Henry 'Rocky' King lived two doors down from me. We had 'bumped' into one another at least three times a day for a year, coming and going mostly from our jobs. We had never actually had more than a casual conversation as we passed each other in the hall or shared a ride in the elevator.
Henry, or Rocky as he preferred, was older than me by about 15 years but was in better shape than most guys my age. He had spent a few years in the military and was also a former boxer. He joked once that his nickname Rocky didn't come from Stallone's character but rather from the flying squirrel in those Bullwinkle cartoons. When I asked him for details, he laughed and said something are better not talked about.
Rocky was a good looking man. Not that I looked at men in that way, but he was a solidly-built black man with one of those smiles that disarmed you immediately. As good looking as he was, I was sure Rocky had his fill of all the tail he wanted but oddly never saw any woman ever come or go from his apartment.
It was his life, his business and I didn't obsess about it. I did think it a little odd, but we're all a little odd. Aren't we?
As far as a social life, especially one with the ladies, was concerned, I certainly had no place to talk. I was in my fifth month of a very dry, almost arid, dry spell. Sadly my social life lately consisted solely of me, some Kleenex, and some baby lotion.
I was also spending time looking at porn on the Internet. I entertained myself by chatting in chat rooms with anonymous strangers and jerking off to dirty talk and dirty thoughts. I was also starting to frequent the local adult bookstore. Not your ordinary seedy bookstore with jack-off booths in the back, this was a well lit store on the main drag of town. The clientèle was diverse, consisting of all races and all demographics, including frustrated housewives and drunk girls shopping for bachelorette party supplies. Except for the night of a huge rainstorm a month or so ago you hardly ever saw anybody walking around the store in raincoats.
The store carried magazines, DVD's and a huge assortment of toys. And an assortment of huge toys.
Originally I wasn't interested in the toy section. I was lonely and frustrated but I wasn't desperate enough to want to start shoving things in my ass. Never say never though. Right?
I was interested, however, in Candy's huge selection of movies and although I had a rental card, I started to buy more and more titles.
Despite the fact that the pretty black girl at the counter always smiled at me, I worried that she was judging me. I tried to tell myself that there were so many other people coming in and out on a daily basis I was sure to blend in with the crowd. I was just buying movies and was positive, at least what I convinced myself I was, that it was her freakier customers who she remembered and was sure to laugh at with her friends.
After a while, my sexual tastes began to vary. I was becoming bored with just the regular girl on guy-guy in girl stuff. Pretty soon I started to wander through Candy's Toy Chest and browse those shelves and small rooms that I had never even thought about venturing into.
Some of the titles of the movies on the shelves cracked me up and some of the artwork on the cover boxes turned me off immediately. The fetish section was a little scary. I'm not into pee or whips and chains. I guess I was still a little normal. Other movies though grabbed my attention and I was surprised to feel the reactions I felt. Sometimes, I guess, your cock has a mind of its own. Sometimes your cock has a better idea of what turns you on than your brain does.
It wasn't too long before I was renting a few titles that a year ago I would have bet you a million dollars I would never even touch, much less watch, much less buy. Now here I was, standing in the BI/GAY section of my local adult bookstore and toy store, looking at photos of huge cocks and tight asses and getting a funny little butterflies-in-my-tummy sort of stirring in my body.
I started slow by selecting movies which featured threesomes, mostly two guys and one girl.
As time went on, though, I found myself fast-forwarding through the scenes with the girl and stopping on the scenes in which the two men turned their attention to each other. I would pump my cock slowly as I watched them strip. There was something about their hard, naked bodies which made my cock growl. I found the variety of body types and body color, cock size and shape and thickness intriguing.
I would lick my lips as they sucked those leaking mushroom heads past their lips and into their hungry mouths. I would even finger my own hole as they slid themselves into the man on all fours in front of them.
Porn is porn. It's not about the story. It's about the sex and the sex I was watching was hotter than anything I had ever seen before.
Eventually I chose movies in which there were no girls at all and started renting, and buying, gay movies. In no time I had quite the little collection of varied, but extremely erotic, gay porn.
