The Audience: More "Black"

"I like your stuff, but you should 'season' your writing a little more."

That statement was written to me by Dre, a dreadlocked chubby bottom from Atlanta.

"I'm saying, you can put together some stories, but it would behoove you to elaborate a little more on the brothers," he messaged.

I scratched my head, for the profile from which I wrote didn't explain my skin color. I could've been a black guy from Brooklyn, an Emirati in England, or a Swedish guy with red hair that loved writing erotica.

"I like variety, and feel like a lot of erotica doesn't talk about brothers enough," he countered as we exchanged email chatter.

I confirmed Dre's age as he explained he was 29.

"You still have a lot to learn," I told him.

"And you need to switch things up," he answered.

His last response made me want to block him since there was no reason for this type of interaction. I checked out his profile, and saw that he was a junior professor that was always extremely horny. I didn't waver from further communication, but was drawn to it as I wanted to know more about the difficult fan.

"I'm single, and yes, born and raised here in the A," he messaged proudly.

"I'd like to chat on the phone with you," I told him before he surrendered his number minutes later.

"I hope you didn't take offense to what I'm saying," he said to me.

"Nope, but you sound sexy as hell," I replied as I liked what I was hearing.

Dre gave me hints that he was vocal if the right spot was tapped. I loved big boys, and he claimed the status of being six foot tall, and 311 lbs.

"So you still like the way I write," I said.

I was trying my best to keep him on the phone, and find a way to Atlanta so I could crush him like a can.

"When's the last time you got some," I asked.

"Two days ago. Next question," he said in an attitude.

His tone I didn't appreciate, but it didn't deter me from getting to know the burly bottom.

"What's your skin tone," I asked.

"I can just send you photos and you can exert your judgment then," he posed.

Dre was one clean looking, brown skinned fella with clean dreadlocks, and a gorgeous white smile surrounded by his well manicured goatee. You would assume he was straight by the way he dressed, but the initial photos he shared were of him fully clothed, and not the professionally-taken naked ones where he was bent over in front of a camera.

"I'd take you down," I said with a hard on.

He tried explaining he was the "baddest bitch" in Atlanta, shedding any thought of him being wholly masculine to allow the idea he was truly a trick.

"I'm a lot to handle," he warned.

The young buck had no idea what this nine inch could do to his life.

"I will truly give you more to write about," he added.

"Let's settle this by me coming down there," I suggested as I wanted to break him in half.

We worked out the logistics to where we chose to meet in Charlotte instead.

"Meet you halfway," he said, as he didn't want me to travel more than him. "This way, if we don't hit it off, we can go our separate ways."

We got off the phone, and I made up a story of "him," being spit roasted by two other black dudes.

"Fuck that. I've never been to Norfolk anyway," he said as he called me minutes later.

I had him hot and bothered by the 3,000 plus word selection. I named him "Terrance," and explained how he was entangled with "Case" and "Tron," two local policemen. I explained how they met in a coffee shop, with Case and Tron coming off shift, looking for someone to tag.

"You made me cum all over the coffee table," he admitted as he jacked off after reading.

We agreed for him to come to Norfolk.

"I never been to Virginia," he said as he barely left Georgia.

He booked the flight, and I made plans to make his first trip to my state worth his while. I laughed after we hung up on how I was "getting lucky" with the audience. I was writing gay erotica for six years, and in half that time, I'd been with over 10 guys. Virginia was a dry spell for me regarding locals, but I came across readers who requested my presence in their homes, or like Dre, made amends for me not to travel as far, if I traveled at all. Saturday came where the Gucci-laden bottom was waiting at the airport curb. I was giddy as he entered my clean pickup, and we kissed for a good minute or so as I remained at the curb with the hazards blinking as if I was picking up multiple passengers.

"I guess Virginia really is for lovers," he said when he pulled his tongue out of my mouth.

I hurried away from the airport, and entered I-64 heading west, while Dre's locks were draped across my lap. The slut, with his expensive cologne filling the air, couldn't keep it together once he saw the bulge in my shorts. I drove fast and steady, lucky to find hardly any traffic that morning as I was approaching the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel. 10 minutes after crossing the James River, we were pulling into the parking lot of my apartment complex where I had to pry Dre off of me.

"I'm already showered and ready to go," he said as we exited the vehicle.

I took his word for it as I turned the door knob to my place. He dropped his bag by the door, and I grabbed his fat ass literally, placing my hands on his jean-covered cheeks, while slipping him my tongue. I was six foot five and was much taller than Dre as I felt him melting in my arms. All the trash talk he forwarded had him in hot water, for he carried an ass like a woman, and smelled just as good, if not better than one.

"Got you traveling to Virginia to get a dick down," I said as my hands made it inside his shirt.

