Three on a Date

We saddled up to a bar in a big room where music was blasting, a dance floor was jiving and being bombarded with a laser light display, and off to the side, under a lower ceiling and clouds of smoke, several pool tables were in use.

As I drank the beer Grant handed me and leaned back into Nash’s lap, he on the stool and me between his legs, I scanned the room. Nash held me to him possessively with his palm pressing where my groin met the inner top of my left thigh. My attention focused on two black bulls playing pool at one of the tables. Clothing was optional in the room, and neither one of them wore any. Their tall, big-boned, muscular frames were magnificent, their half hards were horse hung—even larger if there was something larger on that scale.

Grant, who was sitting on a stool beside us, facing us, a hand on my basket, sensed I was getting excited about something from what he could feel in my crotch. He scanned the room too. “Who do you see, Ty? Who out there do you want? Ah, those two black bulls at the pool table?”

“Yes,” I answered in a whisper. I’d never been fucked by a black man before, let alone by a black bull.

“Maybe later,” Grant said, “but we’re going to the movies now.”

“We’re leaving the club already?” I asked.