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LustSpiel festival (15) --- Black Escalade

We've reached the milestone of 1 million page views, and it's time for a self-serving, self-congratulating festival. We're reposting 25 of our best, most significant posts, and here is the 15th, published originally on Nov. 4, 2016


By Glenn Williams




The black guy is leanin' against a black Escalade in the tightest fuckin' black t-shirt I've ever seen. I mean, his t-shirt looks like it's been painted on. And what a torso to paint, too! This guy must have started lifting weights at birth; his chest is two massive mountains of muscle topped by two very hard nipples. His upper arms stretch out the sleeves of the t-shirt to the ripping point with veiny biceps and heavy ropey triceps and rounded shoulders that flaunt his strength and power.
His skin is almost blue it is so black and his head is shaved so smooth it shines in the late afternoon sun. His back is broad and tapers down to a trim waist where his t-shirt is tucked into black jeans that hug massive thighs and calves. And of course, I can't help but notice the fuckin' round camel's hump of a crotch he's sportin'.

I can't help but notice his crotch

He is wearing sunglasses, the very dark kind that makes it hard to see where he's looking. But it seems he's lookin' right at me.
I'm just leaning against the edge of the wooden table out in front of the Dairy Duke, lickin' the tip of my twirly cone. If he's looking - and I hope to fuck he is - I might as well give him a show. I look right into his face as my tongue snakes out and I lick my cone with all the lascivious sexiness I can muster, letting the soft ice cream linger on the tip of my tongue before slowly putting it into my mouth.
The guy just leans against the black Escalade and doesn't move a bit.
Damn. He's awful hot, too.
I adjust my boner in my pants, first to make it clear to him what my thoughts are on the subject, but also because my cock is startin' to really get hard and pinch a bit. Still no sign that he notices or cares. I sigh and bite into my cone.
At that moment, the guy stands up straight and moves to the back door of the Escalade. He opens the door and waits.
And damn, what he's waiting for!
I thought the first guy was big. This new guy... well, shit, "huge" barely seems to cover it. This guy is the most massive black man I've ever seen. This man is even taller than the other guy, but his arms and chest are fucking bursting with rounded, rippled muscle. He has close-cropped black hair and a blocky, solid face with a chin like a clenched fist. His body is spectacular and his ass is so round you'd think God made it as a model for roundness. He may be the most handsome, square-jawed, muscley black man I've ever seen in my life.
And oddly enough, he looks familiar. In fact, it feels like I should know this guy.

And, oddly enough, he looks familiar

The huge guy with the familiar face is talkin' to the driver, since it's obvious now that what he is. The driver's nodding and nodding with his fucky arms crossed in front of him. Then they both turn and look directly at me. I fumble and nearly drop my ice cream cone. The familiar guy laughs a small laugh, showing bright beautiful teeth against his dark smooth skin.
That's when it hits me. "Fuck," I whisper out loud to myself. "That's Abbaad Johnson."
Abbaad Johnson. No shit. Offensive guard for the ? well, hell, everyone knows Abbaad Johnson. He's just the biggest bull bastard you'll ever see on the football field. I mean, nothing gets past this guy. And he don't mind breakin' your neck to save the guy with the ball, either.
Fuck. Abbaad Johnson. There were rumors once...

There were rumors, once.

Johnson steps into the back of the Escalade and the driver holds the door open for him. My heart is pounding. The driver doesn't close the door though. Instead, he turns toward me and slowly walks my way, swinging those cannon-sized arms with him.
I push the end of the cone into my mouth, chewing it as mean as I can muster. I stare into his sunglasses. He stops in front of me and crosses his burly arms in front of his chest. He looks like a black Mr. Clean.
"Mr. Johnson is interested," he says in a voice so low it sounds like how a mountain must sound.
"Interested?" I repeat.
"You want to ask questions?" the big guy says, "or do you want to get into the car?"
Good point.

"You want to ask questions, or you want to get into the car?"

