Little Blac Blog

Prologue

When I first wake up, my head is pounding and I have no idea where I am. This definitely isn't my hotel room, I know that much. I turn my head to the left, and two things happen: first, my headache subsides, and second, my cock twitches in arousal at what I see. Fast asleep next to me is what I can only describe a He-Man: sandy-coloured hair in an Army-style buzz cut; a strong, handsome profile with long, delicate eyelashes, and full lips which are currently forming a sleepy, sensuous pout. His broad, masculine chest rises and falls gently, and I can't resist the urge to reach over and glide my hand lightly over his strong, defined stomach. A sheet lies over his waist, but I can still see the outline of his cock, semi-erect beneath the cotton.

Who are you, I wonder, but part of me doesn't really care. I'm just glad that in my drunken state last night, I still managed to go home with this stud. I let my fingers drift upwards to his chest, and lay my palm flat against one of his pecs. It's rock hard, and I'm fast approaching the same. My mystery man remains fast asleep, but the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. Judging from the almost visible rate at which his cock is swelling under the sheet, he must be in the middle of a very dirty dream. I massage one of his nipples between my thumb and forefinger, revelling in the sensation of it responding to my touch, hardening to a bright pink point, and I am about to let my hand drift lower when a cough from behind me takes me by surprise.

I turn around, and I very nearly laugh in surprise and delight. To my right is another naked man, built like a brick shithouse, much like the first, but darker in appearance. His hair is jet black, and one heavy curl falls over his eyes. His olive skin is stretched tight over a vascular frame, and if I had to hazard a guess I would have said he was Hispanic. And probably a bodybuilder.

Again, I ask myself; what the hell did I do last night? I can't remember getting up close and personal with any one person in the club, let alone two. This swarthy hunk certainly doesn't seem too surprised to find a six foot one Brit in his bed, stark bollock naked but for a St Christopher and a smile.

He nods towards our sleeping friend, as if to say; "Wake him up". I wonder if either of these gentlemen actually speak English, but the thought is only on my mind for a second. By then, I've seen this second man's cock. Thick and veiny, it is crowned by dark hair and my right hand instinctively reaches over. I wrap my hand around him and his handsome, stubbled face breaks out into a leer. I delve under the bedsheet with my left hand and feel for the sleeping man's cock. It is warm to the touch and slick with precum; I glance over and see that he is now awake, blue eyes staring up at me in lust. He bucks his hips slightly and I tighten my grip. The man moans, and his partner runs a strong hand down my lean torso, cupping my balls, and then stroking the length of my shaft with his middle finger. My entire body trembles at this briefest physical contact, and with both hands I begin to gently tug on both men's cocks.

The early morning silence of the bedroom is broken by our lazy, lustful grunts. I pick up the pace, and soon all three of us are out of breath, skin glistening with a fine layer of sweat. The Latino continues to stroke my cock in time with my own hands, and his fair-haired partner massages my chest, then my stomach, then my inner thighs. The Latino comes first, with a deep groan; he turns onto his side and shoots hot semen all over my stomach. I keep a firm grip on his cock, squeezing every last drop from him, all the while pumping away at his boyfriend, who thrusting into my hand with increasing fervour. A few moments later, his eyes clench shut and his soft, pink mouth forms a perfect 'O'. He comes in total silence, ejaculating so hard that a drop hits the base of his throat and then runs down his chest.

The sight of this is too much for me, and I give in to the pleasure of the darker man's hand. I begin to fuck his fist, grabbing a handful of his thick dark hair and pulling him in to kiss me. His stubbled upper lip grates against my own as our tongues push and grind against each other. The other man leans in and bites my earlobe, something which I must have revealed last night as something of an erogenous zone for me. With his hot breath in my ear, and his lover forcefully kissing me, I feel my entire body tense up. And then I am coming like mad, hips bucking like a fucking epileptic, and my entire chest is covered in spunk.

All three of us lie back, panting uncontrollably. I don't know how much time passes by; maybe I pass out for a little while. When my brain starts to function again, I realise that both men are lapping up the semen from my chest and stomach. This tickles slightly, and a lusty giggle escapes from my lips. The fairer of the two men kisses me sloppily on the lips, then hops off the bed. A moment later I can hear him singing in Spanish in the shower.

Time to go home, I guess. I'm reluctant to leave this bed, especially with the Latino still so enthusiastically caressing my balls. When I eventually stand up, my legs are shaky at first: no doubt a result of numerous cocktails and a night of sexual acrobatics. Damn, I wish I could remember! I locate my underwear on the sofa in the next room, then track down my t-shirt and shoes. But I'm buggered if I can find my jeans. I search the apartment, before spotting them, on the other side of the locked patio doors, on the verandah. Evidently I'd been in a rush to get my kit off, and I could hardly blame myself; my two new friends were a pair of sexy beasts.

The Hispanic stud comes out of the bedroom, still naked, to unlock the door for me. His cock hangs pendulous and spent between his legs, and for a moment I am hypnotised. He smiles warmly at me, and it's all the thanks I need. English is overrated, I decide.

I kiss him innocently on the cheek, then give his cock a gentle squeeze, and walk out into the sunshine. The notion occurs to me that I have no idea where I am. How big is Ibiza, anyway? Luckily, I turn a corner and see a familiar stretch of sand and sun loungers. My hotel can't be any more than five minutes walk from here.

I can't stop myself from grinning as I stroll off into the glorious morning in last night's clothes. Not only has this been the best holiday ever; it's been a fucking great year.