Welcome to the world of mansploitation fiction by M.N. Manmacker! It’s a series of linked stories involving man-on-man action in a world full of homoerotic situations, alpha males and raunchy, filthy rutting!
Welcome to the world of mansploitation fiction by M.N. Manmacker! It’s a series of linked stories involving man-on-man action in a world full of homoerotic situations, alpha males and raunchy, filthy rutting!
Content on this website includes pictures and videos that contain adult content. Written material (excerpts, etc.) may contain adult content, including offensive material, nonconsensual sex and other topics you may find objectionable. You must be at least eighteen years of age to visit this website.
Comments, questions and requests can be sent to MNManmacker@proton.me or sign up for the mailing list to keep abreast of new releases.
What does “mansploitation” mean?
À la 70s femsploitation and blaxsploitation movies, mansploitation stories emphasize masculine gender roles in ways that are sexy beyond belief!
Mansploitation stories use a floating, mobile timeline, like a classic cartoon or sitcom.
1: That means time moves forward but the characters mostly don’t — in other words, a college student character will always be a college student, even as the year changes. References and technologies will advance as well. This is a floating timeline.
2: Stories are set in various locations, characterized principally by the bar Lipsweet. For example, when Lipsweet is in Martinsburg, West Virginia, it is a rough-and-tumble strip club dominated by rednecks and hicks in the modern day. When Lipsweet is in Santa Monica, California, it is a modern-day cholo bar. When it is in Baton Rouge, it is a 1930s speakeasy , and when it is in Los Angeles, it is a beachfront bar in the 1980s. The characters will be translated to each setting but will remain mostly the same. Some storylines will unfold along different times and places. This is a mobile timeline.
3: Don’t worry too much about continuity. Some developments, mainly new characters, continue into future stories. But mostly, characters and situations reset in each new story. I try to keep character details consistent, but I have lots of oopsies (e.g., characters changing surnames, etc.). It’s a multiverse thing, deal with it.
Mansploitation stories have subtitles.
The subtitles are formatted like this: “A Lifelong Bachelors Mansploitation Novel” or “A Forceful Alphas Mansploitation Novella”.
Ultra-Raunchy: real dirty stuff, hobos, piss, rimjobs, etc
Mansploitation stories have pictures!
Most stories feature pictures, which are generated by AI. AI produces far superior images for my purposes compared to stock photo.
While images are intended to bring to mind a specific character, they don’t exactly correspond to descriptions in the book. That’s partially because AI isn’t real precise with things like ages, hairstyles and tattoos, but also it simply provides a little variety, so readers don’t feel locked in to a look that may not be their ideal. In any case, just like with stock photos, think of it as less the “actual look” of a character and more a head shot of an actor who could play that character — i.e., hair and makeup will change, they might be a little off in various ways, but they have the right attitude, atmosphere and ambiance to represent the character.
In pre-Civil War America, Master Taggart likes to watch his wife get it in every direction from the big black bucks he keeps as slaves. When one of them doesn’t cooperate the way he’s supposed to, Master Taggart has an effeminate slave climb on top and teach that mandingo a lesson in the power of Twink on Top!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Master Taggart had less control over Desmond and the other slaves than he thought. That was because he had little conception of his own vulnerability — he thought that the slaves did what he said because he was a respectable white landowner. But that wasn’t the case at all. Perhaps when it had first started, but that was years ago, before Desmond even got involved. Nowadays the Negroes of the Taggart Plantation did what Master Taggart said only because he ordered them to do things they wanted to do anyway. Most importantly, he ordered them to fornicate with his wife while he watched. Master Taggart enjoyed handling himself while his slaves fucked his wife. He loved getting close enough that their juices and their sweat splashed on his face, despite it making him gag and wrinkle his nose as though he disliked it. Desmond had no interest in participating in that. If Master Taggart had told him to do it, he’d have made a good effort, but he would struggle to get hard. Desmond had little interest in women’s bodies, and he did not admire fornicating with them. But that was okay. Master Taggart had no interest in making Desmond do that. He liked mandingos — big, horse-cocked Negroes with bulging muscles and massive bodies. He liked watching them plow and plunder his delicate wife. Only she wasn’t so delicate anymore. That was what the other slaves said more and more often these days. They had enjoyed fucking her when she was tight and clean, but the more she got it, the sloppier her womanhood was. She had also let herself go over the year, and now had stringy, greasy hair and a saggy body, with tired eyes and yellowed teeth. Desmond had never thought she was attractive, but nowadays she was downright ugly. “I ain’t gonna put it in that bitch today, she don’t look cleverly at all,” said Tyrell as they all walked towards Master Taggart’s mansion just past the plantation proper. “Yeah, she too sloppy.” “Nasty-ass too. I put my dick in her bottom last time and the whole thang slid right in. She didn’t notice,” Charles said with a rumbling laugh that echoed in the nearby woods. He was the tallest one there, nearly seven feet tall, built like a bear and with a great big smile. “I barely even got hard. I gots a freak to plow Desmond instead.” Desmond blushed as everyone laughed at him. He was proud of his position, even if he knew most Negroes would be ashamed of it. He was a mandingo as well, in the sense that he had a massive dick, but he was not a mandingo in any other way — Desmond was short, skinny and weak, with a feminine lilt and a girlish flair in his mannerisms. Master Taggart only included him because he helped get Missus Taggart ready. That used to be a multihour affair, as she made up her face and her hair and tried on multiple dresses, while the mandingos hardened their meats in the next apartment. All that preparation was just so Charles, Tyrell and the others could make her wet and filthy. Nowadays she mostly didn’t bother to fix herself up. Master Taggart waited with a solemncholy expression on his face, sitting upon the front porch of his mansion. He was excited to see them, and he jumped to his feet. Desmond went, as he always did, right for Missus Taggart, whose private quarters were in the back of the house. As he walked around the lawn, he heard Charles complaining about her slack womanhood, and the others chorusing their agreement. Desmond did not hear Master Taggart’s responses. “Let’s get you lookin’s pretty, Missus Taggart,” he said when he saw her sprawled out on a couch. He still assumed that Master Taggart would talk the men into giving her a flourish. He always did. Lately they had been saying every time that they weren’t going to put their manhoods inside her because she was unpleasant, but when they actually laid eyes upon her bare body, their baser instincts took over, and Master Taggart didn’t need to be stern with them. She was lazy. She frowned and nodded at Desmond. She had a faint mustache, and her overgrown womanhood peeked out from under her dress, which had grass stains all over it — was that the same dress she had worn last time? She was dirty as a punk, Desmond thought but wouldn’t ever say. “You think that’s gonna humiliate me?! Negroes don’t shame that easy, Massah Taggart. I’ll do it, no problem.” “Oooh, Charles’s on it now…!” “Massah Taggart!” The sounds of the mandingos in the front room drifted back here. Missus Taggart ignored them as she lazily brushed her hair a few times. She plastered on some lipstick and pursed her lips to get even coverage. Desmond kind of wished he was up front with the others. He loved watching Charles fight, which happened often. He always took off his clothes for a fight, so Desmond got to watch his sweat-slickened muscles and his hoggish manhood dangling between his legs. Every once in awhile, Charles let Desmond jerk him off, and Desmond would even get to finger his asshole — Charles was unique among the other slaves in that he loved having a finger in his asshole. He wasn’t even ashamed about it. He begged Missus Taggart to do it when he fucked her, despite the other slaves teasing him for it. “Desmond! Get over here!” Master Taggart yelled. Desmond shrugged. He looked at Missus Taggart, who lounged on her couch watching the sun set. Desmond sighed and went to the front of the building. After a brief delay, she followed him. The other Negroes and Master Taggart had moved into the drawing room, where Charles scowled though he didn’t seem angry — he looked to be patronizing Master Taggart, the only person in the apartment who looked serious. The Negroes all smiled like this was a big prank. “You too Sharon, come in here!” Master Taggart said. He smiled at his wife as she strode in lazily behind Desmond. Charles sneered at the sight of her. “This nigger here doesn’t want to fuck you. He says you’re too loose for him.” Sharon sat on a chair. She smiled and looked at all the other slaves. “Fine. The rest of you will do.” She spread her legs, revealing a hairy womanhood. The five remaining slaves exchanged nervous glances, then approached. They were younger than Charles so it wasn’t surprising that they were more willing to debase themselves with a loose woman. Besides, they were the ones who had loosened her in the first place. She undid the plain strings that kept their rough canvas breeches up, and the room filled with the smell of their unwashed crotches. Desmond straightened his neck at the sight of five massive cocks thwacking against each other as she took turns sucking on each one. They raced to stiffies in seconds. “Get offa my dick, Tyrell, she want me first.” “She gonna get me, nigguh, don’t you get in my way.” “Boys, let’s not fight,” she said. She took both dicks in her mouth, lazily sucking on each cocktip. She seemed to like thwacking them across her face so that those big brown knobs smushed against each other. Desmond enjoyed watching, though he felt useless. Normally he had made her look beautiful, so watching the Negroes render her a nasty, cream-covered mess was a transition he loved seeing. But she started off nasty now, and it was possible she hadn’t even washed since the last time, so she might still be covered in dried cum. “Charles, go on…” Master Taggart wasn’t watching his wife. He watched Charles. One of his hands ran up and down Charles’s broad back muscles. Charles sighed and shook his head. “You think you hurtin’s me, Massah Taggaht, but you ain’t. Ask any of these nigguhs, I mess wit’s Desmond all the time.” “Yeah but you don’t jerk him off!” The other Negroes all laughed as they took turns dipping their manhoods into Missus Taggart’s hairy hole. Despite plowing her, they more closely watched Charles, who stood and stretched his legs as he approached Desmond. Having heard what Charles and Master Taggart said, a part of Desmond knew what was happening. It made sense and it was precisely the kind of thing they would both do. Master Taggart would have thought that making Charles submit to Desmond would humiliate him. But that wasn’t the case. Charles loved a finger in his ass and would probably enjoy more or less anything Desmond might do to his body. White men didn’t understand that kind of thing. They always thought of it as the height of utter submission to have a man’s prick inside you. Negroes like Charles didn’t see it quite the same way, a fact that Desmond had come to cherish because it meant men like him occasionally got to top men like Charles. But as Charles actually sunk to his knees to get started, Desmond realized he had never been with a man like him. Their difference in height was extreme — Charles had at least a foot and a half on him. Desmond only stood as high as Charles’s nipple-line, and his entire body was skinner than one of Charles’s corded muscle biceps. “Go on, Charles, jerk that nigger off,” Master Taggart said. His hands were in his trousers already, stroking his meat. Charles sighed on his knees. He had to stoop all the way over to get his face in line with Desmond’s crotch. He undid Desmond’s leather breaches and then was surprised like he hadn’t seen it before when he saw Desmond’s throbbing, half-hard cock. “Forgot you had meat like a big nigga…” Charles sniffed. He ignored the hooting of his fellow slaves, who barely seemed to be paying attention to Missus Taggart even as their balls slapped together between her legs. Desmond had grown to love that sweaty thwacking sound, the splash of their precum and her feminine secretions, the shine of their throbbing black cocks as they penetrated her over and over. “I know, sweetie,” Desmond said, too shocked to think of anything witty to add. Charles had a massive mouth to go along with his other body parts, so he swallowed Desmond’s meat easily. He did choke at first when Desmond jabbed into the back of his throat, and he wrinkled his nose at the taste, but he didn’t hesitate in