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��That Biggish Nigga Came Through the City Barbershop By Calvin Freeman Copyright Calvin Freeman Smashwords Edition Cover illustration by Laura Leyes CHAPTER ONE A Reminder About Marcus 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. CHAPTER TWO The Best Barbershop in Brooklyn After that Marcus showed up every week, at least once, asking for a blowjob. I had no problem with it -- I love sucking cock more than anything except getting fucked by cock. He said I gave better dome than any female he'd ever been with, which made me proud. As I said, it's an art, and I see myself as one of the great artists of my generation. Paul, however, didn't like it one bit, and made him buy something every time he came into the shop. He'd usually pay a little more than a dollar for a comb, then take me into the backroom and let me go to town on that cock. He kept telling me was going to fuck me in the ass too, but that he was waiting for the perfect moment. "I'm saving this ass for a rainy day," he said, over and over, slapping it and watching it jiggle. So when he came into the barbershop with a big shiteating grin on his face, while outside it poured rain, I instantly knew what he came for. The proverbial rainy had come to pass, and luckily, it was even about time for him to get a haircut, so Paul couldn't get mad. He wiggled his ass in my direction as he sat in my chair and waited. Then he caressed my ass while I got my equipment together, taking my sweet time because I loved the way he roughly pawed at me. I wanted his dick inside me right then, but I forced myself to give him a professional haircut first. Gotta be a pro, I told myself. But everything I knew about hair vanished from my mind, and all I could think of was his thick body on top of mine. But I managed to shake it off when I heard the braying sound of Daniel guffawing at me as I stood there, swaying my hips to Marcus' quiet fucktalk. I grinned back and got to work on his hair. If I was too obvious about it, Paul would kick Marcus out, and then I wouldn't get that cock at all. He kept telling me what he was going to do to me when I was on his dick. "Gonna ram this shit all up in there, baby, you gonna feel that dick for months to come. I been saving this cock up to break down that ass. When's the last time you took dick?" "Not in my ass in like three weeks," I said. "Oh yeah, that'll do nicely," he spoke slowly with a spreading grin on his face. I shuddered, finishing up his haircut, my heart pounding with eagerness to get started. I was a little embarrassed it had been three weeks since my last serious fuck. "Come on into the back," he said, handing me a few bills, "I'll give you a tip back there." I followed him and growled. "Oh? Just the tip?" He smiled at me as he shut the door to the backroom. "Just the tip to start," he said. Daniel was outside the room and just barely heard it before the doors closed, so he started whistling and laughing. I could hear Paul telling him to shut up. Paul knew I brought business in, but he hated how indiscrete Daniel was about it -- Paul wanted to tell himself he didn't know what was going on, and Daniel made that difficult. "Don't worry, I brought lube," Marcus said. He took me into the bathroom and bent me over the sink. I braced my arms around both sides of the linoleum and spread my legs. He wedged his dick between my cheeks and left it there for a moment, pulsating against my rectum. I could feel the heat of his biggish chest radiating against my back. "You ready for this?" "Yes, oh god yes!" "Whose dick you ready for?" "Yours! Marcus, come on! I want that, daddy," I said. Niggas loved it when I called them daddy and made it sound like their cock would cure my cancer. "I need that dick inside me. It's gonna feel so good. Please, put it in me." He smirked smugly and plopped its tip right at the edge to my ass. "Back up on it," he said, "You can put it in. You know how to make it feel good." I pushed back against his hips, and winked my rectum as his cock slipped inside. Just the tip at first, but I winced and pushed further and further back. He moaned and placed one hand on each of my hips, holding me in position. I held my breath as a spasm of pain ran through me, followed by an intense shuddering pleasure. He was tickling my orgasm, I thought, like an expert. He took over the thrusting, and jammed his hips against my ass. He slapped my cheeks between every gyration. His cock was as big as the rest of him, and it seemed even bigger in my ass than it did in my throat. It pulsated hotly inside me, filling up every inch of my intestines. He bent down and kissed me on the back of the neck. He was saying something, murmuring quietly, but I couldn't make any of it out. His tone was too low, too breathless and impassioned, and my own mind was deeply focused on the intense pressure and pleasure overpowering my nerves. