phone camera and send them to him, even giving him shots of the semen flowing down the side of my shaft after I jackoff and cum.

We also talk or text most every day. Oddly though, the subject is rarely sex. It can be golf, college fraternities, our family history, advice, anything. I even begin to look forward to the calls. They help make the day go by.

“Maybe we should never meet,” I tell him one day. “It might be better just to have a relationship on the phone.”

But this morning he sends me this text: “I want you.”

Today I have a meeting in the city and some free time afterward. I tell Idris I can swing through his neighborhood on the way home. His girl is at work so the place is free. I’m nervous as hell. Will we find each other unattrative in real life? Will the sex in the flesh not live up to the sex we’ve already had in our imaginations?

But I’m still relieved when Idris says, “Sure, come on.”

I park and Idris opens the door so I can enter. He is intimidating in real life. A tall, brown skinned brother with a broad chest and bulging biceps. Unlike many down-low brothers there is nothing even remotely feminine about him. He is handsome in a very man’s man kind of way. The angles of his jaw and his close-cropped hair remind me of a young Yul Brynner.

“Would you like a drink,” Idris asks me.

“Nah, that’s okay,” I answer. He still gives me a bottle of water but I take just a few sips. The heat between us is rising and I don’t want to waste any time.

Idris takes me down to his dark basement and sits on a sofa. But I never sit down.

“Do you mind?” I ask as I take off my tie and shirt and lay them over the sofa.

“No, not at all,” he answers.

Then Idris gets up from his seat and starts taking off his clothes, too. It is dark and I can only see his outline. But I hear the hisssss of fabric slipping off as his basketball shorts come down around his legs. When we are totally nude he comes forward in the dark and embraces me and we start to kiss. It is hot today and I was really thirsty but after kissing Idris I don’t need that bottle of Deer Park any more. And the darkness makes the scene more erotic. I can feel him but not see him. My sense of touch is heightened.

There is a bedroom in the basement with a queen-sized bed.

“Can we use the bed?” I ask him.

“Sure,” Idris answers and leads the way.

We roll around in that bed for almost an hour, licking and tasting every part of each others’ bodies. We’ve talked enough, so there is little need to do that now. Just two toned, tall bodies rubbing together, embracing, releasing, resting and back at it again. Despite the hardness of his body, Idris is very tender and affectionate. I feel like a baby in its father’s arms.

Condoms and lube are in a drawer on the bedside table. So I try to fuck Idris. He lays me on my back and straddles my abdomen. Then I try to take him doggy-style on the bed. The view of his waist and firm, brown ass is enticing. But he is tight — my dick is too large so I stop trying to force the issue. So we jackoff — he very rapidly in short strokes. We moan and talk nasty to each other. I call him my nigga and he calls me his. Among black folks nigger can sometimes be the sweetest word in Webster’s Dictionary.

We cum within seconds of each other, laying side by side. I bust that nutt on his stomach and Idris’ squirts all over my thigh and his stomach. His semen is watery and plentiful.

“I cum a lot when I cum,” he explains.

We shower together and talk. His manner is so warm toward me I’m put off guard. This isn’t like most sex hookups. This is not a slam-bam-thank-you-man, you-busted-that-nutt-so-get-the-fuck-out type of hook-up.

Then Idris pops a question. Why not give up all the other hookups and just give each other man sex when we need that? No strings. No pressure. Then he admits he was jealous when I told him about a recent hookup I had. And I admit I was a little jealous when he went on a recent out-of-town trip. I hoped he enjoyed himself and even gave gave him a referral — the phone number of a married, down-low lawyer from that town who I had hooked up with when he visited our city. But a part of me still wished I could hop on a plane and join Idris in that hotel room.

But I’m also thinking to myself. “Is Idris full of shit with this one-on-one talk? Guys talk a lot of ying yang, especially after they bust a nutt. And others just want to play with your mind.”

Yet I have to admit Idris is on to something. I can’t keep having sex at this pace. It’s getting to be just a habit…something to do. I have guys calling and texting and emailing me to come back and do them one more time. I can’t be everything to everybody because its not fair to anyone.

Plus Idris has a girl and I got a girl and we want to keep it that way for now. We live too far apart to meet without planning so won’t get in each other’s way or arrive at each other’s doorsteps unannounced.

I grab a burger on the way home — all that sex made me hungry as a bear. And I have more time to think about what he said. I dial Idris’ phone.

“I’ve already climbed to to the top of Mount Everest twice,” I tell him, explaining that I’m tired of being Mr. Stud. “How many more times can I do that?”

So I agree to consider the one-on-one thing. We will see how it goes.

Stick-to-it-tiveness


Well, I’m trying to stick to my abstinence rule. No sex with men for awhile.

But I’m home alone for four hours last night and Idris calls and we chat for a while and bingo…we have another great phone bone session.

Idris comes from the South and his voice has a honey-dipped inflection. The nigger can say the word “Fuck” and get your dick hard. He guides me through a hot sex scene. I close my eyes and let his voice shape my imagination:

I come to his place, all sweaty and funky from ripping and running all day. He greets me. We are the same height. We kiss passionately.

Then he drops down to my knees and opens my fly. My long dick is straining against my gray cotton boxer briefs. Precum is starting to stain the front of my boxers. He licks at my peter through the fabric. Then he pulls it out and smiles in appreciation because it is so black and ashy. My dick is dying to be lubricated with his spit and massaged with his tongue and lips.

Idris licks at my balls and dick, inhaling the musty man aroma. Then he really gets to work and deep throats my dick,. The fantasy ends with me banging his tight, masculine ass as hard as I can.

