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Ten Slash Two

By Habu

submitted September 24, 2006

Categories: Black and Beautiful, Bondage, Exotic, Interracial, Man Meets His Man, Military, Muscle, True Stories

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I had been jittery and conflicted for the entire two weeks since I’d seen that big black topping a guy at a pool party in Bangkok. I had been bottoming for a Swede in a nearby patio lounge when I looked over and saw this monster cock jack-hammering in out of the other guy—who clearly was in seventh heaven—and I almost melted on the spot. I was conflict, though. Obsessed with desire because the cock, even more distinctive because it was almost jet black and was attached to a bulky—but ripped bulky—milk-chocolate body, looked so desirable, but threatened because the sheer size of it filled me with fear and uncertainty. I’d only been doing this for a short time. Was it even possible to take something like that in?

I couldn’t get it out of mind, and a couple of days later I had the opportunity to ask the host of the party, Ben, who the guy was.

“Ah, we call him 10/2,” was the answer. “He’s an army captain at JUSMAG. Luscious, isn’t he?”

“10/2?” I asked, somewhat bewildered.

“Yeah,” the host said, with a little snicker. “That’s like in inches, both ways.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Biggest combined stats we have in service here, as far as I know. Interested?” the host asked, not showing the least amount of jealously, even though he had fucked me at the party himself—and must have enjoyed that, because he had just finished fucking me again on the rattan-carpeted teak floor of his Bangkok mansion when I asked him this question.

“Just curious,” I said, nibbling at one of my host’s nipples to give him reassurances.

“Well, if it’s more than that, forget going after him,” Ben replied. “He does the picking. If he wants you, you’ll get an invitation.”

I don’t know if Ben had passed on my interest or if the big black had seen me at that pool party and liked what he saw, but not long after that I got the invitation.

Although I wasn’t military, my SR71 supersonic jet unit was under military cover, and so I usually fell in with whatever the U.S. military establishment in Thailand had going. Thus, only about a week after that, I was invited to a change of command ceremony for the chief of JUSMAG, the Joint U.S. Military Assistance Group in Thailand. The speeches were still droning on, with all of us standing, if not exactly at attention, when I felt this big hand cup one of my butt cheeks. I didn’t dare look around, and it could have been one of several guys I had been meeting at Ben’s Bangkok mansion. In fact, I had assumed it was Ben, because he was a JUSMAG lieutenant himself, and I knew he was attending this ceremony. But, the voice that whispered in my ear in a deep melodious tone clearly was not Ben’s.

“I’ve heard you’ve been asking about me.” the voice whispered.

I turned and looked up, which was humbly in itself, because I wasn’t short, and found myself staring into the glittering eyes of 10/2. I felt overwhelmed by his muscled bulk as he stood very close behind me. I was speechless. The hand on my butt cheek applied pressure, as he continued.

“I saw you at the party at Ben’s a couple of weeks ago.”

A weak and breathy “Oh” was all I cold manage to squeak out. There would be no fooling him, then.

“I’d like to have you for lunch today . . . at my place . . . unless you have other plans. My car’s here. I could drop you back here if you’ve driven or take you home after . . . lunch . . . if you don’t have wheels.”

What could I say—assuming that I could catch my breath to say anything at all, that is. I just nodded dumbly, wearing, I’m sure, the sloppiest of grins.

By the time we’d reached his Thai-style elevated teak house, hidden in a lush tropical garden beside a klong, one of those waterways lacing through the city that made Bangkok the Venice of the East, I was trembling all over from fear and anticipation and could hardly make my way from the car and up the stairs into his nearly wall-less platform house under my own steam.

There was, of course, no lunch waiting for us, and, indeed, I had not had any illusions what was going to be fed into me on this excursion. The black army captain motioned with one hand, sending servants scurrying for the stairway and out to the corners of the compound, I’m sure, to afford us total privacy, while he guided me straight to his bedroom with the other hand.

Centered in this room was a gigantic, mosquito net-draped four-poster bed, set on a teak-board floor. The three exterior walls were actually wooden louvered folding doors running between circular tree-trunk columns. The doors could be shut at night for privacy, but they were all open now, and the foliage of the deep green jungle trees, laced with wild orchids, pressed in at us from all three exterior sides. A ceiling fan revolved lazily overhead. The air was heavily with humidity. I felt the jungle closing in on me, and I was immobilized by trepidation. I couldn’t get that ten-inch long, two-inch thick ebony cock out of my mind.