continuing to swallow Desmond’s cock to the root. That sent a shiver of pleasure up Desmond’s tender frame, as his hands fluttered. Desmond gasped. He wasn’t expecting Charles to do it with such ease and with such little hesitation. As Charles teased Desmond’s meat with his tongue, Desmond straightened his back and moaned. He instinctually gripped Charles’s head with both hands — because that was what Charles did when Desmond jerked him off. He felt like he should hold Charles’s head in place and throat him, compete with the others on the sound his balls made when they slapped against his chin, paint his face with his precum — that was also what Charles did when Desmond jerked him off. But would Charles accept that? Would Master Taggart? He walked around the room with his own white cock in his hands. He jacked himself off as he encouraged Tyrell and Wendell in their double-plowing of his wife’s holes. Then he came over to Desmond, who spewed precum into Charles’s sour-facing mouth. Master Taggart stroked his chin and watched carefully, like he was an academic carefully scrutinizing test results. He massaged the rippling muscles of Charles’s shoulders, which bucked and flexed as he tried to deep-throat Desmond’s dick, and Master Taggart thwacked his cock on Charles’s neck and the side of his face. What had begun as easy because Desmond was soft became difficult now that Desmond was hard. It was the only anatomical trait that Desmond and Charles had in common — massive cocks. “Wreck his throat, Desmond, don’t be a durgen. This is supposed to be a punishment.” “He don’t see it like that, Mastuh Taggart,” Desmond said. His voice was jagged and weak because Charles’s mouth was making him feel so good he couldn’t stand it. Desmond’s whole body roiled. The other slaves laughed and confirmed it, but that just made Master Taggart red-faced and blustery. “You all are unchristian perverts,” Master Taggart said. “I should make you study the Bible again-“ “No way, Massah Taggart! That’s some borin’ mugwort, Massah!” “You know bendin’s yo’s wife ovuh fo’s a bunch of niggahs ain’t in the Bible neither, right?” Master Taggart scowled and stamped his feet as though working up a chivey. “You are all ruining this for me!” Gimblet-eyed, he looked to his wife, who seemed to be half-asleep, barely aware of the trio of cocks ramming into her body. “You most of all! Why did you have to get so loose? Why did you get so dirty?!” “My fault? You-” Missus Taggart stopped sucking Tyrell’s cock long enough to shout, but then Tyrell pushed his precum-leaking meat back into her. She never finished whatever she started saying, and she seemed to instantly lose interest in shouting recriminations at her husband, who in any case was back to watching Desmond’s dick disappear down Charles’s throat. Tyrell’s manhood had a way of doing that. “Let me in there too,” Master Taggart said. He stepped towards Charles’s face with his erect white dick in hand. Desmond groaned. He didn’t like sharing. Charles pulled off his cock, looked up at Master Taggart and growled. “Massuh,” he said. “You asked us ovuh here to fuck yo’s nasty-drippin’s wife. That’s what we agreed to. I tol’s you I can jerk off this lavenduh nigguh, sure, cuz he pretty and he treat me right.” Charles wrapped one powerful arm around Desmond’s small, yet plump, ass. Desmond blushed and hugged Charles’s broad body. His muscles rippled beneath Desmond’s touch. Desmond’s hard, spit-moistened cock rubbed against Charles’s pulsating pectoral muscles. Charles leaned his head way down to kiss Desmond on the lips. That made Master Taggart groan, and Charles laugh. Charles spoke pot-valiantly, “So I gonna let this pansy make sweet love to me. That’s cuz I like him. I don’t like you, and I ain’t don’t like yo’s wife. So you can watch if’n you want, with that puny little meat, and you can even jack yo’self off. I won’t lose my temper if you get some of dat weak nut on me. But don’t you dare try to put yo’s own dick anywhere inside me.” “Charles-!” “Hey! A nigger is speaking!” Charles barked. He stood up as though he was going to attack Master Taggart, who turned pale-white and nearly collapsed. His knees buckled. Charles cleared his throat. He stood so his limp cock was right in front of Master Taggart, who was short enough that, on his knees, his face was at navel height, just barely above that throbbing, veiny slab of mandingo meat. Master Taggart gulped like he had trouble avoiding looking at it. Charles grinned. “I can describe yo’s birthmark, Massuh Taggaht, on yo’s ass, and I know if they check out dat ass, they gonna find it’s loose like you been lettin’s me plow you. So don’t make me go to the courts with that shit. Cuz yo’s wife gonna testify on my side, know that.” Master Taggart looked to his wife, whose mouth was full of cock. It wasn’t clear if she heard what was happening. Master Taggart blanched, and Charles placed one meaty hand on his shoulder. Master Taggart shuddered when Charles’s limp cock touched his thigh. “She ain’t on yo’s side no mo’, Massuh.” Master Taggart looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. Tears twinkled in his eyes and he sniffed to avoid crying. Even as he was overcome by humiliation, however, he didn’t stop masturbating. A part of Desmond was disappointed that Charles had stood up to him. He was glad that it had happened, but he was annoyed because he assumed it meant Charles would no longer do what Master Taggart said. The only reason Charles bottomed for Desmond was because he was told to. It wasn’t a disaster, of course — Desmond bottomed for Charles all the time. It had just been nice to try something different, Desmond thought as he prepared to bend over for Charles’s cock. But that wasn’t it. Either Charles didn’t realize he could do whatever he wanted — which was very possible, as Charles had always been beetle-headed — or he genuinely wanted to bottom. In any case, he got down on all fours on the ground, sticking his ass high in the air. “Holy heckfire!” Desmond said, making Charles laugh. When he laughed, his body rippled and his gigantic asscheeks jiggled up and down. That sent a wave of desire through Desmond’s body. Could he really do this? It was physically difficult. It simply felt wrong to line his tiny body up with Charles’s herculean frame. But ever fiber of Desmond’s being told him to do it, to ignore Master Taggart’s frenzied, humiliated sobs and to simply ram his dick in. So that was what he did. He had to get up on his toes to put his cock in Charles’s ass, which was so tight he hit resistance right away. Charles bucked and grunted. For a moment it sounded like he was going to say it hurt and back out. But he didn’t. He groaned and awkwardly stretched two arms behind himself. He spread his asscheeks. His powerful thigh muscles flexed. “Tarnations…” Desmond muttered to himself as he slid more and more of his cock in. Charles’s ass so was tight that, at any given moment, it felt like he couldn’t possibly take any more dick. But every time Desmond pushed, a bit more slipped in, and another wave of even more intense pleasure washed up Desmond’s body. As he began humping more and more violently, he slammed his hips in. That was just like Charles rammed him, as hard as he could, as aggressively as possible, like he thought Desmond was made of glass and he wanted to shatter him. Desmond had never minded because he liked being treated like that, but it was nice now to turn the tables. Much to Desmond’s surprise, Charles had no compunctions, it seemed. He took every inch of Desmond’s dick, with a loud struggle at first, but Desmond had found the pleasure spot deep within him, and Charles groaned with desire with each thrust of Desmond’s cock inside him. It felt like both he and Charles were nearing their climaxes when Desmond realized that Master Taggart had left the room. He hadn’t noticed that. Then the door opened and Master Taggart walked in with a rifle in hand. “Hey-a, you niggers! I am takin’s charge of this sit’ation, you best believe that!” He pointed the rifle at Charles, whose asshole clenched around Desmond’s dick. “I am the white man here. That means that what I say goes, and I say-“ He stopped talking because Desmond plucked the rifle right out of his hands. The slaves all burst into laughter. Missus Taggart hadn’t been paying attention because she was focused on the cocks thwacking over her face, but she realized what had happened and laughed as well. Master Taggart was confused at first. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the gun was not a magic spell, it didn’t give him automatic victory over larger men. He had to actually be willing to use it. Desmond held the gun in his hand. He had never held a rifle. He didn’t even know how to use it, but it didn’t look like Master Taggart realized that — probably because Master Taggart hadn’t known how to use it either. At least Desmond was self-aware enough to know that he was ignorant about it. “Stop blustering and lower yourself to your knees, Master Taggart, so you can watch me plow him,” Desmond said. He handed the rifle over to Tyrell, who had finished spewing his cream all over Missus Taggart — Desmond knew it was safer to give the gun to someone who might know how to use it. Desmond knew how to wear a dress and fix a white woman’s hair, not use a rifle. Though Charles was up in the boughs about getting plowed, he didn’t find it easy. He had been scooting around the room as he was penetrated by Desmond’s big cock, and now they had ended up very near to the mandingo gangbang, where four Negroes continued to ram their meats into Missus Taggart. Desmond always enjoyed watching this. It aroused a wistful feeling within him, because he always thought that, if he were were a white woman, he would be even sluttier than Missus Taggart. He’d just go live in the slave quarters so they could fuck him at every opportunity. Slipping his head between her legs, Desmond sucked on two pairs of heavy balls as they slapped against each other. He watched those massive cocks slide in to her womanhood and her rear, just a few inches from each other. He buried his nose in the sweet, stinky flesh of his fellow Negro slaves — none of whom would have ever let him do this if they weren’t fucking a white woman at the same time. Charles was the only one who did anything like that, so this was one of Desmond’s few opportunities to get at the other mandingos. As he watched frothy cum leak out of her and drip into both men’s swinging shafts, Desmond felt his own orgasm coming on. He lowered his head and planted his face into Charles’s meaty back, while Desmond kept ramming his cock in and out of Charles’s backside. “Tarnations, nigguh,” Charles said breathlessly. He shot his own load into the palm of his hand, gasping and writhing beneath Desmond’s lithe body. His orgasm overwhelmed him, and Desmond sighed into Charles’s shoulders. The sound of Master Taggart’s sobbing faded into silence in the back of Charles’s mind, while pleasure wracked his body so hard it hurt. He was dimly aware of Tyrell laughing as he threatened Master Taggart with the rifle, but that seemed very distant to Desmond. He existed in a nether-state like that for what felt like forever, hovering with his cock in Charles’s clenching ass, feeling his mountain of muscle contorting beneath his touch. Desmond spasmed and shook. Hot cum sprayed into Charles’s ass. They both sighed as it flew, spurting forth and coating his insides. It was thick and creamy, and it stuck to his flesh, clinging to his skin where it dribbled out and down between his asscheeks. Finally it was over. Charles roared, sending Desmond back to reality. He shook the daze out of his eyes, slamming his dick in to shoot the last few drops as deep as they would go in Charles’s backside. Then Desmond gingerly climbed down. His knees felt weak, and his balls hung low. The other slaves were just finishing up with Missus Taggart, who lay sprawled out in her own post-orgasmic daze on the couch. The only person in the room who wasn’t satisfied was Master Taggart, who sobbed into his arms on the floor, too upset even to tell his slaves to feeze. “You fuckin’ niggers!” He screamed through his tears. “Yeah, that’s exactly the kinda nigguhs we is,” Tyrell said, and the others laughed. They helped Charles to his feet. They would normally have teased him a bit, maybe a lot — when they lost bets and had to submit to each other’s cock, it was treated as humiliating, but no one treated Charles that way both because he was big and scary and because he had chosen it. Tyrell even slapped his ass in a chummy way, not realizing that that would send a shiver of pain up Charles’s back. He grunted in agony. “Sorry, nigguh,” Tyrell said. “You looked like you enjoyed that though. I ain’t nevuh thought you’d have a freak to let a girlie-man climb atop you.” Charles stretched his trunk-like thighs as they all strode out, bare cocks dangling between their legs. He smiled. “I ain’t think I’d like it either. But I did, sho’s nuff.” “Yeah,” Desmond said, his voice sounding weak and tinny in comparison. “Me too.” After a long pause, Tyrell added, “Shut up, Desmond. We all know you was into it. That ain’t nevuh been a question.” “I felt you a-lickin upon mah balls too, don’t think I ain’t notice that!” Desmond blushed, and Charles laughed. He clasped Desmond and held him close. Desmond’s face rubbed against Charles’s sweat-dappled torso, which smelled of sweaty manhood and funk. Charles chuckled out a deep barrel laugh. “‘Course he liked it, and he gonna like it again real soon.”
