Date: Wed, 30 Sep 2015 23:29:50 +0100
From: Alexander Mennerton <alexandermennerton@gmail.com>
Subject: Every Little Helps

Please donate to nifty to keep this website going!
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

I welcome your comments and feedback - alexandermennerton@gmail.com

Every Little Helps!

British readers will instantly recognise the well-known supermarket
advertising slogan, and this true story starts in one of their stores on
London's south bank.

Not even my supermarket of choice, but it happened to be on my walk home
from the office and I popped in regularly to buy food for my dinner.  One
evening I noticed a new security guard I had not seen before.  He was tall,
about 6'2", slim and dark black, probably West African.  I had lived in
Lambeth and Southwark long enough to appreciate the subtle differences
between Caribbean and African men, their skin tone, facial features, and
body shapes.  As I walked past him at the end of fruit and veg aisle we
made eye contact and I gave him a smile and a nod.  He reciprocated and
gave me a polite nod in the same manner.  I went to the check out, paid,
and left.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I saw him a few times whenever I
popped into the supermarket on my way home.  We progressed from smiles and
nods to saying "hello!" and then to brief chats and exchange of names.  He
was called Olu, from Nigeria, and it turned out that he lived just a few
streets away from me.  One evening I discreetly slipped him a piece of
paper with my name and phone number and suggested we meet for a beer at the
Kentish Drovers, a well-known pub in Peckham.  At this stage, I had no idea
what his sexuality might be and thought it best to assume that he was
straight, probably married, and I doubted very much that he would ever
call.

The turnover of staff in London supermarkets is very fast and sure enough,
within a few days he was gone and replaced by a considerably less
attractive security guard.  Weeks passed and with busy London life, Olu
evaporated from my mind.

Out of the blue, nearly four months later, on a cold January evening, I
received a telephone call.  "Hello, is that Alex?"

"Yes", I replied.

"This is Olu."

Of course I had all but forgotten who he was until he reminded me which
supermarket he used to work at.  He told me he was on his way home from
work and asked if we could meet now.  Not wanting to go out again in the
cold, I gave him my address and directions.  He arrived at my flat half an
hour later.  As he took off his heavy winter coast I could see he was
wearing his black security guards uniform.  It turns out that he was
currently working at another supermarket where 'Good Food Costs Less.'

I offered him a drink.  He saw the already opened bottle of red wine on the
kitchen table and said that would be fine.  I poured him a glass and we sat
and drank and chatted.  Before he had telephoned, I had been cooking, but
had left it unfinished as I quickly tidied up the flat prior to his
arrival.  He said "something smells good!" which I took to be a subtle hint
that he was hungry.  I offered him food and ended up finishing the cooking
while we continued to chat.  We ate together and drank more wine.  I cannot
remember what we chatted about, but I do remember that I was burning to ask
him more personal questions but refrained from doing so in case it scared
him away.  I still wasn't sure if he would be interested in gay sex.  He
wasn't giving off any signals of interest that I could detect and I didn't
feel it appropriate to risk making a pass for fear of offending him.  I was
soon to have my doubts answered.  He excused himself to use the bathroom.

I need to explain that my bathroom in my London flat was decorated with
dozens of pictures of homoerotic art, not pornographic, but a few minutes
study of the pictures would leave no doubt as to the sexual orientation of
the occupant.

Olu returned to the dining table and sat down, sipped his wine and asked me
bluntly "you like men?"

"Yes" I replied.

He started fondling his cock through his trousers.  "You like black cock?"

I nodded my reply, watching his now hardening cock straining against the
material of his black uniform trousers.  Without speaking, he coolly
unzipped his trousers while seated at my kitchen table and he pulled out
his cock, struggling slightly to free it from the confines of the flap of
his underwear.  It was fully hard, thick, heavily veined, cut, and with a
slight curve to the left.  The large glans, wider than the shaft of his
cock, was a dark purple wine colour.  He slowly ran his big hand up and
down the shaft of his cock while looking me in the eyes.  I got off my
chair and onto my knees on the floor in front of him and looked up at him.
He nodded his approval and I took his big ebony cock into my mouth.

The strong masculine crotch smell, a mixture of pubic sweat and stale drops
of piss from his cock having been confined in his trousers all day hit my
nose and triggered a wave of lust within me.  I took as much of his cock
into my mouth as I could manage without gagging and sucked and worked my
tongue around the glans.  I heard him let out a deep sigh and he started to
stroke my head.

I continued to suck to the best of my ability.  A couple of times he lifted
me up so that I was level with his face and he kissed me, his thick lips
encompassing mine and his wine tasting tongue explored my mouth while his
free hand fondled the crack of my arse through my trousers.  He gently
pushed me back down onto his cock and I sucked him to orgasm.  He groaned
and gasped and shuddered violently as his thick hot creamy Nigerian sperm
filled my mouth.  I swallowed every drop and milked his cock dry of the
last remaining drops from his urethra.

My legs and knees by this time had gone numb with kneeling on the hard
floor and I struggled to get up.  He helped me to stand and again we kissed
passionately and embraced.  We sat down and drank some more wine.  He
didn't bother to put his cock away and it remained rock hard.  I could see
now that it was about 9 inches long.  He asked if he could see my arse and
I willingly obliged and stood, dropped my trousers and slid down my white
underpants and turned around to show him my milky white cheeks.  He fondled
them and gently bit them with his teeth and slapped them with his big
spade-like hand.  He started to tease my sphincter muscle and tried to get
his finger up my arsehole but without lubricant I knew this would be
difficult.  I suggested we go to the bedroom.

