Luke pulled up to the nondescript apartment complex just after 9 p.m, the February chill biting at his ears as he jogged up the stairs to unit 312. He had just come from the gym and was still in his work out gear, a tank top, black hoody and tight shorts.
He’d been getting his gear from Caleb for about six months now, he was a chill guy and Luke liked him, plus it helped he was sex on legs. The man always answered the door shirtless or close to it, skin gleaming like polished ebony, shoulders so wide they seemed to block the hallway light. He was a giant of a man, big meaty pecs, tight abs and he didn’t seem to ever wear underwear, because his dick was always swinging about.
Luke was no scruff himself, he was 6ft, had played College football and went to the gym three or four times a week, yet he always felt small next to Caleb.
The door swung open before Luke could even knock.
“Sup, white boy,” he rumbled, voice low and lazy. He was wearing nothing but loose gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips and did absolutely nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline snaking down his left thigh. No shirt. No boxers. Just skin and muscle and that obscene print. Somethings never change.
“Hey man,” Luke managed, stepping inside. The living room smelled like fresh bud and cedar incense. “You said you had that new batch?”
Caleb smirked, closing the door and locking it. “Yeah man, I’ve got you. Why don’t you stay and try some, girlfriend’s gone for the weekend. House is mine.”
He walked over to the coffee table, and as he did so his sweats slipped down slightly, Luke couldn’t help but stare, root of his cock was exposed, and the rest swung like a pendulum between his legs.
Luke’s mouth went dry.
Caleb noticed. Of course he did, he grinned slightly but said nothing.
They sat on the sagging leather couch, passed the bong back and forth until the room was thick with sweet smoke and Luke’s head was floating.
Caleb’s legs were spread wide, one massive hand resting casually on the inside of his own thigh, fingers inches from that thickening bulge. Every time he exhaled, the gray fabric shifted, outlining the fat head, the ridge of the corona, the veins that Luke could practically trace with his eyes.
“That’s good stuff” Caleb said, “but this one always gets me horny, shame my bitch is away.”
Luke glanced at him nodding, “Yeh man, I’m fucking baked”, his eyes drifted down to the snake along Caleb’s thigh.
“You keep starin’ at my dick like you tryna memorize it,” Caleb said, voice amused but edged with heat. “You hungry, jock boy?”
Luke’s face burned. He laughed, tried to play it off. “Just… high, man.”
“You a fag white boy?”
If it was possible Luke went even redder and he tried to stammer a response. He’d never been called a fag before, nobody would have dared.
Caleb set the bong down. Reached over and palmed the back of Luke’s neck—not rough, but firm. Possessive.
“I don’t mind pretty boy, I just need a warm hole. So why don’t you get on your knees,” he said quietly. “Show me what that cute white mouth can do.”
Luke hesitated, he was scared, he felt vulnerable but he was also horny and Caleb was a god, besides he really wanted to taste that dick. After a brief internal battle, and with Caleb’s big hand pressing on his neck he slid to the floor between the man’s spread thighs like he’d been waiting for permission his whole life.
Caleb grinned, picking the bong back up an taking a long hit he tugged the waistband of the sweats down just enough. The cock that sprang free was obscene—eleven inches at least, thick as Luke’s own wrist, cut, dark, veined like road map rivers, already leaking at the slit.
“Fuck,” Luke breathed. He’d never scene anything like it. He’d been with lots of guys but nothing had even come close. He was overwhelmed by both excitement and genuine terror.
Caleb gripped the base and tapped the swollen head against Luke’s lips. Smearing a line of precum over them. “Open.”
Luke did. The head alone filled his mouth. He tried to take more—sucking hard, tongue swirling—but three inches in and his jaw was already screaming. Caleb groaned, hips flexing, pushing forward. Luke gagged instantly, throat convulsing, spit drooling down the shaft in thick ropes. He tried again. And again. Each time he choked, eyes watering, mucus slicking Caleb’s length until it glistened.
Caleb’s patience ran out fast.
