How it is that we eventually choose what we like is beyond me. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the whole mess of being straight, bi or gay and add to that the subtle taste differences that come with those different varieties of connections. I might not know why I like what I like... but I know what I like and this is the story of Darnell.
I was nineteen and high school was a recent memory. I was working full time at one of the many restaurant jobs I've held in my illustrious career as a customer service representative.
Life was dull.
Darnell was the back line cook. He was in his forties but he seemed to thoroughly enjoy his work and never once complained about needing to find a "real job". Darnell was rather jovial and all around, people seemed to genuinely like him and he was, in fact, a very likable person.
I should point this out now because it would seem rather odd, like almost forced, that Darnell and I should hang out because I was a nineteen year old, chubby white boy fresh out of high school and Darnell was an older black man. However, we had similar taste in music. Both of us loving hard rock and heavy metal which I thought was unusual for Darnell but later learned that he wasn't like any other guy I'd ever meet.
I had purchased a new CD and, being the friendly sort, I recorded a copy of it for Darnell to listen to in his car. I can't remember the band, all I remember was that he took interest in my friendliness and we soon talked about music and eventually, other things we had in common.
We became fast friends and soon, it was pretty common for me to hang out at his place. We'd watch horror movies and play Playstation all hours of the night. It was the type of things that burnouts did but he and I didn't smoke. Darnell was, for all intents and purposes, a pretty good role model. He was trying to get a business degree and urged me to want some sort of higher education. In fact, if it weren't for Darnell, I wouldn't have eventually gone to college, but that's another story.
I remember that it was a Friday and we were at his place playing the latest Madden. Darnell had a rather vulgar sense of humor when the right mood hit him and he began telling me how bad I sucked at the game.
"Are you sure you even know the rules because you suck so bad, I'm surprised you aren't making gagging sounds!" he quipped.
"Gagging sounds?" I asked.
"You're right, that would mean you're sucking good," he added.
"What the hell do you mean?" his comment had me confused.
"Come on... you know when you're getting a good blow job and she's gagging on it and making slurping sounds and spit and stuff is going everywhere," Darnell tried to explain.
"My girlfriend doesn't give blow jobs like that," I admitted. "It's nothing like that."
"Seriously?" he asked, not believing that I had never had one of these great blow jobs.
"I have no reason to lie," I said.
We played for a moment more before he paused the game. "Don't you watch porn?" he asked.
Now, I should say explicitly that I did in fact watch porn, pretty regularly. In fact, I had watched several cam girls do things with toys that I wasn't sure was possible until I saw it. But, even though I'd watched porn, I'd never watched any of the gonzo type stuff he was talking about.
"Yeah, I watch porn but I've never seen a blow job like the one you just described. It sounds messy," I said.
Darnell looked puzzled. He seemed torn in what he wanted to say next. I had never known him to be caught off guard by anything and here he was, wondering why I'd never experienced such pleasures as a sloppy blow job.
"If I show you something, you won't think it's weird, will you?" he asked, so hesitantly, that I got a little scared.
"Depends," I said honestly. "As long as it's legal..."
Darnell cut me off, "It's legal, trust me."
He got up and went into his bedroom and returned with a VHS tape and popped it into his VCR. Had I known what was going to happen over the next several hours, I'm not sure I would have stuck around but there's something to be said about letting the future come at you blindly and just enjoying it. He hit play and without much presentation, we both began viewing a white woman sucking on a very large, very thick, very black dick. She kept looking at the camera while she tried to fit it into her throat. Within a few minutes, she was gagging and spit was dripping down the shaft of the cock and she pulled it out and licked it, really worshiping its size and shape.
I was blown away.
At first, I couldn't watch it. It was so enticing though, that I found myself transfixed by the sight. Even more strange was the fact that I wasn't sure if I was excited by what she was doing or what she was doing it to. The... cock... was so massive and thick that I imagined it had its own pulse.
"See what I mean?" Darnell's voice said, interrupting the sweet gagging noises coming from the white woman on the tape.
"Yeah," I muttered, "but my girlfriend doesn't give blow jobs like that... or really... she doesn't have to. I'm not built like that."
I was suddenly very aware of how small my dick was. It was a moment that I can never undo and it made me wonder how honest my girlfriend was.
"But you said your woman said it was the biggest she's had?" Darnell questioned.
"I'm starting to wonder if that's possible. She's been with quite a few guys and with the difference in size that that thing has to me, I'm not sure she could have not had a bigger dick before."
"Well, TV adds ten pounds," Darnell joked. "It's not that big in person."
"How do you know?" I wondered out loud.
"Well..." Darnell was apprehensive to answer.
Then, the camera switched position on the screen and I could see why. Darnell and I was watching a video he made. The... cock... in question was Darnell's massive member.
"You just tricked me into seeing your cock," I said.
"I was worried that it'd be weird," he said.