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any more, he burst a giant nut inside me. I could feel how big it was from the waves of hot sticky goo washing over me inside and out. I felt long strings of cum dripping out of my hole and sticking to my thigh. I moaned. He dug his fingers into my shoulders and wrapped his arms around me. He took a long deep breath and let his slimy cock plop out of my mouth. He grabbed some paper towels, moistened them in the sink, and began washing himself off. "Thanks for that," he said, "This is the best barbershop in Brooklyn." CHAPTER THREE Brothas Marcus had two brothers, each of them even bigger than he was. He was both the shortest and lightest of the family, which was amazing because Marcus was well over six feet tall and bursting with heft. He came in with them one day, a few weeks after we started doing anal. "Hey, these are my brothers," he said, "They just got to town and Khyree needs a haircut." I gave them both a leering nod. I knew why Marcus had brought them over. They looked just like him and stared down at me with unabashed lust in their eyes. It looked like he told them they could fuck me, and they were bursting at the seams to get started. "Marcus told us a lot about you," said the bigger of the two, Khyree. He was nearly seven feet tall, thick all over and with a dull, half-slitted glare in his eyes. He bit his lip as he looked me up and down. Khyree sat in my chair, and I tucked the apron over him, taking a few moments to glide my hands across his chest. Marcus sat down near the door, joined by his other brother, the bald- headed Anthony, who glowered at me darkly. He was heavily tattooed and hostile, with a menacing energy I found very exciting. I hurried through Khyree's haircut -- it was obviously just a formality, as he didn't need one and seemed to have had a professional cut recently. As soon as I could credibly claim to be done without Wilson and Paul giving me shit (Daniel seemed to have expected the brothers to show up and knew exactly what was happening), I announced the haircut done. Now how to get all three of them in the back without attracting too much attention? There were a couple customers in the barbershop, and more walked in as I took the apron off Khyree. Marcus stood up and said, "Hey, can we use your phone?" I smiled. "Sure, come on to the back room." They followed me through the office and supply area, into the bathroom. As soon as the door to the office shut and the sounds of niggas milling about faded, Marcus chuckled. "See boys? Ain't I tell you his ass was something else? Show 'em how it jiggles," he said. I pulled my jeans down and wiggled my ass for them. I was glad to be wearing nice underwear today, a pair of brilliant pink briefs that felt perfectly snug around my asscheeks. The four of us didn't fit in the bathroom, but the three brothers weren't at all perturbed by the close quarters. Their beefy bellies and thick biceps brushed up against each other, and the jovial Marcus even wrapped his arms around his brothers' naked waists. I arranged my ass for Marcus to fuck first, but Anthony pushed him away, almost knocking him and me into a pile by the toilet. "I'm older," Anthony said, "Lemme get in that ass first. That's what dad always said." A part of me wanted to stand up for Marcus, who had always fucked me good, but moments later Anthony's cock hit my prostate, and I lost the ability to form words. His nigga cock rammed inside me. I moaned and grabbed onto Marcus for support. Marcus held onto me at first, then slowly set me down on my hands and knees so I could suck him off. His cock tasted even better than it normally did, maybe because I could smell so much dick everywhere else in the room. I reached out with one hand for Khyree's cock, caressing his thick belly and trunk-like thighs before I found it. He had a bigger dick than his brothers, I thought, so big I would need both hands to jack it, and my fingers didn't even extend all the way around it. I shuddered in pleasure and anticipatory pain at the thought of taking it inside my ass. Anthony was ruthless, pounding at me as though trying to break something inside me. It would have been worth it if he had, but I was a pro. I'd taken miles of cock before him, and I loved every inch of his meat filling me up. I swayed my hips back against his to get as much of it inside me as I could. He came quickly. He filled up my ass with his hot, sticky goodness, and let his cock sit there in my funky hole while he limpened. Anthony pulled out, and was replaced by Khyree. His soda can-thick cock pressed against my loosened asshole. "This might hurt, faggot," he said, a note of genuine concern in his voice. "But you look like you can take it." Just as his tip hit my rectum, Marcus came inside