Searching For Ambrosia(Current Rating 86/100, based on 68 votes)
The White Horse bar in Wardour Street does not advertise itself to the casual passer-by. Hidden away down a steep flight of stairs in a basement cellar, its location and identity has been passed on by word of mouth by those who have tasted its favours and wish to bestow the same experience on their closest friends.
Far from being elegant, one could be excused if one thought one had strolled into one of the seedy clip joints that seem to grow like mushrooms in the night air in that area of London. Furnished with bare wooden tables and cane upholstered chairs that looked as though they had just stepped out of a Picasso painting, its bare flagged floor and rickety bar only served to emphasize what those who really crave what the White Horse has to offer are willing to overlook.
The commodity that it does have in abundance is good music: as understood by anyone who was raised on Presley, Rhythm and Blues, Soul, and Black Gospel Music. In short, it was the music that fed your soul and brought you back for more, time after time, in spite of the indifferent service and somewhat extortionate prices.
As I walked into the White Horse at two-thirty that morning the place was packed solid from wall to wall, the cigarette smoke almost another solid entity from ceiling to floor, Presley was belting out ‘Only You’ from the ancient Wurlitzer and suddenly all seemed well with the world. It took five minutes of nodding to acquaintances and some not so discreet nudges with my elbows before I reached the bar and ordered. It was as I raised my glass that I felt eyes piercing the back of my head.
When I turned I found myself looking into one of the blackest faces that I had ever seen. He was more than just coloured, his skin having the same sheen as polished ebony. Immaculately dressed, the face’s owner sat easy on his barstool, a wide smile on his face that exhibited perfect teeth, a raised whisky glass in his hand.
‘May you find what you are looking for, my friend.’
‘And what makes you think that I’m looking for something?’ I asked, somewhat defensively.
‘We are all looking for something,’ came the instant reply, ‘it all depends if the person we are with can supply it or not.’
There was a long eye contact rife with sexual innuendo and then, after a few minutes of casual conversation we placed our still unfinished drinks on the stripped pine bar and left the White Horse. That brief repartee was the start of a friendship that was to last more than fifteen years.
It was as we walked back to his apartment in Notting Hill that I fell under the oratory spell of Clive Morumba, son of an African chief and medicine man none the less. Here was a man, then third year law student at London University, who knew the succinctness and subtleties of the English language far better than myself, and I am sure that it was this skill that helped him greatly to eventually become the Lord Chief Justice of his country.
Tall, well built and self-assured, he was a man who, as the Chinese would say, was ‘easy in his skin’. Educated far beyond normal book learning, there was an elegance about his speech and manner that I found immediately appealing.
Anyone seeing the two of us walking together that night could have been excused for doing a double take. Clive with his well built frame, ebony skin and tight, curly hair contrasting outlandishly with my slight frame, skin that had not worshiped the sun for years and long, blond hair.
His two-room apartment mirrored the man, sparse but perfectly adequate, one corner of his living room occupied by an intricately carved, six-foot tall totem pole of African origin complete with massive erect phallus and a pair of testicles that would have done any breeding bull proud.
‘I like my gods to be where I can see, touch and talk to them.’ he said, by way of explanation.
It was as we were sat talking over a third cup of coffee laced with Southern Comfort that he suddenly looked straight at me and said ‘This is your first time with a black man, isn’t it?’
His direct manner caught me by surprise, my deep blush giving him an answer far more adequate than any words I could mutter. He smiled that infectious smile of his and shook his head.
‘And of all the black men around what made you select me for the privilege? Anyway, you nowz what they say about uz black men, mon.’ The last sentence was spoken in an over-emphasized brogue of a slave of the Deep South that brought a smile to my face.
‘And what is that?’ I asked. ‘That they are hung like stallions and can ride all night? Yes, I’ve heard the stories. But I found myself attracted to you, the person, and that person happened to come with a black skin, that’s all. Anyway, I’m not quite sure that all the stories that are told about black men are true, are you?’
Again that smile. ‘Having never been on the receiving end of one I have no way of knowing. But what about you, why are you willing to take the chance?’