When Avery attends a college party, he never thought he’d get to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with a studly frat bro named Chad. But not only does that happen, Chad is willing to bend over and take it however Avery wants to give it, as long as Avery puts in a good word with a woman. That gives Avery an incredible opportunity to explore the world of Twink on Top!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Avery came to the Omega Omicron Tau party with Claire Quentin, who was possibly the hottest girl in the entire nursing college. She knew it too. Men reacted like cartoon dogs when a pretty girl-dog walks by and their dog-jaw literally drops to the ground while their dog-heart pounds out of their chest. The frat boys blushed as they stared at her beautiful body and sweet face. Her body parts jiggled in a most delightful way with every step she took, like a sultry stack of jello. Avery sighed and beat back his jealousy. They were all young enough that the genders didn’t mix too much once the party began. Everyone was too awkward for that. The couples danced together, and eventually made their way upstairs or into the pantry to make out. Meanwhile the single boys remained in their own little huddle, drinking, daring each other to drink more and insulting each other’s ability to hold their alcohol. The single girls danced and giggled with each other, sneaking glances at the boys whenever they thought no one was looking. “Hey, Lisa Anne, which one do you think is cutest?” “Chad.” Lisa Anne blushed and giggled. “Chad,” said Brenda, without even being asked. Everyone laughed as the boys glanced over, especially Chad, who seemed to have heard that the girls were talking about him. He tried — and failed — to look like he was not eavesdropping. It was only Avery who felt equally at home among the women and the boys. He smiled to Chad. “I was just telling these total sluts what a hottie you were.” Chad turned bright red even as he forced a cocky smile on his face. “I’m on your side, Chad,” Avery said and made a mock black-power salute. Avery and the other girls continued to drink daiquiris and sneak glances at the boys, especially Chad. Chad was a square-jawed all-American type, with blond hair and a perfect little nose. He was muscular and athletic, and he was rumored to have a giant dick. That was the only thing Avery could think about every time he saw Chad. He didn’t know if it was true, but he hoped it was. Chad kind of moved like he had a big dick. “Seven Minutes in Heaven! Remember that?” Lisa Anne asked, snapping Avery back to reality. He enjoyed watching Chad’s neck muscles writhe as he chugged a beer to the chanting and whoops of his buddies. “Ohmigod, Lisa Anne that is such a good idea! I haven’t played that since in forever!” “Boys, do you want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven?!” The girls laughed as the boys hesitated, then agreed all at once — none of them wanted to seem like the loser who didn’t want to play along. There were more fraternity brothers from the university than sorority sisters from the nursing college at this party, even though it was a sorority party. That was simply because GHU was much bigger than the women’s nursing college. Not that there were too many men for Avery. He greatly appreciated the male form and would have been fine with no women at all. More than fine. Well, without women, there’d be no way to get the men to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Frat boys will do anything for the chance to bang a sorority girl. So Avery did find women useful in that sense. They all sat in a circle, while Lisa Anne found an empty beer bottle. There were only four closets in the house, which was going to limit the game. The whole point of Seven Minutes in Heaven was that they needed to have some privacy. So only four pairs were going to be able to play at once. Avery felt a twinge of awkwardness. He hung back, not quite in the circle but not out of it either. He wasn’t sure at first if they would even want to include him. He wasn’t a student at GHU, he just lived near the campus and hung out there often. “C’mon, Avery, the boys will be good sports about it. If the bottle points to you… They’ll follow the rules,” Lisa Anne said, her cheeks turning red as she giggled with Claire. “Right, boys? Us girls will go in a closet with each other if that’s what the bottle says.” None of them spoke at first. Then one of the frat boys, Nail, grumbled, “Yeah fine.” Avery wondered what would happen if he really did end up in a closet with a girl. Would he be able to handle it? They sat alternating genders. Avery kind of wished he hadn’t agreed to play, but he desperately wanted a chance to spend seven minutes in heaven with one of these guys. One in particular — Chad, with the dick large enough to have its own rumor mill. Lisa Anne spun first since it was her idea to play the game. The bottle pointed to Nail, who was cute and well-muscled, with a perfectly coiffed hairdo. He beamed broadly, and breathed an audible sigh of relief that he ended up with hot blonde Lisa Anne and not Avery or the fat chick. Lisa Anne squealed with delight and scurried off to the front closet with him. Chad sat next to Lisa Anne, so it was his turn to spin next. He watched Claire, the sexy chick in a slutty dress, as though he could will the bottle to point to her. She was so pretty few of the boys ever looked away from her. They were like puppies watching a can of dog food get opened. Since Claire sat next to Avery, he and Chad both made a hopeful face when the bottle slowed down in that direction. But then it landed on Avery. It took the circle of drunken college students a few moments to realize what had happened, then they all lapsed into squeals of laughter. The girls giggled and clutched each other, while the boys slapped their own thighs, falling over each other in exaggerated and drunken laughter. Chad blushed but nodded dourly. His broad shoulders twitched. He glanced at Claire as though hoping she would give him permission to say no. But she just giggled and hid her face in her best friend’s arms. He walked towards the closet in the hallway, trembling though he tried to hide it with a cocky, heavy-footed strut. “Wait,” Avery said, flipping his limp wrist in Chad’s direction. “Aren’t you going to carry me across the threshold?” Chad’s face turned an even brighter cranberry red, as the assembled partygoers erupted in whoops and catcalls. But he looked past Avery to the girls, especially Claire, and whatever he saw there apparently suggested he should do whatever it took to keep her laughing. Chad stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that was even more sculpted than Avery had thought, and he plastered on a big fake smile. There were thick tufts of hair over his bulging pecs, and his muscles roiled with anxiety. It all happened so fast, and before Avery realized that his joke worked, Chad had swept him up in his arms. Avery swooned, exaggerating his reaction, though there was a big kernel of truth in his squeals of desire that he blurted out like some romance novel heroine. His face nuzzled those iron-hard bulging biceps as Chad squeezed him into the tiny closet at the end of the hall. In the end, there was simply no way to carry someone across that particular threshold. Chad had to put Avery down on his feet and they crammed into the tiny closet. Avery shut the door behind him, then took out his cell phone. He set the timer for seven minutes (and then when Chad looked away, Avery added another thirty seconds). “You don’t have to do anything,” Avery said, disappointed in himself for saying it. But he’d feel bad pawing all over Chad if he didn’t want to do it. Just being in his arms for a few seconds had been thrilling enough. Well, not enough. But you know, Avery could live with it. Chad breathed a sigh of relief. “Look…” he said, the anxiety evident even in the dimly lit closet. “I’ll do whatever you want, if you can get Claire to hook up with me.” “What?” “Put in a good word for me. Tell her I’m cool. She listens to you,” he said. “I’ll let you jerk me off or whatever if you want.” “Other way around, big guy,” Avery said. He meant it as a joke as he said it, but he realized even before he had finished speaking that Chad was more comfortable with this than Avery had assumed. He was embarrassed about it in front of his friends, but now that they were in the closet alone, he didn’t seem to mind Avery’s hands clutching his toned torso. Avery tweaked his nipples and let his fingers roam up and down Chad’s perfect chest and torso. “What?” He had that dumb-frat-boy look on his darkened face. Avery kissed him on the neck, and his muscles bristled, tensing beneath Avery’s grasp. Swallow his dick, Chad! You’ll love how it tastes! Do it, broh! The other frat boys laughed at each other as they catcalled to Chad, who just rolled his eyes and ignored them. “I wanna be on top,” Avery said as though it was the most natural thing in the world. In truth, he would have jumped at the chance to jerk off Chad or even just tweak his nipples once. But he was drunk enough to ask for more than that, and he got the impression Chad would do anything for a chance to get laid by Claire, so Avery thought he might as well shoot for the moon. “You want…?” “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll tell them I just jacked you off,” Avery said. “They’ll never know. But I can get Claire to go out with you.” “Really?” “I can’t promise she’ll put out. But if you take her to that French restaurant on Market, and you don’t ask her for a blowjob, she’ll probably at least give you a handie,” Avery said. “If you’re not pushy, she’ll give up the pussy on date three.” “Really?!” Avery nodded. “She’s told me her schedule. She doesn’t like pushy guys. You gotta pretend you don’t care if she puts out or not.” “Oh,” he said like that was an impossible request. “So come on,” Avery said. “You’re really gonna give it up? I’ll put in the world’s best word for you with her. I’ll tell her you saved my cat.” “Is that a metaphor?” “What? No, I have an actual cat. I’ll tell her it ran away and you grabbed it right before a car ran over it. No, a truck, a truck almost ran over it,” Avery said. Then he thought for a moment. “Wait, no, a truck did run over it, a truck driven by a greasy redneck who didn’t notice because he was distracted catcalling a girl. You rescued it and brought it to a vet and paid for emergency treatment. Then you brought it back to me. Her name is Buttfucker, by the way.” “Your cat’s name is Buttfucker?” “Long story.” “I don’t have enough money to pay for emergency vet surgery-“ “That doesn’t matter, sweetheart,” Avery said, hugging his big dumb chest close. “The cat wasn’t actually run over by a truck. If she asks, you don’t have money because you spent it all on surgery. She’ll believe that.” “Oh, yeah, good idea,” he said. “I know. Boys are so dumb. You were probably planning on taking her to Olive Garden or something.” “What’s wrong with Olive Garden?” “Taking a girl to Olive Garden is kinda like saying you’re such a slut I don’t need to woo you at all, but since I’m a gentleman, I’ll buy you a boatload of shit-covered