#BBC

Back in the late 80s, when I was in my early twenties, our coastal town of Willow Bay was a sleepy place, barely touched by the wider world. Outsiders were a rarity, and it wasn't until years later that folks from different corners of the globe started trickling in. With them came hushed rumors - tales about their exotic allure, their supposed differences. Were the myths about their physicality true? I was never one to let gossip fester without testing it myself. The perfect opportunity landed when some college friends, oblivious to my adventurous streak, invited me for a weekend at their family's vineyard, a sprawling estate nestled in the rolling hills an hour from town. The property included a rustic shed, converted into a cozy loft for the groundskeeper, a guy they called Nate - a lazy nickname they slapped on him, ignoring his actual name - who tended the vines and kept the place running. We pulled up on a Friday evening, the air thick with the scent of sun-warmed grapes. My friends introduced me to Nate, and my breath caught. He was tall, with a frame carved from hard labor - broad shoulders, arms corded with muscle, and a quiet intensity in his dark eyes. He was a walking fantasy, and the rumors I'd heard about men like him sparked a fire in my mind. I knew I had to find out for myself. After we unloaded the car, my friends had brought a cooler full of homemade sandwiches and wine from town. We ate under the stars, the conversation light but the summer heat heavy. They decided to turn in early, claiming they needed rest after the drive - though I suspected they had other plans, giggling as they disappeared into the main house. I headed to the guest room they'd set up for me, a quaint space with a creaky bed and lace curtains, but sleep was impossible. My curiosity about Nate was a restless itch. I slipped on a thin sundress, barefoot, and padded across the dew-damp grass to the shed. The door was ajar, and what I saw stopped me cold. Nate was there, stripped down, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat under the dim lantern light. His physique was like a sculpture - chiseled abs, powerful thighs, and between them, something that defied belief. It was massive, thick, and daunting, stirring a mix of awe and desire. I crept closer, my heart pounding, and just as I reached the threshold, he turned, catching my gaze. He scrambled to cover himself, his voice low and flustered: Sorry, miss, I didn't know anyone was up. Folks usually sleep early out here. I stepped into the light, letting my dress cling to my curves, and smiled. Don't call me miss, not when it's just us - call me Lily. And don't hide. A body like yours? You should show it off. Trust me, women notice. I closed the distance, pressing my hands to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He was like a furnace, solid and unyielding. I slid one leg up, hooking it over his hip, and felt the weight of him against me - it was like a forearm, heavy and warm, sending a jolt through my core. He relaxed under my touch, guiding me to a pile of soft blankets in the corner, his voice husky: You're something else, Lily. Thanks, Nate, I said, my lips brushing his ear. But lose the formalities - just Lily, okay? His hands found my waist, tentative at first, fingers grazing my skin through the thin fabric. Emboldened by my sighs, he slid them upward, cupping my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened. I arched into him, and he dipped his head, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone. I melted, letting him tug my dress up, baring my chest. He paused, staring, then lowered his mouth to one breast, sucking gently as his hands kneaded the other. He murmured against my skin: Lily, you're beautiful. I've never been this close to someone like you - not outside a dream. His words fueled me, and I felt him pressing closer, his arousal unmistakable. I reached down, my fingers wrapping around him - or trying to. He was enormous, velvet-smooth but dauntingly thick, easily dwarfing anything I'd known. I wasn't letting this pass me by. As he fumbled with my dress, sliding a hand beneath to trace my inner thigh, he whispered: I've always wondered what it'd feel like to touch you. Then don't stop, I purred. He didn't. With a swift tug, he pulled my dress over my head, leaving me in just my panties. His fingers slipped beneath the lace, exploring my slick heat, and he gasped: Never seen anything like this up close. Wanted to, though? I teased, my voice breathy. He nodded, eyes wide with desire. Well, I said, you're not just looking tonight. Every part of me's yours if you want it. But first - lie down. He sank onto the blankets, his size even more striking against the soft fabric. I knelt beside him, my lips brushing the tip of him, tasting salt and heat. I'd worried it'd be too much, but as I took him in, my mouth stretched to accommodate him, the challenge thrilling. I worked him slowly, tongue swirling, hands stroking what I couldn't take. His groans filled the shed, deep and raw: God, Lily, I never thought - someone like you doing this. I pulled back just enough to say: Bet plenty of women would kill for this. And