I rubbed his silky smooth skin, and he in turn tilted his head back before I started kissing, sucking on his neck. I wanted to turn this black bitch loose in so many ways, and show him that regardless of who was in my stories, I still tried my best to depict sexy scenes.

"I wanna suck that dick some more," he told me.

We made it into the bedroom to strip simultaneously before he crawled onto my bed, and I'd follow, except I was the one who needed feeding first.

"Daddy. Oh daddy," he whimpered as I slipped my tongue into his peach.

He vocalized how much he loved his ass eaten, and shivered as I let my tongue rub against "his walls," trying my best to let my tongue slither at every ridge. I ran circles, then poked deep before pulling out, and repeating it as I felt his "man box" twitch. His body shook as a result from the orgasms he experienced, but I couldn't stop since I was proving how I was as good a lover as a writer.

"You detail exactly how you like to eat ass," he cried to me.

I slapped that ass a couple of times as I got a breather, then spread his cheeks wide to finish the sweet gourmet provided by his pink hole.

How dare he criticize my work for not being "ebony" enough. I had to punish him with strokes of the tongue, and he claimed he had enough as he jerked away from me, begging for me to feed him dick.

"Fuck me," he cried.

"You gotta earn this dick," I said as I made him lay flat.

I crawled a bit, then stood up before my feet were at the sides of his shoulders. I held my dick in hand, pointing it downward as I crouched low, with my balls landing across his chin like a bib while I slowly fucked his face. His pretty brown eyes were closed as he clamped his lips on my shaft, allowing me to dip and rise, while my pole was being marinated in his spit.

"Happy birthday, bitch," I joked before he tried telling me it wasn't.

"Shut up and blow this candle like it is."

I pulled on his dreads as he began moaning, then weaved my hips to poke at his throat constantly as I fucked his face. I lost my balance and lost grip of his hair, then rolled off of him, telling him to give me that ass while I reached for the lubricant.

"How you want me, daddy," he asked as he was on his back.

He claimed it wasn't long since he was last fucked, and so I demanded he let me hit it missionary, so I could see his face. Dre, who was wearing only his Gucci socks, held his feet in the air, and I squirted the intimate oil on his hole, before rubbing it on his inner cheeks, and his thighs. I even stroked his fat dick a bit to see the precum gush to the tip, then I stroked my own, albeit a throbbing one that needed to be embraced by a sweet entrance. I walked closer while my dick was in my right hand, and tapped my dick against his hole before I jammed it inside. His eyes bulged as I pushed my manhood deep into his chute, with him having heavy breaths as my curve penetrated his slot. It felt good running in his warm hole, and all was forgotten of his criticism of my stories, for he was in the midst of creating one.

"Baby. Oh got damn," he cried as I was running in deep.

I wasn't pounding as much as guiding my thick base inside of him. Dre had that noisy hole that "talked back" from being probed consistently.

"Tell me what to write, and how to write," I said as I chiseled back and forth.

"You must be out your damned mind."

I loved the wailing Dre as he was high pitched while breathing heavily. With my left leg on the bed, I was deep, with my balls caressing his ass for he received all nine inches. I loved the arrogance he displayed early on when we chatted, for this moment showed a difference.

"Them A-T-L boys ain't fucking you like this," I asked as I started pounding.

He could only coo and moan, and the harder I gave it, the louder he'd become. He seemed to have a "mechanism" in his body to tighten his hole, but I only threw the dick harder, to make him "cream" the same.

"Got damnit daddy, you're gonna make me cummmmm," he exhaled as I fucked faster.

I looked down to see his body from his tits, down to his hard dick jiggle. I heard the sounds of his ass slapping and got carried away, then witnessed him scream as he busted a nut from his own dick, without touching it. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as I punched harder, wanting nothing more than to meet him with my own climatic moment.

"Got you coming to Virginia to get dick," I grunted to him.

"Now you gon' get a nut!"

I pumped harder before I was forced to stop, and leave it deep inside as I released it. I laid my hands across his big tits as my body trembled while filling him deep with my babies. It might've been a good 10 to 15 seconds, and when I finished, I was dripping sweat all over his chest and belly.

"That was damn good," he said as I looked into his eyes. "C'mere."

We French kissed, and I felt closer to Dre more than any other lover I had. No one else from "the audience" could make me feel like he did, and we truly had an intimate moment, one that caused us to remain naked the rest of the day.

"Soooooo, can I be in one of your stories," he asked me hours later during dinner.

He helped me with a couple of passages, then got on his knees to blow me as we were too hyped and horny not to get it on. I took him on the balcony after a drink, and blew his back out for all over Hampton, Virginia to hear. Days later, he was the reason for increased "brothers" in my stories.