Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2006 14:43:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Reed <any_mouse2003@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bottom Round

This story features a graphic depiction of sex between
concenting adult males. If you are under the age of
18, or live in a society in which these activities are
illegal, or illegal to read about, then you have my
sympathy, but tough luck. Stop reading now and do
something uplifting for the Dear Leader.

It is copyrighted material, but may be downloaded for
your personal use only in accordance with Nifty
instructions. All rights reserved.

Bottom Round

It is the weekend when I get to do my chores, the
cooking and cleaning, and this was no exception.  I
have been working all day and my energy and libido are
flagging.

In addition to the weekend chores, Albert likes me to
cook Southern, and while I don't do soul food, per se,
though I think that the way to a black man's heart- or
his cock, anyway, is through his
stomach.

So, before I went to bed I put a nice bottom round
roast
in the oven to slow-cook overnight,  wrapped tight in
in foil so there were plenty of rich juices. I put
some onion soup mix on the fat on the top and rubbed
sea salt in it,. Then I set the oven on 180
degrees and padeded oiff to bed, licking my lips at
the present that Albert had left me when he stopped by
in his car a little earlier.

He was a man who not only had good taste, but tasted
good, too. The kitchen smelled extra jummy from the
beef when I got up and staggered in to make the
coffee.

Albert had said that he was questionable for lunch,
since he had some church thing he was comitted to with
wifey, so I got
busy on doing the Fall cleaning. The radiators needed
to be disinfected and cleaned, and with the windows
open to welcome in the clean air from Canada, there
was all manner of dust to be swept up, and little
spots of mold that needed to be sanitized before it
turned into big green gloppy patches.

I got out the bucket and amonia, and some rubber
gloves to protect my hands- I am a licensed pianist,
and that is important to me.

I like to do my housework in the nude, so I was
wearing
just an apron and a handkerchief tied around my head.
I was bent over one of the radiators, trying to get
out the little tiny streaks of mold on the louver when
I heard the door open.

I figured I knew who it was, so I just spread my legs
a little and scrubbed harder. Between the smell of the
beef and the amonia on my plastic scrubbing pad, I was
a little giddy. I knew the door had closed, but
pretended that I did not hear it. I wondered what
Albert was going to think about my bottom presented to
him with such exquisit domestic vulnerability.

I heard a zipper zip, and something hit the floor and
I curled my back in full presentation mode. Sure
enough, I felt hands on my ass and the tip of what
seemed a familiar cock run its way in between my
cheeks.

Albert is such a kidder! I heard him hawk and a moment
later something thick and viscous hit my skin at the
top of my crack, and it began to dribble down to my
rosebud. That insistent cock rubbed at it a bit for
lubrication, and then it was off to the races.

Albert can be quite insistent sometimes, but this was
unusually brusque, even for him. He gave it just about
three hard strokes and he was in up to the hilt. I had
to gasp with surprise and pleasure and then grip the
radiator with both hands as he went at me in earnest,
and I held on for dear life as he began to thrust
urgently.

It must have been the sermon, I thought, maybe
something about the Sodomites and imminent trips
straight to hell in a decadent world. I was certainly
onboard with part of that, at least the sodomy part,
but the topic of the sermon faded from my mind as that
delicious warmth began to flow through me as he hit my
inner button, and my toes started to curl with dumb
delight.

I must say that there is something about the smell of
cleaning products and rubber gloves that gets to me,
and I moaned, thinking that sometimes urgency and pure
lust is the very best thing in the world.

Albert didn't let out a sound, which he does,
sometimes. He likes to humiliate me sometimes, telling
me what a fucking bitch whore faggot I am, but he just
seemed to want to dump a load in me hard and fast.

I could feel him tense, and I wanted him to go on for
a while longer, since I could feel my dick throbbing
as the apron rode up and it rubbed against the front
of the smooth cool metal of the radiator.

I moaned and sighed. He is the Boss, after all.

He gave me three more mighty thrusts and then quivered
violently, which was unlike him. Normally he says
something reallly dirty to me, calling me a cum-sump
white faggot bitch, or some other humiliating
endearment to make me understand my place, but he just
went rigid on me.

What could I do but play along?

He pulled out suddenly, and I could feel his semen
bubble out of my well-stretchd asshole. It cooled as
it ran down the inside of my leg, and I thought,
great, now another mess to clean up, but at least I
had my cleaning supplies. Then I heard him zip-up and
then step to the door.

I am just about paralyzed with langour after a brisk
fucking and I heard the door close before I could
stand up turn and ask him if he wanted some
bottom-round sliced up on a bun with horsey sauce and
melted Muenster cheese and some shredded lettuce on
top.

I rose, puzzled, feeling empty and with cum dripping
down my leg and onto the floor. That was quite a load,
and I had just serviced him the night before, in the
front seat of his car. he had given me quite a load
then, and I swallowed greedily, since I am quite
addicted to him. I made sure he was licked completely
clean before getting out, and watching him speed away
into the darkness, grinning that grin of his with his
teeth as bright as the keys on a piano.

Black guys are remarkable, but he really must have
needed to bust his nut to cum in such volume. He likes
my cooking, which is one of the ways that oI keep him
coming by. Maybe he was in a hurry, or I thought,
brushing my apron down over my rampant hard-on, maybe
wifey was out in the car waiting for him.

I thought that was an interesting thought, and then
thought about his seed that was running down my leg. I
bent over and ran a finger through it and tasted it.

It seemed familiar, but there was an acrid taste to it
that I didn't recognize. Maybe it was the amonia in
the bucket. Tht is powerful stuff! I am such a ditz
sometimes that I almost couldn't figure out which to
do first, clean myself up or the floor.

I finally got it sequenced properly and things cleaned
up. I was looking down in satisfaction when the phone
rang. It was Albert, saying he had gotten hung up
talking tothe minister and he was not going to be able
to stop by and feed me his fat black cock for lunch.

I looked at the phone blankly. "Well, then who
was...."

My words faded off.

"Who was what?" asked Albert.

"Never mind," I said. "I slow-cooked a nice bottom
round
roast and I am going to slice it up. You will like on
a sandwich, whenever you can make it over."

He said something complementary about my bottom and
what he wanted to do to it, and what sort of sauce he
had in mind, and then he said he had to go and he
would be by when he could.

I made myself something to eat, and wrapped up the
beef so it would be fresh, whenever. I thought maybe I
shold make some cle slaw to go along with, something
nice and cool but a little sweet to complement the
flavor.

I honestly have no idea who had the gall to walk into
my house, see my butt waggling in the air and then
come in and fuck me silly without so much as saying
thank-you.

It is a strange world.

Anyway, that is why I don't have much of a story to
leave you with, since I still have the other radiators
to sanitize.

I noticed I spent some extra time working
on the one you can see from the door. And as it
happens, you can even see it from the street through
the front window, if you happen to be looking.

Copyright 2006 any_mouse 2003
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