Men on the Make: True Gay Sex Confessions (12 page)

Jojo won me over in the first ten minutes after we met. He bought me breakfast at McDonald’s. He followed that up by convincing the freaky white girl behind the counter to let us tag team her later on. Fast forward five hours, Jojo coaxed the rich racist businessman whose office we were moving to suck our respective black dicks on top of slipping away with a couple of hundred dollars from his wallet. We got at the McDonald’s cashier the day after that. But not before we hemmed up this sissy in the bathroom stall and this pretty light-skinned girl let us run a train on her over behind the Dumpsters at this sit-down restaurant on the same day (at two different times, of course). And not before he convinced me to talk with the beefy brother of the petite Malaysian girl he was trying to holler at. So by that Thursday and Friday we managed to simultaneously hook up with both brother and sister without the other sibling being any the wiser.

Even with a ton of stories like this I could dip into the vault to tell, the one story that sticks out was the one about the trip we took down to Key West.

At best, Jojo was a glorified babysitter courtesy of my big brother and newly appointed boss. He was also the driver and the supervisor that spearheaded our crew that usually consisted of me and him with one other random guy we’d pick up depending on the magnitude of the move.

In the short time Jojo and I had to put collective notches under our belts, we never dared to cross that fine line with just the two of us. He hinted at it jokingly, but I never bothered to entertain such a crude thought seriously. (This was especially weird for me because everything about his brick-solid build shouted everything my testosterone-driven lust usually fancied.) Even with his raunchy zingers and that sexy indent just below his right eye, I could never fall into the erotic zone with him. Mainly because in
my book he was the ultimate bisexual role model that I someday wanted to emulate. He was ultracool with an unapologetic machismo that was certain to be admired. Armed with condoms by the bulk, Jojo was also the first man I ever encountered who genuinely believed that random sex throughout the day was a part of the daily fiber. Most men talk a good game, but he lived it by literally blasting off two or three loads throughout the day.

Naturally, being a hard black man, Jojo never owned up to his bisexuality. Out there in the world, he was totally straight. (You’d get your ass beat if you said otherwise.) In close company, however, he better phrased it as being “in constant search of good pussy,” which meant whatever nook made his dick feel supreme at the time, he went in after it.

Anyway, Jojo had won the internal office bid to take a large freight down to Key West. He wasn’t only excited about the trip because it would be the first time he’d put his commercial driver’s license to the test, but there was this place down there he wanted to stay for the night. Since we were boyz, I was his “plus one” to go down there with the hope that we could “split a bitch (boy) or two” after we arrived.

After spending nine hours packing up this shitload of a house onto this truck, then seven hours resting up, we got back on the truck around two a.m. to start out on this fourteen-hour drive. Factoring in a few stops and some bumps of traffic along the way, we got down there roughly around eight that night. We had planned on unloading the next day. But being that there was still a great bit of light, Jojo hired more hands than he originally budgeted for and we finished unloading the truck a little after one the following morning.

Key West could’ve easily been called a wrap for me after one of the wiry Cubans that we worked with that night invited us back to his apartment to crash. Free beats paying for a room,
right? Even though Jojo and I were tired as fuck and running on pure fumes after being up for more than twenty-four hours, we were fully aware that the Cuban was anxiously looking for some black dick for our keep. I think Jojo and I both settled on going to sleep on him with our dicks hard in his mouth. So it came as a total shock to even us when the two of us caught our second wind after Cuban boy’s roommate made it a foursome. Jojo and I stayed in stiff competition that night to see who could fuck the two power bottoms the hardest into submission.

No sir. That was only the beginning.

Somewhere in the middle of the next afternoon, just as were about to graze the Florida mainland again, we got a call from my brother telling us to fall back for a couple of days. He was securing a load out of Miami so that Jojo could get paid coming back.

