I am sorry for this poor guy. Maybe because I am a woman in a room of gay guys–and the one straight guy, now struggling, groaning, and looking as though he might cry or faint. In just his underwear, BVDs, grey, with an impressive iguana inside them. Got to admit I want to see it, although I know he is freaking.

Also, he is the only Black guy in the room. Not that many in Fire Island, as a matter of fact. So I identified–only woman, only Black stud. I almost hate to mention his race. Because what do I do when I get to describing his cock? Sounds like a racist cliché if I tell the truth.

Nice looking guy, medium height, good chest and arms, narrow waist, legs with muscles. I had been noticing him all day at the beach. This is Fire Island, the long barrier reef off the south shore of Long Island, connected to the mainland by bridges at either end, but mostly reached by ferry shuttle, including one to America’s most famous gay hangout, the Fire Island Pines.

My gay friend brought me. I think to discomfort his housemates (most of the pricy houses are rented each summer by groups of gays for big bucks). No roads, here, just boardwalks. No cars. Red wagons at the ferry landing to haul your stuff. And miles and miles of perfect beach with not a car, rarely a store. On the scant, dry vegetation, the deer out here are dwarf.

The house is driftwood grey, like most, with wide windows and broad decks facing the Atlantic Ocean across the low grassy dunes and beach. All along there are boardwalk thoroughfares with little boardwalk “driveways” up to each house.

Mostly gays come here, summers. Lesbians go to other summer settlements. Fire Island Pines is the East Hampton of wealthy gay New Yorkers.

So what is this straight Black guy doing here, this guy whimpering to please, please leave him his underwear, please, except with a hand across his mouth he’s a little hard to understand. Two strong guys hold his arms behind him, so his chest thrusts out and his pelvis, too. Well, he came to sell drugs–your preference, sir? The guys here are anything but pushovers. They are New York, the “scene,” and all that. So, someone photographed him and recorded his drugs pitch.

At cocktail hour they showed him, with all of us relaxing with a drink after the sun, sand, and surf. Our drug dealer had kept on his trunks, at the beach–only one to do so. I had stripped, of course, to…yeah, polite nods. But I enjoyed being surrounded by dicks swelling a little in the Hot sun.

So now, at the magical hour, when sunlight races along the west along the beach, we luxuriate under the outdoor Shower, dress fresh, and take a chill white wine, I am watching the straight guy stripped channel..

The moment that the guy realizes that his recorded drug pitch has made him Free meat, the guys jump him. Very friendly, joking, kidding, making light of it. He struggles, but all of it comes off, except his underwear. Most everyone is laughing. His terror at being exposed to these gay guys is chum in the water for sharks.

His body, held at shoulders, draped only by underwear, is twisting, hips jerking. It does no good. With cheers, guys start grabbing his big package covered by his underwear, squeezing it, shaking it. He yelps and yelps. That big lump sure is getting bigger. Someone gives the bulge of his balls a “friendly” slap and that becomes the new game.

I’m not much of a bystander when it comes to Sex.

My friend calls to me: “Ellen”? I rise slowly, reluctant, at first, to help put in the boot.

But then I get an inspiration. Help this guy. Go over to his side.

I stand up, put down my drink, and shove my bathing suit top over my head, shove down my bottoms so they drop to my feet. Polite claps. Naked, I sidle over to the victim, looking right into his eyes. Does he feel any better with company? He’s the only straight, black guy; I’m the only girl and I’m already naked.

Now, I am standing right in front of him. He watches me like animal in a trap. I gently thrust my hand down inside his waistband, gazing into his eyes. My hand closes on his stuff.

Oh, my God! What a handful! I Love it. Feels Hot. Throbbing.

At the same time, I lean against him, my breasts on his chest, find his lips. A long, sexy kiss as I brush my stiff nipples back and forth across his chest and gently roll back the foreskin of his hidden cock. Still moaning, but a new tone to the moan.

