"Good luck," he said. He left, closing the door behind him.The black guy was looking at me with a hard look. He was about 30, six foot two, at least 2...0 pounds and ripped. He was wearing a tanktop. He had a shave head and a goatee. His arms were bigger than my legs, and covered in tattoos. "You know how to suck cock?" He asked me. "And don' lie – I seen the lipstick an' high heels in yo bag."I nodded. He stood there staring at me. "Stan' up," he ordered. "I wan' check you ass out - see what I. Paul, at the counter, had looked at me and smiled a knowing smile. "You're finally taking the plunge, I see. It took you long enough."I guess he'd watched my progress over the months. I felt ashamed as I paid him and left with the guilty bag under my arm. And yet I knew that I would soon be stroking my cock as I looked at other men. I had an erection as I walked home.It was an intense weekend, that first time. I stroked my cock and came to the pictures of men. Some just posing, some engaged in. More

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