Mick and Dingo Porn stories

Class ended at five that Thursday. It had been a very hot day and had the lecture hall not been air-conditioned those three hours of Greek and Persian history would have lasted an eternity. Well, I suppose there’s not much to complain about. It was over, you see, in three days I’d take the final and have the rest of my summer free.

Stale, humid air hit like a ton of bricks the moment I stepped out onto the street. My movements, once swift and agile, were suddenly awkward and sluggish. What drive I had to leave that place in a hurry had just been dashed. When I ought to have run slowly I walked down the hillside. Like a tortured man I limped my way through Corsacant Boulevard to the train station. I was breathless and sweaty. I stopped for a moment to get comfortable but the heat was simply too oppressive and the air too muggy. Somehow I made it up the three flights of stairs, thankful for the strong, refreshing breezes from the passing trains.

The whole station was open to the air, noisy and dark, not dirty. Oddly enough there were large, factory-like fans turning overhead. I had never noticed them before, even after a whole year of commuting.

The time was five thirty. It had taken me a half hour to come so far. I was terrible and still sweating. I stood behind a tall wide pillar where I managed to calm myself.

Few people stood around the platform. Dingo had not yet arrived. He was late, late, big late. Our train came and went. I let it pass. I wouldn’t leave without him. Meanwhile I bought us new tickets for the next trip that was due to arrive in an hour. I figured he would make it in time.

Dingo was my best friend. My best friend in the whole world I would say. We were both born on the same day though half a world apart. More like a whole world apart. To the outside we seemed to have little else in common but that’s what I loved about us, as no one could see through the differences as we did. We were inseparable from the time we were ten, when I had moved to Australia from the United States.

Until we graduated high school, we lived in a small town in Western Australia. He wanted to come to the city but his family was poor. He was so happy when I brought him along with me to Sydney after I left for college.

Dingo was an incredibly talented tribal dancer. For some reason, though, his elders wouldn’t let him participate in ceremonies, even those for adolescents his age. He would put on performances just for me. As he dances he transforms into something else, something greater. He flows with the music, music, I think, only he can hear. His movements were so natural so perfect so coordinated even then. In no time at all he joined an aboriginal dance troop in the city. It was a local company that did few tours through the country. He said he liked it that way. I’ve been to all his shows of course. I’ve dragged him to a few of my lectures. He had quite an appreciation for learning.

He appeared on the platform, naked from the waste up. The heat must have gotten to him too. He was so much more comfortable with his body than me. His skin was so dark–almost totally black–and so smooth. He was toned but not overtly muscular. He carried his jacket over his shoulder and held some paper in his hands. A dark hat covered his dense, bushy hair. He approached blank faced and sad until he saw me and then a great smile brightened his face. As he came closer I saw tribal patterns of some sort drawn around his forehead, cheeks and parts of his chest running onto his back. I guessed he was in dress rehearsals.

“You waited for me, mate.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t leave you high and dry. Here, I bought us tickets for the next train.”

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

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“That’s all right. You’re safe with me. Let’s talk around here.”

We walked around the column a bit. There was scarcely a soul around. We leaned back against the pillar, next to each other. He put his hat on me playfully.

“You look sad. Is something wrong?”

“You know Charlie?”

“Charlie Cole. He’s been over a few times.”

“He was beat up pretty bad, mate. Bad.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No one did ’till this morning. I went to see him in the hospital. He’ll be all right I think, physically all right.”

“Why did they do that?”

“Because he likes other guys, you know.”

“I see.”

“It’s not so uncommon. Most dancers are, aboriginals, I mean. The directors don’t like us showing it on stage but sometimes it does so anyway.”

“The sexuality.”

“We’re all mates up there, all guys.”

Here I put my hand on his arm, his biceps. I rubbed gently up and down and squeezed it a little. Sometimes I wondered about him. When we were boys he thought nothing of exposing himself in front of me. We went to the bathroom together. It began when he followed me in one fine day. Naturally I did the same to him. After a while it was just something we did, without thought. We bathed together, changed together, wore each other’s clothing. When it was just him and me, he would go about naked.

When we were thirteen he took off my clothes–I let him after I had pulled down his shorts one playful afternoon. That night we slept together in bed for the first time. There was nothing sexual, we didn’t ‘experiment,’ we didn’t explore our bodies that way, we didn’t have to since most of the time our balls were out in the open anyway.

Standing under the pillar, next to him on the platform, there was one morning that suddenly came back to me. I remembered awaking in bed, in his arms, sporting some stiff erections. We must have been fourteen or fifteen. Our dicks were touching even but neither he nor I took any real notice of it. We got up and did what we did seemingly without shame or embarrassment, as if there was nothing wrong at all with or about our bodies or our closeness.

“Is it accepted? With….”

“Not exactly. No one cares as long as you have children.”

“Dingo, is that why you were never initiated?”