it's Lily, remember? Right, Lily, he panted. But it's you I've been dreaming of. I dove back in, my pace relentless, savoring his gasps until he tensed, flooding my mouth with a rush so intense I nearly choked. I swallowed every drop, unwilling to waste it. Even soft, he was impressive. I trailed my fingers over him, coaxing him back to life, and asked: Nate, does the lady of the house ever sneak out here to see you like this? Not like this, he said, voice tight. Sometimes she lingers by the vines, watching when she thinks I'm alone. That minx, I thought, spying but not indulging? A shame. I wondered if I could shake things up for all of us. But right now, it was just Nate and me. He gently pushed me back, his eyes hungry: This is incredible, Lily, but I need to touch you now. He leaned over me, his lips closing around my nipple, sucking with a rhythm that made me squirm. I teased: With all the women you must know, why mine? Yours are perfect, he said, voice muffled. Forget anyone else - it's only us here. He lavished attention on my breasts, licking, nibbling, his hands squeezing until I came undone, trembling beneath him. I needed more. I told him, and his eyes lit up, though I saw a flicker of worry - his size, no doubt. I was nervous too, but too aroused to care. I pushed him onto his back, straddling him. My hand barely circled him as I guided him to my entrance. I was soaked, but his size made me pause, wondering if I could take him. Slowly, I lowered myself, expecting pain, but my body yielded, stretching around him with a delicious fullness. The sensation was electric, every inch igniting nerves I didn't know I had. He groaned: Thank you, Lily. I never thought I'd feel this with someone like you. Some say I'm too much. I grinned, thinking I must be the boldest he'd met, and said: Don't worry, Nate. I'll show you there's more like me out there - though maybe not quite like this. Let's just feel this now. I rode him, slow at first, savoring the stretch, the way he filled me completely. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me, then roamed to my breasts, pinching my nipples. I leaned forward, letting them brush his lips, and he sucked eagerly, sending sparks through me. The pleasure built, crashing over me in waves, one orgasm blending into the next. He followed, his release hot and overwhelming, flooding me. We collapsed, breathless, but seeing him soften was a challenge I couldn't resist. I stroked him, watching him harden again, and he said: Lily, let me take over this time, if that's okay. The idea of him above me was intimidating, but I was all in. I lay back on the blankets, spreading my legs, and said: I'm yours, Nate. Do what you want. He knelt between my thighs, lifting my legs over his shoulders. He entered me again, my body now accustomed, every thrust a perfect mix of power and care. He moved with purpose, his eyes locked on mine, and I felt every inch of him, the friction driving me wild. I clawed at the blankets, my moans echoing as orgasms ripped through me, one after another. He came again, his warmth spilling into me, and I shivered with satisfaction. I wasn't done tasting him. I leaned down, licking him clean, savoring the mix of us. His hands found my breasts, kneading them with a reverence that made me ache. He whispered: Lily, you're unreal. That sparked me again. I told him to stand, and I knelt before him, pressing him between my breasts. I said: You're obsessed with these, and I'm crazy for you. Let's make this good for both of us. This is heaven, Lily, he groaned. I moved, my breasts enveloping him, mimicking the rhythm of our earlier connection. His moans grew desperate, and when he came, the sight of his release against my skin was intoxicating. I traced my fingers through it, tasting him again, the act feeling primal and perfect. Even soft, he was a marvel, and I couldn't resist teasing him back to life with my tongue. A new desire stirred - I'd always craved pushing boundaries, and I wanted him everywhere. I told him, and he froze, stunned: You mean it, Lily? I'd never ask - thought it'd scare you off. Oh, I want it, I said, my voice thick with need. I got on all fours, my heart racing. He positioned himself behind me, his touch gentle but trembling with anticipation. As he pressed against me, I braced for pain, but my arousal eased the way, my body welcoming him with a slow, intense stretch. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of fullness and pleasure I'd never known. He moved carefully at first, then faster as my moans urged him on. He said: Thank you, Lily. I've wanted this forever, but no one's ever trusted me like this. Guess you needed someone as wild as me, I gasped, laughing through the pleasure. The intensity built, my body shuddering with each thrust, orgasms crashing over me like waves. He followed, filling me, and we collapsed, spent. Realizing my friends might be stirring, I cleaned up, slipped my dress back on, and headed to the house. The vineyard was silent as I crept inside. I glanced into my friends' room, their sleeping forms tangled in sheets, and a new spark ignited - maybe I could bring a little of this fire to them, too.