carbs in the hopes of making you too tired to bother saying no. It’s not a romantic place, Chad. Don’t ever take a girl to Olive Garden. You’re better off giving her a few slices of buttered bread and a glass of tap water.” “Wow, geez, is that what went wrong with Anne?” “Anne Slattery, from Beta Kappa Tau?” “Yeah.” “Is that really where you took her? Ohmigod, yes, that’s a problem, that’s where you went wrong. She has class, Chad, she’s from Connecticut. You can’t take someone like that to Olive Garden. Egads,” Avery said, “What do they teach you boys in school?” “Chemistry,” he said with a long low sigh of regret. Avery rammed his hands down Chad’s pants and shivered with delight as he felt the frat boy’s limp cock dangling in the humid jungle of his crotch. It was just as big as they said, and its meaty thickness gave Avery a startlingly intense wave of desire. Avery gave it a squeeze as he used his other hand to undo Chad’s pants. Chad grimaced but did the same. He pushed his hand into Avery’s pants and wrinkled his nose as he gave Avery’s cock a limp, lifeless stroke. Avery didn’t mind that so much. His awkward fumbling was half the attraction, Avery thought, and it more than made up for his awkward technique. “So, uh, do I just… get on my knees?” Chad asked. “Of course. Haven’t you ever had a blowjob?” “I didn’t know if guys did it differently,” Chad said. He slowly sunk to his knees as he undid Avery’s belt. He pulled down his designer underwear and looked away as Avery’s dick twitched and spasmed in front of his face. His hot breath condensed on the shaft. “You promise you’ll tell her I’m a good guy?” “Baby, I’ll talk you up so good she’ll marry you,” Avery said. He put his hands on his hips, heart pounding — he never thought Seven Minutes in Heaven would be this heavenly. A full minute was already gone. A part of Avery still thought Chad would back out right up until he held his breath, opened his mouth and swallowed Avery’s dick. He gagged as soon as it hit the back of his throat, but he didn’t stop. He was determined to get the whole thing in his mouth. You can hold him down and ram him, Avery! We’ll all back you up, Chad was dressed like a girl. He’s been totally begging for it all night! The boys who hadn’t been chosen in the game laughed as though this was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Chad blushed in the dark. He loves it in the ass, okay? He shoves everything up there: carrots, dicks, dick-shaped carrots, a manual on carving carrots into dicks, he’ll take anything up the ass! Yeah, he loves being fisted! Absolutely loves it! And when he says no, that’s his way of saying ‘fist me harder’! His tongue slathered spit up and down the shaft, sending waves of sensation up Avery’s spine. Avery gripped his broad shoulders, holding him tight. His knees went weak from a combination of pleasure and anxious relief that it had begun. He reached down to caress Chad’s strapping back muscles. That felt so good Avery couldn’t help but moan. His voice wavered, and he held onto Chad’s powerful body for support. Chad seemingly didn’t realize how good he was at servicing Avery’s cock — men were always better at that than women because they have the equipment and know how to make it feel good. Chad didn’t know enough to know he could do it badly. His tongue battered Avery’s cock, and Chad’s big mitts gripped Avery by the smoothness of his pale asscheeks. “Can I ram you?” Avery asked, holding his breath. He assumed Chad would say no, but he felt he had to ask. He could already tell that Chad had a perfectly firm pair of asscheeks, and normally Avery would just ask if he could give him a rimjob. Chad had a very rimjobbable ass. But since Chad seemed to be willing to bottom, Avery figured it couldn’t hurt to ask. Chad pulled off his dick and hesitated. “I dunno,” he said. “I don’t like the taste of cock, so that’d be… But won’t that hurt? I don’t have any lube with me. Do you just stick it in?” Avery shrugged. “I can provide the lube. I know how to do it.” “You carry lube with you?” “I’ll use nature’s lube,” Avery said with a giggle. He stuck his tongue out and licked the air, miming out a rimjob. “Really?” Chad said with a sick smile. “You’ll lick my ass?” Avery nodded. “You ever had a rimjob?” “Only black guys ever get rimjobs,” Chad said. Then he stammered as though he hadn’t mean to say that. “I mean… The only two guys I know who ever got a rimjob are both black. It’s no big deal.” He excitedly bent over, gripping the door handle and spreading his asscheeks by pulling his legs far apart. “Not in a racist way. Just, girls give black guys rimjobs more than white guys.” Oh…,” Avery said. He had no idea that that was true. He’d have to ask his female friends wht that is. “There’s so much I don’t know about girls. It’s a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, and smelling of fish tacos.” He sunk to his knees and dove face-first into Chad’s ass. His cheeks were just as firm as Avery had imagined, and his powerful thighs were tensed tight. Chad’s whole body was tight right now, as both anxiety and arousal kept him flexing hard. Avery’s tongue ran all the way up and down the crack first, shuddering as he ran overtop that grimy tight hole. Avery loved to give rimjobs to men with intact asses, so he had to really push to get his tongue in there. Chad’s muscles rippled when his tongue passed the rim and teased his sensitive prostate. His ass tasted clean too, like cheap soap and the scrubbed linoleum of a group shower, a little bit of the scent of sweat-soaked elastic seeping into Avery’s nostrils from the edges of his ass, where the straps of the jockstrap he often wore would be. He flicked his tongue in, which made Chad yelp as a twinge of pleasure — and maybe a bit of pain too — ran up his spine. But Avery was inexorable, lapping at the beautiful brown hole until he could easily get his entire tongue in there. Then Avery stood. Chad shuddered again in anticipation as Avery spat into his palm, then used that hand to cover his own dick in spit. When it was good and slick, Avery wedged it in between Chad’s cheek and shoved the tip in before he could tighten his ass all over again. “Are you okay?” Avery asked when Chad threw his head back and let out a hushed howl. “Yeah…” Chad said, his voice trailing off. He panted as Avery’s dick slid in bit by bit. “We only got like two minutes left. Can you cum that quickly?” “With an ass like that, I could cum in ten seconds if I was going for speed,” Avery said with a smile. He humped slowly at first, gradually building up speed when Chad didn’t complain too much. He did wince and grimace, but there was a surprised pleasurable tone to his voice — it didn’t hurt as bad as he had thought it would, and a part of him exulted in his prostate’s sensitivity sending shockwaves through his system. Avery’s orgasm began almost immediately. He wanted to slow himself down, but he knew Chad would back out as soon as the seven (and a half) minutes were up. So he kept himself going even as he shot his load embarrassingly quickly. Huge gobs of it flooded Charlie’s body, more than Avery had ever shot before. But not before experiencing such intense pleasure that Avery wondered if frat boy ass would forever be ruined for him. No other man’s ass would ever be as tight and perfect, quivering like a bowl full of jelly, as Chad’s. His asshole clenched around Avery’s dick as he moaned, then bit his lip to avoid making too much noise. Both him and Avery struggled not to cry out loud. They both groaned. Luckily it sounded like the party had moved to one of the other closets, where they listened and giggled at whichever couple was in there. Chad’s face was bright red as he closed his eyes, trying to take every inch of Avery’s dick. Each thrust into his ass sent a spurt of pain through Chad’s body and an explosion of pleasure through Avery’s. Finally the end came, and Avery felt a twinge of regret as cum flowed from his dick — he wished he had had more time within Chad’s plump, juicy ass. He squirmed, spraying his load over every inch of Chad’s insides. He shivered with desire as intense pleasure rocketed up and down his body. It was so intense his fingers tightened into claws that ripped at Chad’s smooth back. It continued for what felt like forever. Avery’s orgasm seemed to be more than seven and a half minutes in itself, but the alarm didn’t go off. He filled Chad up with his seed and stayed there, still, savoring the feel of Chad’s ass tightening up around his dick. Cum dripped down between Chad’s thighs. Every time either one of them moved it sent a whole new wave of sensations to wrack both men’s bodies. Chad groaned and pulled off. He gasped as his ass emptied, and he breathed deeply. He was relieved when he sunk slowly to the ground on weakened knees. Then he winced when he put weight on his aching ass. He rolled onto his side and struggled to his feet. “There, there, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Avery asked. Chad shook his head. “It hurt,” he said. “A lot. But no. It wasn’t that bad.” He blushed intensely. “It did hurt though.” “It always hurts the first time. It’ll feel better next time.” “There is definitely not ever gonna be a next time,” Chad said, his voice suddenly hostile. He glared at Avery. “I’m not doing this again, and you better follow through.” “I will, I will, I promise,” Avery said. He pulled out his cell phone, just seconds before the seven-minute alarm he had set went off. “I’m texting her now. I’ll tell her you have a fantastic dick.” Though a part of him wanted to brag about what happened, he knew that if he followed through and Chad ended up getting laid, the other frat boys would find out. Chad would probably just tell them that he allowed Avery to jack him off, but Avery was alright with that — he would gladly jack off every single frat boy in this house right now if they’d let him. You two done making out in there? I’m pretty sure it’s been seven minutes. That was Lisa Anne’s voice, outside the closet. Avery opened the door and smiled. They were both dressed now. It smelled like sex in the closet, but he didn’t think Lisa Anne noticed. It smelled strongly of beer outside the closet, which probably overpowered the semeny scent inside. “Yeah, we’re done,” Chad said. He pumped his biceps and held his shirt in his hands as he flexed his pecs. Lisa Anne swooned, blushed and tried to hide how aroused she was. Chad gently pushed Avery out of the way. “He got fresh, but I gave him seven minutes to remember.” Before Chad could react, Avery lowered his head and sucked on his left nipple. His pec was hard like a volleyball, which made Avery want to plow him all over again. Chad’s eyes bugged out, and Avery pulled away. “That’s right, sweetheart,” Avery said, breathlessly exaggerating how tired he was, as though being in Chad’s presence had exhausted him. He collapsed into Lisa Anne’s arms as they all hurried back to the main room. The circle had reformed. The bottle was in play, and Avery sat down, getting ready for his second go. He smiled and glanced around at all the frat boys, wondering which one he would get next. This party, he thought, was turning out better than he ever thought it would be.