“Fuck this,” he muttered. “You ain’t even close to takin’ it right.”
Before Luke could apologize, Caleb’s huge hands clamped around his ribcage. He lifted Luke like he weighed nothing—230 pounds of ex-linebacker muscle—and carried him down the short hallway to the bedroom. Threw him face-down onto the mattress so hard the frame creaked.
“Ass up,” Caleb ordered.
Luke scrambled onto his knees, and Caleb quickly yanked down his shorts and the sexy red Calvins beneath in one motion. His fat, gym-built ass arched instinctively, cheeks spreading just enough to show the tight pink pucker and the thin dark trail of hair running down from his crack.
Caleb let out a low whistle. “Goddamn. Look at that fat white-boy pussy.”
He slapped Luke’s left cheek—hard—then the right leaving hand prints behind. Luke moaned into the sheets.
“Spread yourself,” Caleb growled. “Show me the hole I’m about to ruin.”
Luke reached back with both hands, pulled his cheeks wide. His hole winked, already twitching under the scrutiny.
Luke looked back nervously “please, it’s been awhile go slow”
Caleb let out a quick laugh, “then this is going to hurt girl”
Caleb grabbed a pump bottle of lube from the nightstand, squirted a thick stream directly onto Luke’s pucker, then worked two long fingers in without warning. Luke hissed, then groaned as Caleb scissored him open, curling, stroking, finding that spot that made Luke’s toes curl.
“Nice pussy,” Caleb murmured, adding a third finger. “Tight as fuck. Hungry, though. Bet it’s been clenchin’ around nothin’ since you saw my print in the sweats.”
Luke could only whimper.
“You ever had black dick before, boy?”
“N-no,” Luke gasped.
Caleb chuckled darkly. “You ain’t gonna forget tonight.”
He lined up, fat head kissing Luke’s slick rim. He slapped it against Luke’s hole a few times, watching it pucker and twitch. Then he pushed.
The stretch was brutal. Luke’s breath punched out of him in a sharp cry. Caleb didn’t stop—just kept sinking in, slow and relentless, until half his length was buried and Luke was shaking, fists clenched in the sheets.
The lips of Luke’s hole were white they were stretched so wide. This wasn’t his first time bottoming by any means but nothing had prepared him for this.
“Breathe,” Caleb said, almost gentle. Then he snapped his hips and buried another few inches.
Luke saw stars. The burn was everywhere—white-hot, overwhelming. But the weed had him loose, pliant, and Caleb’s cock was dragging over every nerve ending he didn’t know he had. The pain started melting into something else. Something filthy and perfect.
Caleb bottomed out with a grunt. “There we go. All the way in that jock cunt.”
He started thrusting—long, punishing strokes that made Luke’s hole bloom open around him. The room filled with wet squelching, skin slapping skin, the obscene farting sound of air being forced out around that massive shaft every time Caleb pulled back and slammed home again.
“Yeh baby, that pussy loves black dick, it’s getting all creamy and sloppy for me.”
Luke’s brain short-circuited.
“Fuck—yes—give it to me—fuck my sloppy cunt—please—” Luke began pushing back onto it, trying to get it even deeper into his guts.
Caleb gripped Luke’s hips hard enough to bruise. “That’s it. Make that pussy talk, bitch.”
He fucked harder. Deeper. Long-dicking Luke until the jock was babbling, drooling into the pillow, ass pushing back to meet every brutal thrust. His own cock leaked steadily onto the sheets, untouched.
Caleb yanked Luke’s ass higher, manoeuvring him with ease until his knees spread wide, chest mashed into the sheets, face turned sideways against the damp pillow. Caleb planted one massive bare foot squarely in the small of Luke’s back, the sole pressing down with just enough weight to pin him flat, immobile, helpless. Luke couldn’t buck up, couldn’t escape the angle. All he could do was take it.