And very soon thereafter, it no longer was in my mind, but was there before me. I stood dumbly beside the bed, as the big black stripped my clothes off me and placed them neatly on a side chair. He held me at arms length, and then drew me to him and kissed me deeply on the mouth. He let me virtual fall into a sitting position on the end of the bed, as my knees gave out and then stood and stripped before me, revealing that monster that soon would be splitting me asunder.

He came to me, pushing me down on my back on the bed, opening my legs with knees that knelt on the edge of the bed, taking my wrists in his big hands and spreading my arms wide across the bedspread, and then dipped his head, first down to mine for searching kisses on the lips, and then traveled his lips down to my nipples. After an eternity of attention here, he followed the thin trail of hair from my pecs down and around my navel and into my pubic region, his knees now down on the floor and his barrel chest between my spread legs.

I was sighing and moaning and giving little mewing sounds—and quite frankly was beginning to hyperventilate, my mind obsessed with what he was packing between his legs—both longer and thicker than anything I’d attempted thus far.

His lips, tongue, and teeth were at the rim of my asshole and then invading me, loosening me up—or at least trying to. I think that, rather, I was tightening up the longer I thought of his equipment and what it might do to me.

He obviously felt me tighten up, because he stood up then, between my legs, giving me quite a good view of his now-hardened cock, the sight of which, of course, wasn’t helping dispel my gathering fear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You are tightening. Don’t you want it?”

“Yes, of course, I want it, but I’m afraid of your size. Can’t you feel me trembling?”

“Ah,” he said. “I saw you with the Swede. I’m just a bit longer and thicker than he was. I’m sure you can take me. But, I’ll tell you what. Unless you want to just stop—and you’ll trust me—we can try something that’s worked on others. Do you want to try?”

“Yes,” I answered in a tiny voice. I was dying to take that cock. I’d try anything that might work.

“Have you fucked with mild bondage?” He asked.

“Once or twice,” I admitted.

“And how did that make you feel? Did you tense up more or did you relax, no longer having the responsibility for what was happening?”

“I guess I relaxed at bit,” I admitted.

In no time at all, I was on my chest on the bed, my wrists loosely tied with leather strips to the slats of the headboard, up on my knees, and with my butt in the air. The big black worked my ass at length with his tongue and lips, with a lubricant, and, eventually with an increasing number of fingers.

No longer having any responsibility at all, I did find myself loosening to his attention, which included hands flowing all over my body, exploring all of my curves and crevices, making intimate love to me.

The finger fucking became progressively more painful as more fingers were added and they went deeper, until a certain peak was achieved and then the pleasure flooded in. The fingers probed deeper and deeper, and I widened my stance as much as I could, trying mightily to take them all it; deeper, deeper, impossibly deeper.

“I had no idea your fingers were so long and thick,” I managed to speak between moans and pants.

“Those aren’t fingers, Sport.” 10/2 whispered with a little laugh. “I’ve been cocking you for several minutes now. I’m in. And now that you know I’m in, I’ll run it to the end and start stroking you. You’re doing fine. You’ve got a sweet ass. You’re doing fine.”

He stroked me and stroked me and stroked me, until he came deep inside me, and then he stayed in me, still filling me to the limit as he became tumescent, and reached under and stroked my cock until I came. We lay, his beefy black body covering mine, my knees now collapsed and my body stretched out under his on the top of the bed, as we both recovered, reloaded, re-aroused.

Then he released my imprisoned hands, turned me over on my back, and pulled me back to the foot of the bed.

The fear was over. I had accommodated him, and I had loved being fucked by him. I now couldn’t get enough of his ripped body and that vigorous ten- by two-inch muscle at his center. He was standing on the floor between my widespread legs now, hunched a bit over me, his gigantic manhood and huge balls swaying below his flat belly. My heart was racing and I was moaning, overcome with anticipation, as his milk chocolate, beefy-fingered hands glided over the creamy white skin of my thighs, belly, and chest. I groaned as rough-padded fingers rubbed, and twitched, and pinched my tender nipples.

I arched my chest up from bed, wanting to see as much of his stud-muscled body as I could as he worked my arousal zones. I cried out as his full lips found my nipples and his mouth opened around aureoles, closed tight, and gave suck. I melted to his teeth sliding across my engorged nipples. I opened my mouth wide to gasp at the hint of a bite on a nipple, only to have his heavy lips crush mine and his thick tongue push in. I opened my eyes to his, very close now, filled with desire, determination, and insistence.

