“You’d be surprised how many of my friends have boats.  And no, we’re not drug dealers, gamblers or scam artists.  Just hard working black men who happen to have the nicer things in life,” Scott told me.

Scott wasn’t my go-to when it came to guys, as he was older (57), and all man (single, father to three adult children), but he was only six foot one, 180 lbs, and I had a thing for guys not the same color as me.

“Now what kind of shit is that for a black guy not to like another black guy,” he said to me as he backed his boat into the water.

Scott wanted to toss me into the James River when I made my comment, for my good friend of five months never knew I wasn’t into other black men once he ans I became close from volunteering.

“That’s insane, Keenan,” he chided me. “You’d think you’d be a little more understanding, son, but I’m really feeling some type of way at the moment.”

He put his red Super Duty in park and did what needed to be done to release his boat. He then came back to the cab give further reprimand.

“Keenan, it’s time you get out of the dark on some things.  You not liking your own kind is absurd,” he said. “Also, At 41 you should be living much better than how you are. How’s your credit?  You got savings built up?  What kind of financial portfolio you have for trading? My man, at 41, I was close to being ready to retire, and of course now, I could if I wanted to with my family already well taken care of. So what’s your excuse? Your priorities is all fucked up.”

“Is isn’t the right word,” I said to him as he gave me a look.

What was supposed to be cool afternoon/evening on the water was turning into a singe from hell. Scott was turning into my damned father vice good friend as he invited me out, not the other way around.

“I’m going to launch.  You hop on the driver’s side and pull forward and park, then bring your ass to the pier so I can grab you,” he yelled.

I did as told once he cut on the engines and jockeyed backwards, with me being timid and agitated and almost thinking I would pull away and leave him hanging. I was furious as how he could “spell” me the way he did, but he was right, for I was too busy taking care of others that I didn’t really have too much to show for myself. I got over my feelings and parked the truck and the hitch, cutting the engine and running to the pier so we could roll off.

“You big pussy.  You’re six foot five and almost 300 lbs., and yet you’re scared to drive that truck.  See what I mean, I see you,” he said to me.

“Stop riding me,” I told him as others saw us jawing back and forth, with folks laughing as tied up his gorgeous boat to the pier, then rolled out the brow.

I climbed aboard and he had me pull up the line as we set course for the part of the large waterway flowing under the massive James River Bridge, which connected the City of Newport News and the rural Isle of Wight County.

“You see this?  You hear this,” he asked.

I joked and mentioned the sound of the boat engine and the waves, and he corrected me.

“It’s peace of mind, K,” he said.  “You get yourself right and you can have this, too.”

“Bro, I’m not interested in being mentored at the moment,” I told him.

He got quiet, but what Scott said marinated in my head a bit as he was telling the truth, as my life was hindered by not looking out for Keenan first.  He had a remote in hand and turned on some Al Green and we muttered back east, crossing under the bridge as we were heading towards a local bridge tunnel, and into the channel intersecting with the industrialized Elizabeth River.  I sat back on my stool and kicked my feet up, still thinking about what Scott said while watching him in his element, feeling the breeze from the dark river. He’d keep driving the boat and hit another button on the remote to make cooler pop up from a secret compartment.

“You like that shit, huh,” he said as he saw the look on my face. “I was a mechanic and an IT in a past life, so get used to me customizing things like that.”

I grabbed a beer and started to hand him one until he made a curve in the water, but was driving flawless while we leaned slightly to the side.  I watched him in his sunshades as he focused forward, then temporarily cut his eye at me and smiling as he showed off his pearly whites, yelling and screaming to the sky.

“Just sit back, sip and enjoy the ride, Sailor” he barked as we rumbled through the waves on his catamaran.

We’d do large circles in the banks until he headed back west, going further than the boat ramp as the channel of the river started slimming down. He’d make a turn off into a mouth of an area that looked familiar, then I noticed we were in the Williamsburg area once we pulled into what looked like an abandoned, colonial style marina. 

“We’ll stop right here and chop it up a bit,” he told me.

He’d cut the engine once we tied the boat, and I was a bit nervous, for he and I were two handsome looking black men in an area I thought would harvest racist hunters.

“There you go thinking like that again. One day you’ll learn,” he said as he, too, grabbed a beer. “For the record, I’ve got my piece in the compartment under the helm.  You know I never leave home without it.”

That gave me reassurance as he took off his shirt and turned up the music, then rambled about how he’d just purchased the adjacent land of which the pier was erected.

“Bought it yesterday,” he told me before he lit a cigar.

I sat back while opening another beer as I became in awe of this man.  This entrepreneur who owned a multitude of successful businesses mentioned owning the land so nonchalantly, taking a drag of the cigar then passing it to me.

“Take a puff,” he said as the scent was familiar.

