French Kiss, Big Bliss?

A couple of Fridays ago, I went to Splash. Yes, I hate Splash’s over-muscled go-go boys and majority of clientele being Chelsea boys, but not their choice in DJs. So I went there to dance, and while taking a break from dancing, I saw a guy that I had noticed while I was on the dance floor. He walked right pass me, on the dance floor, but while standing on the side taking a break, he seemed to notice me. Being as shy as I am, I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination or not, so I let time reveal the truth. He was on the outskirts of the dance floor at this time, standing there with a friend. There was a guy sitting on a stool not too far from me, and when that guy got up, this guy took his place. Once again, thinking it was my imagination, I saw him move the stool a little bit closer to me before he sat down. That’s when the real eye contact started.

We kept looking at each other, and I kept turning away smiling. Then he took the initiative and came over to me and said, “We could either keep looking at each other, or one of us could say something.”

Did I forget to mention he turned out being a Frenchman, which considering the racism of the typical White male New Yorker I've been experiencing (especially in Splash), this did not surprise me.

We made our introductions with me giving my legal name, and made out feeling each other up. Now since his arrangements while visiting New York made having an overnight guest a rude move, it was either my place in Jersey City or part ways imagining the great sex we could have had. My reason for pause was because a heating system was just installed in my place about a day before, and between my having to move furniture out the way for them to work, and these cut-rate plumbers making even more of mess, I once again wound up bringing someone back to my place when it’s a mess. And when I gave him warning before we left Splash, his response was, “Do you have a bed?”

I said, “Yes”.

“Do you have a bathroom?”

I said, “Yes.”

“Then that’s all we need.”

And from there we made the trek back to my place.


He started groping me from the gate of my brownstone to the door of my room. And I was not going to stop him, because it only made me more hungry for his naked body to get joined with mine. So as soon as I closed my door, we started getting undressed. Now, I felt his hard cock through his jeans while at Splash, but when I saw it outside of his jeans, I was in for a shock, because his cock was so thick, and he was not that much taller than me, but he had nicely defined muscles. And it seems that when his muscles were developing, they went down to his cock. His cock was what most would call a pretty good length, but his thickness is what made what some would call a “monster cock”. It was thick as one porn star I would love to get fucked by, Justin Christopher. I know how thick Justin Christopher is because I saw his hard-on when I was a "sextra" in Michael Lucas’ La Dolce Vita.

But that thick dick isn’t why I would love to get fucked by him, nor did it make the Frenchman anymore attractive.
It’s their gorgeous face, nice asses, and hot bod that draws me to them in that order. Their big dicks is just as big a surprise to me as if it was small.

I didn’t know that the Frenchman had such a thick dick until he got naked at my place. And if it was 5 inches long and 4” thick, I would have still bottomed for him. I will admit the 2 times we had sex, it was amazing. But I think it was amazing to me because he knew how to work that long thick cock of his. I think it would have still been just as good if it was 5” long and 4” thick because he plain and simply knows how to fuck.

Now had he been 5” by 4”, some size queens would have made up some reason to send him on his way. And the stupidity it takes for gay men to do that is exactly why they are called, “size queens”, and not “size kings”.

To be continued…..