Pete continued to march to the door, ignoring his decidedly "straight" cock, and simply tried to get to the safety of the lockerroom behind it. However, what looked like a wall of ebony flesh got between him and his desired destination. At first he just wanted to throw the guy against the wall (not that he could, but he wan'ted to) and keep on moving, but when the guy put his hands on Pete's shoulders, he couldn't help but feel, safe; cocky even. Here was a real man, one who wouldn't jerk off at the sight of another naked man, one who would defend him from anyone who would try to "soil" him. If only Pete knew who he was being "back up" by.
While Pete felt that Tim wouldn't let David touch him, he didn't realise that it was Tim himself who was not only putting these foreign thoughts in his head, but also concockted the scenario in the first place. As he pulled Pete closer to his chest, the blond man's head fitting into the crevese between the two dark chocolate mounds some would call pecs, Tim couldn't help but think about the form he had decided to chose; there had been a body builder contest on TV in the gym lounge, and when he saw one contestant, an African-American man, who was at least a head above the next tallest person, he had decided to take on his form (with a few slight modifications, of course). It had worked out very well so far, bringing him much of the attention he desired, and of course many, many men to mess with. At the moment, he would play the part of a concerned friend, standing up for his fellow man. It did help that he had been around for over a hundred plays, operas and movies, most of which he played staring roles in.
"What the fuck man?! You daft or somethin'? Come on, don'cha know not to stare at anotha man's pride an' joy?", he half yelled, half berrated, a heavy Jamaican accent making his deep voice slightly slurred. His face was questioning, angry, and a little hurt; a perfect inversion of what his body was saying. If anyone didn't look at Tim's face, one would think that he was embracing his over confident lover, who was smirking at the other man across the room. Pete himself didn't realise it, nor did it register in David's mind, but Tim's thirteen inch penis was full mast between him and the pale man, making the scene more comical than erotic; the fact that it was amost as large as a 2ltr soda bottle, and that Ryan was still snoring, didn't help. Tim's next words and expression changed that, though.
"You can't stare at them like a tv screen, man,", he said, dipping his head down to Pete's blond, dripping wet head, "you need to respect them," and kissed Pete's forehead, "and give them a little bit o' sugar, right man?".
Pete, despite having been degretorry towards homosexuals just a minute previously, still giving David a rather nasty expression, agreed with Tim whole heartedly, not realising the reather hard turn he was making. "Yeah, just a little bit of sugar, and there's no trouble at all", pulling Tim's mouth down to his and giving him a sloppy kiss on the lips, trying to get his tongue into the other man's mouth, entwining his fingers in the small, but tight braids the black man had.
Throughout this entire exchange, David had gone from simply aghast to...
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