“Damn, Idris! Goddamn nigga! Take this dick! You know you want it!,” I practically yell over the phone. I masturbate furiously with just my spit wetting my dick. I cum furiously, the semen running down my penis shaft and all over my right hand.

I hear Idris moaning. He cums just a minute after me. I lay back, just breathing. I hear his breathe on the other end of the line. We take a minute to savor the moment and come down off a good nutt.

“I got to go clean up,” I finally say as I jump up to go to the bathroom sink.

“You still owe me one more nutt,” Idris jokes. We laugh. He is becoming a good friend.

I guess phone sex is all I will be doing and that is cool as long as its with Idris or somebody as good. I’m really trying to stick to the no-hookup rule. I was soon put to the test.

This morning (Saturday) I’m walking the dog and texts start popping on my cellphone. The first are from soldier boy, who is back in town for the July 4th holiday looking to make some sexual fireworks of his own.

“What are u up to?,” he texts.
“Just chilling…I may go work out at the gym later,” I say.
“Are you going to work out or hook up? Who are you hooking up with?,” he asks.
I start getting peeved. “Why do you need to know?,” I text back. “I don’t ask you who you hook up with.”
He backs down. “I’m not trying to find out that.”
I text back to him that sex is getting boring and I want to take a break. He gets the message.
“Have a good workout,” he says.
“Thanx,” I text back.

Then another text comes. From a Trinidadian dude from New York I hooked up with last more than a year ago. He has a tight body, chocolate skin, dreads, a dazzling smile, a lyrical voice that makes you think of blue water beaches, white sands, and a strong mojito. Its been so long I don’t recognize his number so I call to find out who the fuck it is.

He is in town for the weekend to celebrate July 4th with his friends. The last time I saw him he sucked me off in his buddy’s living room while his buddy and his lover slept upstairs. It was hot because we could have been caught at any moment.

I don’t tell him I am on a sabatical from sex. I make up another excuse.

“It’s a holiday weekend and I’m doing family shit. If I can get away I’ll let you know,” I say. “There are also a lot of clubs here and all the beautiful people are hanging out this weekend. You should go have fun.”

“Okay man,” the Trinidadian answers. “Just let me know.”

He tries to sound nice and conversational but I know he is disappointed. Who cares. I have no intention of calling him and going through the tiresome rigamarole of finding us a place to hookup for a half hour of quick passion. I’m not the only dick in this metropolis. If he is worth a shit he will find some more good dick before the holiday weekend is over.

Phone Boning with Idris


I met “Idris” online just a few days ago. We went around and around awhile and then picked up the phone and instantly connected. We’re fast becoming friends and potential freak buddies.

Idris is a professional who sometimes works at home. I emailed him my face picture so he knows how I look and he sent me his so I know how he looks. Brown-skinned. high cheek bones. A dazzling smile that looks like he can make mischief.

Idris has a steady girlfriend but swings with the fellas sometimes. His play hours are limited and he lives an hour drive away so it will be rare when we have time to meet. But that doesn’t stop us from communicating by phone, text message and by emailing at a men’s online sex hook-up site.

I was busy in the city today but decided to call Idris when I got home and took a break. I called him while I lay in bed, absentmindedly rubbing my dick.

“Hey Idris, what’s up man?”
“Hey Immanuel, I’m at the bank waiting in line,” he said.
“Guess what I”m doing,” I asked. My voice was getting deep and husky. He knew what I had in mind.
“Look man, I’m wearing sweatpants. I don’t want my dick sticking out in the bank line.”
I laughed.

What I like about Idris is the man is intelligent and we can talk about anything. Sex. Down-low culture. Fraternities. Track and field. Our first hookups with dudes. You name it. But I had no idea what an imaginative freak and first class phone boner he was. I was about to find out.

He quickly got his financial business done in the bank and went and sat in his car so we could really get down to business of sex.

“Pull that dick out and slap it on the phone. I want to hear that shit,” he commanded in a tone I had never heard before.

By now I had gone into a bathroom, closed and locked door, turned on the fan, turned off the lights, stripped naked and laid on the floor. I crooked the phone receiver against my ear so my hands were free. I started stroking my dick like crazy. And I followed Idris’ directions to the letter. It was clear this brother knew what he was doing.

“I wish I was there, licking the head of that long, ashy black dick, getting it wet,” he said.

Damn, I thought. My dick soon got rock hard. I mean it was at full attention. I reached for container of moisturizer, slathered some of the cream on my dick to get it slicker, and kept stroking, letting Idris’ voice take me to the edge of orgasm.

He described in detail what he would do when we met. How he would eat my ass, my balls, suck my dick, and put my stiff dick in his ass and work it slowly into his body. Idris is very masculine and mostly a top. From his photos his body is tight. The thought that he would give me some of that ass, even if just a fantasy, was all it took.

All I could think about was him working that tight ass on my dick. That was it. I was going to bust!

My dick starting squirting nutt as I moaned on the phone. My cum looked like lava flowing from a volcano. My bodied tensed, got hard as a rock,and then relaxed as the orgasm waves rolled over me. I could barely hear Idris talking. I was in the zone. You guys know what I mean.

“Did you cum,” Idris asked.
“Hell yeah. It’s all over my hand,” I said as I got up to wash up.

Later Idris emailed me. “You owe me a nutt,” he said.
“Shit man, I owe you two nutts,” I answered.

Idris, I know you read my blog. Thanks for helping a brother out today. Smile.