Ginger Boy

Is there anything that is hotter than a true red head with a fire bush? For me, red heads are at the top of the gay boy food chain, rivaled only by a man with a high & tight cut of any color.

This young man whom I will call here “Ginger Boy” is 28 years old, 5’8” and about 175 lbs. His red hair is rather subtle on his head because he keeps it cut close, but his crotch cover is a gorgeous deep auburn color decorating a 6.5” cut and thick cock. He has a very worked-out body, but not overly muscular...everything is in proportion. Additionally, he has a very clean…boy next door look and demeanor…very straight acting so that no one would readily guess that instead of plowing pussy, he would rather be the pussy plowed…by a strong black man if possible.

I have known Ginger Boy for a little more than a year now and until a couple of weeks ago we had not done anything sexual other than playful talk. Playful talk with a purpose because it was well understood from the beginning that I am a predator…and that eventually opportunity and desire would intersect.

A friend of mine was hosting a birthday party at his house for his partner/boy friend/whatever. It was a Saturday night, and while I normally would not go to such an event, my friend had done me a favor recently for which I wanted to show my appreciation. I stopped by the party with the intent of staying maybe an hour…tops. I arrived around 9:00 PM. The place was over-run with people…mostly kids really, late 20s…which stands to reason as my friend is in a “Daddy/Boy” relationship where his partner/boy friend/Boy/whatever… is about 15 years younger than us.

I found my friend, and one or two other guys our age huddled in the kitchen. The beer was cold, the food awesome and our small group conversation was on football…Perfect!

About 45 minutes into my allotted hour for this appearance, Ginger Boy walks into the kitchen with some other twenty somethings and the birthday boy…I had no idea that Ginger Boy and my friends Boy were friends…but then…why not?

It is funny, early in my career I learned that communication is much more about non-verbal cues than verbal words. A person will tell you if they are telling the truth or lying through nonverbal cues. By the same token, you can…and I did…tell Ginger Boy… “I am going to fuck you tonight,” with just a look. I knew Ginger Boy got my message as he held my eye contact longer than necessary and then turned beet red. I should be more careful because my friend, the host of the party, caught the whole nonverbal exchange. With a slight smirk on his face he said,

“Forget it, he is here with his pot-head boyfriend over there”

He directed my gaze over to the far corner of the living room were a blazer and jeans wearing white guy, who was in desperate need of a hair cut, was holding court with about five other guys and a couple of girls. According to my buddy, he works for the same company as Ginger Boy and they have been dating for a few months, which I found odd because Ginger Boy and I have chatted…quite explicitly…several times over the last few months.

This new information served to only bring more of the predator within me to the surface. I turned to my friend and simply stated

“I am going to need to use one of your bedrooms for a bit”

My friend chuckled and said something like “Yeah…right!” until the very serious look on my face made him stop chuckling and say…”Are you crazy?...his boyfriend is right the fuck over there!” I did not say a word to my friend, just gave him the look. A moment later he said “If you are going to do this, use the bathroom upstairs that connects the two guest rooms…it is less conspicuous and the doors lock from the inside… be discreet will ya…I don’t need the drama.”

A bit later, I worked my way over to Ginger Boy and separated him from the heard into a corner of the dining room.

Me: “I am going to fuck you tonight”

GB: “I cant Sir, I am here with someone”

Me: “You have done nothing but beg me to fuck you for months now. Tonight, you get your chance…it is up to you what you do with it” With that I simply walked away.

As I expected, about and hour and a half later, the crowd had thinned down to the hard-core partiers. I also observed that Ginger Boy’s boyfriend had migrated down to the utility room in the lowest level of the townhouse which is were the pot smoking was taking place. To his credit, Ginger Boy stayed up on the main level of the house and continued to keep checking on my whereabouts about every ten minutes or so. Not so much to his credit, he was working on his fourth Gin & Tonic by my count. If this was going to happen, it needed to happen soon before Ginger Boy was too drunk.