“That and I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Dingo. Not for me.”

“For you I’ll give up the world.”

He looked at me as if he was about to cry. What could I do? I hugged him hard. I pressed him. I pressed our bodies so hard we could’ve almost morphed into one body. I felt around the nape of his neck, massaged the back of his shoulders and his shoulder blades. Then with my finger tips, I followed his spine up and down to his ass. I squeezed his butt cheeks through his shorts. We relaxed our embrace and stared, our eyes inches apart. I kissed his dark, full lips.

“You’ve made me so happy.”

I pushed his hair back to reveal the tops of his pecs. (His hair was a little past his shoulders.) I fondled his nipples. He moaned a little.

“You better stop before someone notices.”

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“I remembered when we would sleep naked together. I should have touched you all over, kissed you all over back then, so long ago.”

“I was dying to make love with you. You know, mate, the only wet dream I can still remember was about you. We were in class, in front of everyone and you took off my shorts and began to kiss my dick. I tried to make you stop but you wouldn’t. When I awoke I was still ejaculating. We were both covered in my semen. We’ve a lot of time to make up. Mick, my mate Mick.” He put his arms around my waist. “I’m so stiff. My balls are dying for your attention.”

“In the train, when no one’s looking. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Then don’t. I love this contrast.” He put my hand over his left pectoral. My palm cupped around one of his nipples. I felt his heart beating hard like his erection. “I love this contrast, the contrast in our skins. Do you like my black skin?”

“Yes, so much, it’s so smooth, Dingo, so dark, so soft.”

“I like your white skin, too, you know. I’ve always been attracted to fair skinned men. I don’t like dark features much.”

“Oh, but I do.” Here I kissed his cheeks and lips. I let my hand wander down from his nipples to his belly, his belly button, then I let it rest casually over his crotch. He was only slightly bulging and I felt a distinct throb when I pressed a little firmly. “How dark is your dick?”

“It’s a dark, dark navy blue almost purple, like my nipples. The head’s a lighter a little but still dark.”

“It must be very beautiful.”

“And it’s all for you and you’re all for me.”

We hugged again.

“Has it grown a lot?”

“Of course, mate, it’s just my size, I’ll let you measure it.”

“I can’t believe I’ve been living with such a hot stud and have done nothing with his body for almost a year now.”

“I didn’t think you were into it. I was nervous, too, to approach you like that. Do you want to be lovers?”

“In a New York minute.”

Thankfully the train arrived early. We boarded without difficulty a car that was almost deserted. After one stop we were all alone. Again I gave my friend all the attention he deserved. I began with his nipples until they hardened. Then we kissed and kissed for what must have been forever. I massage his muscles all over and ended by putting my hand over his crotch again.

“You want to see my penis?” I nodded and he pulled down his shorts to expose himself. I was in heaven. With my hands I lightly rubbed the shaft of his dick and cupped his balls.

“Your scrot is so cute.” I played with the loose skin of his ball sack. His dick throbbed and twitted. It grew larger, stiffer. He let me do whatever I wanted. His privates were so dark. Then to his dick. Only six and half inches long, it was as large as mine and gorgeous. I couldn’t have ever imagined what his little boy parts had grown up into. The head of his dick was slowly poking its way out from the cover of his foreskin. It was lighter in color than the rest of his body and seemingly coarser. The rest of his shaft was smooth and straight and though he had quite an erection the skin was silky soft. Only his scrot, of course, was not so soft. It had been before but the more I stimulated him and his excitement grew to my affections his testicles were pressing up against his body and his scrotal skin was dense, rough and shrinking as his testes began to throb with pleasure.

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I pulled back his foreskin after I kissed what was exposed of his very sensitive glans. He let out a laud moan. I had his foreskin all the way back and held his penis pointed at my face. I licked and kissed every square inch of his aboriginal manhood. He let out a few more moans and I said things like, “it’s so dark,” or “it’s so strong,” all of which further aroused him.

Then I massaged and rubbed all around the underside of his bulging head. His hips bucked suddenly and he tensed. His whole body was ready. He was about to climax.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

I put his dick in my mouth and sucked it all in.

When he finished unloading himself, he sat next to me. Still exposed, though his dick was flaccid. I played with it some more. His head was still covered in my saliva. I licked it and as I did it I felt it slowly stir and get warmer. I played with his foreskin and he got another erection. This time I jacked him off and in no time he came again. He got his pants up just as the train made it to our stop.

At home we went right to bed and we pressed our balls and dicks up against each other. He gave me the same favors I had given him. Then late at night when we had recovered a little, we made love by thrusting our erections between our legs. I couldn’t keep my hands off him, off his whole body.

That night I slept in his arms, in an embrace, hot and sweaty again. We were both exhausted. I could hear his heart beating and somehow I felt safe and free. I hugged him hard again and kissed his lips. I knew at once I was with my soulmate.

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