Whiteboi goes to Harlem Pt. 06

"Sure you can," answered Tyrone.

Mitch gazed at the sexy dude sitting at the other end of the couch. He glanced at the ever-present baseball cap on his head and wondered if Tyrone slept with it on. He looked at the tight singlet that hid his torso, and his sculpted, muscly biceps. He fixated on the beautiful dreads that cascaded down his back.

"You're so fucking sexy," Mitch whispered under his breath.

"What' you say jus' now?" Tyrone boomed. He heard exactly what Mitch had said, but pretended he didn't.

Mitch snapped out of his trance. "What? Uhh ... nothing."

"You was gon' ask me a question," Tyrone reminded. "I'll take 'Confused Whiteboi Has Shit On His Mind' for $200."

Mitch smiled. "So ... I guess I was gonna ask ... if you and Leroy ain't together ..."

"No, we' together," Tyrone interrupted.

Mitch forged ahead. "yeah ... but ... then how would you describe your relationship?"

No sooner had the words left Mitch's mouth that he knew he'd overstepped a line. He'd intruded. This was none of his business. He half-expected Tyrone to advise him that now might be a good time to check online hotel vacancies.

To Mitch's surprise, Tyrone took a deep breath. "It's hard to explain, so I try not to think about it too much. I hate this phrase, because I hear it all the time, but it's true -- 'it is what it is'. We hang together, we work together, we live in the same building, we get drunk together, we fuck the same bitches together ... in some ways, we' inseparable. If Leroy was ever caught up in shit, I'd be there in a heartbeat. And if he was sick, or if he fuckin' died ..."

Mitch felt tension rising. "Fuck, man, I'm sorry. I won't ask anymore. It ain't my business." Again, he felt like he'd glimpsed the tip of the iceberg, and that so much of Leroy's and Tyrone's co-existence lay hidden, deep under the surface of the icy water. "Anyway, I'm so grateful for you letting me sleep here tonight. Watch your basketball game. I'm sorry that I interrupted."

Tyrone reached for the remote and the frozen image jumped to life. "It's cool, whiteboi. Yeah, let's watch some game together."

Mitch felt relieved. He sipped his beer as he watched the game. Tyrone sat at the other end of the couch.

"Why you so distant?" asked Tyrone. "You can scoot a lil' closer if you want."

Mitch felt his dicklet twitch. He moved a little closer to Tyrone but made sure not to get too close.

The basketball game rolled on for a few more minutes.

"Who you' think gon' win?" asked Tyrone.

Mitch noticed the teams that were playing -- Lakers and Kings. Lakers were up by 6 points at the start of the third quarter. "Kings gonna win."

Tyrone shook his head in pity. "No way. Whiteboi don't know his B-ball. Gon' have to teach you a few things 'bout the intricacies of the game."

Mitch smiled, and they watched in silence for a few minutes.

"You wanna get a little closer to me?" invited Tyrone. Mitch could see the bulge in his pants. He moved across to sit directly next to Tyrone, hip to hip. "See, that's better, ain't it?"

Mitch felt Tyrone drape a heavy, tattooed arm around his shoulder.

He felt Tyrone's hand tweak and tease his nipple through the fabric of his shirt.

He felt Tyrone's sweet breath on his neck.

He felt Tyrone's wet tongue exploring his ear.

He gingerly placed a hand on Tyrone's giant flaccid BBC and began touching it through his pants. "I want you so fucking bad," he pleaded.

Tyrone grabbed Mitch's chin and violently tilted it towards his own face. He'd never kissed a man in his life before. He pressed his lips to Mitch's, and he felt Mitch submit, his mouth opening to let Tyrone's tongue inside.

Tyrone broke the kiss, but only to turn the television off. The basketball game could wait. "Come to bed with me, whiteboi."

They stood in the darkness beside Tyrone's bed. Mitch felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, pulling him close. He looked up submissively, his hands stroking Tyrone's beautiful dreadlocks as they ran like sexy rivulets down his spine.

"I don't know what to say," Mitch whispered.

"So don't say nothin'." Tyrone gently pushed Mitch down onto his mattress. "You want my big black cock in yo' pussy tonight?"

Mitch's sphincter twitched. "Yes," he whispered. "More than anything."

Tyrone lay next to Mitch, wrapping his heavy, masculine arms around his waist again. "Forget yo' bitch. Imma fucc you now, whiteboi." His hands latched onto Mitch's jaw as he kissed him forcefully. "I need to tell you I ain't never sucked face with another dude until tonight." He forced his hungry tongue back inside Mitch's mouth.

They kissed for minutes, but to Mitch, it felt like hours. Mitch touched the head of his dicklet and felt how badly he was leaking. He really wanted to taste his precum, but he wasn't sure whether Tyrone would still want to kiss him afterwards if he did. He knew some guys were weird about cum, and from his own limited experiences, the more dominant the man was, the less willing they were to taste it. "My tiny clitty is so fucking hard for you right now," Mitch moaned.