The story lines and actors varied. Some of the movies featured young men doing it for the first time. I'm sure they weren't really virgins but I let myself disappear into the fantasy. Some of the movies featured older men and younger men. My favorite movie though, and the one I seemed to playing almost daily, as I sat in my favorite leather chair with my baby lotion covered cock in hand, featured a pretty white boy and an older black man.
There was hardly any body hair on the younger man's slender frame. His blonde hair was almost to his shoulders and shaggy. He had a pretty mouth and big green eyes. His ass was almost too perfect. It was pale white, a stark comparison to the rest of his tanned surfer boy body. It was almost girlish in a way. His cock was long and slender.
The other actor in the movie, playing the character of a football coach, was a black man who looked to be in his early forties. He was a thick, dark-skinned man who looked like he spent a great deal of time in the gym. His arms and legs were hard and muscled. His hair was shaved close to his head and he had a goatee. He reminded me a little of the actor who played Apollo Creed in the ROCKY movies.
Who was that? Damn. It had been so long since I had rented just a run-of-the-mill regular, not gay porn movie that I was beginning to forget stupid facts like that.
The actor playing Coach Jefferson in my favorite gay porn had a monster between his legs. I didn't think it was possible to have a cock like that without a license or some sort of support.
What's the old expression? A baby's arm holding an apple?
Yeah. Well, Coach Jefferson had a big juicy apple on the end of his thick and heavily-veined shaft and blondie apparently loved apple.
Watching the older man seduce the younger man into first sucking his monster cock and then taking it between his tender cheeks and then past his little pink pucker was incredibly hot.
I didn't know what it was about that movie that made me so hard or cum buckets but I didn't care to analyze it. Then one night it hit me.
I was laid back in my chair, feet on the ottoman, naked from the waist down, stroking my hard, slick cock coated with baby lotion as the black man pounded the boy on all fours in front of him on a locker room bench. His pendulous balls spanked the boy's white ass. The contrast of the two skin colors was stunning and very erotic. The boy squealed and cried. The coach's hard cock slammed into him, occasionally slowing, teasing that well-stretched hole until the boy begged for more and pleaded "Don't Stop!"
The coach was all too happy to oblige.
As I watched and stroked, biting my lip, the image of me being fucked by a hard black cock flashed in my mind. I closed my eyes, shutting off the image on my plasma tv, but my dirty thoughts continued.
Then another image entered into the movie I was playing in my head. It wasn't just some anonymous black cock that was taking my cherry. It was Rocky's. I'm not sure where that came from or why my subconscious chose that precise moment to fuck with my brain and cock.
I didn't sleep well that night. There were just too many images swimming around in my head. I tossed and turned all night long.
It was that week that I made my most daring purchase from Candy's to date. And before you get images of rubber or silicone baseballs bats painted to look like 'realistic' cocks, available in white or black and complete with balls and thick veins, I didn't get one of those. I was looking for some self-pleasure. I was looking to break up concrete.
In the end, sorry for the pun, I bought myself a little toy, a plug, actually. Okay. Fine. I'll say it. I bought myself a butt plug. It was pink and ribbed and made of silicone. It was about 6 inches long and had a little base, which as it turned out, featured a suction cup in case you wanted to mount, pardon the pun, your toy to a shower wall or a friend's head, I guess.
I also bought some lube and the next time I watched my favorite movie I greased up my new little friend and slid it inside me. It took a little while. I'm was glad to see it was going to take some time and effort to convince my virgin ass to allow the intrusion.
I couldn't believe the sensations I experienced as I pushed the slick little plug inside me. My dick got hard almost instantly. I laid a towel onto my chair and eased myself down, forcing the pink toy inside me to the hilt. When I turned the vibrator control on I swear I almost passed out. I saw stars and I came buckets. Needless to say my new toy became part of what was becoming an almost daily routine.
About a week later I ran into Rocky in the hall. His arms full of groceries and he was trying to get his keys out of his pocket. I ran down to him at his end of the hall and asked if I could help, if I could take one the bags out of his hands so he could fish his keys out of his work pants.
He said he had a grip on the 4 bags and that if I tried to pull one out, they were all gonna tumble onto the floor. He then suggested I reach into his pocket and grab his keys.