I eased my back down on the bed, as he rose up below me. Breathlessly, I watch giant hands gliding across my body, slowly working their way to my center. Milk chocolate hands on soft, creamy white belly and thighs, nudging. Mesmerized, I opened my legs to him. Purring sounds involuntarily escaped my lips as hands glide around silky inner thighs.

The body of hulking black army officer sank toward the floor between my opened legs, and his grinning face dipped out of sight. I arched my back and gasped again, as his thick tongue once again rimmed, flicked in, and then invaded my ass canal. Grasping the close-cropped kinky black hair of the head bobbing at my crotch, my immediate impulse was to push the invader away, but this was quickly replaced with desire to hold the swaying orb in closer to my center. I began twitching and trembling to the dancing of the tongue, but this no longer was a sign of fear and dreaded anticipation, but of ecstasy.

Big, thick fingers snaked in, thicker than some men's cocks, exploring, searching. An agony of mixed pain, pleasure, and expectation flooded me in the brief seconds it took him to center. I writhed against his possessing hand as it found the prostate, tweaking it, rubbing it, and quickening the flow of precum from my aching cock.

I panted and moaned for him and shouted my burning desire and pleasure to the giant rustling leaves of jungle trees pressing in on us beyond the teak columns. A bolt of electricity rushed through my body and sparks flew, as my cock’s trigger snapped and my cum flew.

I heard a low, satisfied, hoarse laugh from between my trembling legs.

The muscle-bound milk chocolate army officer, with his jet-black 10/2 monster cock and plump balls stood in possessing triumph between my spread legs now. His massive chest and arm muscles bulged and undulated, glistening in the heavy atmosphere and the strobing of light through the waving leaves and the languidly moving blades of the overhead fan. A big grin on his square-cut face, he captured and placed my hands so I could feel the awesome length and thickness (and the bulbous, purple-black cap and popped-out blue-on-black veins) of his hardened cock. My fearful fingers trembled at the measure of the beast, all the more imposing in its blackness against his otherwise milk chocolate, while he told me quite clearly and graphically—and breathtakingly—what he was going to do with all that manhood and how much pleasure he was getting—and expected to continue to get—out of me and expected me still to get out of his cock—to the point of making me tremble in anticipation. He told me that I never again would be fucked this completely and fulfilled to this extent—and he was right, and I suspected, even then, that he would be right, because I could not imagine any higher ecstasy that he now was giving me.

I went up on my elbows, my legs splayed up and out, my ankles held in his big hands, and watched him first, slap that monster cock against my butt cheeks, and then rub it up and down and around there, and then stroke it up and down in my crack, across my puckered asshole, teasing me, dry fucking me, driving me wild, making me beg for him to ram in back inside me. He rotated that purple-black cap around and just inside the rim, entirely with the control he had over his hips and his hardened cock—no help with his hands. And then slowly, almost magically, he made the pillar of power and strength follow its bulbous head and disappear inside me, me arching my back, trying to stretch to accommodate him and involuntarily giving him deep moans and groans of being stuffed.

“No, no; yes, yes, y-e-s. It's too big; it's the size I've always dreamed of. It's splitting me; it's stretching and filling me to perfection. I can't take this; I can't get enough of this. Yesssssss!”

Bringing his mouth down to my nipples as he plowed me, he sucked and bit me lightly there.

I felt the veins of his thick pole sliding against my ass walls as his cock journeyed in to the quick. Then he rose back on the balls of his feet again, hunched over me, and repeatedly pulled his glistening jet-black cock out slowly to where I could again see the rim of the purple-black cap, and then glided it back in to the root until he eventually lost control in his own trip to nirvana and started pumping me wildly (showing that he panted for me as much as I did for him). At the height of his passion, he dipped his mouth to mine and brutalized my lips with his. His hands grabbed my hips and moved my pelvis in and out, up and down, revolving around to meet and enhance his thrusts. He cried out. Again he was flooding the inside me with fountains of cum, so strong and full that it oozed out of me and bathed those black balls of his.

All of that was still throbbing inside me, hard for me, wanting to be inside me, and filling me repeatedly—followed by my insides being creamed again and again with his semen and him holding for a few minutes, young, virile, powerful, quick loading. And then doing it all again. And my being able to take it, each time more slippery than the last because of the accumulation and mingling of juices—and then he turned me on his cock until he was close in behind me, capable of going even deeper inside me, and then fucking me again, holding my wrists with his hands, dominating me. He was shooting off every fifteen minutes or so for what seems like forever—me climaxing repeatedly, encasing that jet-black 10/2 hunk and being encased by that milk chocolate rippling network of perfect muscle.

The fuck of my life.



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