he would find his way in again.”

I considered the possibility. Then a spark went off in the back of my mind. “Well, if he does, I’ll just have to call you again!” I beamed a wide smile.

Emmanuel laughed a thick and hearty laugh. “Yes, I suppose you will.” He opened the front door, stepped out, and released the little critter into the bushes. He then removed his gloves and stuck them back in their pouch.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, admiring his bulging biceps and huge, square jaw.

“I should put your refrigerator back now.” There was something almost robotic about the way he spoke. The way he moved. As if he were this immense machine governed by the design of some rigid programming. I wanted nothing more than to see what Emmanuel was like outside of that programming.

I followed him into the kitchen and gawked, unabashed at the huge muscles of his back stretching and tensing beneath his shirt between his shoulders as he eased my refrigerator back against the wall. My heart was racing and I felt my breath escaping. Once he had completed his task, he turned and wiped a single bead of sweat from his forehead. “Whew... It is a bit hot in here isn’t?” I commented as I fanned myself.

“Yes. Very,” he replied in his usual, rigid tone as he stepped up next to me, his face hovering above mine, his massive chest heaving against my own. I fell apart in his presence.

“Oh, god, just fuck me...” I relented as he took me into his beastly arms. I want to say that this took me by surprise. But it didn’t. From the moment I’d walked in, I’d wanted him, and I could sense that he wanted me too.

I’d also like to say that I meant to drop to my knees. The truth is, my legs just buckled and I slipped to the floor. Emmanuel was unfastening his belt and tossing it onto the dining room table as I was working on his fly. I got his pants open and jerked them down to his knees. He was wearing cute white and blue striped boxers, and beneath the thin fabric I could make out a rather substantial bulge.

Dropping his underpants, I nearly choked on my own tongue. Swaying between Emmanuel’s legs was a veritable summer-sausage of uncut dark meat. I felt my saliva poor from my mouth and begin running down my lips.

“Dear God!” I exclaimed before I lifted the heavy tube of flesh and squeezed its spongy tip between my lips. Emmanuel’s monstrous cock began to stiffen in my mouth, and I soon had to face the fact that there was no way I could actually blow this cock. It was at least ten inches long and as thick as a can of hair spray. I gripped its base and attempted to force the giant cockhead into my gullet. Stretching my jaws as wide as I could, I still felt the flesh of his shaft grinding against my teeth. I didn’t want to hurt the man, so I had to give up. Gasping for breath, I apologized for my shortcomings.

“It is oh-kay,” he stammered. “Very few men can accommodate me with their mouths.”

There it was again. The way he spoke. The inflection. “With their mouths.” He delivered the words with an implication that men might succeed at accommodating him with certain other