This story happened a few years ago, and it's the first time I'm sharing it. I'm a 25-year-old Mexican psychologist living in the United States, and I consider myself bisexual now, but back then, I was straight. Here's how it all started: Four years ago, when I was 21, I was having some financial struggles. I had moved to another city to study, and my parents couldn't afford to support me. So, I decided to go to the United States to work for my uncle in his construction company. I had a tourist visa, and we had visited the country before for family vacations. I was there for two and a half months, working long hours and dealing with rude coworkers who made fun of me for being a student and studying psychology. To blow off some steam, I bought a mountain bike and started riding around the neighborhood. One day, I noticed an older black man working in his garden every time I passed by. He was always friendly and greeted me with a "Have a good afternoon, boy." I'd greet him back, and we'd exchange pleasantries. He seemed like a nice guy, and I didn't think much of it. One day, I was riding by his house and stopped to take a break. He walked up to me and started talking. I told him I was Mexican and didn't speak English very well. He responded in broken but understandable Spanish, "I adore Mexicans. I'm Marc. Nice to meet you." I introduced myself, and he said, "Nice name." We started talking, and he told me he loved Mexico and visited Puerto Vallarta twice a year. I told him I visited that beach at least once a year too. He asked where I lived, and I told him I was helping my uncle and lived a few streets away. He said it was nice to see young people exercising these days, and I found it strange because, in the US, people always go out to exercise, but I didn't see many young people in that area. It started to get dark, and I told him I had to go. He said he was divorced and had been for several years. I apologized for bringing it up, and he said there was no problem, that he was very happy living alone. I just smiled and told him I had to go. He said goodbye very nicely and told me he hoped to see me around again, as he liked me. I said the feeling was mutual because, after weeks of only interacting with rude and offensive people, it felt great to have a nice conversation with someone so kind. When I got home, I saw that I had several missed calls from my girlfriend. I noticed that all the calls had come in while I was talking to Marc. I thought I had only chatted with him for a moment, but when I looked at the time, I realized that an hour had passed. I thought to myself, "Well, I didn't even notice the time passing." The next day, as I was about to pass by Marc's street, I found myself thinking about whether he would be there or not. As always, he was there, and I stopped to greet him. He approached me and had something in his hands - a small backpack with a water bottle attached. He walked up to me and said, "Look what I found. I used to ride my bike a lot, and I still have all my gear." I tried to decline, but he insisted, and I blushed a bit. He laughed and asked if no one had ever given me anything before. I told him yes, but not from a man his age and with his characteristics, which made him laugh even more. He then said he had some good bikes in his backyard that needed some work, and he wanted to sell them. He invited me to check them out, and I offered to help fix them since I have a lot of knowledge about bikes. He happily accepted and invited me inside. He told me to just walk to the back, and I found myself in a beautiful, spacious house. I walked through the living room and kitchen and entered the backyard, which was also quite beautiful. I heard him shout that he would be there in a moment, and I entered a small room filled with old tools and gadgets. The bikes were indeed from a high-end brand, and I could see what was wrong with them right away. I grabbed the toolbox and got to work. After a while, Marc came in with two large beers and said, "Here's your reward for the help." I accepted the beer, and when I finished, he invited me inside to have another one. I thought it was quite friendly, and I accepted. I didn't feel any unease because he had a very friendly way of speaking. As we sat inside drinking our beers, he asked me if I had a girlfriend. I told him I did, and he said, "Of course you do, you're a very handsome young man." I felt a bit embarrassed and just thanked him for the compliment. He kept complimenting me, saying, "That girl is very lucky, " and I asked him why he said that. He replied, "Well, you're a very responsible and good-looking young man. Who wouldn't want that these days? " I started telling him about some problems I was having with my girlfriend, as she was quite jealous and insecure, always accusing me of being a jerk, which was never true. I wanted Marc, with his years of experience, to give me some advice. He just said he never understood women. He then got up and asked if I wanted something to eat, but I told him not to bother, as it was getting late and I had to go. He said not to worry, that it was still early, and he went to the kitchen counter to grab some snacks. I stood up, looking around his kitchen, admiring the paintings on the walls, and in my distraction, I placed my beer glass on the edge of the counter. It tipped over and spilled beer all over Marc. I felt so bad because I had soaked his stomach and the front of his pants. The counter was quite high, and the beer had spilled all over him. I quickly grabbed a nearby napkin and tried to wipe him off, feeling very embarrassed. He took me by the shoulders and moved me aside, saying in a deep voice, "Don't worry about it, it's fine." He then started taking off his clothes, and I stood there frozen, watching him. He took off his shirt and pants, leaving him in just his underwear. I couldn't help but look at his body, from his chest with a bit of hair and some gray, to his slightly sagging chest, and down to his underwear. It wasn't a boxer or brief, but a tight, black compression short that left nothing to the imagination. I could see the outline of his entire genital area, and it was quite large. I was petrified and couldn't say anything. I just stood there, staring at him. He then shook his clothes and said, "If you don't