my mouth. He shot his load in the center of my throat, and held onto my neck to watch me swallow it. He sneered in disgust, then gently patted me on the cheek. "Damn, you a good little fagboy, ain't ya?" Pain split me as Khyree pushed his cock deeper inside me. I grabbed ahold of Marcus' thick body for support, leaning my head against his powerful chest. I smacked his bare, phat cheeks and said, through agonized breaths, "Lemme... eat yo'... ass," I said. Marcus screamed, "Ooooh!" and jumped up and down like he had just scored the winning touchdown. In his exuberance, he hugged Anthony, both of them still naked so Marcus' cum-slickened cock rubbed against Anthony's bare leg. Anthony pushed his brother against the wall, but Marcus was unphazed. He hunkered down in front of me and spread his cheeks. "Little more, bitch, little more," Khyree said, pushing more of his dick inside. I felt like he was stabbing my guts, but it felt great. The pleasure of my anal orgasm made it hard to genuinely give Marcus a rimjob, but I loved to bury my head in the fat of his ass. The smell of his sweat assaulted my nostrils, making my dick turn red and pulsate with impending orgasm. Something snapped in my rectum, and as my climax began, I loosened enough for the rest of Khyree's dick to slip inside. I felt like his manhood was overcoming my every inch of flesh, and my tongue lolled loosely inside Marcus' asshole. I shot a load of my own even with my hands tightly curled above my head. Above me, Anthony watched with the wry, disapproving grin of an older brother. Khyree's cum filled up every corner of my ass, spilling out in a frothy soup of santorum and his brother's cum. I laid on the ground, letting the aftershocks of orgasm wash over me. I saw them open the door, still naked, clothes in hand, chatting about their night. "See? Best damn faggot in Brooklyn," Marcus said, "Now we ready to find a female for tonight." "Shit..." Khyree said, "Now I ain't sure we need to." Sample chapter from Calvin Freeman s City Barbershop Downlow It s funny how white and black barbershops are so distinct. White male barbers are either elderly or gay, the most effeminate men you can find in some neighborhoods. Black male barbers are straight and macho, often big players in local dealings. Never the two do meet, except at the state licensing- mandated cosmetology school. So I was an anomaly, a gay black man working in a barbershop in a tough part of Brooklyn. I wasn t one of those gay black hipster-thugs who were becoming common then either, I had long since given up on my battle against the lisp. Everybody knew I was gay even before I opened my mouth. Not that I minded too much most of the niggas here in Brooklyn were easygoing on the eyes and agreeable to a little downlow action, as long as I made sure none of their friends were around. Iit wasn t until my third day on the job that my coworkers acknowledged what I was. The owner and oldest barber was Paul Freemantle, a burly man with a booming voice and an imposing stare. He walked slowly, with a slight limp, and was the kind of man who attracted attention no matter what he was doing. He had been a Marine in his youth, though he didn t talk about it much and I wouldn t find out until I had worked there almost a year. Paul was the one who raised his eyebrows when I came in wearing a short t-shirt that revealed my hips and the top of my asscrack. I knew I was pushing boundaries, so I had a different shirt in my bag, ready to change if Paul made a fuss over it. But he just scoffed and returned to his paperwork. No turnin tricks in my shop, Paul said without looking up. I put my hands on my hips. I am not a whore. He just a slut& whispered Daniel White, the thick-bearded barber with massive muscles whose chair was next to mine. He was the one I most wanted to bed, because I loved the big hairy muscle types. I know I have a nice ass, I said, And I like showing it off. I flared my hips and let the younger men see it. I was truly proud of my ass, it was fat in all the right ways, and it jiggled merrily at the slightest touch. I slapped it myself, and I noticed Daniel bite his lip aggressively. He grabbed his crotch. The fourth barber, and the only one to have a customer at the time, was Wilson. He was the most objectively handsome of all of us, a real lady s man prettyboy with willowy eyes and a lean, ropy frame. He was hot, but he didn t have the macho swagger that dripped off Daniel. Wilson ignored me completely, but his customer was more outgoing. That was Marcus Winchell, who came in every month like clockwork, and was always loud and boisterous. Marcus was big and beefy like Daniel, but he had more padding overtop his muscles. Daniel had perfect definition, which he liked to show off, but Marcus was strong as an ox and bursting with heft. He was laughing so hard Wilson had to