The room reeked of sex—sweat, weed residue, the sharp musk of lube and precum churned into something thicker, creamier. Every brutal plunge of Caleb’s hips sent wet, obscene squelches echoing off the walls. The lube had frothed white around the root of that wrist-thick shaft, clinging in foamy rings that smeared along Luke’s crack and dripped in slow strings onto the sheets. Each time Caleb pulled back—almost to the flared head—the swollen, reddened lips of Luke’s hole clung desperately, gripping the veiny length like they were trying to drag him back in. When he slammed forward again, the rim inverted slightly, blooming open around the girth before sucking inward with a greedy flutter.
Luke’s moans had devolved into broken, animal sounds—half sob, half plea. His own cock, trapped against his abs, leaked steadily, smearing a slick trail across his skin with every punishing thrust. The relentless rhythm had turned his guts to liquid fire; every drag of those thick veins over his prostate sent electric jolts up his spine, making his toes curl and his fingers claw at the sheets. This was the best sex of his life, he’d never had anything like this before and in that moment he would have done anything Caleb asked.
“Fuck—look at this greedy white pussy,” Caleb growled, grinding his heel deeper into Luke’s back to arch him even higher. “Gaping like it’s begging for more. You feel that, boy? Feel how loose you’re gettin’ for me?”
Luke could only whimper. His hole was wrecked—puffy outer lips inflamed to a deep crimson, the inner ring stretched thin and shiny, pulsing helplessly around the invading cock. Each withdrawal left it winking open for a heartbeat, a dark, hungry void before Caleb speared back in, forcing another wet fart of trapped air and another gush of creamy froth.
Caleb shifted his stance, lifting his foot only to hook Luke’s hip with one hand and yank him back harder onto every downstroke. The new angle let him bottom out with a wet slap of balls against taint, the head bullying deep enough that Luke swore he could feel it in his stomach.
“Tell me,” Caleb rasped, voice thick with lust. “Tell me whose dick is ruinin’ this hole.”
“Yours—fuck—yours, Caleb—big black dick—ownin’ me—”
“That’s right.” Caleb leaned forward, chest blanketing Luke’s back, one arm caging around his throat—not choking, just holding. “This pussy’s mine now. Gonna keep stretchin’ it till it remembers the shape of me every time you sit down.”
Luke’s eyes rolled back. The pressure, the fullness, the filthy drag—it was too much and not enough. His body shook, ass clenching futilely around the pistoning shaft as another wave of creamy lube bubbled out around the base.
Caleb didn’t slow. He just fucked harder, deeper, turning Luke’s wrecked hole into a sloppy, grasping sleeve that milked him with every desperate flutter.
Caleb’s rhythm grew erratic. His breathing turned ragged.
“Gonna breed this hole,” he snarled. “Fill that white-boy pussy up.”
One last punishing thrust—balls deep—and Caleb roared, cock pulsing, flooding Luke with heat. Rope after thick rope. Luke could feel it—could feel himself being claimed, marked, owned.
Caleb stayed buried for a long minute, grinding slow circles, milking every last drop. Then he pulled out with a wet slurp. Luke’s hole gaped, the lips fluttering, red and puffy but unable to close, thick white cum already leaking out and running down his taint.
Caleb collapsed half on top of him, heavy and hot, breath against Luke’s ear.
“Fuck yeah, white boy. You took that better than any other white boy I ever had. Normally they scream and cry the whole time. But your jock pussy?” He gave one lazy smack to Luke’s ass. “Dynamite.”
He rolled off, stretched, cock still glistening and half-hard against his thigh.
“Might even give it to you again sometime,” he said casually. “But not tonight. Clean yourself up. Get out.”
Luke lay there a moment, wrecked and dripping, heart hammering. Then he pushed himself up on shaky arms, pulled his briefs and shorts back on, and stumbled toward the door. His legs shaking like jelly.
Caleb watched him go, smirking, already reaching for the bong again.
“Text me when you want round two, jock.”
Luke didn’t answer. He just limped down the stairs, ass throbbing, full of Caleb’s load, already counting the hours until he could come back for more.
For more stories like this visit my Patreon...
