Saving Grace Pt. 01

This one marks a return to my customary indulgence in romantic bearotica. It's an interracial love story in two installments. This also marks my first foray into omniscient 3rd person narrative to capture the perspectives of both leading characters. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

*****

Thirty-seven year old Clarence Goodman stepped out of his shower and patted himself dry. He spied the bathroom scale but tried in vain not to succumb to its siren song. As if against his will, one size thirteen foot planted itself upon it - then the other.

He watched in dismay as the dial spun and bounced around until its violent sweep began to narrow and finally settle, seemingly exhausted, on 327. No amount of dieting or exercise appeared to put a dent in his substantial body mass.

He wrapped his towel around his immense waist and exited the bathroom of the small parsonage he'd inhabited these last ten years. He then walked to his bedroom, closing the door behind him as he entered.

Clarence didn't quite understand his need for such modesty. It wasn't as though privacy was an issue since he lived alone. He pitched the towel on his bed and then grabbed some underclothes from the top drawer of his dresser, pitching them on his bed next to the towel.

He turned and caught his nude reflection in the full length mirror on the back of his bedroom door. Even from across the room his tremendously broad-shouldered width barely fit in it. A forlorn sigh escaped him as he studied himself.

He'd always been a stunningly large man, even since before he'd reached the age that legally defined him as one. His few friends from high school used to joke that he'd been born on July 11th and 12th...and 13th. That kind of attention called to his imposing physical presence had always made him feel a step out of sync with the rest of the world.

Clarence grew to value it after commencing his award-winning college football career, though. He took particular pride in the way his naturally dense muscle mass responded to the attendant weightlifting program. Even at his current weight, what he saw in the mirror looked far from obese.

Other than the thick belly that was the centerpiece of his burly corpulence, the powerful slabs of muscle he'd developed as an offensive tackle during college still bounced out in all directions. They looked somewhat softer now, being comfortably cloaked in the more than forty-five pounds of padding he'd added in the fifteen years since, but they were still clearly capable of a heavy lift when the need arose.

Even the mountainous piles of trapezius muscle that had once swallowed his bullish twenty-three inch neck still rose at least like respectable foothills between his well-rounded shoulders. He liked the way they set off his huge round head, so barren of hair now that he'd begun shaving it completely bald - making it appear almost like another bulging muscle.

The dense pectorals that adorned his barrel chest were still impressive. He began slowly standing the ebony slabs to attention one at a time. His eyes strayed on down to his loins.

Still warm and hanging loose from his shower, he eyed what he secretly regarded as his most striking feature; the fat wad of hooded cock, easily five inches long in its current state, regally nestled down in a scrotum that comfortably rested low against his tree trunk thighs. The plump, heavy looking bag spilled out over a palm even the size of his when lifted.

Clarence wasn't quite sure why he took such pride in his endowment. Its sole reward these last fifteen years had been nothing more than the occasional masturbation session, usually followed by a heaping helping of guilt. Still, he found it a comforting sight and the substantial thickness of his erect cock certainly felt good in his bear-like paw of a hand when he could no longer resist the urge to stroke it.

To his dismay, it suddenly began to swell and lift off his intimidatingly large balls. With each successive heartbeat, it bobbed a little higher and grew a little fatter until it was soon fully erect.

Against the backdrop of his physical enormity, it appeared little more than average in size. However, his curiosity had led him to measure it once so he knew full well that, even accounting for only the portion that showed from his fat pad, it was still equal parts length and girth at seven inches. At least another inch and a half of length lurked within that.

He formed a 'C' with the thumb and index finger of his right hand and used it to depress his pad enough to reveal it. An odd mixture of shame and arousal washed over him as he beheld his menacing presentation.

His mind traveled back in time to the three year affair he'd had with his football team's star running back.

They were complete opposites. Even to himself, Clarence was the biggest, blackest man he'd ever set eyes on. Rick was his match in height at five feet and ten inches, but the resemblance abruptly ended there. He was a lean but well-muscled 170 pounds and so white by comparison that he looked almost porcelain to the massive, round bellied tackle.