stop cutting his hair, waiting patiently for things to quiet down. Daniel reached over and grabbed my asscheek. He slapped it through my tight jeans, then whistled appreciatively at my jiggling. I moaned and shook it some more. Ow-wee, this is just like a nice bitch ass, Daniel said. He picked up the band of my thong and let it thwack onto my flesh. And you wearin a thong, boy, you mustta wanted some dick today. You beggin for it. Hell yeah- Hey! Paul shouted, and we all fell silent. Not in the front room. You young folk wanna do that downlow shit, you do it in the back, and you hide it. We got kids comin in this place. Marcus protested. None of us here is kids, nigga, we all grown men. We ain t gotta pretend- Yes, you do, Paul said. You gotta pretend. It ain t if you proud of it. He nodded at me. No offense. You do what you want. But I call it like I see it. I shrugged. I didn t expect his approval and was at least glad he wouldn t try to convert me. It was a pity that he wasn t open to any of that downlow shit himself, I thought, because he had a sturdy aged body that I wanted to lick all over. Daniel put one hand on the back of my neck and gestured towards the door to the office. I had thought we were just playing around, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that Daniel was serious. My heart started pounding in my chest. I assumed Daniel had enough females on tap he wouldn t mess around with me, but he seemed gung ho. Not in my office, Paul said, Go in the bathroom, and don t you dare nut on the toilet bowl or something. I ll make you clean that shit up, Daniel. Daniel stopped me at the door to the back and pulled down my jeans. He put his fingers to his lips, so Marcus forced himself to stop laughing. Paul was deeply engrossed in adding up the month s figures, and didn t notice what was happening. My asscheeks flapped in the cool air. I shook them silently, and Daniel spread the cheeks with both hands. He pantomimed slapping them, and I could tell he was making funny faces at Marcus, who turned burgundy from holding in his laughter. Hey! Paul shouted, and Daniel jumped up and pulled me into the back. I ain t kiddin Daniel! he shouted as Daniel closed the door. And don t take too long neither. Daniel pulled me into the kitchen and pushed me against the sink. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped his arms around me. I shuddered at the feeling of his muscles flexing against my back. He was much more affectionate than I thought, and he even lowered his head to nuzzle my neck. Don t you tell no one I was like this, he said, Tell them I hit you when you tried to kiss me, and I ain t take off my shirt. Real gangstas don t get naked when they fuck with faggots. He didn t wait for a response before ramming his cock in. He wasn t cruel about it, but he did push it forcefully through my aching resistance. I felt a pulsating orgasm begin the moment his cockhead touched my prostate. He kept me in a big bear hug, his arms massaging my chest and ribs. You so smooth, bitch, you feel so nice, he said over and over. His dense, coarse beard rubbed against the back of my neck, his thick lips caressing my flesh. I came the moment my hands touched my dick, and I only just barely managed to spray it all in the toilet bowl. Daniel showed no signs of slowing down, however, and he rammed his cock in even further. I screamed, then stifled it. Paul had said to hide it, after all. Nah, scream, nigga, let it out, Daniel said, I want those niggas out there to hear it. Tell them whose dick is in you. I tried to shout out some words, but my ass was being fucked raw, and all I could do was moan loudly. I banged on the wall with my fists, my body bucking beneath his grasp. I thought I could hear laughter out in the hall, no doubt Marcus listening at the door and making a ruckus. He stopped moving, his muscles tightly wrapped around me, beard scratching my cheeks. He wouldn t kiss me on the lips, even in the throes of orgasm, but he nuzzled me like a lover as he shot his load. His heavy breathing was the only sound for a moment, then the bathroom with his echoing roars as he nutted inside me. His hot cum filled me up and dripped down his shaft. Remember, if anyone asks, I ain t fuck you like that, he said. Tell them I hurt you. I showed him my best bow-legged walk, remembering the days when I first started fucking around with men. By now I was used to it, and could take just about anything in there, but I remembered that awkward, painful gait that said big dick- fuckhole . Marcus was waiting at the door with a big wide grin. When he saw me walking with the ass-fucked stride of a slut, he guffawed and clapped. I blushed as I walked back into the front room, where Wilson and Paul studiously ignored me and Marcus incessant braying laughter.

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