My face flushed and my stomach fluttered a little. I tried to suggest something else and he said he was about to lose everything. He told me he had several bottles of wine that he spent way too much for and he would hate to see them crash to the floor.
I got on my knees in front of him, noticing how he towered over me at the moment and reached my hand into his right pants pocket. It was a tight squeeze and I couldn't help but slide my hand along his thick, muscular thigh. I finally felt the ring of his key-chain and slid a fingertip through it.
I also felt something else. Something stirring along the length of Rocky's thigh. His cock. Like some enormous anaconda stirring from sleep it began to move against my hand slightly.
I quickly pulled my hand out of his pocket, unlocked his door, threw his keys onto the kitchen counter and bolted out the door, my face flushed. I jerked off a few minutes later, imagining myself, on my knees once again, in front of Rocky. I wasn't looking for keys this time. I was sucking his huge, black cock. Nursing it like a baby nurses its bottle.
I climaxed into the toilet and collapsed on the bathroom floor.
What the Hell was wrong with me?
I was crushing on him...fantasizing about him...like some love-sick high school girl.
Later that day, as dark storm clouds loomed overhead, there was a knock on my door. I was wearing sloppy sweat pants, a little too tight on me nowadays, probably, and a tank top. When I answered the door I was surprised, and happy, to see Rocky standing there.
"Hello neighbor," he said with that million dollar smile.
I fumbled with my words, there was my inner teen girl again, but somehow managed to invite him inside.
"Listen, Man, I wanted to thank you for helping me out earlier."
I laughed and told him there was no need. I was just being neighborly.
"Hey. I was brought up proper," he said, "When someone does something nice for you, you say thank you."
He extended his strong hand and I took it in mine, my knees weakening, and shook it.
"I'd like to return the favor," he said, flashing that smile.
I wasn't sure, but it also looked like he gave me a quick once over. There was flirting in the man's eyes and I had to convince myself that it wasn't just my overactive imagination.
"What did you have in mind," I asked, my voice shaking.
"You like MMA?" he asked.
I must have had a look on my face because he continued before I could answer.
"Mixed martial arts? Like Ultimate Fighting?"
"Oh. Yeah," I squeaked, trying desperately to suppress my love-sick inner teen girl and muster some machismo, "I've seen a few matches."
"Well," he continued, once again his eyes traveling over my body, "There's a great card on tonight. I've got a 52" Plasma tv and some cold beer. I figured we could order some pizzas from Frankie's and spend a few hours watching guys beat the shit outta each other."
Oh my GOD. Rocky just asked me out on a date!
"Sounds awesome," I said, my body shaking just a little, "What time?"
"The matches start at 8, but you can come over anytime after 7. I've got some stuff to do before then."
Overhead thunder crashed and for a split second my apartment froze in the bright white of a flash of lightning.
My brain restarted and I said thanks for the invite. Rocky left and I stood in the same spot for about a full minute before I was able to move.
Rain began to crash against the windows outside. I looked at the clock. It was 6:26 P.M.
I went into my bedroom and started to pick out what I was going to wear. I kicked myself for acting like such a chick but something in me wanted to look nice for Rocky.
I knew I hadn't imagined him letting his eyes travel slowly over my body.
"Was Rocky gay," I wondered. Shit. "Was I?"
I decided on some jeans, a little tighter than they needed be, and a polo.
I headed into the shower. As the hot water pounded against my body, my hand traveled to my cock and I gave myself a few soapy strokes.
I stepped out of the shower, dried myself, and pumped some cologne into my hand. I chose a pair of blue and white striped cotton bikini briefs. They stretched across my taut buttocks and hugged my package nicely. I looked at my reflection in the mirror over my dresser. I turned and glanced back over my shoulder. I looked at my butt and thought that it looked as good as those I had seen in my movies.
I was thinking things I had never before thought and I was scared about what the night might bring.
I dressed and checked myself in the hall mirror. It was 7:22. It was now or never.
I left my apartment, locked the door and headed down the hall to Rocky's apartment. I waited a second before knocking and breathed in slow and deep. Right before my knuckles made contact the door swung open. Rocky stood there smiling and he said as he escorted me inside,
"Heard you coming, buddy. Come on in. Come on in. Welcome to Casa de Rocky."