While I groaned at the eerie news, thinking this was some kind of evil conspiracy to eat into my hard-earned profits, Jojo was over the moon. This didn’t just make him more money but also meant that instead of heading on to Miami like we were planning, we could turn around and head to Key West, nearly a couple of hours back.

Out of courtesy, Jojo asked my opinion (even though his mind was already made up). I agreed wholeheartedly once he assured me that there would be no out-of-pocket expenses on my part due to this sudden change in plans. He had everything covered, plus an inconvenience bonus for me. With that said, I was good.

Jojo explained to me that this was really good for me, too. I was ready for him to say something smutty like he usually did, like it gave us time to score a chick this go around. Instead, he got real grave, wanting to share with me the details of his old job, given that it was my brother’s dream that I would step in as a permanent standby for Jojo. (
Standby
meaning that when Jojo
was on the big rig, I would be there to drive the straight-lined trucks since no special class of license was needed.)

Don’t get me wrong. Moving was fun. Every day came with a daily exercise program that left my muscles cheerfully sore and slightly swollen. As far as a career or even a part-time gig went, I wasn’t too sure. The major draw of the job for me, behind the money, was hanging out with Jojo and the pool of sexual partners he introduced me to. So if we couldn’t work together, would I really want to work there?

“I’m not going to lie,” Jojo barked in his bayou-fried baritone later on as we were barreling back toward Key West. “I wanted to run up in your butthole when I first laid eyes on ya. But since you’re my man’s baby brother and all, I had to let that go. As they say, can’t eat where ya shit. Shit where ya eat. Ya know how that thing goes. And I can’t have ya running up to your big brother saying I raped ya with this big lead pipe.”

“Lead pipe?” I roared, laughing. “I’ve seen you naked enough times to see that with what you’re working with, the pointy end of a dull thumbtack would do more damage.”

“Really? All right, then, baby boy, talk that shit ya talk so well, now. I’ll pull this fucking truck over
right now
over this water and show ya how good this thumbtack can damage ya.” He smirked, coyly licking his lips, putting his large mitt over the bulge in his crotch beneath the steering column.

I shot back with the bird.

Jojo laughed. “Ya know what. You’re cool as fuck. Ya know that. It is shit like that that makes me want to pull over and do the damn thing!”

“Notta chance, my man,” I gloated. “I see how you do ’em out here. We’re too chill for that mess, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. But if we went there, ya know I wouldn’t play ya like that, right?”

“Uh-huh. Ain’t that what every player says?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. I’m packing the real lead pipe. I know how the game goes.”

“You’re right. You’re right. But ya know I wouldn’t play ya like that. For real for real, though,” Jojo promised.

“Yeah, man, whatever,” I trailed off as his cell phone rang.

It was his girl on the other end complaining about him not being home to spend time with their two kids.

An hour and some change later, we were back in Key West dropping off our things and heading out just to get in some sightseeing.

It was after eleven when we returned back to the lodge after a moonlit stroll along the water. On the way there, Jojo had to stop by the truck to retrieve his fishing gear. While it certainly raised an eyebrow, I didn’t question it, assuming that he wanted it when he got up in the morning. Once we got back to the room it began to make sense: Jojo wanted to stay at this place because the rooms sat out over the water. Not against it. On it! So he opened the door and went out onto the balcony, cast his line, grabbed a chair, kicked up his heels and put his hands behind his back waiting on the great catch.

The following morning I woke up to the big man with the terra-cotta hue and thick nappy afro lying next to me in bed. Not in his bed over there, but in my bed snoring his little heart out. And I didn’t wake up to him so much as I did his naked morning wood tenting the sheets. So feeling mischievous I reached under the covers to give him a playful hand job.