‘It’s a fantasy that I’ve had for years,’ I said, smiling, ‘but until now I’ve never met anyone that I was attracted enough to for me to try it with.’
That statement, which in one fell swoop removed any uncertainty of what my expectations and intentions were, had an immediate effect on the atmosphere in the room and it’s coloured occupant.
Reaching out he took my face in his hands and, gently pulling me towards him, kissed me full on the mouth, his tongue quickly searching out mine in an embrace that was to leave me breathless. I returned his kiss with one of my own, electric waves shuddering through the whole of my body from my scalp to the soles of my feet. My back arched as he raised me and held me in an embrace that more than adequately showed me the almost animalistic strength that he possessed.
The next thing that I remember we were in his bedroom standing next to a huge four-poster bed complete with canopy, he whispering in my ear, ‘Undress me. Slowly.’
Having removed his footwear, he took the shoes and sock out of my hands and placed them neatly in a bedside cupboard, the shirt that followed being hung carefully on the back of his bedside chair. To say that Clive was well built would be an understatement. His chest and arms were very well developed, his nipples hard and erect his stomach two rows of muscular cubes.
It was as I bent down to ease his trousers under his feet that I came face to face with the biggest male member that I had ever seen. Although not yet even half-hard, it’s shape and length were clear as it lay snug along the folds of his satin bikini briefs like a thick, sleeping snake, it’s circumcised head bulging halfway across his thigh.
For years I had fantasized about being made love to by a black man but now, faced with the sudden physical reality of what that was going to entail, I was starting to have serious doubts. Sensing my dilemma he pulled me to my feet and gently easing my face to his kissed me briefly on the lips.
‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You can stop any time you want to. After all, there are other ways of satisfying one another, right?’
To emphasize his point he took both of my nipples between his fingers and rolled them hard through the fabric of my silk blouse, a motion that sent waves of erotic heat through the whole of my body, my back arching, my mouth opening with an involuntary gasp. No, I decided, as the waves of erotica subsided, if I had come this far in fulfilling the fantasy I would go all the way, if possible.
Lowering Clive’s briefs as I went down on my knees, I finally saw, in all it’s naked splendour, that particular part of the fantasy that I had dreamed about for years. In the few seconds that it took me to remove that last remnant of clothing, Clive’s member reached almost full erection, its circumcised head already straining at the skin that fought to contain it. I sat on his bedside chair and for a few long seconds admired the beauty of what I had just unleashed. A full ten or elevan inches in length with a commensurate thickness, it had underneath it two of the biggest testicles that I had every seen, the whole giving me an immediate ache in my groin, a yearning to feel it deep inside me.
Leaning forward I ran my tongue around the rim of it’s now pulsating head, down it’s full length, around both the quivering testicles and then back up again. Opening my mouth as wide as I could I then engulfed him deep as deep as I could, that is until his throbbing head touched the back of my throat, and yet more than half of him still remained outside, dry and untouched. Clive groaned as I started quick, pumping motion with my head, his member getting still harder still as I did so.
After a minute or so I slowly eased back my head until I could feel the engorged rim of his penis head between by lips, my mouth muscles beginning to ache at the exertion of having to stretch so far to accommodate him. I raked as hard as I dared with my teeth: then sucked his bulging head as hard as I could, each involuntary spasm of his testicles spraying his arousal juice over the inside of my mouth, coating the back of my throat. Sweet with a slightly bitter aftertaste, I finally eased him out of my mouth and surveyed the results of my handiwork.
Those results were easy to witness, his length having increased by at least another half inch, his testicles quivering in unison with the throbs of his penis, the whole standing erect as thought it had been carved out of hard, black ebony and then polished to a high shine. With a slight sheen of sweat now covering all of his body, it looked as though his whole physique had been carved out of the same wood and then burnished until it shone.
Slowly Clive started to undress me, his own erection not faltering in the slightest as he concentrated on opening the buttons of my Levi’s and then my blouse. Within minutes I stood before him naked, the fire in my groan growing in intensity the more I looked at the now massive member between his legs. Leaving me standing, in one motion he dropped to his knees and licked me, all over. Then, turning me around, he bent me over, parted my cheeks and then my lips, finally probing his hard, muscular tongue deep inside me, his deep groans mixing with the hot breath that blanketed the whole of my groin. ‘You taste good.’