Rob is at it again, this time hiring a pair of movers who are studly Italian cousins. They’re willing to give Rob a swing on their alpha male meat in exchange for a few dollars, which is a great trade for Rob. Can Rob handle this moving company’s masculine machismo?!
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Rob hated his father, so he very much disliked being in his father’s home. Rob had moved out when he was still in high school. Dad had given him a large sum of money, which Rob used to needle and annoy his dad. But Rob did still love his mother, and that’s why he agreed to help. Her Christmas present was to be a renovation of her vacation house in Secaucus, New Jersey. Since Rob was fashionable, his father asked him to supervise the decoration and furnishing of the newly renovated section of the home. Rob agreed, despite his dislike for his father, because he enjoyed interior decorating, and he still loved his mother. Rob finished up wallpapering the hallway with a fabulous Italian design his mother was sure to love. That was when two men showed up, and Rob’s heart skipped a beat. They were two sturdy movers, cousins, carrying a couch up the stairs, and they were both built like stevedores. Their t-shirts — which were too small for their bulging muscles — said Milligan Moving Services. They both had dense black hair on their heads and tufts of curly chest hair, and they walked like their bodies were too wide with muscle to fit atop their hips. One — Dante — had a long mop of curly hair that reached to his shoulders, while the other — Vito — had a short fro. Both their hairs were matted and tangled, and their t-shirts were sweat-stained. “Lift ya side up, gaguzz’,” said Dante, the older one. He had a craggy face and a square jaw. They both grunted as they struggled to fit up the top of the stairs into the hallway. “I am, man, shut the fuck up.” “Get it up higher, man!” “Shut ya fuckin’ mouth, Dante! You ain’t the boss of me!” said Vito, the younger one, who frowned and hissed at him. He struggled to exclaim while still holding onto the heavy couch. “I’ll beat ya ass, don’t think I won’t.” “You just try it!” Their argument was halted moments later because Rob’s father arrived in the hall. Rob was disappointed, but he used the opportunity to position himself where Vito would have to brush right past him. Rob caught a whiff of his chest hair and his sweaty musk as he went by. It was an intoxicating, heady aroma that made Rob’s dick hard. Then Rob resumed wallpapering, trying to ignore his erection and the pair of massive brown beasts squeezing through the narrow hallway behind him. They got the couch into position in the sitting room, silent now that Rob’s father watched with a stern gaze. The couch had cost more than ten grand, so he wanted to be sure it was not damaged. “Hey, Mistuh Winthrop, can we get a glass of watuh?” Dante asked, breathless and heaving when they were finally done. Sweat dripped from his brow and soaked his t-shirt, which clung to his chest. Dad rolled his eyes and hid his frown, but Rob sensed his displeasure. Dad hated what he called “the common man”. He had grown up in a time and place where men like Vito and Dante didn’t talk in the presence of men like him, and they certainly didn’t ask for water. “Fine,” Dad said. “Help yourself to the tap water in the kitchen.” He handed Rob the cash and lowered his voice so the movers couldn’t hear. “Here. Pay them when they leave. Don’t give them a tip. I don’t pay galoots to drink my water.” Then he stalked away without waiting for Rob to respond. Rob hid near the kitchen and watched them get a glass of water. They had sensed that Dad didn’t like them, and once they were sure he wasn’t near the kitchen, they whispered about what a shithead he was. Vito even grabbed the bag of deli salami from the refrigerator and shoved the meat in his mouth — he didn’t seem to be hungry, he just did it because he could and he wanted to get revenge on Rob’s father. “Hey, I’m-a dip my balls in his buttah,” Vito said, his deep voice booming as he laughed. “Be quiet, man, he’ll hear!” Rob came around the corner then, smiling. He put his hands up and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad,” he said. He saw Vito with his fat cock and balls out, ready to plop his sac in the butter dish in his left hand. His other hand held his shirt up, while he spread his hips to keep his pants up with his belt undone. “What? Oh…” “You okay wit’ it?” “I hate my dad,” Rob said. “So I won’t get you in trouble.” He handed over the money. “This is what he wanted me to pay you. There’s no tip.” “What a fucking dickhead!” “I am teabagging his buttah.” “No, no, he doesn’t live here, that’s not his butter,” Rob said. “It’s my Mom’s. You wanna get back at him and earn yourself a tip?” “Hell yeah.” “Whatchoo got in mind, suh?” “Let me play with your dick” He paused. Vito, the young one with a thick fro, was shocked, mouth agape. “I’m not very big or strong, and I… sometimes I have trouble with… male problems,” Rob said. This excuse usually convinced them. “Being able to touch a manly man… it helps.” The older one, Dante, nodded and grinned. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks each,” Rob added. “Well, fuck that is alright,” Dante said with a nervous chuckle. He looked to his younger compatriot like he knew Vito would be less enthusiastic. Dante bristled and laughed at him. “What?!” Vito nearly screamed. It looked like his head was about to explode. He ran his fingers through the dense fro on his head and his chest muscles all writhed as though they wanted to escape his too-tight, sweat-choked shirt. “What? I told you ‘bout Julius,” Dante said with a cocky grin — Julius was Dante’s cellmate when he was in lockup years ago. Dante had bragged about how horny he got without women until finally he had forced Julius to jack him off with his mouth. Vito’s handsome square jaw was agog. He murmured some semi-Italian insults at his cousin. With a smirk on his face, Rob stepped between them. He approached Dante and gently rubbed his bicep, which was twice as wide as Rob’s entire head. It didn’t even feel like flesh — except for the network of coarse black hairs over it — it felt more like a warm stone statue. Vito paced around the kitchen, shorts still pulled down so his bare cock and balls dangled. His thick pubic bush was visible, and as he walked, his limp dick swayed, swinging out of the hair. He finally realized his dick was out and he tucked it back in. Rob smiled at Dante, who did not smile back. He had a mean face, like a Mafia enforcer, with swarthy skin, a square jaw and a scar over his right cheek. Dante made a kissy face, then laughed when Rob’s eyes opened wide in excitement. “Nah, I ain’t kissin’ you, fairyboy,” Dante said. “If you wanna jack my dick, you can. Might make you tougher. Julius got tougher when he was in there, cuz I made his tubby ass work out, when he weren’t jackin’ me off, broh.” He had a cocky laugh, and he made a sound that was in imitation of Julius slobbering and gagging on his fat cock. “Who’s Julius?” Rob asked as he sunk to his knees. He sniffed the sweat-stained shorts Dante wore. He must wear these to all of his moving jobs, Rob thought, because they smelled like a jockstrap, like they had been marinating in Dante’s olive oil-scented sweat. They didn’t really stink — Rob didn’t even smell it until he nestled his nose in the fabric — but the scent was intense and arousing. He felt the meat of Dante’s uncut cock through his shorts too. “I was in state prison for three years,” Dante said. “You gotta understand, a man like me can’t go three years wit’out blowin’ a nut-“ “You can jack yaself off!” Vito yelled. His deep voice boomed. He was on the other side of the room, looking away like he would turn to stone if he saw it. “I ain’t a fuckin’ teenager, Vito! Shut ya mouth,” Dante said. He looked down at Rob and smiled, moving closer and swaying like he was so horny he couldn’t resist humping Rob’s thigh like a dog. “You ain’t as pretty as Julius, he look just like that actress from that movie when I put him in a wig. He was my cellmate the last year and a half. He was this flouncy shit, but he got throat like a god, I ain’t ‘shamed to admit it, nosuh-“ “You should be, pervert,” Vito said. “Shut the fuck up. If you wasn’t a little boy, you’d have been locked up too. And when that happens, I give you about a week ’til you get ya butthole wrecked-” He made a circle with two fingers and then exploded them with his other hand. He pointed at Vito. “Bullshit! I’ll kick a mothahfuckah’s ass!” Vito said Dante guffawed, clapped and cheered, while Vito blushed and said something vitriolic that was drowned out by Dante’s reaction. His limp cock twitched in front of Rob. “It wouldn’t get hard wit’out no female, no way, broh,” Vito said. He kept his face aimed away, nose held high. “Shut up, Vito.” Before Vito could say anything else, Rob swallowed Dante’s cock. It was limp and greasy, tasting spicy, like hot Italian sausage. It was fleshy, the only part of his body that was soft. Rob’s hands roamed over his chest, beneath his sweat-soaked t-shirt, massaging the iron-like muscles of his chest and his flat belly. The hair of Dante’s torso was coarse and rough. Rob sighed as his fingers ensconced in the dense nest on his chest, while his muscles rippled beneath Rob’s fingertips. His cock perked up right away in Rob’s mouth, seemingly in sync with Vito’s continued whooping and shocked gasps. Vito said something in Italian then — Rob didn’t know any Italian, but even he could tell that it was poorly articulated. Vito was just imitating someone, he didn’t actually know Italian. He crossed his arms over his chest, which accentuated the muscles beneath his sleeveless shirt. He stood close enough that Rob could feel the body heat radiating off him. “Your Italian is terrible.” Dante didn’t look away from his dick in Rob’s throat even though he aimed his words at Vito. He pounded on his broad chest with one fist. “Don’t insult my Italian, old man! My pops taught me that!” “Your daddy ain’t even speak Italian, Vito!” Dante said. His dick spasmed in Rob’s mouth as he bristled and yelled at Vito. He raised his chin at Vito too, making Vito snort with vituperation. Vito pushed Dante, who pushed Vito back. Rob was jostled between their massive bodies. He was unable to focus on swallowing Dante’s dick because it was all he could do to remain upright, battered between such strong men. His hands were exploring Dante’s hairy chest under his sweat-sopping shirt, his fingers tweaking Dante’s nipples when his pecs flexed. He felt Vito’s chest through their undershirts too, since Vito was chest-to-chest with Dante. “Yes, he did. Fuck you, pansy! Donchu talk ‘bout my pops-” Vito spat in Dante’s face. With his face buried in Dante’s crotch, Rob didn’t see the punch, but he heard it. There was a loud crack and an oomph before Vito collapsed to the ground. Vito jumped to his feet, roaring in anger. “You fuckhead, I’ll destroy you!” But he didn’t seem to want to actually touch Dante because he didn’t want to touch Rob, who remained kneeling between the two cousins. Blood trickled from Vito’s nose. He got real close, jutting his broad chest out and bumping up against both Dante and Rob. As the two cousins focused on their fight, Rob tried to get his bobbing and moving cock back in his mouth. Dante was red-faced, staring intensely on Vito, like he had forgotten Rob was there. He was hobbled in moving by his pants being lowered to his thighs. Rob chased his cock with his mouth but kept a hand on it too, slowly rubbing it as Dante pounded his chest