He had an oversized blunt with tobacco and marijuana mixed, and I looked at him as if he was crazy since he knew I was still active duty.

“When you get out, we’ll fire one up together,” he said with a chuckle.

He grabbed the beer from my hand and took a sip, then sipped his as he looked at me and smiled.

“Keenan, I was only riding you because I like you,” he said before taking another drag. “You’re still a young man with a lot of promise, just need to tap into it while you can.”

I took my last gulp of beer as the sun was declining, he’d recline on the opposite side of the boat letting the music enhance the mood.

“Come sit beside me,” he said.

I looked around.

“That’s not an option Sailor, that’s an order,” he joked.

He put out the cigar, then rubbed his hairy, chocolaty chest.

“You like what you see,” he asked.

I did, for his demeanor attracted me more than his physical appearance.

“When’s the last time you sucked some dick,” he asked me.

“Been awhile.  Been too busy busting down big boys,” I told him of my forays with the chubbies.

“Busting down big boys, eh? You wanna bust me down,” he asked.

He chuckled before he took the last sip of his beer and would sit up, then pull down his shorts.

“Maybe I should bust you down,” he asked as he stood up.

I was staring at his fat cock in amazement, the same way an older white guy would gaze at mine before I was balls deep down his throat.

“So what would you do if a big, black dick happened to hit you in the face,” he asked. “Oh, I forgot: you don’t like black dick.”

I looked down at it and smiled, for Scott was packing a thick five or six inches.  

“What you think, Scott,” I asked as he had my full attention. “I ain’t turning down no dick like this.”

“Well then show me,” he said. “There’s not a soul out here right now seeing what we’re doing. We’ll, maybe there is a guy on my property as he’s either homeless or some guy fucking his mistress, if not some other dude. Show me.”

That sturdy beef stick had a “pearl” of precum on the tip, and I’d lick it off, then looked up at Scott.

“Finish the job,” he told me and I would, as I expanded my lips to accommodate, then elect to grip the shaft before pushing my head forward slowly.  

I tried to take it as he groaned, managing to get it all until I started choking once I felt his tip tickle my throat.

“Easy, easy.  This ain’t a race,” he said to me.

I closed my eyes as I tried again, this time his hand massaging the top of my scalp and my forehead as I repeated lunging forward, successfully getting his tip past the initial turn within my throat.  I kept at it nice and slow, not forcing anything as I went back and forth from his hairy base to his wide tip.  I heard his moans and felt the throbs as he seemed to get harder, with him calling me every “undercover bottom” and “cocksucking bitch” known to man, and me, the usual top receiving this treatment taking pride in this rich, black man allowing me to go down on him.

“You still don’t like black dick,” he asked.

“Oh Scott, I love it,” I told him as stopped to gently massage it.

“I bet I could fuck you the same way you fuck them big boys,” he said, and I became besotted with the thought of someone “turning the tables” on me.

I went back and forth on that dick as he would sit down, with me then placing my hands on his nipples to rub and pull on them gently while he laid back.

“Got damned wizard, Keenan,” he said to me.  “You keep that up and I’ll give you what you’re working for.”

What was better than blowing this handsome piece of dark chocolate in a secluded place on the water?  Hearing him growl as my throat got used to his girth, and picturing myself putting my top card to side to bounce my fat ass on it while he split me in half. I was feeling like the bottom bitch for once, getting in heat thinking about the head of his cock punishing my walls, making me expand until he milked me deep. What was better than hearing him growl and moan, then feeling his body shake while his voice broke as he nutted down your throat? Absolutely nothing for that cum was super sweet splashing down my chute.

“Fucking cum like a fire hose,” I told him as I thoroughly enjoyed every ounce

“Guess you do like black dick,” he said. “Whew, I wasn’t supposed to cum that fast.”

He was breathing hard afterwards, with a glowing look on his face as if he got the best relief. I never knew the magic I had in sucking cock, but Scott proved that when enticed, I could suck the bumper off of a Mack truck.  

“You get it all,” he asked me afterwards.

“Every drop, Scott,” I told him as he stood up.

He was completely naked when he and I decided to untie the boat.

“C’mon.  We gon’ finish what we started at my place,” he said as he started back underway.

A white man in a city uniform seemed to peep us and shoo us away from Scott’s alleged property.  We’d ride back east, with the both of us laughing at how we were rushed from the area after the guy probably watched the entire scene unfold.  We made it to the ramp where he picked me up, and he’d let me off, instructing me on how we would lift the boat out of the water.  I took the truck and backed it in on the ramp, and he would drive to the edge of where the hitch caught the hull, then we commenced securing the boat before we both climbed into the truck, and drove off, both high at what just happened.

“Now we go to my place for the real fun,” he told me.

To be continued.