Standing, he turned me around and backed me towards the bed, alarm bells of reservation fighting for prominence over the urgent need to be loved deeply and passionately by the man now holding me. Even though I had decided that there was no way that I could take him all, my own juices flowed yet faster at the thought of what it would feel like to take as much of him as deep as I could.
Gently he fondled my face as he laid me over the end of the bed, he standing above me like some black Namibian god. Leaning over me he kissed me lightly on the lips, his hands rolling both of my nipples in a hard, clockwise motion.
‘I know you are having reservations,’ he said quietly, ‘and I can understand the way that you are feeling, so if you want to do something else now is the time to tell me. It is not the first time that it has happened to me.’
Feeling his erection brushing against my thigh as he spoke, the only way that I could answer him was with a slow shaking of my head.
Reaching down he opened a drawer in the bedside cabinet, took out a tube of vaginal lubricant and handed it to me.
‘Let’s use some of this to start with and then I’m quite sure that nature will take its course. You can do the honours.’ Like I’ve already said, Clive was eloquent.
Request fulfilled, in one movement he lay me flat on my back, raised my legs high in the air, and locked my legs over his shoulders. Smiling, he slowly pushed his thighs forward until the head of his member came into contact with my lips, and then gently eased his lubricated head forward until we both felt the ring of his helmet head lodge inside me.
There he rested. There were sharp stabs of both physical and erotic pain at being opened up to such a width, muscles stretched beyond what I previously had thought was their limit. Slowly the fiery pain subsided to be replaced with a longing to feel more of him inside me.
As if on cue, Clive eased his hips further forward inch by inch until, me starting to gasp for breath, we both felt him reach that place that told us both that there was no more room, nowhere else to go.
Out of consideration for me he then let himself rest inside me, taking the time that I needed to adjust to feeling something so massive inside me, to adjust to the exquisite penetrating pain that both hurt and aroused. Supporting his own weight and the weight of my legs on his muscular arms, he smiled down at me.
‘You see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’
Still slightly out of breath by the feeling of him so deep inside me there was no way that I could answer him.
With the emotions and feelings that were flooding my body I was at a loss for words. Never had I felt so complete as I did at that time, his penis hard and pulsating, filling a void that I had felt in need of filling for a long, long time. It was only later that I was to find out that I had taken just over half of what he had to offer.
What Clive did then surprised me. Instead of starting to make love to me as I thought he was going to, he slowly eased almost all of his erection out of me until just the head remained inside. Then he eased back even more, stopping as the ring around the head of his erection slowly came out of me. Then he began giving me the first of several erotic experiences that I had never undergone before.
With a rapid thrusting of his hips and concentrating on my facial expression as a barometer of how what he was doing was effecting me, he began a rapid, massaging motion with just the head of his erection that was both erotic and served the purpose of relaxing further my still taut muscles. Watching me carefully, he knew before I did when I was on the verge climaxing, and stopped it from happening by thrusting himself deep he could inside me, the pain of being opened up to as now unexplored depths momentarily turning back the tides of orgasm.
I gasped with a mixture of erotic pain and shock as I felt his member reach and then pass what I had previously had thought was my physical limit. There was still more pain as he now, albeit more slowly, opened up more and still more of me, myself shocked anew at the very thought of him thinking that I could take all of him.
He slowed as he saw my expression turn to one of genuine pain as he eased yet still more of himself into me, then stopped altogether as I started to struggle backwards, to ease myself off the massive impalement that was threatening to touch my heart. Arrows of pain were also shooting up towards my lungs and shortening my breath, the feeling in my legs, previously just pleasantly numb, now completely gone. Slowly he eased himself backwards, until he felt me relax.
‘Sorry. How does that feel?’
The point to where Clive had eased back to had brought the head of his penis into contact with a small nub that seemed to be located just below my naval, each pulse of his member sending waves of pleasure through the whole of my body.
‘I don’t know what you are doing’ I whispered, amazed by the waves of intense pleasure rippling through the whole of my body, ‘but just continue doing it. You feel so…so good.’