"Roll over, whiteboi," Tyrone instructed, breaking the kiss. Mitch lay on his side, facing away from Tyrone. He felt a thick, fat bulge pressing into the small of his back as Tyrone's mouth clamped down on his neck, kissing, licking and sucking hard. Mitch couldn't help himself. He reached down and, with his thumb and forefinger, he stroked himself to climax, wetting the sheets. Tyrone heard the moans escaping from Mitch's mouth and knew exactly what had happened. "You' be sleepin' in the wet spot tonight," he joked.

Mitch didn't care. He desperately wanted to continue kissing the thug lying behind him, but he thought it best to seek permission. "Can I roll back over to face you?"

"Sure you can," said Tyrone. Mitch rolled over to face Tyrone and immediately buried his face between his sculpted pecs. He sucked on Tyrone's pierced nipples, bringing them firmly to attention. Tyrone gasped; his nipples were hyper-sensitive, and it didn't take much effort from Mitch to coax his BBC to full mast. "Fuck, whiteboi, that feels good."

"I've dreamed about this for so long," Mitch admitted. "Whenever I watch BBC porn, I love looking at those huge dark cocks and those beautiful eyes and smiles, but a well-built chest gets me every single time." He looked up at Tyrone through the darkness. "Can I keep sucking your nipples?"

Tyrone laughed. "Do you remember me asking you to stop?"

Mitch laughed. "Hey, can you bounce them for me?" he asked, and Tyrone complied. "Fuck, man, that's so hot."

Mitch went back to work, his tongue lapping each nipple and his teeth gently tugging on each piercing. He reached down to feel Tyrone's hard cock; it was so fat he could barely wrap his hand around the shaft. He touched the head and felt the thick wetness at the tip. He ran his fingers across the sensitive head of Tyrone's dick, then brought his fingers up to his mouth to lick the liquid off them. "Have you ever tasted your own cum?" he asked.

"No ... not really."

Mitch pawed at Tyrone's sexy chest. "Your precum is really sweet, you know that?" He reached down to Tyrone's groin again, cupping his balls.

Tyrone smiled. "Thanks. Yeah, I've been told that before." The tip of his cock was still wet. He sighed as he felt Mitch's fingers drawing light circles around the head of his massive penis. "Fuck, that feels good, whiteboi."

"You know what'll feel even better?" replied Mitch, giving one of Tyrone's nipples a last pinch before heading south. Tyrone rolled onto his back and spread his legs wide, giving Mitch the perfect view of his massive, black penis and his heavy balls. Mitch gently stroked Tyrone's inner thighs before teasing his swollen testicles with his fingertips. He lightly touched the underside of Tyrone's shaft and felt him shudder. He began to stroke it, very gently, with just one hand, using his fingers to heighten Tyrone's senses. Another dribble of precum appeared at the tip, which Mitch lapped up with his eager tongue.

Mitch teased the head of Tyrone's fat BBC with his tongue until Tyrone couldn't take it anymore. "Suck it, whiteboi," he seethed.

Mitch responded by taking as much of the girthy black shaft into his mouth as he could, bobbing his face up and down, letting his spit dribble down onto Tyrone's nutsack. He reached up to run his hands across Tyrone's muscular abdomen and again up to his beautiful chest, teasing his nipples. He felt Tyrone's breathing begin to quicken as he began to fuck Mitch's face. "Fuck, whiteboi, you gon' make me fuckin' buss in yo' mouf ..."

"Not yet," said Mitch, taking Tyrone's thick cock out of his mouth, squeezing the spasming shaft.

"Fuck," Tyrone moaned. "I was so close, whiteboi."

Mitch sat on Tyrone's face. "Not yet. First, get me wet."

Tyrone grabbed Mitch's ass and pulled him down, eating his hole like it was the last food left on earth.

Mitch sighed in bliss. He would've been content to feel Tyrone's tongue lapping at his pussy forever, but he wanted something else. "That's enough," he declared. He kissed Tyrone, desperate to taste his own ass in his mouth.

They were both rock fucking hard by now.

Mitch squatted down on Tyrone's cock, cowgirl style, moaning as it entered his wet pussy. It stung a little, and he had to work hard to get it in. Despite his BBC homework, it still hurt to take something as demanding as Tyrone's fat ten inches of meat. His thighs trembled as he looked down at Tyrone as he crunched up and down on the huge cock beneath him. "Fuck, you're big," he whispered.

"I know."

"I can't fit all of you in."

"I know. Nobody can. It's OK."

"I wish I could, though. I want to feel all of you inside me." There was a moment of silence as Mitch's thighs began to quake. He knew he needed to spend some more time doing lunges and squats at the gym. "I love feeling you in this position, but fuck, my legs aren't strong enough."

Tyrone threw Mitch onto his back and ploughed him missionary style. "Is this better?" he asked.

Mitch's thighs and calves relaxed immediately. He threw his head back in delight as his pussy dilated. "Fuck, I love feeling you inside me. I'm so fucking addicted to your big black cock."