No matter how dire the team's situation, Clarence would always tell him, "You see this fat, black ass, white boy? Well, you hug it tight! I'll get you to the line to gain!"

Rick rarely failed to comply, even when it meant spontaneously changing the play that had been sent in from the sideline, and Clarence rarely failed to make good on his promise. They quickly formed a bond that neither of them quite understood in those innocent times, but Rick firmly understood that without the man-mountain leading his charge he was just another back at a small 'AA' school.

He had no problem showing Clarence his gratitude by curling up next to him in his bed and sucking his unwieldy dong, sometimes for hours. He even availed the dusky giant the use of his ass on the occasions of their most significant victories. Clarence's protective instincts regarding his beautiful teammate blossomed as a result, and their pact to assist each other into the NFL thrived with each successive season.

Then, during the conference championship game in their senior year, the unthinkable happened. The star tackle's ankle got rolled up on by a defensive lineman at least his size and the resulting damage to his Achilles tendon was too severe to make him a viable prospect for any NFL scout.

Rick succeeded in going on to a very lucrative five year NFL career after graduating, but Clarence never heard from him again. He bore his lost lover no ill will, but he never again found a person he felt so free having sex with...and he missed that sorely.

In truth, at the time he didn't even think of Rick as his lover. Within the context of their intensely masculine sporting endeavors, what they did in their private moments somehow never seemed "gay" - to Clarence, at least.

He let his mind wander forward to the events that led him to the stable life he currently enjoyed in the comfort of his modest parsonage.

It was only after his own dream of professional football ended and he frequently found himself eyeing some other slight, porcelain doll - wondering how tight his mouth or ass would feel on his uncommonly large cock - that he realized his and Rick's bond had, in fact, been a gay romance. That was when he became consumed with guilt over what he felt sure had been their 'sexual misconduct' and dedicated himself in service to his Lord and Savior.

He never went to seminary school, but he became a constant presence at his inner-city church, Good Shepherd. The gentle giant pored over his Bible for the next five years while eschewing his college business degree to work at low-paid, unskilled and very physically demanding jobs. He preferred that kind of work since it often exhausted him beyond the point of sexual arousal.

When their preacher unexpectedly moved on early in 2008, his bereft congregation lauded his knowledge of the Good Book and his natural leadership skills. They pleaded with him to assume the role until they eventually wore him down and he accepted.

It was a weighty responsibility, given the 'sin' only he knew lurked within him, but he finally decided it might be his only hope of ever driving a dagger through its ugly heart. He poured himself into his work and their church thrived - largely due to his boundless strength and energy, charismatic personality and larger-than-life physical presence.

He quickly adapted to his public speaking duties, delivering his sermons with a fervor and authority that had "Amen!" ringing out almost in a chorus from his congregation. In a move almost as quick, he had them reaching out to the inner-city prostitutes with offers of food, shelter and salvation.

In particular, he shocked his fellow congregants by reaching out to the young gay men just as often as the women. One of the church's elders, Rowan Williams - himself a quite large man in his fifties - once aggressively challenged Clarence on the 'Christianity' behind such efforts during a sermon. The chapel went deathly silent.

The burly behemoth at the helm of the service took the edges of the pulpit's lectern in his huge, impossibly thick hands and bowed his enormous, shiny, bald head. He drew a deep breath, clearly counting to ten and swelling his massive chest to all its glory in the process.

Clarence lifted his head and stared the man in the eye, pushing his black rimmed glasses up on his wide, nearly bridgeless nose. The pulpit looked like a toy prop before the stoic giant. His accuser began to shift uncomfortably on his feet.

"If I can get them to renounce their sins, Brother Williams," he calmly began, "...and change...maybe even join our efforts right here at Good Shepherd...will God care which sins they were?"

There was another long silence.

"No, sir, I reckon not," the elder meekly replied.

"Do you have anything you'd like to add, sir?"

"No...I reckon not...thank you," the man calmly said, finding no hole in the preacher's logic.

Clarence drifted back to the present. In the mirror he saw his fingers nimbly rolling his foreskin over his glistening, coal black glans.