Rocky was wearing a pair of loose-fitting gym shorts and a tank top and little white athletic socks. I was way over-dressed.
He looked good. The tank top hugged his tight, powerful body and showed off his muscles. The shorts were loose but not so loose that I couldn't see the shape of his toned ass.
I was looking at another man's ass.
SERIOUSLY. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?
He placed a hand on my shoulder and led me into his living room. Rocky's apartment was very clean and actually well decorated. For a single man.
"Maybe too clean and too well decorated," a little voice in my head whispered.
'Have a seat man, either one you want," he commanded as he head into the kitchen, adding "Ready for a cold one?"
Either one referred to the two large reclining leather chairs that sat in front of his entertainment center. They were like thrones. Over-stuffed and very inviting. I chose the one on the right.
"A cold one would be great. Thanks."
I gave the apartment a quick once-over. It was clean and organized and immaculately decorated with little nick-nacks but I didn't see one photo of a girlfriend or wife or children. There was one photo, in a glass frame, of an older woman I assumed was Rocky's mother.
"That's it! Rocky was gay," I assured myself, "Okay," I continued, "So now what? What does that mean? What does that mean for you?"
I had no idea.
"I guess I should have told you I was dressed causal. Sorry, Man. When I watch MMA, I like to be comfortable. Makes me miss my fighting days, I guess."
"It's cool, Man. It's your place. A king can do what he wants in his own castle."
"I want you to be comfortable. Don't get me wrong. You look great Man."
Again I caught his eyes traveling down my body and then back up again. Awkward.
"Thanks," I said blushing.
"Kick off your shoes and stay a while."
I did as my host suggested.
Rocky came back into the living room and handed me a frosty beer in a dark brown bottle.
"Only the best for my neighbors," he said as he clinked his bottle against mine, "Cheers!"
"Cheers! And thanks again for the invite."
Outside the storm that had been crashing into the building for over an hour now, intensified and the power flickered a few times.
Rocky seemed oblivious to the hurricane outside, "I took the liberty of ordering the pizza and some bread sticks. Hope you don't mind?"
Rocky was establishing himself as the Alpha Male and so far I didn't seem to mind.
"Not at all," I said, sipping my beer, my eyes never leaving his.
"Mushroom and onion," he said with the hint of a question in his voice.
"Perfect," I said. Although at the moment, all I could think of was sausage. His.
We shot the shit for a few minutes as pre-fight interviews were conducted, the sound muted, in front of us on the huge high-def screen.
We talked about jobs and life and people we liked or didn't like in the building.
There was a thunderous crash and a huge flash of lightning and then there was nothing. Everything went dark in an instant. The power went out as the storm reached new levels. The wind howled like a banshee outside and raindrops flew into the windows like bullets.
"Shit," was all Rocky could say.
"Think it will come back on?" I asked.
"Probably not for awhile. It's bad out there. I just didn't think it would get this bad. Well, there go the matches. Shit."
Rocky stood up and I heard his voice off in the corner of the room.
"It's cool. We can hang for a bit and see what happens," I said.
"THAT'S THE SPIRIT, my Man," he shouted from somewhere in the dark, "I like that attitude. Fuck it! You're right. Let's just chill and see what happens."
The storm continued to crash and slam into the building. From the sound of drawers opening and closing, I could tell Rocky was in the kitchen rustling for something. At some point he found a flashlight and turned it on. He shone the light in my eyes and asked, "You okay? Wanna another beer while the fridge is still cold?"
"Sure," I said, "Might as well."
"Might as well," he mimicked, "I like that. You are one cool dude. So laid back. Yessir. I like that a lot," he said as he handed me a beer.
Rocky left the living room and went towards the back of his apartment. I caught myself staring at his ass when the room lit up with a flash of lightning. He returned a few minutes later holding the flashlight and several candles, one of which was lit.
He put the lit candle on the kitchen counter.
"Might as well save the flashlight for when we really need it.'
We were a we now I noticed.
He placed several other candles in strategic places around his apartment and lit them. Within minutes the entire apartment was bathed in an orange glow and the scent of vanilla. I guessed one of the candles had been scented.