I stand up off the table I been leaning against and walk over to the Escalade. The driver cuts in front of me and opens the back door even wider. It's so dark inside the SUV with the tinted windows and all. For a moment, I hesitate. Then I lean in and step into the Escalade. The door closes behind me with a whump! It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I'm sitting on a single bucket seat on the far side of the SUV. The driver's and passenger's seats in front of me are empty. Behind me is a row of back seats, but I don't have the chance to see if Abbaad Johnson is there.
"I know you, don't I?" says a voice behind me. It's higher than I expected, but then I remember interviews with the guy and his voice was more tenor than you expect for a big man.
"Hell, I don't know how you could," I say. "But I got to admit you look familiar to me, too." I try to turn my head around to look, but a huge hand slides up the back of my head and keeps me from looking.
"No," he says. "I know you."
The driver's door opens and the driver gets in. He starts the car and the engine purrs and I feel the car start moving forward. The driver doesn't turn around at all, but his eyes peer at me every now and then in the rearview mirror.
"Don't you know Jim Darnelle?" Johnson says.
Two of the biggest fucking hands I've ever seen move down onto my shoulders and start rubbing them. One of those hands could easily hold my head like a football, but he massages my shoulders with tenderness and it feels good enough to get me moaning.
"Jim Darnelle?" I say. "Yeah, we went to school together. He used to play for your team in another life."

"He used to play for your team."

The driver's eyes look at me in the rearview mirror, then look away. I lean my head over and rub my bearded cheek against Johnson's hand as it works my shoulders. My cock is stirrin' in my jeans now and I really want to get things started here. I keep my hands on my lap, though, quiet and obedient, waiting for instructions.
"Yeah," Johnson sighs. "Darnelle told me all about you." His hand moves up to my cheek and he leans forward, reaching around, and suddenly one of his big fat thumbs slides up against my lips.
"Jim says you can be discrete," he says, his thumb rubbing across my lips slowly.
"Yes, sir," I say. "I always change the names to protect the wicked."
Johnson laughs. "Damn writers," he chuckles. "Not many of us pros play together. But Jim's straight up. I've had some fuck with Jim Darnelle."
I open my mouth and his fat thumb slides easily between my lips. My soft tongue plays along his thumb, all wet and slippery. Johnson groans in my ear. I feel the heat of his breath on my neck. The driver's eyes look at us in the rearview mirror, then look away.
"So," Johnson says, "What kind of things are you willing to do for me?"


"What kind of thing are you willing to do for me?"

I release his thumb, turn around and kneel on my seat and look him straight in the eyes. His face is just inches from mine. He smells like Old Spice.
"What would I do for Abbaad Johnson?" I say. "Sir, for you... anything."
Abbaad Johnson leans forward and his huge hands are on both sides of my head and the next thing I know, his lips are pressed into mine. Soft and full and heavy. Goddamn, I am fuckin' dizzy with the feeling of the huge handsome football player and his fat tongue in my mouth and mine in his and him groaning and my mouth opening as wide as possible to feel his tongue dig deep.
I feel the car pull over and stop. The engine dies. We are parked in a parking lot in a private area.
Johnson pulls his face back and smiles at me. Beautiful teeth for a pro offensive guard. "You kiss real good," he says.
"I do a lot of things real good, Mr. Johnson," I say.
"I bet you do, player," he laughs. "Darnelle seems to think so, anyway."
"Jimbo's a good fuck," I say all horny and aggressive, "That's one tight ass on that tight end."
Johnson laughs. He leans back in his seat, starin' at me and lickin' his lower lip. "Ah," he says, "Passer and receiver, both?"
"Yes, sir," I say, "I like to play the whole field." I touch his lips with my finger and he sucks it into his mouth, his eyes sparkling. "Mmff," he groans. His eyes close a moment as he sucks my finger like a cock and my hand goes down and cups his more than ample basket. I feel the hard thick power of his cock in his pants.

"Mmff," he groans.

"Yes, sir," I hiss between my teeth. "Any fucking thing you want, sir."
Johnson pulls off my finger with a slurp. "Time for tryouts then," he says. "JJ!"
I hear the driver unbuckle his seatbelt and his car door opens. He gets out of the car and the door closes. "Strip," Johnson says to me, "And come sit by me."
I pull my shirt off over my head and unbuckle my pants, kicking my shoes off. "Nice," Johnson says, starin' at my hairy bear belly. His hand is kneading his crotch as he watches me strip. When my pants drop to the floor, my cock is so hard and ready to be out, it slaps up against my belly, bent over like I am in the SUV. There's precum beading at the end of my cock and can you blame me?
I move back and sit on beside Abbaad Johnson. He half-turns to me and his huge paws are instantly on my body. One hand grips my dick and the other is rubbing my belly. The back door opens and the driver, JJ, enters. He sits in the seat where my clothes are piled and pulls his t-shirt off.
I wish I had the talent to describe what this guy looks like. I don't'. Suffice it to say he is a mountain of man with very short black curls of nappy hair between his huge pecs and his hard rippling abs make the word "washboard" seem absurd. He unbuckles his slim black belt and drops his pants and black underwear. His cock is... awesome. Hard and long and veiny. Before I can grab it, he turns around and his butt is in my face, perfectly round and muscle-toned and midnight black.
"Let's see how well you play with others," Johnson says. He reaches into a bag on the floor and pulls out a condom. Rolls it down on my cock in a flash and has poured lube from a bottle into his hands. Johnson first lubes my cock up in a few firm gut-wrenching strokes, then shoves a finger up JJ's ass to get him wet.
"Aw, god," I groan, just seeing such a thing.
"Show me how you ride, player," Johnson says.