He thought of Tyler, a young man of the ilk the elder had challenged him on. At the age of only twenty, he had been on the streets for two years already. It was a bitter tragedy in the preacher's soulful eyes.

Clarence remembered first spotting the boy at work, and the resulting shock that jolted him. It was as if time and space had twisted to merge his past with his present.

There, hustling on a street corner in what was commonly referred to as 'the district' early one evening, he saw the spitting image of his former lover, Rick. Not as tall and certainly not as muscular, but the same sandy hair and handsome facial features that struck him as so oddly beautiful.

He had to screw up his courage to confront the boy and see if he could begin steering him onto the right path. When he finally did approach him, Tyler mistook him for a potential client.

He had never seen such an intensely masculine man. At only five feet and five inches of height, Clarence towered over him and was easily twice his width. And, at no more than 140 pounds, he could tell that two of him would still not begin to approximate the smiling giant's immense body mass.

"Wow! Aren't you a handsome one! Looking for a good time?"

"Yes...and no," Clarence evasively responded.

Tyler looked confused.

"Well, which is it, mister?"

"That depends. What's on the menu, young man?"

"Blow jobs are a hundred bucks. Two fifty and you can stick your dick in this, ride it to your heart's content," Tyler said, turning his surprisingly curvy butt to the man and slowly running a hand over it.

Clarence's cock began to stiffen at his display. He tried not to stare at the boy's wares too long, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

"Mighty pricey," he responded.

"You get what you pay for, handsome," Tyler replied, parting his lips and seductively tracing the sharply pointed tip of his bright pink tongue around the temptingly small opening, "The old skanks are a lot cheaper, but you miss out on all this youthful innocence. So, what do you say? No kissing, by the way."

Had it not been for Clarence's intensely dark complexion, the boy would have seen him blush when he couldn't help visualizing those moist, exquisite lips stretched over his bulky member.

"How much just to talk?"

Tyler thought for a minute.

"Thirty bucks?"

Clarence dug his wallet from his coat pocket and fished out a twenty and a ten. He stuck them out to Tyler.

Tyler was stunned by the size of the giant's hand. He'd sucked and ridden cocks that didn't measure up to the size of the man's middle finger. His own cock sprang hard as steel at the thought of being penetrated by the tantalizing digit.

He reached for the money and couldn't resist copping a quick feel of the ham-sized fist that held it in its clutch. His thumb brushed over the man's pinky and he was dumbstruck to discover that its nail matched the size of his thumbnail. He felt himself shrinking the longer he stood in the hulking colossus' presence.

"Not here," the boy quickly said as he snatched the bills, "If we don't disappear then people might start thinking I'm a beggar. Let's step into my 'office'."

"Lead the way," the giant said, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Tyler trembled at Clarence's touch as his platter-sized paw swallowed the frail joint. He snuggled up to the man's tremendous bulk under his huge arm. It felt good...safe.

He directed Clarence to a small alley between two buildings as they walked and then led him back to an alcove at the end of it. Tyler sat on one end of a large empty crate and patted the space beside him. The enormous man laughed.

"I'll just stand, if that's alright. I don't think that thing's going to support someone my size."

Tyler smiled warmly as he studied the man's vast expanse.

"I see your point. You're about the biggest man I've ever seen!" he conceded in a lusty tone.

Clarence thought he also detected a hint of lust in Tyler's appreciative stare. It made him feel desirable for the first time in years. He tried to push the thought from his mind and stuck his hand out for a shake.

"I'm Clarence...Clarence Goodman."

The boy stared in disbelief as he laid his hand on the man's spacious palm and watched it disappear when he folded his fingers around it. He shivered again at Clarence's gentle touch.

"Tyler," he said, withholding his last name.

"How old are you, Tyler?"

"Eighteen."

"You sure?"

"Yes, sir, I can prove it. I'm just here to earn a little money, not to lay any kind of trap."

"I believe you."

"Look, this can't take any longer than a blow job. I can spare you fifteen minutes. What did you want to talk about?"

Clarence closed his eyes and tried to think of anything but how blissful fifteen minutes with his hulking dick in the beautiful young man's tiny mouth would feel.

"I'm the pastor at Good Shepherd, about 5 blocks from here."

