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Warning, this story may contain sexual content involving men or boys. If this is not to your tastes, please leave now.
"Lessons In Brown" retains copyrights to the story. Please do not distribute it to any newsgroups and/or other web-sites without our expressed permission.
- You can write the author at: brownluver@yahoo.com or Chris Carr at:
andy_dick35@hotmail.com Thanks!
Half-way between nowhere and the city, my car began to smoke and sputter before finally coming to a stop. It was hot out--at least 85 degrees--and as soon as the car cut off, so did the air conditioning. Rather than bake in the stalled car, I stepped out and surveyed my surroundings. There wasn't a house or other structure in sight--just miles of green grass and corn stalks, all topped by a never-ending blue sky. It was over half an hour before another car happened along.
I tried to flag it down, but the driver zoomed past as if he didn't see me or my smoking car. I wasn't exactly surprised. These days, not many people are willing to help someone in need, especially if that needy someone happens to be a tall, dark-skinned black man.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, a tow track happened along. Thankfully, the driver pulled off the road to see about me. I was pleasantly surprised to see a young, brown-skinned brotha step out of the driver's seat. He was dressed in gray dickies with a sky blue, short-sleeve shirt. A black Kangol hat sat backward on top of his head. A diamond stud lit up his left earlobe, and a silver cross hung from a silver chain around his neck. His name tag read "Jermaine." I couldn't help but marvel at this man's striking resemblance to basketball star Vince Carter.
"Wassup? You having some car trouble?" His voice was low, with a deep rumble.
"Yeah. I think I'm overheated."
He grinned mischievously. "For real? And what's wrong with the car?"
So the brotha had jokes. I returned his grin. "I meant the car."
He nodded. "Pop the hood." He walked around to the front of the car as I got inside and pushed the hood lever. He did a quick inspection and closed the hood. He walked over to the driver's side. "You got a busted hose. I can tow it into the shop and put a new hose on it, if you want."
"Cool," I said. "How long do you think it'll take?"
"Hard to say. You in a hurry to get somewheres?"
"Home," I replied.
"Where you from?" he asked.
"Chicago," I said.
"You a little ways from home then," he replied. "You about 45 miles from St. Louis."
I muttered under my breath. I probably wouldn't be making it back to the city before night fall now.
"Don't sweat it. If we can't get this fixed today, we got a spare room you can have for the night."
I looked at this brotha with suspicion. I didn't even know him, and he was all ready offering me a place to stay?
He hopped into the tow truck and drove around so that he could get my car into position. I hopped into the passenger's seat as he did his job. I was almost overwhelmed by the smell of stale sweat, cigarette smoke and car exhaust fumes. When Jermaine finished, he hopped in the truck and turned on the air conditioning, which vanquished the thickness of the stench. We rode down the road in silence for a good five minutes.
Finally, Jermaine spoke. "You can't talk or something?"
"I can talk," I said. "Just don't know what I'm supposed to say."
"Why don't you start with your name?"
I laughed, realizing that I'd neglected to introduce myself. "Marcus. And you're Jermaine."
He smiled. His teeth were small, evenly spaced. "I see you know how to read a name tag," he said.
"That's not all I know how to do." The minute that left my mouth, I regretted it. I looked to Jermaine for his reaction. He was staring straight ahead, watching the road as if he didn't hear what I just said.
We pulled into the lot of Harris and Sons Towing soon after. It was a small operation--the garage had just one door, and the office was the size of a medium-sized bathroom. Jermaine pulled into the garage, and we both hopped out of the truck.
The garage smelled of oil and sweat. Tools littered the floor. A variety of tires hung on one wall. It was a small, dark, dank place. And for the strangest reason, being alone in this place with Jermaine caused an automatic shiver to creep along my skin.
I quickly realized we weren't alone. "Where'd you find this one?" someone asked.
I turned and saw a man emerge from the office. Even in the darkness of the garage, I could see this brotha was Jermaine's double. Their facial features were identical; however, this man didn't wear a Kangol hat. His hair was French-braided in thick, tight ropes. No diamond stud glittered in his ear; instead, he had a gold hoop in his left earlobe. He wore no other jewelry. The name tag on his gray, short-sleeve shirt read "Jarvis."
"He was stalled a couple miles from Halston Road," Jermaine said. "He's..uh...overheated."
Jarvis came further into the garage, smiling. "Is that right?" Jarvis gave me a head-to-toe appraisal, then licked his full lips.
"Behave, bro," Jermaine said. "He's a customer."
"So, you got a name, man?" Jarvis asked.
"Marcus," I said. Jarvis took my hand for a shake. His hand was huge and hard. His grip was firm, almost painful.
"You're not from around here, are you?" Jarvis asked.
"Nope. I'm from Chicago."
He smiled, nodding. "We'd know you if you was from around this way."
I didn't know how I was supposed to take that, but it wasn't hard to miss Jarvis' obvious interest in me. "And why is that?"
Jermaine and Jarvis shared a sideways glance.
"There's not many brothas in this area," Jermaine replied.
"So you two running this place together?" I asked.
"Them two couldn't run a lemonade stand by themselves," another voice replied.
Another man emerged from the office. This man was taller than both Jermaine and Jarvis, and much bigger. He was a dark chocolate color, with a very large, completely bald head. His eyes were a dark, steely gray that made for an interesting contrast to his darker skin. His name tag read "Harold."
"Don't be talking shit on us in front of customers, pops. It's bad for business," Jermaine said.
This man was their father? He looked like an older brother.
"No, what's bad for business is you two, keeping this customer in this hot ass garage. Jarvis, why don't you take this man over to the house and get him a cold glass of water while your brother and I get his car taken care of."
