Gay Interracial - Sex Stories

Gay Interracial

... over her face, and she told him to look closely at it, to feel around inside it with his fingers. She told him how to touch her, she showed him the secret switches of a women's anatomy. He told me a lot, but I also knew there were things unsaid. He said nothing about what they said to each other, but I knew from the way he spoke of her, the way he said her name, that they became truly intimate. And something else was clear - when I saw them walk out of the bushes, there was a look in her eyes. She was in control on the way in, she had held his hand and led the way. But she was changed utterly when she came out. She discovered something about him, some wildness that surprised her. But it wouldn't have surprised me. I had close and intimate knowledge of his stock. ** We had a good climb. We spent the rest of that day and most of the next walking in silence. He had come into his own, he was leading the way, and I was tiring. During the second afternoon, when we got so high we could see the Indian Ocean in the far distance, I became weak and dizzy from the altitude. He slowed for a while, hoping I would recover. But the air was too thin for me. I didn't want to hold him back. He seemed so much older now, so energized, now that he had taken his first pussy. And so I said: "You go on." He looked at me thankfully, I knew how badly he wanted to make the climb. I stood there a while, watching him climb until he disappeared in the mist. I spent the rest of the afternoon, climbing ...

... further down into better air, feeling joyful for my son, and glad we had made this trip. I felt close to him that night, even though he was at least a mile above me. With the thicker air, I drifted off into a seep, settling sleep, imagining the coupling of my son and Michelle. It waited on the slopes all afternoon, it was a clear day with a sea of clouds beneath me, and I studied the land, imagining the birth of human history in the great savannas below. Finally, I could see him in the distance, and I could tell by the way he walked that he had, indeed, made it all the way to the top. We embraced on the slope, and when we pulled apart he told me all about his climb. How steep it became as the summit drew near, and how he had to draw on some inner reserves to make it all the way up. He was thrilled, he was so young and strong. We stayed on the slope, not wanting to go down. We sat there on the spot where I waited, and watched darkness descend. We spoke of many things. He knew the facts of what Lori and I did, but not the meaning. "Why do you do that?" he asked, as if his experience of lovemaking made him question why anyone would ever share. I told him everything, honestly. I told him I had always loved black men, I described the feeling I got in their presence, the sense of hyper-masculinity that seemed to ooze from their hard bodies. He looked at me, and he understood. ** Everything was different after that trip. A couple of times a week now he has a new girl over, they head ...