"Show me how you ride, player."

And JJ sinks that perfect hard black ass down onto my cock. He is so hot and so tight and so slick and I slide into him pretty effortlessly like this guy knows how to ride. He grabs the bar above the door and begins riding my cock, up and down with his heavy powerful thighs bulging as he lifts and falls steadily on my cock.
My hands are on the man's muscled back, flat and splayed out, just feeling the power of the stud I'm riding.
"That's right," Johnson whispers in my ear. His hand is rubbing my belly, pulling the hair between my pecs, twisting my nipples. "Darnelle said you rode him raw once. I believe him now."
I can't respond any more than a low grunt, my eyes are rollin' into the back of my head which is spinning with the sheer fuck good of this guy riding me.
JJ is not varying the tempo at all, just lifting 'til I am almost out of him, then sliding down down down until my balls are squished into him, then up up again, softly and steadily. It's taking everything I have not to instantly blow my wad into his ass. So I slap his ass hard and the smack resound through the car.

He is not varying the tempo at all.

"Yeah," Johnson groans. "Slap his bad ass." I slap it again, hard. JJ grunts.
"JJ loves getting fucked; don't you, JJ?" Johnson says, pulling me into him and kissing me hard and my mouth is open and tongues are sliding against each other and I don't fuckin' know or care where I am anymore.
"Yes, sir," JJ says in a low growl, keeping up the steady rhythm of the fuck. "I love getting fucked, sir."
"How does it feel, JJ?" Johnson asks, pulling off my lips for a moment. His eyes are so brown and they bore deep into me like they're looking for something and my cock is so hard sliding in and out of this muscleman's ass and I don't know if I can take this much longer.
"G- Good," JJ stutters. "It's hot, sir."
Johnson moves in to kiss me again, his hand pinching my nipple hard, so hard it hurts but in a nice burning way that I want more of.
"I- Sir," I say, stopping him. "I want to cum, sir."
Johnson smiles. "But you just got started," he whispers.
"Yes, sir," I say. I squish my face up trying to keep from cumming. JJ's ass rides up and down my pole and my balls are freaking out wanting so bad to cum. "I can go longer, sir," I grunt. "I will go longer... when I'm inside you."
Johnson's face drops, his eyes starin' deep into mine. He sticks his finger in my mouth and I suck on it for a moment and wonder what I'm going to do if I cum before I'm given permission.
"Please," I whisper around his finger.
Johnson smiles and give a nod. "JJ!" he says.
JJ lets go of the bar and puts both hands on his knees and does leg squats on my cock like a madman. His ass is so tight, rising and falling on my cockshaft and I start hollering and Johnson is bent over my hairy tit eating it like it's a fuckin creampuff and my hand's pressin' his head against me and I feel my balls churning like they're eddying in a river and suddenly, BAM! BAM! BAM! the cum is shooting out my cock hard into the condom up JJ's ass and JJ's kind of barking like a dog and my cock is throbbing and throbbing shooting streams of hot cum.

"Yes, sir!" I shout.

"Yes, sir!" I shout.
"Ar! Ar!" JJ barks.
My cock is still draining when Johnson pulls off my tit. He kisses me, my chest risin' and fallin' and me trying to catch my breath through my nose. JJ's slowly pullin' off my cock which is excruciating because he's tight enough to milk it all the way up to the tip. I'm so busy kissing Johnson that JJ pulls the condom off my cock and I feel him turn around and kneel between my legs and then his warm wet mouth goes down on my cock lickin' and cleanin' it up.
Johnson pulls back, holding my face in his hands. "Come back to my crib for the night?" he whispers.
JJ looks up at me, his mouth still wrapped around my cockhead.
"Yes, sir," I gasp, "Anything you want, sir."


(continues...here)


 Mutantbearman (Glenn Scofield Williams) writes poetry, prose, plays, periodica, and porn in Portland, Oregon, USA. He has published over 50 articles in gay and straight newspapers, poetry in magazines and online, and is working on his first full-length non-fiction. His erotica includes steamy stories about bears, chubs, muscle guys, doms and subs, bisexuals, and others. He lives with his boyfriend Nathan and two (wicked) pussycats.

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