_______________________________
If you like my work and want to support me you can find more at:
Spiritual Camera | Patreon
He’d been getting his gear from Caleb for about six months now, he was a chill guy and Luke liked him, plus it helped he was sex on legs. The man always answered the door shirtless or close to it, skin gleaming like polished ebony, shoulders so wide they seemed to block the hallway light. He was a giant of a man, big meaty pecs, tight abs and he didn’t seem to ever wear underwear, because his dick was always swinging about.
Luke was no scruff himself, he was 6ft, had played College football and went to the gym three or four times a week, yet he always felt small next to Caleb.
The door swung open before Luke could even knock.
“Sup, white boy,” he rumbled, voice low and lazy. He was wearing nothing but loose gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips and did absolutely nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline snaking down his left thigh. No shirt. No boxers. Just skin and muscle and that obscene print. Somethings never change.
“Hey man,” Luke managed, stepping inside. The living room smelled like fresh bud and cedar incense. “You said you had that new batch?”
Caleb smirked, closing the door and locking it. “Yeah man, I’ve got you. Why don’t you stay and try some, girlfriend’s gone for the weekend. House is mine.”
He walked over to the coffee table, and as he did so his sweats slipped down slightly, Luke couldn’t help but stare, root of his cock was exposed, and the rest swung like a pendulum between his legs.
Luke’s mouth went dry.
Caleb noticed. Of course he did, he grinned slightly but said nothing.
They sat on the sagging leather couch, passed the bong back and forth until the room was thick with sweet smoke and Luke’s head was floating.
Caleb’s legs were spread wide, one massive hand resting casually on the inside of his own thigh, fingers inches from that thickening bulge. Every time he exhaled, the gray fabric shifted, outlining the fat head, the ridge of the corona, the veins that Luke could practically trace with his eyes.
“That’s good stuff” Caleb said, “but this one always gets me horny, shame my bitch is away.”
Luke glanced at him nodding, “Yeh man, I’m fucking baked”, his eyes drifted down to the snake along Caleb’s thigh.
“You keep starin’ at my dick like you tryna memorize it,” Caleb said, voice amused but edged with heat. “You hungry, jock boy?”
Luke’s face burned. He laughed, tried to play it off. “Just… high, man.”
“You a fag white boy?”
If it was possible Luke went even redder and he tried to stammer a response. He’d never been called a fag before, nobody would have dared.
Caleb set the bong down. Reached over and palmed the back of Luke’s neck—not rough, but firm. Possessive.
“I don’t mind pretty boy, I just need a warm hole. So why don’t you get on your knees,” he said quietly. “Show me what that cute white mouth can do.”
Luke hesitated, he was scared, he felt vulnerable but he was also horny and Caleb was a god, besides he really wanted to taste that dick. After a brief internal battle, and with Caleb’s big hand pressing on his neck he slid to the floor between the man’s spread thighs like he’d been waiting for permission his whole life.
Caleb grinned, picking the bong back up an taking a long hit he tugged the waistband of the sweats down just enough. The cock that sprang free was obscene—eleven inches at least, thick as Luke’s own wrist, cut, dark, veined like road map rivers, already leaking at the slit.
“Fuck,” Luke breathed. He’d never scene anything like it. He’d been with lots of guys but nothing had even come close. He was overwhelmed by both excitement and genuine terror.
Caleb gripped the base and tapped the swollen head against Luke’s lips. Smearing a line of precum over them. “Open.”
Luke did. The head alone filled his mouth. He tried to take more—sucking hard, tongue swirling—but three inches in and his jaw was already screaming. Caleb groaned, hips flexing, pushing forward. Luke gagged instantly, throat convulsing, spit drooling down the shaft in thick ropes. He tried again. And again. Each time he choked, eyes watering, mucus slicking Caleb’s length until it glistened.
Caleb’s patience ran out fast.
“Fuck this,” he muttered. “You ain’t even close to takin’ it right.”
