Famous Person: Cigar in Manhattan

"Close your legs, when you're talking to me."

I was having a cigar at my favorite lounge in Manhattan when I was approached by this familiar face. Normally during these outings I'm not necessarily looking to be social, be courted, or any of the like but the slender white guy with the gray stubble, and Scottish accent found it appropriate. I was only in New York to attend a wedding, and once it was over, I showed love to the bride, groom, and some of the wedding party I knew before breaking off to venture through the city and head back south.

"You're sticking out like a sore thumb," said the guy. "Not many tall, black guys in the Carnegie right now."

The place he referred to ended up being one of the city's premier cigar lounges, and he was referring to me in my tailored suit, being a tall, black guy, when most of the clientele around mirrored him.

"So a black man can't puff a Cohiba," I told him.

"A handsome, black man, like yourself, is whetting the appetite for most of us," he said.

While he was playing spokesperson while sitting at my table sipping his scotch, and I looked around, noticing a few of the guys would occasionally glance over to me.

"See," he said with a light snicker. "There are a few of us who'd love to take you in the bathroom and get on our knees."

"So you want to get on your knees," I asked.

"I would, but not here, actually," he said as he corrected himself. "Too much to lose if I get caught with your dick down my throat."

The way he said "dick" in his voice turned me on. I changed the subject by asking where he was from, and he in turn explained.

"Born and raised in Scotland," he replied.

"I'm from Virginia," I stated as his eyes lit up.

"Virginia Beach, or you say Richmond or Bristol," he asked.

I quizzed him on how he knew of these lesser cities compared to other places where expats visited in the states.

"I have friends everywhere," he answered, before rambling about Bristol, and its speedway.

"There are times I've gone to NASCAR events. I'm pretty versed in traveling within the United States like anywhere else."

The more he talked, the more in tune we were as we rambled on things such as trees, cars, women, and even milk.

"I love milk," he said, and I became turned on, thinking he could have my "milk."

"So why did you boldly make your way over here," I asked.

"Because I could see that cock print in your trousers," he replied.

"I'm not hard," I said.

"Don't have to be," he uttered before winking his right eye.

It dawned on me finally who he was once he flirted a little more.

"You were in the movie with Melissa McCarthy," I told him.

"The name's Alan, and its a pleasure for you to meet me," he said as we officially shook hands. "How rude of the typical American to flirt without giving a name."

"Excuse me Scot," I said. "But you came to tell me how much you, and the other 20 or so men in here would line up to get on your knees for me, without an utterance of your name."

"I just told you, and I just may get on my knees right now," he joked.

"Damon," I replied.

"The name is befitting of you. Such a strong name, for an equally strong man," he said.

He moved his chair closer to me as I took a drag, then sipped my cognac.

"I wouldn't have any qualms if that black cock was deep in my ass right now," he said.

Those words made me giggle for Alan had no clue what he was in for. I thought about my usual suspects to receive cock, and they were usually much older, and fatter than the sleek Alan. I could bend them over, and ram this dick repeatedly, or have them on their backs while plowing their poor prostates, but the common denominator was they all took my 42-year-old dick better than skinny guys.

"I'll ride it til the skin comes off," Alan whispered in my ear, while I felt his hand on my crotch. "Let's go back to my hotel?"

Alan urge didn't allow him to hide his yearning for what was between my legs. I looked around again and saw a few others similar to his five foot ten frame, eyeing us both while puffing or sipping, perhaps wanting the same thing. His hand landed on my hardened dick, and I almost turned to kiss him, stopping short once I realized where we were.

"You want it this bad," I asked.

"I need it really, really bad," he replied as he breathed in my ear.

I ended up paying my tab, while he paid his, and had my cigars I purchased boxed before we left together for the Lotte hotel. Her prompted a taxi for us, and we both sat in the back seat, looking in opposite directions while his left hand played lively in my crotch. The surprisingly short ride had me somewhat shook for I had a huge boner in my pants. He walked in front of me, and greeted folks who recognized him, calling out his name loudly without him having to stop to give an autograph. I was merely in the backdrop appearing as his security as we made it to the elevator, being the lucky ones to have a car to ourselves.