mind, I'll stay like this." He sat down on his couch, and I just stood there, still unable to move. I had had two beers, but I was still conscious. He then said, "Take a seat, don't be scared. We're men, it's fine." I did as he said and sat down on the big couch, while he sat on the single armchair. He still had a bit of beer left, so he finished it in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and asked, "Do you want to know why I don't have a wife anymore? " I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded my head. In my mind, I kept thinking, "Why am I still in this house? " But another part of me felt a rush of adrenaline sitting on that couch. He then started telling me a story about his ex-wife, and I remember it clearly because it left me shocked for a moment. "About 20 years ago, I separated from my wife, and the reason was a boy like you, " he said. I was stunned, but a part of me wanted to hear the story. He told me, "You see, I used to work at a sports academy, and I was very good at playing basketball. Along with another teacher named James, we trained young men between 20 and 30 years old. James was like me, just a bit younger and also black. The job was pretty good, and I noticed that many young men were quite fond of James. I thought it was because of his teaching attitude and willpower. One day, I was on my way home on my bike and realized I had forgotten my house keys, so I had to go back to the academy. I rushed back because I didn't want to find everything closed, but when I got there, I saw that one of the doors was still open. I was looking for my keys and heard a noise coming from the room where we kept all the sports equipment and balls. The door was slightly open, and when I peeked inside, I was amazed. There was James with one of the students, a young, white, and slim guy like you, but a bit taller, around 23 years old. I saw them lying on one of the mats, and James was having sex with the student in the doggy style position. I couldn't look away and must admit that it turned me on quite a bit to see the size difference between them and how James was pounding the young man. I masturbated right then and there and came pretty quickly. I then grabbed my keys and left the academy immediately, heading home. When I got home, my heart was racing, and my dick was still hard even after I had come. My wife asked me if something was wrong, but I told her nothing was happening. I went straight to the bathroom and masturbated again, and it was one of the best orgasms I'd ever had. That night, in bed with my wife, we tried to have sex, but I couldn't get an erection. I felt bad, but my wife told me it would be okay for another time. Days and weeks passed, and even though I tried to have sex with my wife, I couldn't. My mind was always filled with images of the young man from the academy and James. Eventually, things with my wife ended badly because of our lack of intimacy, and she asked for a divorce. It all happened quite quickly. Some time later, I approached the young man who had been haunting my fantasies. He was attractive, and I told him I knew about what had happened between him and Professor James. He begged me not to tell anyone and, taking advantage of that, I told him that if he didn't want me to say anything, he should do the same thing for me that he did for James. He agreed and came to my house. I was nervous, but the experience of seeing his body twist in pain while I fucked him hard became my personal fetish. Over time, I wanted to try it with older or men of my age, but it wasn't the same. What really turned me on was putting my large body on young, attractive, slim, and white guys like you, and over the years, I've perfected my approach to get young men like you to end up on this couch where you're sitting, even if they're straight at first, they always end up loving what I do to them." At that moment, he stood up, and I saw that he had a hard-on inside his compression shorts. He walked up to me, and since I was still sitting, he took my face in his large hand and moved it up to look him in the eyes. He changed his tone of voice and said, "I can feel that you want it, boy." He took my hand and put it inside his compression shorts, and I could feel his dick and balls with my hand. I was still in shock and couldn't move or say anything, but I could feel a sticky liquid on the tip of his dick. Just as I was about to react, I quickly pulled my hand out of his shorts and said I had to go. He said, "See you tomorrow, boy, " with a confident tone, as if I would definitely come back. I grabbed my bike and left quickly, my heart still racing. When I got home, I found that I had an erection, and it wouldn't go away. I went to bed, but all I could see when I closed my eyes was Marc's body in those black compression shorts. The only thing I could do was masturbate, and I came so much that I had to use a couple of socks to clean everything up. The next day, I didn't go to work. It was Sunday, and my uncle was going out to a restaurant and invited me to join him, but I preferred to stay home. All day, I thought about what had happened. A part of me felt guilty - why had I gotten excited by a man like that? Why didn't I leave his house? Was I gay? I spent the whole morning questioning my life based on that moment. I knew I had to talk to someone about it, so I called my therapist. I told her everything that had happened, and she listened carefully. She said she was glad I trusted her enough to share this with her. She told me it was okay to have feelings and that it didn't make me gay or bisexual just because I had an attraction to a man in that moment. She said it was important to explore my feelings and not to judge myself. After talking to her, I felt much better. I realized that I was still straight, but I had had an experience that had made me question my sexuality. I decided to take some time to think about it and not to rush into any conclusions. In the end, I never went back to Marc's house, but I never forgot about that day. It was a confusing and intense experience, but it also helped me understand myself better and accept my feelings. I'm still straight, but I'm more open to the idea that attraction can happen between people of the same sex, and it doesn't make me any less of a man.