The Audience: Winston Said So

Winston was came down to Hampton Roads from Washington, D.C. train.

"Not how I remember it," he said after I picked him up.

We drove around Norfolk a bit to show off the sights.

"I don't remember Norfolk being so lit up, so vivid and colorful. It's definitely changed a bit over the years."

The 56-year-old Department of Justice employee was a debonair man in his travels, donning his Ralph Lauren-branded, long sleeved shirt with matching cufflinks, dark colored trouser and an aromatic splash of cologne. Winston's photos did him no justice as he was clean shaven, with a pair of beautiful, hazel eyes and soft lips that I craved to kiss. He barely looked my way while I drove us through the downtown area, seeing the buildings and clean sidewalks before his eyes widened when he saw the waterfront.

"That big old tower over there. That a hospital," he asked of the Renaissance Hotel across the river in Portsmouth.

I corrected him before we drove over to a nearby garage across from the Wisconsin battleship, with me parking, then us walking a bit to cross the street and follow the path parallel to the river.

"That hospital you speak of is that way," I told him while pointing north on the Portsmouth side.

He stood there in amazement, while I reminded him of what he had where he lived.

"I mean, you guys have the harbor in D.C."

"We absolutely do, but this here is something spectacular in itself," he'd say.

He explained further why he was touched by the scenery, the scent, and the overall ambience of the mixed use landscape of this tract of the Elizabeth River.

"This explains so much with your stories now," he mentioned. "Some of the things you write about, come from this very place here."

He was partially right as I'm a native of the Hampton Roads region, and often touch base on what I see on the daily, jotting down things and turning it into a selection.

"Now if you could only translate these scenes a little better," he said.

He was standing to my right eyeing the paddle ferry crossing our way from Portsmouth, and I looked at him, and his slight smile as he stood on what was said.

"You didn't come down here to criticize," I asked.

"Absolutely not. But I'm a fan of your writing, black man, and I want to see you do great things," he stated.

"You just wanna fuck....black man," I said to him.

He laughed.

"My words sting a little bit," he asked as he looked at me.

We turned around and walked briskly as we were ready to get down and dirty.

"I could take you in that little mall and blow you right now," he told me.

"In D.C. it may be okay to suck dick in a public setting, but in Norfolk, Virginia you'll get jail time," I said as we crossed into the garage.

"Guessing that's your version of an epithet," he said to me. "I can only hope the way you fuck truly does not reflect your writing skills. There's a lot to be desired, young man."

He talked a good game, but now he was the one expected to prove it. We made it back to the car and hopped in, with him reaching over the middle console to kiss before I blocked him.

"Stand on what you said," I told him.

"Moe, you better kiss me. You sumbitch," he said as the D.C. slang came out of him.

He placed his hand in my lap, then squeezed my crotch.

"That dick ain't hard yet," he asked in jest.

I sped up to an on-ramp of I-264 east, while he slipped his hand in the cuff of my shorts, lightly rubbing the tip as I was driving to my place in Virginia Beach. I was giddy knowing I was fucking someone from my audience, an older, plump chocolate brother with the perfect features to accept this nine inch dick.

"You have liquor," he asked.

We made it to my place and I cooked up cocktails, Crown Royal Peach and sweet tea to be specific as we toasted to enhance the mood. I took a sip and stuck my tongue out to him so he would snatch the ice cube in the middle. He sucked it off, and we put our drinks down on the coffee table before he leaned over to me on the couch. We clasped our hands together as we began to make out, with him grinding into me, moaning while our tongues jostled as we were fueled by the lust.

"You really wanna do this," I asked as we were too far into it.

He smiled and we kept kissing as I tried to undo the top button of his shirt. He'd help me by doing the others, then slinging the expensive top across the room.

"Titty number one," I said as I got my hands on his left breast.

He gasped while I rubbed that beautiful salt and pepper chest. His round belly was also super sexy, and the smell of Nivea body wash drove me crazy.

"Suck this tit," he said as he leaned in to feed me, and I latched on, nursing that dark nipple while he was talking dirty in my ear, greasing the wheel of our encounter.

"Still feel the same about my stories," I asked between nibbles.

"Not at all, baby," he said as he started to undo his pants.

He'd get off the couch and pulled his pants down, and I, too would do the same before we took things into the bedroom. I made him get on all fours at the foot's edge of the bed, and he'd show off that sweet hole, the hair follicles parted enough for me to see that small, dark circle between his cheeks.

"Yesssssirrrrr," I uttered while rubbing my hands together, ready to serve up in person what I'd been penning for years.

"You'll have to be gentle on me, son," he said as he was a bit nervous.

I noticed Winston's fingernails as he kept his hands neatly manicured, his fingertips pulling that fat, hairy, black ass apart for me to plunge. I had a little patience and chose to "check his temperature" instead with my tongue.

"Fuck, baby," he cried out.

I had to appease it a little by lapping at it like a thirsty dog, then poking it until he took a deep breath and poked it out. I shoved my tongue inside that protruding hole to feel him accept my motion of gliding my head back and forth, with me eating him out until he begged for penetration.

"Gotta suck it first," I told him.

"I want it right now, man. Stick that dick inside me," he told me as I kept licking.

He remained on all fours and kept his cheeks spread, as now his hole was puckering. I got up and walked over to the dresser to grab the lubricant off the dresser, next placing a couple of drops on his hole, then a few in my right hand to stroke this stick stiff. I then immediately forced myself inside of him, hearing him whimper as I'd see that rim bent outward, and my dark member entering his anus.

"Story time is over," I joked while loving the view, but not as much as the feeling of me punching in, experiencing that initial tug as he loosened up.

"Open up for me Winnie," I said while shoving back and forth.

I pushed in all the way slowly and retreated the same, hearing him wince as he buried his head into the mattress.

"Pussy opens like a shallot," I said to him.

I giggled at the sounds he made as it sounded like he was in despair, but it was the opposite, as he was getting the fucked the proper way.

"Got my bussy dancing," he said of his hole's twitch.

I pushed in harder to rev his engine, making him squeal as now I was trying to reach the area past his sphincter. Winston asked for a good fuck when he "criticized my writing," and sealed the deal once he made the trek south.

"D.C. boys don't fuck me like this," he wailed, and I pressed his head into the bed while I gyrated my pelvis to pound away at his bottom.

"Fuck my stories. Make that ass clap," I told him referring to the waves made from his big bottom.

I loved the smacking sounds as I plunged deep and helped build up his orgasms. Every third or fourth stroke his octaves would rise, and I'd "hit it" harder, and feel that hole of his squeeze as he whimpered loudly or screamed. I was tearing him down deep at a rapid pace, showing him my writtens were real as he reacted like one of my bottom-like characters.

"First person point of view," I said as I began to pound harder.

I was getting close and continued to milk his hole by beating that prostate, then, I sped things up and would come to a halt at that coveted climax.

"Winston. Oh shittttttttt," I wailed as I released.

I inserted deep when I gave up the load as we harmonized our delight, the both of us moaning, making sounds of relief before we collapsed to lay flat with me still inside of him.

"Oh baby, you weren't lying," he said afterwards.

I chuckled since it was no longer about what I posted on sites.

"That dick should be put in the hall of the fame," he added as he made me laugh. "Kid, I'm serious, I'm already thinking about another round."

Winston went without for so long he was hungry for another pounding. Just minutes later he was gliding that skull on my shaft to get me hard all over again, and got what he requested two fold, with no mercy.

I made him a believer.