A polite (bored) round of applause from a room full of advertising executives, male fashion models, psychiatrists, and foundation executives.

It does not save the victim. Now, everyone must shove a hand down inside the underwear and giving the stuff a shaking. At least better than getting slapped in the nuts. The passion mounts, hand after hand shoots down to grab and fondle him.

My nipples are stiff, watching this. A guy glances at me occasionally, as though curious. Jeez, super-firm boobs, contoured abdomen, ebony shock of black Pussy hair…long perfect legs… Esthetic appreciation. Nothing sexual, I imagine. I notice a guy with heavy black glasses, very nerdish face, is staring. He says to me: “I never touched a woman’s breasts. I tried, in high school. Disaster. So I went the other way. Never touched them.”

I smile. They are out there, buddy. Firm, nipples stiff. I smile at him. I hike up my mounds with my hands, serving them to him. He smiles, shrugs, and walks away. An instant later, I give a start and yelp. From behind me, hands have whipped around to grab bare boobs and I am getting the feeling-up of my life. My gay friend behind me is laughing, calling out: “Look, girl getting felt up! Guys, remember high school when we couldn’t figure out what was so great about this? We still can’t!”

I am giggling, trying to tear his hands away, and getting ready to kick backward at his jewels. Some of us obviously are enjoying something more potent than wine. He sounds manic.

“Goddamn,” I gasp as he pinches my nipples and tries to pull them off. “Stop!”

He does. I whirl and slap his leering face. He laughs louder. I bring up my bare foot medium hard and feel his testicles jounced. Bending over, now, face bright red–but still laughing! What do you think? Ecstasy?

Then, suddenly, the whole scene shifted. The moment our poor guy has been dreading arrives. And all eyes are on his still-concealed, but much explores package. I see my gay friend bent over, holding himself, but watching.

Someone comes over with a scissors and careful cuts through one side, then the other, of his underwear. Whipped away. His dick is shining black, curving a little to the left at this moment, its foreskin dragged back to expose the glistening black berry–exposed, vulnerable.

Wild cheering. “Whoa! The prize! Look at that! Oh, my God!”

I agree. It’s jumbo and it’s out there helpless. What now? Absolutely anything that a dozen turned on guys want to do.

Someone clutches him around the base, so his balls are squeezed smooth and his dick swells. Another hand grabs the big cock and starts roughly masturbating it. Another slaps the big balls. Everyone is taunting, teasing, provoking like a playground humiliation.

I am getting Hot. Long day on the nude beach with swinging cocks everywhere. Sun and waves. Heated pool. Drink. Stark naked with a dozen gays and one straight guy.

Someone starts rhythmically slapping the guy’s rigid dick back and forth. Amazingly, it gets even bigger and stiffer. But its owner is writhing in his mortification. The other kids are playing with his toy.

I feel a rivulet or pre-cum drooling down my thigh from my Pussy. Who cares. I wade into the mob. I’m going to take over. I sink to my knees, reach up to take his swollen prick. The guys sort of get it. I hear their murmuring, tones of complaint, arguing.

Hands no longer cover the guy’s mouth. He moans when I take his bone in my mouth and start whizzing the tip of my tongue under his cock. He looks down, kind of sobs. One hand, freed, comes down and rests on my pixie cut hair. Girls are supposed to swallow the sword; that’s their basic circus trick. So I do. Down my throat. I Love to swallow dick. I am careful, now, not to tongue any trigger points. No ejaculating. I’ll let you know when.

Kneel, butt on my knees, I lean backwards slowly and pull his hips to me. No one interferes.

Their victim is Free. Can do whatever he wants. Run away. Pull on his clothes. Scream obscenities at them.

I am lying flat on my back, lifting my legs, spreading myself. I still am pulling him toward me, so he is kneeling and leaning forward over me. He is staring at my snatch, which is revealed from my asshole to my fattened clit. All glistening wet. The other guys are standing around, some frowning, sort of inspecting me. Maybe they haven’t seen too many live girls with their whole aroused apparatus on display. I mean, they are wondering what is all this excitement about cunts?