I discretely made my way upstairs to the designated bathroom. I then sent Ginger Boy a text message that read,

“It is decision time…I will wait five minutes for you to make you way to the guest bedroom bathroom upstairs…Your bf is high as a kite in the basement…be here in less than 5 or delete my number from your phone”

As I waited in that bathroom I figured it was a less than 50% chance that Ginger Boy would show. This was because I represented a Fantasy of Ginger Boy’s…to be fucked raw and bred by a muscled up black man. Fantasies are just fine when they are only in our heads…quite another when it is living, breathing and standing in front of you. In the fantasy, the pain of that first penetration is always a good pain…in real life though…that is the pain that takes your breath away. In the fantasy, the breeding top is always clean and negative…in real life…there is always that chance…that risk. I knew that all of these contradictions between fantasy and reality were at war within Ginger Boy’s head…anyone’s guess which would win out…desire or discretion?

As I was about to leave, a very tentative Ginger Boy entered the bathroom through the first guest bedroom. His head was down, and he was nearly trembling with fear…anxiety…booz? The predator in me took over. I closed and locked both doors. The only light in the room came from a small night light plugged in the wall socket.

I came up to Ginger Boy from behind, reached around and began to undo his jeans. He instantly put his hands on mine to stop me. I paused…and then calmly said into his ear…

Me: “We both know this is what you want and need…we do not have a lot of time…I am going to quickly breed you now “

With this, Ginger Boy let go of my hands and let me pull his pants and underwear down to his ankles. I bent him over the double sink vanity, turned on the water facet, applied some soap and water to my hands then applied that to his hole and my cock. I was actually rock hard from the time he stepped into the bathroom so there was no hesitation on my part. With him bent over the sink, his hole lined up perfectly with my fat black cock head. Believe me, I wanted to go balls deep in one stroke, but I feared that his resulting scream from the pain would call too much attention to us so I eased in him as best I could. It took me pushing in, pulling back…pushing in a bit further… and so on a few times before his smooth ass cheeks were nestled against my pubic hair. With each push, Ginger Boy released a controlled grunt…which as you know from reading this blog…just turns me on even more.

Once my fat black cock was seated deep in his bowels…Ginger Boy let out a long guttural moan, and kept clinching his ass around my cock…I need to point out here that he was not just clinching his ass ring around the base of my cock like most…his whole anal cavity was literally gripping my cock. I have heard tell that this happens when a bottom clenches with his lower stomach muscles instead of just his sphincter …IT FELT FAN-FUCKIN-TASTIC!

I then grabbed the back of Ginger Boy’s neck with my left hand…I don’t know why I did this… was just in the moment I guess… and steadied his hips with my right…and proceeded to pound Ginger Boy’s hole. I think it took me all of twenty strokes before I let go a torrent of thick cum deep inside him. Shooting so quick is unusual for me…but like I had mentioned in the intro to one of my most recent posts, I had a lot of pent up desire for a special someone who has been unavailable for a few weeks so I have literally been a walking hard-on.

When I was done cumming inside of Ginger Boy, I pulled out in one swift motion. I probably should not have done that. Doing so resulted in Ginger Boy convulsing a bit, and a huge glob of cum came flying out and dropped on his pants that were still down around his ankles. This ment I would have to take more time. Time to sooth Ginger a bit and time to clean up a mess…a mess that was going to leave a tell tale wet spot on his jeans.

I stood Ginger up and held him from behind for about twenty seconds… he was fine. While doing so, I could see in the mirror that he had a raging hard-on… I would have liked to help him get off, but we just did not have the time…besides…this was one of those situation where the Boy needed to be sent home hard because this was all about him giving in … giving his body…to please a man. I knew that his reflection upon this event would give him many…many orgasms for months to come so I leaned into his ear and said,

Me: “Every time you jack off thinking about what just happened here, I want to know about it”

GB: “Yes Sir”

We got him cleaned up as best and as quickly as we could…yes, there was a wet spot on upper right thigh of his jeans…just below the waist. I left him in the bathroom contemplating how to explain the obvious wet spot.

Thus far I have received eight “Did it again Sir” text messages.