I turned down the lights and put on some 'mood' music and we undressed.
His cock had softened slightly but he still hadn't put it away inside his
underwear.  After he removed his trousers and uniform shirt I could see
that he was wearing thermal 'long johns', he told me that he was finding
London extremely cold after Nigeria and wore his long johns most of the
time here.  He looked rather comical with his long cock sticking out from
the flap.  I helped him out of his underwear until we were both completely
naked.  His beautiful smooth ebony skin contrasted starkly against my very
pale white skin.  We climbed into bed and kissed, embraced, and explored
each other's bodies.  He was very lean and muscular and had sensitive
nipples.  I bathed in the masculine odours of the day- old sweat of his
armpits and crotch while he played with my arsehole, now lubricated with
extra virgin olive oil, as they say, 'every little helps!'

To make penetration less painful, I applied plenty of olive oil to his huge
cock before sitting on it.  I could feel the wide mushroom head of his
glans stretching my sphincter muscle.  It was painful but bearable.  I
gently lowered myself onto the full length of his 9 inch cock and waited a
couple of minutes to allow my muscles to fully relax before I started to
bounce up and down playing cock jockey.  I knew I wouldn't be able to
sustain this position for too long as the head of his cock was stimulating
my prostate gland and I would come too soon.

We changed position and knelt on the edge of the bed and he stood behind me
and plunged the entire length of his cock up my arse to the hilt.  He
started to fuck with great force and speed.  It hurt but it was also
incredibly stimulating having this handsome black guy fuck me this way.  I
had to bite into a pillow to prevent myself from screaming with lust and
pain.  After ten minutes or so of ram battering in this position he had me
lie on my side and he knelt and fucked me scissor style which was
moderately more comfortable.  He then repositioned me again so that I was
lying on my back with my legs in the air.  He continued to fuck me with
great force, fully withdrawing his cock and slamming back inside my arse
each time.  Several times he bent down and kissed me passionately with his
thick lips and tongue.

Our fuck session lasted for over an hour until he grunted and shuddered and
shot his load deep inside my arse.  At this time I was lying on my front
with him lying on top of my back.  We kissed again and he kept his cock
inside of me.  Within minutes he fell asleep.  Thankfully he was not too
heavy and I enjoyed the scenario of having this beautiful Nigerian asleep
on top of me with his cock implanted up my arse.  His breathing deepened
and I could feel his cock slowly shrinking inside my arse.  We remained in
bed entwined drifting in and out of sleep for another hour until he said he
should get going.

We became regular fuck buddies and he came to my flat most weeks, usually
on a Tuesday evening, for over two years.  He always wanted to be fed and
we drank only red wine, summer or winter.  He would often come twice during
the evening, and regularly fell asleep on top of me immediately after his
orgasm.  As time progressed we became more intimate and he started to suck
my cock, rim my arsehole, and made sure that I came too.  We would fuck in
every conceivable position in every room of my flat, over the kitchen
table, on the washing machine, standing up in the hallway, outside on the
balcony, in the bathroom, in the shower.  His kissing was so passionate
that at times I felt as though we were lovers and not just fuck buddies.
After about six months he told me that he was married and had two children.
His wife was usually at work on Tuesday evenings and a relative collected
the children from school.  He told me that he defined himself as gay, but
had been obliged to get married by family, church, and social pressure.

One day he asked if I would be interested to have a threesome with a
Nigerian friend of his.  He told me that his old school friend and lover
called Busa had arrived in the UK.  I agreed and a few weeks later, on
Tuesday evening as usual, Olu arrived with Busa.

Busa was heavy set, not fat, but built like a rugby player.  He was shorter
than Olu, but still taller than me, had a shaved head, wore glasses, and
had a very warm smile.  His skin, like Olu's, was a dark ebony.  We had
dinner and drank red wine and chatted.  They told me about their secret
relationship when they were schoolboys in their village in Nigeria and how
they were once nearly caught when sucking each other's cocks behind the
church.

We retired to the bedroom and undressed.  Both Olu and Busa seemed a little
nervous.  I believe this was the first time that they were naked together
as adults, and also their first threesome.  Once I got to work on their
cocks they soon relaxed.  Busa's cock was slightly shorter at 8 inches, but
as fat as a Coca-Cola can.  Olu fucked me first which helped me to
accommodate the thickness of Busa's cock.  Like Olu, and like most Africans
I have been fucked by, Busa fucked with great energy and force, slamming
his fat cock into me with a forceful thrust of his hips.

They both fucked me in every conceivable position, tag-teamed me,
spit-roast me, and double penetrated me.  We rested occasionally and drank
more red wine and then the fucking continued.  They each came three times,
either shooting their Nigerian sperm deep into my arse, or spraying their
cum all over me.  For three hours I was fucked more-or-less continually by
17 inches of fat black Nigerian cock.  Their stamina was amazing.  I was
truly fucked and could barely stand up.

The threesome with Busa was sadly not repeated as he went to live in
Manchester soon afterwards.  Olu continued to visit every week and we
continued to enjoy great sex.

After two years Olu suddenly stopped coming to visit.  I tried to contact
him but to no avail.  A couple of months later I received a call from Busa
in Manchester who explained that Olu's father had died and he had had to
return to Nigeria where he still remains.

I still think of him often and have happy memories of our two year affair.
I was so glad that I had had the courage to give him my telephone number.
As they say, 'every little helps.'

I welcome your comments and feedback - alexandermennerton@gmail.com