Love Big Boys: Colonial Claude

"You black guys love a nice rack, and a nice ass to go with it," Claude said to me. "I've been bi for years, and I can't seem to shake the black cock. I can go to the moon, and be found by some handsome, chocolaty stud. You guys are addicted."

"You say all that, and I'm in this shower with you," I said to the plump polar bear.

Claude was the epitome of what I liked: older, big bottoms who acted straight in public. I was in town, hanging in my childhood bedroom at my mother's house when I logged on to Grindr to get caught by the 330 pounder.

"You're in Portsmouth," he said. "Can you host?"

I couldn't, but the 63-year-old had an "itch" that needed curing.

"I suppose you come to Williamsburg, and we get together," he suggested.

I wasn't driving my mother's car past 10 miles.

"That's too far," I told him.

He replied with fresh naked photos of himself showing off that big fanny.

"You turning me down," he asked. "I've two other guys waiting to come over, but I want you."

Reading I was one of his options for some reason turned me on. I even offered a foursome, with him being our bottom as we took turns on him.

"Ask one of them to give me a ride," I requested.

"LOL. Their cocks will do in a pinch," he replied. "Absolutely no way we're doing this."

I started to ghost him by logging off, but then he sent another message suggesting he ride an hour to get to me.

"There's motels in Chesapeake," he stated. "Is that one roach motel still on Military Highway?"

He gave me his number, and told me to call him.

"I hope you understand I'm coming to see you," he said over the phone.

I "won out," or he was lying about the other guys to make me go crazy in trying to see him. I gave him full disclosure about my situation, and how I was in town visiting without my own wheels when we chatted.

"I want your fat cock in my ass," he told me as he asked for the address.

This was a desperate moment for the both of us as he was only my second sexual partner in my then-25-years of living.

"I really need some black cock," he said.

I had my first ass a few months prior while back in Los Angeles, for Pat, a retired security guard, and I hooked up after a night at the bar. Prior to that I was still a handsome virgin still wondering about the anatomy of a woman, but more curious about men before Pat sealed the deal. A red Range Rover pulled up in front of my mother's house, and he summoned me outside right after.

"Hey baby," he said in his New Jersey accent. "How many other guys can say they'll pick you up in style?"

"Not many," I told him as I climbed in.

I shut the door, and he ordered me to drop my shorts.

"I wanna touch it," he told me.

I did as told, and he caressed it from the moment he put it in drive, all the way to the nearby Food Lion, where he parked to go inside. I asked for Coronas, and he returned with a 24 pack of long necks before darting off, and using my cock as a stick shift. The motel was barely a mile from the store, as he sped across the street. We parked, and he asked me to keep the doors locked while he went inside to confirm the reservation.

"I hope you don't mind me not using condoms," he asked.

He came back to the vehicle with a key card in hand, then drove around the corner of the decrepit location to a room at the rear. He parked directly in front of the room, then cut the engine before I snatched the beer, and a personal bag he brought to walk to the door. He pushed the key card in a slot and the door opened, and to our surprise, the room was much more presentable than either of us could've imagined.

"Foir fifty bucks, I expected to see a few roaches scatter," I told him.

"I paid one hundred, in cash," he told me as he garnered "the suite."

It appeared to be an ordinary room at a lower tier motel, but it was clean, with fresh linens, and bright lighting from what we witnessed. I walked in to do a quick tour, and found no crime markings, and the modern shower was clean, reeking of disinfectant. I took a piss and came out of the bathroom to find him on the bed naked, and on his knees with a tube of lubricant beside the television.

"I want that dick, Larry," he said with a big smile.

Claude took off his designer sweater and designer trousers to get buck naked on the bed for me. His combed back hair was disheveled, and I was able to witness his hairless frame, with his moobs hanging, and curves at his bottom on fully display with dimples throughout. I walked closer to admire Claude, and walked to the head of the bed to see that wide butt, and deep crack with a pigmentation slightly darker than the rest of his fair skin. I massaged his ass as he buried his head into the mattress, then smacked it a few times before he spread his cheeks to show off that tight hole.

"See one ass, seen them all," I joked.

Truthfully, Claude's backside was a thing of beauty for a chaser, or bear like myself. I smacked it once more before I came out of my clothes, then walked back to where his head was resting to tap the back of it.

"Open wide," I told him.

He closed his eyes, and stuck out his tongue before my cock became his overly thick depressor.

"Oh yes," he whispered right as I started juking my hips forward while grabbing his hair to start fucking his throat.

He took it for five minutes until I pulled out, then lubricated his rear before beating his prostate until he tapped out. Claude was determined to get me off, and so he made me lay on the bed before crawling between my legs to treat my seven inch cock as his popsicle.

"Keep doing it like that, and you'll turn it into a creamsicle," I warned as he blew me effortlessly.

I filled his jaws with my sweet milk, and he ingested every drop, even licking my balls after to ensure I was completely empty.

"The drive was worth it," he told me when we stopped at my mother's afterwards.

"You have to promise me one thing: before you go back where you came from, let me have at it again?"

Claude, like most of my big, rounded lovers, could take cock, and asked for seconds, sometimes thirds for they knew how to treat it. Claude's hole felt like lavender, his deep crevice welcoming to my coarse, curve module with its hook that skinny, or muscular guys couldn't take. This walking fat pad longed for me more than any other guy, and called me, and many other black tops out for he was bringing our truth to the forefront. I for sure nailed him again before I planed it to the west coast, catching him on a Friday evening at his illustrious home in Williamsburg, while his wife was at a community event. Claude reaffirmed my love for the big guys, as I wouldn't hook up with no other type.