again. “You’re a fucking gaguzz’,” Dante said with a chuckle. He snorted and looked down at Rob, watching his cock slide back down Rob’s throat. Dante was distracted then by a moan escaping from his lips. He blushed and looked away from Vito, whose eyes were wide as he watched, shocked. Dante’s dick spasmed, and a few drops of precum leaked into Rob’s throat. The fight had distracted Dante, so this was him finally realizing that his cock was hard and ready to go all the way into Rob’s mouth. Vito made a big, dramatic show of doing the sign of the cross over his chest. Then he lifted the gold crucifix between his pecs, kissed it and dropped it back. Dante chuckled throatily, took his dick out of Rob’s mouth and thwacked it against his palm so as to make his precum splash onto Vito’s belly. “Ew, man, that’s some nasty shit, don’t do that-“ “Shut the fuck up.” Dante advanced on Vito with a cocky grin like he was going to ram his dick into Vito’s chest or belly. Vito flinched, and Dante laughed. Then when Vito was trying not to flinch again as Dante flexed a bicep and made a fist, Dante actually did jam his erect shaft onto Vito’s belly, barely visible where his undershirt had gotten rolled up a few inches. His body hair ran in a treasure trail down to his crotch, blending in with the pubic hair that stuck out from the waistband of his jeans. “Get off me, Dante! You a filthy nasty old shit-“ “Don’t be squeamish,” Dante said with a scoff. “You know ya daddy used-ta make hobos get him off, before he met ya mama-” Dante went back to Rob’s mouth and forced his dick right back in. “Bullshit! I dunno how you can do that shit,” Vito said. Despite his disgust, it seemed his eyes were continually drawn to the sight. Every few seconds he tore himself away before eventually going back and watching again. “Hundred bucks, man. And I get to blow a load,” Dante said. He shook his head, his thick mane of black hair shaking. “Damn…” He kissed his own crucifix. “Can you stop talking?” He gripped Rob by the ear and started very slowly moving Rob’s head up and down on his cockshaft. He remained still so he could simply move Rob’s head back and forth instead of moving his own dick. “Still, man, you shouldn’t spill ya seed, it’s in the Bible.” “What about doing coke and fucking two strippers at once? One of them having her kid asleep in the next room? Is that in the Bible?” Rob pulled off and giggled. “That sounds too cool for the Bible,” he said. Then he deep-throated Dante’s cock so deep he gagged as his nose nuzzled the dense nest of pubic hair there. He inhaled deeply of Dante’s musky sweat. “Oh, shut up, man, that’s different…” “How?” “It was a girl! Two girls!” Vito shouted. “At least it’s hot!” Dante’s cock spasmed inside Rob’s mouth, either because he was startled by Vito’s shout or the mention of girls got his manhood excited. But whyever it happened, Dante didn’t notice. He was more focused on the argument, even as he continued to guide Rob’s head up and down. “It’s still fornication, same damn thing. You gots to get to confessional anytime you blow ya nut when you ain’t married. Don’t matter if you jackin’ off or fuckin’ a dog or-” Dante said. “I never fucked a dog!” “If it had tits and a eight-ball, you would!” Dante said. “Maybe I should tell Gina ‘bout this.” Vito pulled out his cell phone. Dante roared and grabbed the phone out of his hand. “I swear to God, I will rip the pussy off your face.” Another fight broke out. This time Rob couldn’t hope to keep on Dante’s cock while it went on. They were both too animated and too close to each other. Vito came up so near, trying to grab the phone back, that his crotch bumped into the back of Rob’s head. Dante and Vito could have nearly kissed, and Dante’s moist dick pressed into Vito’s jeans, though neither seemed to notice that. Rob scurried away before the first punch was thrown. He watched Dante’s muscles writhe as he beat up Vito — though both were more or less equally strong, Dante was taller, older and simply better at fighting. Vito never had much of a chance. “Fuck you!” Soon Vito was on the ground, groaning, laying on his back. His t-shirt was torn in half, and he sputtered. Dante was on top of him, hard dick leaking precum onto Vito’s hairy chin. Dante thwacked his cock onto Vito’s face, leaving a layer of precum there. “Get off me, old man!” Vito was going to say more, but he gagged when Dante tried to shove his dick in his mouth. “Don’t be a prick then,” Dante hissed. “I’m doin’ this. We’re doin’ it to get back at Mistuh Winthrop anyway. You wanted to do that. If you don’t like it, you can go wait in the van.” He stood up and returned to Rob, plopping the tip of his dick into Rob’s mouth without stopping his conversation. “You was tryin’ to teabag his buttuh. Which is stupid, by the way.” “You’re fuckin’ stupid! You’re nasty, you’s tryin’-a jack off wit’ some pervert.” He looked at Rob. “No offense.” Dante clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You pussy-ass, Vito, you can’t even tell.” He groaned and reinserted his dick all the way down Rob’s throat. It tasted like fresh dickmeat all over again, and now tasted of Vito’s body as well, since it had touched the upper part of his cheeks where they peeked above his shorts. “A mouth is a mouth.” “What?” “Feels exactly like a female, you’d never know it wasn’t. “I would.” “Let’s try it. Let him go at you next. You’ll know who it is, but if you can look me in the eye and say you ain’t enjoy it-“ “Enjoy it? I couldn’t even get hard like that, man. No way. My dick right now has nevuh been softuh, man,” Vito said. He avoided eye contact with Rob like he might freak out if he saw his friend’s cock. Dante pulled away from Rob’s face, tendrils of spit still connecting his dick to Rob’s lips. He just assumed that Rob was willing — which of course, he was — and he turned him around to face Vito’s crotch. Then Dante kneeled behind Rob and put his dick at Rob’s asshole. He didn’t penetrate him yet, he just waited there, teasing the rim of Rob’s ass. His eyes open wide, mouth agape, Vito looked like he hadn’t expected to live up to his own prediction. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of Dante about to stick his dick in Rob’s ass. Vito scoffed and rolled his eyes. He pulled his shorts down. His dick was fully limp and clammy, his balls a bit buttery. He sneered by lifting his upper lip as he slapped his cock over Rob’s face. “You like dat mollywoppin’?” Vito said with a chuckle. He slapped Rob’s face again with his cock. “Remember when Tommy Rigilli passed out and we all mollywopped him?” He had a hoarse, donkey-like laugh. Dante didn’t answer because he chose that moment to slide his dick into Rob’s ass. Rob had been so aroused for so long that he was loose and ready to go. Dante’s uncut cock popped right in. He moaned as the first two-thirds or so of his massive prick fit easily in Rob’s ass. But then he felt resistance. He went slow at first, clicking his tongue caringly, massaging Rob’s back with both hands. “Relax yaself, boy, it’s okay. I’m gonna git up inside ya,” Dante said. Vito groaned and covered his eyes with one muscled forearm. He leaned back, like the more of his body that touched Rob the less likely he was to get hard. Vito’s hands fluttered above Rob’s head. He was so focused on taking dick in his ass that Rob had nearly forgotten Vito had sworn he would not get hard. When Rob felt his dick perk up in his mouth, he smiled. He knew this was going to work. So he ignored his ass — Dante seemed to have that under control anyway — and focused on deep-throating Vito’s dick. Rob knew perfectly well that he swallowed dick better than any woman. Sure enough, once he got every last bit of Vito’s fat cock in his mouth, it started to get hard. Vito stopped laughing and groaning then. His hands kept instinctively going for Rob’s head — so he could grab on and plow down on his throat — but Vito didn’t want to touch him. So his hands just remained elevated, like he was surrendering to the police, alternating between holding them in the air and gripping his own head. “Oh! Is that a hard dick! Huh?” Dante asked when he realized Vito was erect. “Shut up, old man…” “Huh? Who was it that’s too macho to get hard wit’out a couple girls and some coke?” “I don’t need coke!” “You ‘pparently don’t need girls neither,” Dante asked. He groaned as he ground his hips, moving his cock in a wide circle within Rob’s ass. Rob moaned around the dick in his throat, which started to let precum flow down into his stomach. Rob gurgled merrily. “Man, you tricked me…” Dante laughed as Vito blushed. His dick spasmed in Rob’s mouth. Dante began drilling his own cock harder and harder. When Rob didn’t complain or resist, he pounded away, slapping his entire muscular body at Rob’s ass. The pleasure radiating through Rob’s body made him moan and writhe. It felt so good it almost hurt because Rob was so sensitive and so aroused. Every motion either man made — as they continued to argue over Rob’s body while spitroasting him — sent a wave of bliss through Rob’s flesh. Their hairy sacs swung against his body with every thrust of their hips. Like all ripped, swollen men, when they moved, all of their muscles rippled, as though it took every part of their body to move their hips. “You’re a pervert!” “Don’t make me punch you ‘gain, boy. Cuz I can make you look like a real punk, Vito,” Dante said. “You threw me off befo’ cuz you was naked, man, I can’t fight a man whose dick is touchin’ me,” Vito said. He remembered only just then about the money, and he grabbed Rob by the chin. “Hey, you’re paying me a hundred bucks still, right?” Rob nodded without taking Vito’s dick out of his mouth. He slathered spit all over the shaft, and let the saliva drip past his lips. It landed on the floor, forming a puddle around Rob’s knees and wrists. “You had better not stiff me-“ “Hey!” Dante and Vito both stopped moving because someone else came into the kitchen then. It was Rob’s father, his trim body quaking in his tailored suit as he watched Dante and Vito double-team Rob. “Oh shit, Mistuh Winthrop…” Dante said. He chuckled, his baritone voice echoing in the tiled kitchen. “Both of you get off him! Get out of my house!” Rob pulled away from Vito’s dick then. “This isn’t your house, Dad. It’s Mom’s. I live here more than you do,” he said. “I paid for it!” “Call the police then,” Rob said. He looked up at Vito and Dante. “Don’t worry, he won’t, and even if he does, they’ll take like an hour to come here. That’s what happens when you call the local cops incompetent buffoons in a letter to the editor.” “That isn’t what I said and you know it! That newspaper twisted my words!” Dad shouted. Dante and Vito laughed. They resumed moving their hips now, Dante pounding away at Rob’s ass. Vito seemed to have lost his discomfort with the situation, either because he was hard now and no longer struggling, or maybe because he was happy to anger Rob’s dad. “Ugh… Robert, you didn’t even make them take a shower first. Why would you let these apes stay in your mother’s house for any longer then necessary? Look at them, the sweat is dripping off them. There is such a thing as antiperspirant, gentlemen,” Dad said. “Obviously you ain’t nevuh worked as a mover, cuz that deodorant shit don’t work on real men,” Dante said. “You wanna watch my dick slide into ya son’s ass? It’s a good show. Get on your knees and look closer.” “No!” “You sure!” “Get the fuck out of my house!” Dad yelled again and again, but that just made Vito and Dante laugh. “It’s mom’s house! You get out! She invited me!” Rob smiled at his father’s irate face. It must have been his