"Oh, hell! I might've known! I'm not buying, mister," he flatly replied and started to rise to his feet.

That enormous paw landed on his shoulder again and prevented him.

"I'm not the one selling, boy," he calmly reminded him in his inhumanly deep voice, "I paid for fifteen minutes, so I intend to have my say with you."

Tyler trembled yet again at his touch. He was intensely attracted to the pinnacle of masculinity towering over him, boldly but non-threateningly invading his space. He would've gladly refunded Clarence's money and blown him for free just for the simple thrill of being on the business end of such a magnificent specimen of a man.

"So talk," he said, squirming under the man's penetrating gaze.

"I've been keeping an eye on you folks for a little over eight years now," he began, "Never seen a fellow quite so young as you down here before. You sure you know what you're in for?"

"Been working that corner for about a month now. I've made over a thousand bucks. Don't think for a minute I don't know what I'm doing, Rev," Tyler defensively replied.

"I'm not a reverend," Clarence explained, "just a pastor."

"I stand corrected...twelve minutes."

The giant couldn't help smiling at the boy's cock sure attitude.

"I'll get right to the point, then. You can bet I plan to keep an eye on you from now on. I don't mean that the way it sounds. I mean I'm here to help...to be your friend."

"Friends I've got, Rev. What I need is business."

"Trust me, you haven't got a friend who comes close to me," he sternly corrected the boy again.

Tyler suddenly felt a warm tingle at the musical tone the word 'friend' took on in the man's deep register as it reverberated in his office.

Clarence continued, "I mean somebody who's going to look out for you...for your safety...your well-being."

Tyler's countenance relaxed.

"I get that you think you know what you're doing...I was eighteen once. But, after eight years, I know a lot more about this place than you do. I've seen things - things that would curl your hair if I told you. Tyler, I'm not going to say nobody makes it out of here alive. But, I will say this...even the ones who do don't make it out without being scarred for life."

Tyler thought about his words.

"I'm listening," he quietly responded and then, regaining his street tough demeanor, "Eight minutes."

"I don't think the rest of what I have to say will take that long," Clarence calmly informed him, taking both the boy's shoulders in his strong hands, "Look at me, son."

Tyler meekly lifted his eyes to Clarence's. He found his starkly African features exotic looking and felt strangely comforted by his kingly presence.

"What you're doing with your life...with your body...it's going to start to weigh heavy on you. Mark my words. Now, I'll be around for you, but if that happens and I'm not here...aid and comfort, food and shelter...they're only five blocks away. You just knock. I swear, I'll always answer. I'll never turn you away."

There was a thoughtful silence from Tyler.

"Thanks, Mr. Goodman," he politely replied.

"Clarence," the big man softly insisted.

"Clarence," Tyler repeated for him.

"Now, get on back to work if you feel you need to, son. I've said my piece," he concluded and strode from Tyler's office with an authoritative swagger.

Back in the present once again, Clarence continued stroking his bloated, heavy cock. He cursed himself for his inability to resist imagining the lithe young man kneeling naked and buns up at his feet. Almost like a movie camera, his mind's eye zoomed in on the boy's beautiful, porcelain globes.

They were parted to reveal the adorably tiny pucker residing between them. It was bright pink and anxiously winking at him in anticipation of the thrill it desperately craved.

His lust filled him with shame as his imagination continued tormenting him. He helplessly envisioned kneeling behind Tyler and pressing his fat, vulgar looking cock head into the inviting warmth of his deep cleft. He could almost feel the lad's winking orifice pinching at the blunt tip of his meaty glans.

"Fill me with your big love, Clarence!" he imagined Tyler urging him.

Clarence clenched his eyes shut, trying in vain to fend off where his imagination was leading him next. It was useless. With all the tender love he carried in his pounding heart, he gently pressed at Tyler's defenseless anal orifice for entry.

His mind's eye was glued to the sight of Tyler's pucker yielding to his persistence while he slowly pried him open. He gripped his cock head in his hand and roughly squeezed it, imagining it was the boy's panic stricken rectum struggling to resist its inevitable penetration on the punishing girth of his even fatter shaft.