As off as it may sound to other people, I honestly didn’t do it with any sexual intent. I simply pegged it as being a funny fucked-up way for him to wake up.
Ha ha! Your fat ass thought
you was gonna get some!
My thing was it was no different from when dicks rubbed together during a double stuff. Fucking, but not fucking each other. So I had my hand on his dick, and started pumping it. He’s moaning, mumbling for me to go faster on “Big Daddy’s stick.” So I did. He started groaning louder, more coherently, begging me to put my mouth on it. I probably would’ve been offended by this if it wasn’t for him calling out for his baby’s mama in his sleep. Being the generous man that I am, I struck a compromise, taking a wad of spit from my mouth with my fingers and smearing it on the underside of his shaft. My spit must’ve surprised him because he quickly jumped up. I started laughing, thinking he was going to laugh back or say something crazy out of the side of his neck. Jojo didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he just rolled onto his side and looked at me with those awakening eyes. I read them well; his intent was clear. Before I could tell him I was just playing, his face was all over mine, locking my arms to my sides. Next thing I know Jojo was on top of me, nibbling on my ear and whispering sweet nasty nothings that made my dick betray me. I distinctly remember thinking that he was heavy but not
too heavy
. Not as heavy as I would’ve thought for a man of his stature and size but heavy in a nice, comfortable and secure fashion. He was also
very
smooth. Slyly slipping off my pajama bottoms and plunging his thick, fat cucumber into the slit of my boxers. His dick was obviously hard and yet hot and arid like a dry-heat sauna made especially for my balls. Damn, it felt good! He started grinding against me. And every time he drove down to the bed it clipped right into the dangling part of some asscrack.

Everything in my head told me to push Jojo away. I couldn’t do this. Not with him. We couldn’t be cool again if we crossed that line. No more tag-teaming girls or guys. Student, teacher, pupil, mentor, how stupid were we? Were we already past the
point of no return? I was trying to use some kind of level head through this whole fiasco, and once again irrational rationale had me lustfully gyrating back. Giving him something for his pleasure, lost in a sea of overwhelming kisses that wet our faces. Left us full and light-headed and covered in a thin film of sweat.

“We better stop, man,” Jojo mouthed twenty minutes later, holding back from getting his routine nutt of the day. “Ya got me wanting to do stuff that two dudes have no business doing.”

“Like what? Having sex?”

“Nah,” Jojo puffed, wiping his forehead. “Something more, ya know what I mean?”

The seriousness in his eyes said what his mouth wouldn’t betray his known character to say. He was starting to catch real feeling for me. This might’ve been flattering if Jojo was the “love of your life” kind of guy. But he was a true rolling stone. Hardwired to get a good nutt out of anybody and leave them be. Because, at the end of the day, Jojo had a problem connecting love with sex and understanding the importance most people gave it. So even if I agreed to be his side mister, behind his girlfriend and his mistresses, I would be one in a very large school of fish.

“Look, I ain’t saying I’m looking for another bitch to hold me down. Ya still get yours. I get mine. We can get ours together. Ya know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” I said with everything inside of me wanting badly to get him to grunt a load out of me.

Jojo paused for a minute. “Still though, whatever goes down from here on out, I got ya. Ya understand? Real motherfucking talk!”

He leaned in to kiss me. This kiss was far different from the others he eagerly put on my lips. It was like he finally put all his cards on the table and threw the ball back in my court.

I cupped the nape of his neck, kissed back and gently said, “Stop trying to run game…and let’s do what needs to be done.”

So there we were a few hours later with the shame of hardcore dry-humping still slick between our thighs, taking the mover’s roommate from the other night up on his invitation to attend this soiree that turned out to be a full-blown sex party. Had it been before that morning, we would’ve had the time of our lives. But even with penetration right there at disposal it didn’t compare to the spontaneous noncombustion we had experienced earlier. Not because we were tired from before. Not even because we weren’t highly intrigued by the sexual gamut of scenes or our lax participation in them. No. Strangely enough after what happened it felt like we were blatantly cheating on each other. The wild thing was, Jojo felt like that more than I did, but tried to dress up as if I was the one not feeling the scene.

“Yo, ya bust tonight already?” Jojo asked walking me back to the room.