youthful vigor that made Vito cum, not only first, but quickly and suddenly. Rob was so focused on his father’s outburst that he was shocked by the mouthload of creamy cum that sprayed onto his tongue and jetted over his face. “Hell yeah! Fuck! Fuck you, bitch! Taste that nut! Fuck you!” Vito screamed. It wasn’t clear to whom he was shouting at, or if his orgasm just provoked intense feelings of every kind and anger was the only one he didn’t suppress. A massive wad coated Rob’s mouth. He groaned and gurgled around it, savoring the salty flavor as it overwhelmed his senses. For what felt like forever, it was all he could perceive — even the cock in his ass faded into the distant background. All that mattered was the creamy nut seeping into his belly while he choked it down his gullet. He moaned as Vito pulled out. He flexed his biceps and pounded on his pecs. He barked at Dad, who blanched and looked away, shrinking back in fear. Vito cackled and came closer, waving his wet dick between his fingers. “You gonna give us a tip next time, Mistuh Winthrop?” But Dad either wasn’t listening or was too upset to say anything. He held back his tears and sniffled. For him, that was an animated reaction — he considered it improper to show emotion in front of anyone, especially “the help”. He suppressed a gag as he watched cum drip from Rob’s mouth. “Please, son, stop this…” He mumbled. “Stop spending my money this way.” Rob wanted to throw back a bunch of insults and reminders of why Rob behaved this way in the first place. But he was overcome by passion then, as he shot his own load into his hand and his prostate was awash with cum from Dante’s dick. Rob moaned too, but his lilting voice was overpowered by Dante, whose gravelly baritone boomed and resonated in Rob’s ear. Dante groaned so loud it made Dad jump. Rob clenched his ass and writhed on the tiled floor. Cum flowed like a flood into Rob’s ass. His muscles all went limp as he felt Dante’s dick throb and pulsate within him. He loved this part of it, feeling like nothing more than a repository for an alpha’s nut. Dante touched him as little as possible, just his dick in Rob’s ass and one hand on his back to hold him in position as Dante filled him up. At last Dante was done. He pulled out and moaned. Rob’s ass gurgled, and a few drops of cum dripped out. The sight of that made Dante chuckle, Vito groan and Dad sob. Vito made the sign of the cross and kissed his crucifix. He pulled his shorts up, grabbed his dick through the fabric and shook it in Dad’s direction. “Next time, maybe you’ll leave a tip,” Vito said. “Fuckin’ asshole.” Dante remained in position, his limpening cock in Rob’s ass. Then Dante sighed. He leaned down and let his massive chest rest on Rob’s back, muscles rippled against Rob’s shoulders. He lowered his head and kissed Rob on the cheek. “Thanks, boy.” Dante’s words were simple and direct, but there was real caring in his voice. Being a rough and tumble mover gave Dante few opportunities to get close to someone — women assumed he was a muscle-bound macho, and men insisted he act like a muscle-bound macho — and he was grateful for the opportunity to feel someone who cared and lusted for him. He hadn’t felt that since prison. “Ew, man, you kissed him!” Vito exclaimed. “Just on the cheek,” Dante said. “That don’t count.” He pulled out. When his dick plopped out, Rob took a deep breath and moaned. A wave of relief and post-orgasmic pleasure assaulted his senses. He didn’t want to get up yet. He laid there and let Dante’s cum trickle into every corner of his body first, while he heard them get dressed. “Where’s our money?” Vito asked, his voice now gruff and hostile. Rob grabbed his wallet from his pants and threw it in their direction. “There’s three hundred dollars in there. Dante gets two hundred since he did me in the ass-“ They both laughed and Vito groaned in dismay. “That ain’t fair. You ain’t even tell me that. You gotta split it with me, Dante,” Vito said. “No way, gaguzz’,” Dante said as they both walked away. He turned around. “Hey, Winthrop, thanks a lot. I needed that.” He made another kissy face, and Rob shuddered with desire. He kissed the air back, in Dante’s direction. Then they were both gone. Rob laid there, writhing as his father watched his ass gurgle and twinkle. Rob finally sat up and smiled at Dad. “Sorry you had to see that,” Rob said. “But you should have tipped them.” He stretched his sore legs and pulled his pants up. “Mom won’t like the paintjob in the bathroom, by the way. She hates pink.” He walked away, leaving his stepdad there to smolder and fume by himself.
Rob is ready to buy a car, but the hunky salesman is desperate to get him to yes, which gives Rob the power to demand a taste of his manhood. When the dealership’s burly mechanic joins in, all bets are off, and Rob puts these company reps to the test!
Rob’s got a hunky poolboy named Todd, and he’s got enough cash to get Todd’s pants off. Can he satisfy Todd’s throbbing young alpha needs?!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read it here!
Rob Winthrop clicked through pages from an online Chinese dictionary, looking for the tattooed symbols that danced along the pool boy’s shoulderblade. It turned out to be more difficult than he thought to identify them by sight. The poolboy had a few tattoos, and Rob thought they were sexy. He had been trying to identify the Chinese symbols for a long time. He suspected they meant nothing at all. Rob had an app that was supposed to identify them, but he couldn’t get a good enough picture. Or maybe the app was crap. “Yes, sell it when it hits twelve no matter what. That’s what I said, isn’t it?” That was Rob’s father, the multibillionaire Eugene Winthrop. His gruff voice filled the air, followed by some tinny suckuppery from whichever employee was on the line. He glanced at Rob and scowled. “Tell them to go fuck themselves.” He hung up his phone. “You’re going to this fundraiser tonight.” “What kind of fundraiser?” “It’s a dinner thing. Some kind of cancer. Or maybe teachers? I don’t know. Just bring the checkbook, they’ll have a vegetarian option-“ “I’m not going, and I haven’t been vegetarian for years.” Rob was vegetarian for about three weeks back in high school. He gave it up because his dad was oddly supportive of it. It was a pitiful rebellion, and Rob winced every time his dad reminded him of it. “You have to go,” he said, and they both erupted in shouting, as Rob had known would happen. They almost never interacted without shouting. “You don’t control me-!” “I pay for so much-!” “You fucking asshole!” “Me?! How am I the asshole? You have to play a role in this business, Robert! You’re not just an inheritance hole!” The servants scurried away. None of them wanted to be around Mr. Winthrop when he was angry, or he was wont to fire them. Rob didn’t think that was right — he was always nice to his servants. He didn’t even really want to have servants, beyond the security that was necessary for him to be safe — as an heir to a multibillion-dollar company, Rob was always a kidnapping risk. Rob deeply despised his father and used every opportunity at his disposal to humiliate him, so he liked seeing him blush and wince at the sight of his servants pretending not to listen to the argument. “You ungrateful brat! I built this company so I’d have enough to provide for you.” Rob scoffed and went to the sliding glass door, beyond which sat the pool. The poolboy was out there. He had brown hair that hung down in a casual, tangled mess around his head. His eyes were bleary and blue, his body lanky, ropy-muscled. He said he played basketball in high school until graduating last year, but he didn’t come across as a jock. Those Chinese characters — or probably-faux-Chinese characters — were visible on his back around the edges of his sleeveless shirt, one of those strappy kinds that barely covered his shoulders at all. His name was Todd, and Rob had been trying to figure out how get a taste of his dick from the moment he saw him. “I’m going to stay here and hang out with the poolboy,” Rob said. “You can’t make me go to some stupid fundraiser-“ “That’s disgusting, he’s a poolboy, for god’s sake, we don’t even let him in the house! Look at that hair!” “His hair is glorious. It’s better unwashed and uncombed.” “I forbid it!” “Well, stick around, and you’ll be able to watch anyway,” Rob said. He stood up and headed for the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. He slid it open. Todd was by the pool, skimming the leaves off the top. His bare shoulders flexed as he dipped and dapped to the beats emanating from the headphones he always wore when working. “You had better not do anything to embarrass me!” Rob’s father shouted through the door. He banged on the glass. Rob smiled and waved at him. He went to Todd, who saw him and pulled the headphones down. Todd blushed — he was always nervous around upper-class people like Rob and his father. Todd ran his fingers through his confused mess of black hair. “Hey,” Rob said. “Hi. I’m just about done,” Todd said. “Cool, cool…” Rob giggled. “So… Todd… do you have a girlfriend?” “No.” Then a wry smile appeared on Todd’s face. “Well, there’s this girl. She’s… I mean, she’s not a girlfriend. But she’s like…” He blushed. He pantomimed a woman’s hourglass-shape in front of himself. “Tits like sirens on an ambulance, dude. She’s fucking awesome, man. And she smokes weed.” “Yeah? There’s nothing better than hot chicks who smoke weed.” “I know, right!” “So… Todd… has my dad paid you yet today?” Todd shook his head. “He direct-deposits it in my account, but not till the end of the day. Actually he never paid me last time, I just asked him about it and he said-“ “I don’t know anything about that,” Rob said. “But maybe I could help. Do you see that cabana over there?” Todd nodded. He glanced over at the row of cabanas at the far end of the pool. “Why don’t you go in there and take off your clothes? I’ll meet you inside in just a minute, and I’ll go to town all over your body,” Rob said, smirking at Todd’s blushing face. “In return for that, I’ll give you five hundred dollars. Plus I’ll make my father pay you for last time and this time, because he was probably going to stiff you again.” “Oh…” Todd’s eyes opened wide. “Oh… wait… Oh…!” Rob giggled. “Have you ever done anything like that before?” “No!” Todd took a deep breath. “Wait… I mean… what?” “Oh god, Todd… Smoke less weed, okay? This is a very simple transaction. You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you are dumb,” Rob said with his hands on his hips. “Just go in the cabana and get ready for me to come jack you off. I’ll give you money.” Rob headed for the house, leaving Todd there to ponder what had just happened. Todd looked like he had more questions, but then he just shrugged and went to the cabana. Rob rolled his eyes — the handsome ones were always dumb. He opened the door. His father had been waiting, watching by the door, but before Rob opened it, he scurried off. He pretended to be cleaning the kitchen — as though he ever cleaned anything himself — and nodded at Rob like he didn’t care that Rob was jerking off the help. Rob knew it bothered him though. He just stopped complaining because he was smart enough to realize complaining made Rob do it more. “So he said no? The poolboy had enough class to turn you down?” “Of course he’s not into it. I don’t want him to be into it.” His father looked at him and furrowed his brow. Then he scowled at Rob. “You act like a fucking teenager sometimes, Robert. You’re a goddamn grown-up,” he snapped. Rob just smile insouciantly and went back outside. The