"Guess there's no such thing as you being incognito," I said to him.

He pushed me against the wall once the door closed, and kneeled down to place his face on my cockprint.

"I can smell that love muscle," he said as he sniffed away.

I didn't stink, as much as he just was hungry for it. He even stuck out his tongue to lick the outline, tasting the fabric, and not what he really wanted. The car dinged, and he rose to his feet quickly, then stood beside me as if he wasn't in a compromising position a few seconds prior.

"This is our floor," he said as patrons were waiting for us to exit, so we could enter.

We made it to his suite only for us to start kissing, and take our clothes off so we could climb onto the plush, king sized bed for an instant "69." Alan, too, had a nice size cock that I struggled with since I wasn't a premier cocksucker. My struggles didn't deter him in glazing my "sweet meat" as he called it, so I was regulated to jerking off that fat, white cock while he massaged mine with his lips.

"I want you," he said after a good five minutes or so.

He put himself in his required position of how he wanted to be fucked by laying on his back in the middle of the bed. He requested I use one of the condoms on top of the nearby dresser.

"So you randomly have condoms, just knowing you'll have a fuckfest," I said to him.

He took my words seriously, and explained that it was a "just in case" move. I let him know I was just ribbing while looking at the selection of rubbers he had available before grabbing a magnum.

"I'm a single man, who loves sex," he said. "And if it wasn't you, or some other guy, it might be a pretty woman who needed some male company."

I slipped on the condom, then grabbed some lubricant he had nearby to stroke on my covered cock, and to rub on his little rosebud before poking inside.

"I'm bi as you may know," he said.

"I didn't know," I told him as I rubbed my tip at his puckering hole. "Feels good?"

"Feels damn good, Damon," he said as I pushed inside, causing him to gasp loudly. "Oh fuck, you're huuuuuuuuge."

His eyes bulged as I pressed my body into his, giving it missionary while his sock covered feet were on my shoulders. I dug into this Scottish man while he turned red, and winced, then gritted his teeth while his hole molded around my shaft.

"Black dick always does this to me," he said before I pulled out suddenly to cause him to jiggle. "Oh fuck me, Damon."

"Fuck you I will," I said as I commenced a slow stroke in and out of him.

I dug deep, then pulled out completely, repeatedly for a couple minutes. Alan kept his eyes closed, and started sweating as I caused his orgasms, weaving my hips in a motion that ensured I pressed that prostate, and poked past that sphincter the way he required. Alan's accent went out of the window as he uttered the universal sound of being fucked good.

"I can't stop cumming," he wailed over and over, and by cumming, he meant from his prostate as my "black hook" kept smacking his spot.

I sped things up after pushing back on his thighs to ride him deep, seeing his pink hole stretch with each pull. I loved bumping this short, skinny man as he proved he could take dick like the rest of them, with his hole arrogantly burping with each release. I reached down to place a finger in his mouth for him to suck right before I banged him deeper, and harder, then witnessed his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

"Breed me, honey," he cried as I pounded at his pelvis. "Breed me with that black dick!

He held on to his own thighs before I pulled out, and pulled off the condom to ram him some more. He whimpered more as the skin on skin effect felt 10 times better than wearing a rubber, and I would give him what he wanted by blasting my sperm deep inside of him, while my body jolted from the sensation. When I finished, I reached down to put my lips to his, and he in turn wrapped his legs around me as we kissed passionately. This was needed from both ends, for we both were extremely horny, but I didn't know it until my balls were smacking at his cheeks.

"I'm the lucky guy," he joked.

He was referring to the others in the bar who might've wanted the same treatment. I thought about it some more, then kissed him again before thanking him for a good time.

"Anytime," he said. "Take my number. I'm on Whatsapp."

We never reconnected for sex since he was a busy entertainer, and one who lived across the pond in Europe. We'd text every now and again, but that's where the contact stopped for he eventually married, and left me in the dust.

I was still grateful, nonetheless.