Before Luke could apologize, Caleb’s huge hands clamped around his ribcage. He lifted Luke like he weighed nothing—230 pounds of ex-linebacker muscle—and carried him down the short hallway to the bedroom. Threw him face-down onto the mattress so hard the frame creaked.
“Ass up,” Caleb ordered.
Luke scrambled onto his knees, and Caleb quickly yanked down his shorts and the sexy red Calvins beneath in one motion. His fat, gym-built ass arched instinctively, cheeks spreading just enough to show the tight pink pucker and the thin dark trail of hair running down from his crack.
Caleb let out a low whistle. “Goddamn. Look at that fat white-boy pussy.”
He slapped Luke’s left cheek—hard—then the right leaving hand prints behind. Luke moaned into the sheets.
“Spread yourself,” Caleb growled. “Show me the hole I’m about to ruin.”
Luke reached back with both hands, pulled his cheeks wide. His hole winked, already twitching under the scrutiny.
Luke looked back nervously “please, it’s been awhile go slow”
Caleb let out a quick laugh, “then this is going to hurt girl”
Caleb grabbed a pump bottle of lube from the nightstand, squirted a thick stream directly onto Luke’s pucker, then worked two long fingers in without warning. Luke hissed, then groaned as Caleb scissored him open, curling, stroking, finding that spot that made Luke’s toes curl.
“Nice pussy,” Caleb murmured, adding a third finger. “Tight as fuck. Hungry, though. Bet it’s been clenchin’ around nothin’ since you saw my print in the sweats.”
Luke could only whimper.
“You ever had black dick before, boy?”
“N-no,” Luke gasped.
Caleb chuckled darkly. “You ain’t gonna forget tonight.”
He lined up, fat head kissing Luke’s slick rim. He slapped it against Luke’s hole a few times, watching it pucker and twitch. Then he pushed.
The stretch was brutal. Luke’s breath punched out of him in a sharp cry. Caleb didn’t stop—just kept sinking in, slow and relentless, until half his length was buried and Luke was shaking, fists clenched in the sheets.
The lips of Luke’s hole were white they were stretched so wide. This wasn’t his first time bottoming by any means but nothing had prepared him for this.
“Breathe,” Caleb said, almost gentle. Then he snapped his hips and buried another few inches.
Luke saw stars. The burn was everywhere—white-hot, overwhelming. But the weed had him loose, pliant, and Caleb’s cock was dragging over every nerve ending he didn’t know he had. The pain started melting into something else. Something filthy and perfect.
Caleb bottomed out with a grunt. “There we go. All the way in that jock cunt.”
He started thrusting—long, punishing strokes that made Luke’s hole bloom open around him. The room filled with wet squelching, skin slapping skin, the obscene farting sound of air being forced out around that massive shaft every time Caleb pulled back and slammed home again.
“Yeh baby, that pussy loves black dick, it’s getting all creamy and sloppy for me.”
Luke’s brain short-circuited.
“Fuck—yes—give it to me—fuck my sloppy cunt—please—” Luke began pushing back onto it, trying to get it even deeper into his guts.
Caleb gripped Luke’s hips hard enough to bruise. “That’s it. Make that pussy talk, bitch.”
He fucked harder. Deeper. Long-dicking Luke until the jock was babbling, drooling into the pillow, ass pushing back to meet every brutal thrust. His own cock leaked steadily onto the sheets, untouched.
Caleb yanked Luke’s ass higher, manoeuvring him with ease until his knees spread wide, chest mashed into the sheets, face turned sideways against the damp pillow. Caleb planted one massive bare foot squarely in the small of Luke’s back, the sole pressing down with just enough weight to pin him flat, immobile, helpless. Luke couldn’t buck up, couldn’t escape the angle. All he could do was take it.