Smiling, he eased himself slightly out of me and then back in again, slowly building a thrusting rhythm that soon had it’s own urgency. Closing his eyes, Clive began to enjoy the feel of me gripping his length. As he told me later, the slit in the top of his penis was receiving a massage from some the same nub that was giving me so much pleasure and it aroused him far faster than he would have liked.
Quickly I felt him starting to lose control, his thrusts becoming urgent and, at the same time, more demanding. Soon he was pushing deeper and deeper into me, but instead of the pain that I had experienced previously, now there was wave after wave of tingling numbness. Starting at my extremities, it rushed towards and then collided somewhere beneath my naval, my exploding head now pounding the pillow, but to the beat of a different drummer.
Raising my hands I clutched at both of his rigid nipples and nipped them as hard as I could between my index finger and thumb, gasps of erotic pleasure telling me that I was doing something that he liked.
‘Do it harder! Do it as hard as you like! Harder! Harder!’
Faster and faster he went, and deeper and yet deeper he came into me until I could feel his wiry pubic hairs brushing the back of my thighs and the fact exploded into my mind that I was taking all of him…
It was, as that thought registered, that two things happened simultaneously that quite literally took my breath away. Clive, lost in his own fantasy, suddenly grew yet longer, thicker and harder inside me. Pains that were on the fine borderline between erotic and non-pleasure beginning once again to attack my upper torso, especially my lungs. Then, at the same time, I also began my personal journey towards satisfaction.
As Clive’s now pounding thrusts became yet harder and more demanding still, my own organ awoke from the pool of pre-cum in which in had been sleeping. It quickly began to engorge and then to pulsate in unison with Clive’s thrusts. Soon it was standing harder than it had ever stood before while somebody else was inside me, the muscle stretching the skin that contained it to new limits.
Then, just as I knew he was about to climax, Clive pulled his whole length out of me and stood, his whole frame trembling, between my still raised legs. A flash of erotic agony passed over his face, he groaned.
‘Oh my God…oh my God!” His penis gave two more pulses then started to disgorge the contents of his quivering testicles all over my stomach and chest. Wave after wave of hot semen splattered over me from my throat down into my pubic hairs, each ejaculation accompanied by further gasps of amazement from Clive.
I gasped and then gasped yet again, never had I seen a man produce the quantity or sperm that I saw that night. It was at that same instant I myself also climaxed; my own orgasm triggered by the heat of Clive’s semen, the expression on his face, his groans of satisfaction and the erotic rawness that that I had experienced while he was deep inside me. Spasm after spasm, I added substantially to the warm reservoir already flooding my chest and body; the whole adding a thick, musty smell to the night air.
Slowly, as we both came back to the land of reality, I gingerly lowered my still sensationless limbs, unable to believe that I had taken all of the black totem pole that was, amazingly, still standing hard and erect between Clive’s legs.
Clive, the first to be able to speak without gasping for breath, smiled.
‘You know, you’re the first white, man or woman, that’s been able to take all of me? Do you know how good that makes me feel? Also, you’re the first who has managed to arouse me enough to reach a climax; usually I’ve got to finish myself by hand. I felt so good inside you that I just wanted to go on and on, but there was something rubbing against the head of my erection that just drove me crazy! Usually I take far longer to finish, and even then, like I’ve said, I’ve got to finish myself. But what about you, did you enjoy it?’
Still barely able to speak, I told him that he was the first man who had made me climax from inside, a stage that very few all-male relationships reach.
‘Even though I knew it was going to hurt at the beginning I just had to feel all of you inside me, otherwise I would have felt that I had cheated, not least of all on myself.’
‘Then, when you started to climax, I could see myself getting harder, and harder I just knew it was going to happen. I have never finished as much as what I just did, and never with somebody else inside me. I could still feel you inside me even though you were finishing outside, and that just made it more erotic. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?
Clive smiled at my loss for words. Leaning forward he lay on top of me, his tongue found mine in a gentle kiss.
‘Let’s go and take a shower and I’ll tell you, and show you, just how much I understand…’
Author: Shavenjust4U |
