There's something mysterious and almost magical about the hour before dawn. The houses are almost universally dark. The streets are practically deserted. Even cruising cop cars are a rarity. The city is sleeping, catching its breath between the previous frantic night and the new hard-working day.
At one time, I too would have been sleeping. Now, this had become my favorite time of the day. As usual, I work up several minutes before the alarm sounded and climbed out of bed. I did my stretching exercises and put on my jockstrap, shorts and running shoes in the dim light from the courtyard outside my apartment.
I left the complex by the west entrance, gently closing the steel security bars behind me, and turned south. To warm up, I walked around the entire block. When I reached Manor Road, I started jogging slowly west.
As I passed under the streetlight at the intersection of Manor and Cherrywood, I noticed an old beat-up Mustang approaching. It glided to a stop, which was odd since the light was green. It seemed like the driver was looking me over. I smiled and gave a half-wave as I turned south on Cherrywood and jogged away.
The Mustang continued east on Manor for half a block. Then it made a sudden U-turn. It turned south onto Cherrywood, drove past me slowly, and made another U-turn, pulling up to the curb beside me. The driver rolled down the passenger window and beckoned me forward.
This was a little alarming. We were in a tough neighborhood and I didn't think he was stopping to ask directions.
As I approached the car, I heard the driver ask "Would you like a ride?"
"No thanks, I'm jogging," I said as I bent down to speak to him. The distant streetlight showed he was a handsome young black man, slender and well-muscled. His pants were unzipped and his penis was sticking straight up. It appeared to be a foot long and as thick as a baseball bat.
I stared for long seconds. My heart was hammering and I seemed to be having trouble breathing. It wasn't just the size of the member revealed by the glow of the dashboard lights. The unreality of the whole situation had me frozen in disbelief.
"Suck my dick," he said quietly. I didn't respond. I just continued staring. "Suck my dick . . . Please!" This time there was a note of pleading in his voice.
"OK." I opened the door and climbed into the car, marveling at how dumb this was but unable to stop myself.
"Do you have a place where we can go?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb.
"No." Even with the security around my apartment complex, I didn't want him to know where I lived.
We cruised around the neighborhood for a few minutes, looking for some place reasonably private. He was driving with one hand and stroking his erection with the other. After going through several apartment complex parking lots, we turned down an alley. We parked behind the service station on the corner of Manor and Cherrywood. There was a blank wall on one side of the Mustang and a big truck between us and the alley. Through the windshield, we could see the first touches of pink in the sky over a vacant lot.
He turned to face me, putting his right knee on the driver's seat. The roof was so low he had to bend forward, leaning over me. I unfastened his pants and pulled them open, exposing his balls. He was breathing hard and his cock was throbbing, even before I touched it. "Suck me now!" he commanded hoarsely, pushing his pole into my face.
I slipped my lips over his cock-head, which was already slick with pre-cum, and managed to take his glans and the first inch of his shaft inside my mouth. He immediately started trying to fuck my face, forcing his immense member forward and down my throat. My head rocked back under the impact. Before he could thrust again, I grabbed his dick to restrain him. Although my hands are big, my thumb and index finger wouldn't quite close around his massive tool.
By wrapping both hands side by side along the length of his shaft, I was able to control the violence of his thrusts. It was like riding a bucking bronco. My two-handed grip on his manhood allowed me to keep my mouth around his cock-head, licking and sucking while he tried to ram himself through the back of my throat. He was producing so much fluid, I could barely gulp it down.
My jockstrap was also getting sticky as my penis struggled against the confining fabric, but I couldn't spare a hand to reach inside my shorts and free it.
He suddenly stopped shoving his cock into my mouth. "Let me fuck you," he said. I froze. The thought of him jamming that monster pole up my ass was absolutely terrifying. No way! So why was my cock now fully erect, despite the restraints of my jockstrap?
"I really want to suck you off," I said and started licking his balls. He let me do that for a little while, then grabbed his pole and forced it back into my mouth. He began thrusting even more violently than before.
Suddenly, he screamed and started pumping cum into my mouth. It was like trying to drink from a fire hose. So much went down my throat that I almost choked, but a large quantity escaped the suction of my lips and flowed over my hands and his cock.
When he was finally spent, he pulled away and turned around to collapse in the driver's seat. He was panting and his eyes were closed.
My cock was still painfully stiff, so I took it out of my jockstrap. I didn't feel like beating off. I thought about asking him to suck me, but I didn't think he'd do it. I rubbed the bulge in my shorts and thought about getting out of the car and going home.
"Let me fuck you now," he suddenly said, sitting up and turning his head to look at me.
"No, you'll hurt me," I replied as I shrank away and reached for the door handle.
He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a squeeze tube of Vaseline. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll open you up real slow and easy."
"I don't think so," I replied.
