The Barbershop 1

Marcus Winchell was waiting in my chair when I got back from my lunch break. I was in a good mood, and I was glad to see him. He was a happy, smiling nigga, always ready with a joke at somebody's expense -- usually mine, because he thought of me as a manwhore. In truth, I loved it when he made fun of me for being a slut. I knew it was his way of flirting, and that in his own time, I'd have his dick.

The City Barbershop of Brooklyn was a great place for me to meet guys on the downlow, since it was one of the few places where straight black men mingled with faggy black men like me. Outside of the barbershop, where white men in suits lurked, women with upturned noses, cops and priests and rabbis, community action groups and nosy neighbors, out there, niggas had to pretend they hated fags. Inside the shop, there was an unspoken rule that it didn't count. Nobody talked about who got down with who behind the thick wooden door separating us from the outside world.

And that was why Marcus ignored me when we ran into each other on the street, him with his friends and me with mine. We made furtive eye contact, and I smiled in his direction once I was sure his friends looked the other way. He ignored me then. But now he grinned, waiting for me to cut his hair.

He flashed his handsome grin at me, and my heart raced. He was one of the sexiest men in the neighborhood, all thick and powerful, not with any kind of artificial bodybuilder's body but a real man's frame. I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in his hairy barrel chest and plump biceps.

He slapped my ass while I returned from lunch. "Ooh-wee, remind me why I don't fuck this ass?" he said to no one in particular. I shook my hips in my tight black jeans, which I knew showed off my assets particularly well.

"Because you straight, nigga," said Wilson, one of the other barbers. He was a handsome lady's man who only let me suck his cock as long as no one ever found out, not even in the Shop. He told everyone the whole 'downlow' thing was gross and sinful, but he had given in to the same urges all black men have. I kind of liked how secretive he was about it, like I was a double agent working for both the cocksuckers of the world and the uberstraight oppressors.

I was right in front of Marcus' face, about to trim his hair. Holding the razor in my hand, I pursed my lips in a cock-sucking fashion, and raised my eyebrows questioningly. I already had a pretty good idea from the look in his eyes that he was down for a little fuckery today.
He nodded, and looked around to see who was watching. The other barbers were all busy with customers, and no one was looking straight at us.

He was about to stand up and walk to the back room, which was where I performed most of my downlow action. I shook my head and smiled. I had a better idea. The owner, Paul, was so oblivious to everything that happened except what was right in front of his face that I thought I could get away with some public sex. Going down on men in public was one of my hottest dreams, and Paul's thick body was making me so hard I couldn't conceal my boner in my jeans.

I got down on my knees in front of him and pulled the barber's apron over my head. I crouched there between his legs and undid the fly on his jeans. I heard him stifle a moan above me, and his hands reached under the apron to my face.
He had a fat cock, and I loved the musty cramped smell of it, trapped inside his jeans and now under the apron. I inhaled deeply of it, and took its entire limp heft into my mouth.

I heard the familiar chortling laughter of Daniel, another one of the barbers and one of Marcus' close friends. Daniel must have seen what was happening and was keeping it low-key so Paul, the owner, wouldn't see us. He always thought "faggotry", as he put it, was hilarious, especially when it was happening to someone other than him, though he laughed at me even when his own dick was in my mouth.

As their hushed laughter grew, I was sure Marcus and Daniel were making faces at each other, no doubt teasing me though I couldn't see it. Marcus' cock was erect, and too big for me to suck it all down once he got hard. But I loved to try -- that was the best thing about big cocks, I think, knowing that deepthroating them is a skill you can always work on but never truly perfect. It's an art.

Marcus exhaled deeply and groaned as his balls contracted. Cum sprayed out of his mouth and flew across my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

"Hey, niggas!" Paul barked. He ripped the apron off my head and scowled. The other men in the shop burst into laughter, most of them apparently having not noticed what was going on either. Marcus smiled and flopped his big dick around for a few seconds, until Paul screamed at him to put it away.

I grinned sheepishly and wiped the cum off my chin. "Sorry Paul, he has a great cock, I couldn't resist."
Marcus pumped his bicep and laughed, while Paul just shook his head and walked away.