BACK TO BLACKYou know the saying, “Once you go black, you ne..

BACK TO BLACK

You know the saying, “Once you go black, you never go back”? Whoever said that was damn right, and I’m here to prove it.

A few months back, I ended up at one of those language exchange groups —you know, where you hit up a random bar filled with people from all over the world, each with little flag pins showing what languages they speak. It’s like this chaotic buffet of accents and cultures mixed with drinks and total strangers. If you haven’t been to one, you really should. They’re amazing for practicing languages, meeting all kinds of people, and if you’re lucky… ending up with a big, strong Ugandan who leaves you feeling *thoroughly* bilingual.

So there I was, mingling as usual, not even thinking of hooking up, just having fun talking to people. And then I spotted him—this tall, built, serious-looking black guy, easily in his twenties but with a body that looked like it’d been through a couple of lifetimes. His gaze was intense, watching the room as he held his drink. I noticed his French pin and thought, “Perfect excuse to brush up on my French.” When we started talking, his whole serious vibe melted away—he was actually easygoing, open, and genuinely curious about learning Spanish. We hit it off, laughing and talking about his country, swapping stories. But then he looked at me with a spark in his eye and said, “Wanna come back to mine for a drink?”

Once we got to his place, any lingering question about his intentions vanished. He pulled me close and kissed me hard, his lips rough, his hands all over me, barely giving me time to breathe. His grip was firm, like he was about to devour me. In seconds, he stripped us both down, and that’s when I saw it—*huge*, thick, and ready. Before I could even process it, he pushed his massive African cock deep into my mouth, taking control, guiding me down as I stretched my lips around him, feeling every inch press against my throat.

I savored him, letting my tongue run along every thick vein, tasting him as I struggled to take him deeper. He moaned, his hand gripping the back of my head, pushing me down harder as my spit started dripping down his shaft. I kept up, making it as messy and wet as I could, my hand working him in rhythm as I sucked him like I’d never sucked anyone before. His cock gleamed, coated in my saliva, shining as I gave him the dirtiest, sloppiest blowjob, leaving him groaning with every thrust of my mouth.

But I was craving more. I pulled off him, gasping, and turned around, giving him a full view as I bent over, offering him everything. “Baise-moi,” I muttered, my voice thick with need. He didn’t waste a second. He lined himself up, teasing my entrance with the head, then thrust inside, stretching me wide as I moaned, feeling him fill me inch by inch. His thickness was mind-blowing, hitting every spot as he buried himself deep, taking his time, letting me adjust to every thick inch.

He grabbed my hips, pulling me back as he started thrusting, slow and steady, working me open. Each stroke made me shiver, his cock hitting deeper than I’d ever felt, pushing me to my limits. He picked up the pace, slamming into me harder, each thrust rougher than the last. My moans filled the room as he pounded me, his hands gripping me tighter, his breaths heavy, each stroke hitting harder, rougher, until I was on the edge, lost in the overwhelming pleasure.

He went even faster, fucking me like he owned me, my body rocking with every thrust. I could feel him getting close, his breaths ragged, his grip bruising as he slammed into me one last time, filling me up completely, his cock pulsing as he came deep inside me. The warmth spread through me, leaving me gasping, my body quivering as he held me there, letting every drop sink in.

BACK TO BLACK

Ya sabes el dicho: “Una vez pruebas lo negro, no hay marcha atrás”. Pues quien dijo eso no mentía ni un poco, y esta historia es la prueba viviente.

Hace unos meses, terminé en uno de esos intercambios de idiomas—ya sabes, esos eventos en los que vas a un bar lleno de gente de todo el mundo, cada uno con sus banderitas de los idiomas que habla. Es como un buffet caótico de acentos, culturas y desconocidos con copas en mano. Si nunca has estado en uno, deberías probarlo. Son perfectos para practicar idiomas, conocer gente nueva y, si tienes suerte, acabar con alguien de Uganda con un gran... acento.

Ahí estaba yo, charlando como siempre, sin pensar en ligar, solo disfrutando de las conversaciones. Y entonces le vi—un tipo alto, fuerte, con esa pinta seria y un aire que parecía haber vivido varias vidas. Sus ojos eran intensos, sosteniendo su copa mientras miraba a su alrededor. Vi que llevaba una banderita de francés y pensé: “Perfecto para desempolvar mi francés”. Empezamos a hablar, y esa fachada seria se vino abajo rápido; era amigable, abierto y con muchas ganas de aprender español. Nos reímos, compartimos historias, pero entonces me miró con una chispa en los ojos y soltó: “¿Te vienes a mi casa a tomar algo?”

Llegamos a su piso, y cualquier duda que pudiera tener de si estaba intentando o no ligar, desapareció. Me agarró y me besó con una intensidad brutal, sus manos recorriendo mi cuerpo, apenas dejándome respirar. Su agarre era firme, como si fuera a devorarme. En cuestión de segundos, ya estábamos desnudos, y entonces lo vi: enorme, grueso y listo para mí. Antes de darme cuenta, me estaba empujando su pollón africano hasta el fondo de la garganta, tomando el control mientras yo trataba de abarcar cada centímetro, sintiéndolo rozar contra mi garganta.

Le saboreé, dejando que mi lengua recorriera cada vena gruesa, sintiendo su sabor mientras intentaba tomarlo aún más profundo. Gimió, con su mano firme en mi nuca, empujándome hacia abajo con fuerza, mientras mi saliva goteaba por su verga. Seguí, haciéndolo lo más sucio y mojado posible, mi mano siguiendo el ritmo mientras le hacía una mamada como si fuera la última. Su polla brillaba, empapada de mi saliva, mientras yo le daba un espectáculo que le hacía gemir con cada embestida de mi boca.

Pero yo quería más. Me solté, jadeando, y me giré, ofreciéndome completamente mientras me ponía en cuatro. “Baise-moi,” murmuré, con la voz cargada de deseo. No perdió tiempo.

Agarró mis caderas, tirándome hacia él mientras empezaba a embestir, lento y constante, abriéndome poco a poco. Cada movimiento me hacía temblar, su grosor llegando a lo más profundo, haciéndome gemir como un condenado. Luego aumentó el ritmo, follandome más fuerte, cada embestida más brutal que la anterior.

Cambiamos unas cuantas postura y él ya me follaba como si me poseyera. Sentí que estaba cerca, sus jadeos intensos, su agarre firme mientras se hundía una última vez, llenándome por completo, su polla pulsando mientras se corría dentro de mí, llenándome de su calor.

Cuando terminó, me quedé jadeando, con el cuerpo temblando y una sonrisa que no se me iba. Sentí cada gota de él dentro, su calor en mí como una marca de fuego. Me miró con esa sonrisa satisfecha, como si supiera que acababa de hacerme descubrir algo nuevo. Nos tumbamos en la cama, exhaustos, y aunque no dijimos mucho, la complicidad estaba ahí, en cada mirada y cada roce.