"I can get with that," Jarvis said. He smiled at me wickedly.
"And remember, boy. He's a customer. He deserves nothing less than best," Harold said.
"Oh, I'll make sure he gets the best," Jarvis replied.
I followed him out of the garage and around the building. Set about ten feet away from the shop was the house. I was expecting to see a trailer, but was pleasantly surprised to see a bi-level, half brick and blue aluminum siding. White shutters accented the exterior windows. The inside was just as decent as the outside. I walked up to the top level and into the kitchen, where Jarvis poured me a glass of water and offered me something to eat. I told him I wasn't hungry...yet.
He watched me drink the water with a bemused expression on his handsome face.
"What?" I asked.
"You must really be overheated the way you're guzzling that water down," he said.
I gulped down the remainder of the liquid , and sat the glass on the counter.
"Funny. That water doesn't seem to be cooling me off."
Jarvis walked closer. He was right on me.
"I bet I could find a way to cool you off," he said.
His breath was warm and fresh. His arm snaked around my waist and his hand gripped my ass, pulling me against his leg. I couldn't resist groping his crotch. He was hard as brick and throbbing. His lips devoured mine as he began to grind against my hand. His facial hair felt like sandpaper against my skin, but his lips were delicately soft and warm. His tongue did an intricate dance against the roof of my mouth that caused my dick to do cartwheels in my briefs. Damn, if this man wasn't turning me the fuck on!
I dropped to my knees and stuck my face into the crotch of his pants. I breathed against his massive erection and outlined it with my fingers. I licked at it, ran my lips along it, breathed on it until Jarvis was moaning.
"Take it out," he pleaded.
I eagerly unbuckled his pants and pulled them down. I dropped to my knees and massaged him through his blue bikini briefs. I sucked the head through the briefs, cupping it between my lips and tonguing it. Jarvis impatiently pulled his briefs down, and held his dick by the base so that it was staring straight out at me.
It had to be 10 inches or so, not especially thick, but the head was humongous--and slippery wet with his emissions. I licked the clear, salty fluid and felt Jarvis shudder. With a smile, I closed my lips around the shaft just below the head and slid down a few more inches, until the head pressed against the back of my throat. I loved that feeling. But what I loved more was feeling the head slide further down my throat. I pressed forward, straining to get Jarvis' oversized head deeper inside. He was a big boy!
His head was triggering my gag reflex, so I retreated, slobbering the shaft and tickling the underside with my tongue. He began to rotate his hips, forcing more of his dick into my mouth. I put my head back and when Jarvis lunged forward, his head slid more easily down my throat.
I let his hips set the pace, and he was relentless. He fucked my mouth until tears ran out of my eyes. He snatched his dripping wet dick out of my mouth and pulled me to my feet. His tongue burrowed under mine as he gave me a hard, wet kiss.
He broke the kiss and shoved me over the counter. He yanked both my shorts and briefs to my ankles, and went on his knees to sample my ass. His hard fingers separated my cheeks while his tongue pierced my asshole. The feel of that warm, wet muscle inside of me was pure pleasure. He left no nerve endings in that area untouched; his tongue licked every corner and every inch of skin.
He spun me around to the other counter and gently lifted me on top of the counter. He quickly climbed up behind me. I felt his dick pressing against my tight hole, and gritted my teeth as it broke through my resistances. He forced the entire length of his shaft inside with that first penetration, drawing a torturous scream of pain from me.
My ass felt like it had been set on fire! Just as quickly as he slid in, he pulled out, causing another flame of fire to passthrough my ass. He pulled out completely, then slid in again, burying just the head and a few inches. He fucked me like this for a good while, and it didn't take long for his short strokes to touch off every pleasure sensor inside of me.
My dick, which had rapidly deflated with his initial penetration, began to stiffen again. Just as I began to feel light-headed from the pleasure he was giving me, Jarvis pulled out again and flipped me over on my back. He slid his knees under me so that my ass was tilted upward, to make his entrance easier.
He held my ankles in his hands and began to pound me with long, sharp thrusts. He was sweating pretty good, smiling and muttering under his breath the entire time. I shoved my ass onto his dick to meet his thrusts. The sensation was incredible. Our rhythm was perfect. Pre-cum leaked out of my dick and pooled in my navel. I could feel a delirious orgasm building in the pit of my stomach.
Jarvis pulled out again and leaned back on the counter himself, inviting me to straddle his throbbing erection. I gladly impaled myself on his meat. He refused to just lay back and let me do all the work. While I rode the horse, he made sure to pump his hips and build a good friction. His brown skin glistened with sweat, and I could feel drops running down my forehead.
He grabbed my hips to guide me, and began to really move his hips, creating powerful tension against my prostate. My stomach muscles began to contract and with little warning, I came. Three jets of cum flew out in one, continuous white ribbon that danced completely over Jarvis' head onto the kitchen floor.
I trembled with pleasure as Jarvis continued to pound my ass. Jarvis grabbed my dick and milked out a few more globs of juice, never letting up his movements.
"Ah...I'm...cuuuuummming!" he declared suddenly, withdrawing just before pellets of cum exploded all over his legs and the counter. Sluggish drops dripped from the lower cabinets like a milky syrup.
I leaned back on the counter, exhausted. After a few seconds, Jarvis raised up, pulled up his pants and gave me a sexy, sheepish grin.
"Uh... don't tell my pops or my bro about this," he said. "For some stupid reason, they don't think I can keep my dick in my pants."
I laughed long and loud. "Wonder why?"
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