The room reeked of sex—sweat, weed residue, the sharp musk of lube and precum churned into something thicker, creamier. Every brutal plunge of Caleb’s hips sent wet, obscene squelches echoing off the walls. The lube had frothed white around the root of that wrist-thick shaft, clinging in foamy rings that smeared along Luke’s crack and dripped in slow strings onto the sheets. Each time Caleb pulled back—almost to the flared head—the swollen, reddened lips of Luke’s hole clung desperately, gripping the veiny length like they were trying to drag him back in. When he slammed forward again, the rim inverted slightly, blooming open around the girth before sucking inward with a greedy flutter.
Luke’s moans had devolved into broken, animal sounds—half sob, half plea. His own cock, trapped against his abs, leaked steadily, smearing a slick trail across his skin with every punishing thrust. The relentless rhythm had turned his guts to liquid fire; every drag of those thick veins over his prostate sent electric jolts up his spine, making his toes curl and his fingers claw at the sheets. This was the best sex of his life, he’d never had anything like this before and in that moment he would have done anything Caleb asked.
“Fuck—look at this greedy white pussy,” Caleb growled, grinding his heel deeper into Luke’s back to arch him even higher. “Gaping like it’s begging for more. You feel that, boy? Feel how loose you’re gettin’ for me?”
Luke could only whimper. His hole was wrecked—puffy outer lips inflamed to a deep crimson, the inner ring stretched thin and shiny, pulsing helplessly around the invading cock. Each withdrawal left it winking open for a heartbeat, a dark, hungry void before Caleb speared back in, forcing another wet fart of trapped air and another gush of creamy froth.
Caleb shifted his stance, lifting his foot only to hook Luke’s hip with one hand and yank him back harder onto every downstroke. The new angle let him bottom out with a wet slap of balls against taint, the head bullying deep enough that Luke swore he could feel it in his stomach.
“Tell me,” Caleb rasped, voice thick with lust. “Tell me whose dick is ruinin’ this hole.”
“Yours—fuck—yours, Caleb—big black dick—ownin’ me—”
“That’s right.” Caleb leaned forward, chest blanketing Luke’s back, one arm caging around his throat—not choking, just holding. “This pussy’s mine now. Gonna keep stretchin’ it till it remembers the shape of me every time you sit down.”
Luke’s eyes rolled back. The pressure, the fullness, the filthy drag—it was too much and not enough. His body shook, ass clenching futilely around the pistoning shaft as another wave of creamy lube bubbled out around the base.
Caleb didn’t slow. He just fucked harder, deeper, turning Luke’s wrecked hole into a sloppy, grasping sleeve that milked him with every desperate flutter.
Caleb’s rhythm grew erratic. His breathing turned ragged.
“Gonna breed this hole,” he snarled. “Fill that white-boy pussy up.”
One last punishing thrust—balls deep—and Caleb roared, cock pulsing, flooding Luke with heat. Rope after thick rope. Luke could feel it—could feel himself being claimed, marked, owned.
Caleb stayed buried for a long minute, grinding slow circles, milking every last drop. Then he pulled out with a wet slurp. Luke’s hole gaped, the lips fluttering, red and puffy but unable to close, thick white cum already leaking out and running down his taint.
Caleb collapsed half on top of him, heavy and hot, breath against Luke’s ear.
“Fuck yeah, white boy. You took that better than any other white boy I ever had. Normally they scream and cry the whole time. But your jock pussy?” He gave one lazy smack to Luke’s ass. “Dynamite.”
He rolled off, stretched, cock still glistening and half-hard against his thigh.
“Might even give it to you again sometime,” he said casually. “But not tonight. Clean yourself up. Get out.”
Luke lay there a moment, wrecked and dripping, heart hammering. Then he pushed himself up on shaky arms, pulled his briefs and shorts back on, and stumbled toward the door. His legs shaking like jelly.
Caleb watched him go, smirking, already reaching for the bong again.
“Text me when you want round two, jock.”
Luke didn’t answer. He just limped down the stairs, ass throbbing, full of Caleb’s load, already counting the hours until he could come back for more.
For more stories like this visit my Patreon...
_______________________________
If you like my work and want to support me you can find more at:
Spiritual Camera | Patreon