Tyrone picked up the pace, but Mitch was tight. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow. "You' gon' make me fuckin' nut, whiteboi," he said.

Mitch's hand reached up to touch Tyrone's sweaty, sexy abs. "Please ... don't nut in me ... I wanna taste you."

Tyrone knew his orgasm was coming. He pulled out and jerked himself off over Mitch's face. Mitch opened his mouth and flopped out his tongue. "Give me your fucking cum," he pleaded. His eyes were fixated on the head of Tyrone's massive, beautiful BBC. He couldn't wait for a thick, delicious load of hot black cum to land on his face.

"Imma nut in yo' fuckin' mouth, whiteboi."

"Give it to me. I want it so bad."

Mitch sucked Tyrone's thick meat into his mouth and awaited his gift. Tyrone continued stroking himself as he felt Mitch's tongue lashing across the head of his cock. He couldn't hold back any longer. "Here it comes, whiteboi," he declared as his balls exploded onto Mitch's tongue. Tyrone's fat black weapon flexed, and Mitch moaned as he swallowed hard. It tasted so fucking good.

The room fell silent -- the only noises were Tyrone trying not to moan as his nut pounded against Mitch's tonsils, and the sound of Mitch eagerly swallowing his prize.

Tyrone wiped his brow. "Was that good, whiteboi?"

Mitch caught a breath. Again, silence descended. He toyed with Tyrone's nutsack. "Fuck yes. Thank you."

Mitch scooted north. He wanted to kiss Tyrone, but was worried that he might not want to taste himself. Instead, he kissed his sweet neck while his fingers teased his nipples.

"You ain't nutted yet, whiteboi."

Mitch shook his head. "I came earlier ... while you were kissing my neck ... you said I have to sleep in my wetspot ... but yeah ... you got my clitty so fucking hard right now ..."

"So roll over," Tyrone interrupted. "Imma make you nut again." Mitch followed orders, and felt Tyrone's heavy arm envelop his frame, holding him close. Once again, he felt Tyrone's mouth sucking hard on his neck, and his dicklet swelled. Gently, delicately, Mitch guided Tyrone's sexy, heavy hand down to his crotch. And as he felt Tyrone's finger and thumb grip onto his clitty, he moaned like a girl, dribbling his second watery load of the night all over the back of Tyrone's hand.

"Was that good?"

Mitch's response was to roll back over to face Tyrone, silently burying his face in his masculine chest. Tyrone let Mitch lick his load from his thick fingers.

He felt Tyrone slowly drift off to sleep as he felt his own chest rise and fall, more and more slowly.

He felt Tyrone's heavy, protective arms wrap around him. The last thought that went through his mind as sleep arrived was how hot it'd be to watch Tyrone work out at the gym.

He couldn't believe this was his life right now.

Just before slumber took him away for the night, he wondered what Leroy was doing.

*

They woke on Monday morning, but late. Neither Mitch nor Tyrone had set an alarm. Neither needed to -- Mitch had the day off work. They were each sleeping on their sides, facing away from each other, but as the sun eventually intruded the room, Mitch stretched and yawned. He rolled over and found himself staring at Tyrone's dark back. He draped an arm around his frame, his hand landing on his tight abs.

He couldn't quite believe he'd woken up in Harlem on a Monday morning, spooning a thug with a ten-inch BBC. He ran his fingers across Tyrone's sixpack, knowing the huge piece of meat he'd encounter if his hand went further south.

Eventually, Tyrone woke up and stretched. He rolled over to discover Mitch sharing his mattress. "Hey, whiteboi." He yawned. "I guess I should get up and make you a cup of coffee."

"That'd be nice."

Tyrone rolled over and pulled some clothes on. He went to the bathroom and took his regular morning piss. Mitch lay on the mattress, hearing the warm liquid thundering out of Tyrone's bladder, wishing he could watch. Mitch heard Tyrone's feet move further away, and a switch turned on, which he assumed was for the coffee machine. Minutes later, Mitch's nose latched onto the warm scent of caffeine. He got up, got dressed, and padded towards Tyrone's kitchen.

The machine binged as Mitch arrived. "Perfect timing, whiteboi," boomed Tyrone. He poured his guest a cup which was accepted with gratitude.

Mitch took a deep slurp. "Thanks."

They sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee, but conversation was a little awkward. Mitch's mind had gravitated back to his wife, while also being concerned about his job. He knew he'd been granted a day of family leave, but a part of him felt guilty knowing that he'd spent the night in Harlem getting ploughed by a massive black dick. He resolved to work harder to dissolve the guilt.

Mitch stood up. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Fo' sure," Tyrone replied.

"I should go now."

"Yeah."

Mitch leaned in for a goodbye hug, which Tyrone returned. "See yo' ass again soon," his host said as the door closed.

Mitch caught the elevator to ground floor, preparing to catch the subway back home.

Just as the elevator doors opened, he saw Leroy in the lobby with a cup of takeout coffee in his hand.

Leroy was surprised to see Mitch in his building. He noticed a bright purply-red mark on Mitch's neck.