I am at maximum spread, gazing up into his eyes, my hands on his hips.

Well? Hey, forget the spectators. Do it.

And he does. Abruptly, the thickness and length of his dick rudely fill and over-fill my cunt. That’s men. Now, he will ream me out. And he does. Frantically, bruising my clit, butting the head of his long cock against my womb. Why is it always maximal drilling?

Bang, just what I need. Bang, bang. No interest now in anything but getting off.

Later, when he is finished with me–left my body sprawled on the floor, of interest to no one–I am aware they have hauled the poor guy away. He lies pinned down on his belly. Guys are lining up with hard-ons to get off in his asshole. None for me, all for him.

Now, he’s going to get it a dozen times a row. Like soldiers repeatedly violating a girl in a conquered city. The Woman of Troy. If I could, I would take some of those big stiff boners for him. No one wants a Pussy.

I hear him squeal frantically as the big boys work him. A parade, Some of them seem to take forever to come. I bet he thinks he will die before they finish with him.

Sorry, it turns me on. My charms are available on the still-warm wide-board floor, ignored by all, so I reach down into my thatch to finger my clit. Yikes, so swollen.

I know what I will do after I cum. Get up, not dress, tiptoe naked out the door into the sweltering August night. Then, run along the tame surf, with little waves barely tickling my toes. Run and run, naked in the night, along the endless beach. I pass a few other runners, a few late-night lovers, who smile and wave.

After half-an-hour, I walk back along the warm boardwalk to the house. Dive into the heated pool. Dry myself.

In the house, the orgy is over. The boys are snoring after their orgasms.

I do my bathroom stuff and enter my room. “I was waiting, where did you go?” It comes from the bed, a voice at once exhausted and alive.

I pause. “They finished with you?”

“Obviously. Every one of them came in my Ass, but I didn’t come. You’d think they would diddle my dick while they gang banged me. So Horny.” He adds: “It’s just race stuff. All of it. Every black guy is supposed to have a big swinging dick.”

“But you did have quite an erection.”

A long sigh, “Shit, you can’t get that excited an audience for your private parts and not respond. I mean, a dozen guys wild about what you’ve got. And the endless fumbling me inside my pants.”

I am walking toward the bed. He says: “You know, the whole time it was happening, I thought of you. Of just what I am seeing, now.”

I squint down in the dim light. I announce: “But you are big. And beautiful. I couldn’t believe it when they got your underwear off and you popped out.” This is a seriously long, arched-back, stiff, and needy prick! Slicked with pre-cum. A big glistening black boner just for me.

He moans. “I couldn’t believe it was happening but I couldn’t stop it.”

My fingertips reach out to brush it as I consider what to do. It gives a jerk, as though electrified.

“Oh, jeez! I’m so close!”

I Love to tease the stretched-taut skin beneath the swollen head. He groans: “So good. My Ass is just aflame from what they did to me. It seemed like hours!”

I am climbing onto the bed. Sitting with my knees on my Ass, I arch my back to lift my bullet-like tits. No sense eating his dick. He’s going to cum after two licks. Well, maybe just a couple… I take the arched-back, ramrod cock in my mouth. Paradise. Takes all my willpower to stop before he ejaculates down my throat.

“Oh, don’t stop, please!”

“Wait a fucking second, okay?”

I swing my long, slender leg over his torso. He stares at the stretched pink of my momentarily split Pussy. Then, I seize his erection and bend it to align with my cunt. Lower my Pussy to slide it in until my black fluff kisses his. It sinks deep, deeper, till I gasp.

I gasp: “Okay? Okay?” But now, I am incoherent, coming. At last! I rock and yowl like a woman impaled on a stake. His dick cannot go any deeper without punching my womb.

He is baying: “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

So glad for him.