pool was deserted. Rob strode, shaking his ass for his father’s irate benefit and went to the row of cabanas. He hadn’t actually intended to point at any specific cabana when he told Todd where to meet him. There were four here, but Rob had rather assumed Todd would go to the first one, the one closest to the pool. But something in his bleary-eyed stoner mind made him think Rob had pointed to the fourth one, the one furthest from the pool. So at first Rob opened the door and was disappointed to see no one in it. Had he scared Todd off? He hadn’t seemed that uncomfortable with it, Rob thought. But then he saw Todd poking his head out of the fourth cabana. “There you are,” Rob said. “Why’d you come to this one?” “What?” “No one ever uses this. We only ever use one cabana at a time,” Rob said. “It’s always the first one, just cuz it’s closer to the pool.” He came in and closed the door. It was always warm and humid in the cabanas. No matter the weather outside, it was always a bit warm and very humid in the cabanas, which had a certain smell too — bamboo, Rob assumed, since the inside was lined with it. This cabana had a few old tiki torches too. The servants must have put them here a long time ago (tiki was so gauche Rob would never have allowed a tiki party here while he lived in the house, so it must have been when he was away). “So why have them?” Todd asked. He sucked in his breath nervously because Rob came closer. Rob could smell Todd’s intoxicating aroma. It wasn’t a “good” smell in the sense that it was fruity and sweet. It smelled a bit chemical, like chlorine, a bit of bamboo, some cheap almost metallic-scented deodorant and the musk of an early twenties inconsistent-showering slacker. Todd wore a sleeveless shirt, so his biceps flexed as Rob came near and touched his arms. Todd still seemed confused and didn’t react to Rob groping his bicep. “Huh? Why do you have cabanas if you don’t use them?” Rob sighed. “What?” He hadn’t really wanted to discuss cabana theory. “You said you only ever use one of them. So why have four?” Rob thought for a moment. “I dunno. I guess the builder told my dad that was how many was normal for a pool of this size,” he said. “It just seems stupid to build more cabanas than you need. Of course the builder is always gonna exaggerate, you shouldn’t just take his word for it-“ “Maybe he suggested ten and my dad talked him down to four,” Rob said. He rolled his eyes. “Why am I defending my father? I agree, it was stupid. We don’t really need any cabanas. They’re just a place for people to change. They could be replaced with one of those Asian folding wall things.” “Yeah!” “Are you gonna complain about the cabanas? Or are you gonna make five hundred dollars?” Todd thought for a moment as though this was a serious debate. Then he shrugged. “I guess I’ll make five hundred dollars. If your dad ever wants to get rid of some of them, tell him he can hire me. I’ll do it for real cheap.” Rob sunk to his knees. He knew he should just get right to jacking dick. Todd seemed very distractible — he was still talking about cabanas — so Rob thought this would never proceed unless he forced it along. But he also felt bad for Todd. “You know, Todd, you shouldn’t advertise yourself as cheap.” “What?” “It makes you seem low-quality. You didn’t demand my father pay you last time you worked, and now you volunteer to work cheap before you even find out how much work the job is? That’s bad salesmanship,” Rob said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t mean to get involved in the economics of the pool-cleaning business, but he was on a roll now. He tugged down Todd’s board shorts. “You should try to convince people that this stuff is hard, that they need to hire you and pay you good money to do it. If my dad wants to hire someone cheap, he’ll find an immigrant willing to do it for half a Twinkie.” “Really? A half a Twinkie-?!” “That’s an exaggeration, but yeah, basically. Don’t compete for the bottom, Todd,” Rob said. “And my dad will never pay you once he knows he can get away with stiffing you.” Todd sighed again, the sound turning into a growl. He blushed at the realization that his shorts were down, revealing threadbare boxers. He had been so involved in the conversation he had barely noticed Rob pulling his shorts down. Then Rob got his boxers down too, and Todd’s hefty tan dick popped out. It was thick and juicy, and it twitched even before Rob planted his lips on it. He looked up at Todd, whose face turned bright red as his whole body shook. The smell of Todd’s musty crotch, liberally seasoned with chlorine, hit Rob’s nostrils. “Ah, shit, man… you’re like… serious…” Todd’s eyes opened wide. He leaned back against the wall of the cabana, jutting his hips forward and forcing his still-soft dick deeper into Rob’s mouth. Since Todd hadn’t even gotten a bit erect yet, Rob had to lick his limp dick. He always thought that was kind of arousing, Rob liked it when men needed a minute or two to get hard. A lot of them were nervous they’d be unable to get hard without a woman around, but Rob hadn’t yet met one who proved unable to do so. Rob could get any man hard. Todd was no exception. Once he had taken a deep breath and Rob noisily suckled on his dick, Todd let out a moan. Then his dick twitched again, and again, and it slowly firmed up in Rob’s mouth. It was long and throbbing, and the more it firmed up the more Todd sucked in his breath like he couldn’t decide if it hurt or not. Or maybe he thought he wasn’t supposed to moan, so he kept suppressing them when Rob’s mouth sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. Soon it was as hard as any cock Rob had ever tasted, and Todd jammed it down his throat. He didn’t pound into Rob like aggressive alphas usually did — Todd was more of a gentle slacker than that — but he did ram his dick in, he just did it more obliviously. Rob wondered how often he had been with a female — definitely some, Todd was too handsome to be a virgin, and he had fantastic hair. Surely some ladies had snapped him up. But he certainly plowed at Rob’s throat like he had little experience. He was probably nervous because this was his first encounter like this, Rob decided. His dick awkwardly slipped in and out of Rob’s throat, making him choke and sputter on it. Todd kept stepping back when that happened, like he was used to women who never wanted to gag and would complain if he was impolite. That wasn’t Rob. Rob never complained about an aggressive throating. “C’mon, plow my face, force it down my throat, it’s okay…” Rob said when Todd pulled away. Long tendrils of spit still connected Rob’s lips to Todd’s cock. Todd’s eyes opened wide and he stammered. “Oh… you’re into that? Oh… Oh…! I see… Oh!” He pushed his dick in again and laughed. “It really feels like a girl, but uh… you swallow dick better than them,” he whispered. He looked around as though people might have been hidden in this tiny cabana. “You go, like, way deeper. Waaaay deeper.” “I know,” Rob said the best he could as he sucked on the tip of Rob’s dick. “Men always do it better than females, because we have the equipment ourselves. We know what it feels like.” He slammed his own face deep onto Todd’s cock, making himself choke loudly and his throat clench around Todd’s manhood. Todd’s tautly muscled chest rippled, and his eyes opened wider. Now Todd began to get into it, his inhibitions gradually diminishing because he was hard. Precum flowed down Rob’s throat. It was salty and warm, and it made Rob’s own cock throb painfully in his pants until he took it out. Todd didn’t seem to notice. “Shit…” Todd’s voice broke, and he chuckled quietly to himself. Rob smacked his lips as he pulled off Todd’s cock. He thwacked it against his cheeks a few times, making Todd jump each time there was a satisfyingly meaty thwack-thwack sound. “You ready to stick it in me?” Rob asked, gurgling on the mouth full of precum he hadn’t swallowed yet. Todd smiled with a flash of excitement first — he didn’t get anal very often — and then nervousness. He had known this was coming, but he was nervous that he wouldn’t do it well. Of course, one of the nice things about being a “hustler” — aside from getting paid — was that he didn’t care how it made Rob feel. It seemed Rob preferred it that way. Todd didn’t need to sweet-talk him like he would a girl or find a way to be sure this wasn’t painful. He could just bend Rob over and plow into him as deep as he could manage. It didn’t even matter if he came too quick. So that was what Todd did, or would have done if he were a more aggressive sort of muchacho. He grimaced at the sight of Rob’s ass — it was pale and smooth and perfect like a statue’s. He kind of wished there was something imperfect about it. But he’d been with women who had hairier asses, and Rob even smelled like a woman (he wore female perfume on his ass precisely to make encounters of this sort go more smoothly). So Todd grunted and gritted his teeth as he lined his cock up with Rob’s backside. He used both hands to spread Rob’s asscheeks. “Oh god!” Rob bit his lip when he felt Todd’s dick slip into him. The pain, as it usually was at first, was intense and mind-blowing. For just a moment Rob considered backing out — Todd’s dick was very girthy — but as usual, that lasted only a moment. He liked his dicks a little “too” thick. He enjoyed the challenge. Sure enough, with just an inch or two of dickmeat sliding into him, Rob’s pain slowly transformed into pleasure. Todd’s awkwardity made the same transition, as his staccato breathing shifted from sounding like he was on the verge of running away in terror to sounding like he might blow his wad at any moment. “Shit…” Todd moaned as he began to plow in earnest. He used all of his strength to pound away at Rob’s tight ass, his cock sliding in and out with each thrust of Todd’s hips. Todd was surprised that this felt so good, it seemed maybe embarrassing to be that into it. Todd wasn’t an ex-con, after all. It felt so amazing because Rob knew how to use his ass. He was somehow both loose and tight at once: loose enough for Todd to plow away with all his might, tight enough for there to be a struggle and for Rob’s ass to clench around Todd’s cock. It was incredible. Todd didn’t know anal could be like this. It was enough to, for a moment, make Todd wonder if he could be a hustler as a career — could he find numerous wealthy men like Rob? Probably not, he figured that was likely more difficult than it seemed. Plus they’re probably all into black guys. He wondered if he could keep Rob as a consistent lay — this could be a nice little side-income stream, he thought. Plus when he was unable to get laid… It would be convenient to both blow a nut and get paid. As an orgasm exploded deep within him, Todd finally smiled, the last of his reluctance melting away only now that he was done. This, he thought, was a lot less nervewracking than he had seemed. He ran his fingers through his scruffy hair and let out a loud moan that resonated in the cabana. “Rob!” Rob’s father’s voice filtered through the air. He had been looking in the first cabana — the one everyone actually used — and when he heard Todd’s moan, he realized they were actually in the fourth cabana instead. Rob orgasmed too. Waves of pleasure emanated from his prostate. The best thing about getting cornholed by young men was that they didn’t even understand the prostate — they just slammed, hard and passionate and intense, and their dick went wherever it ended up, which was somehow always right there on the prostate, Rob’s little pleasure-button, making him gasp and moan and writhe there on the floor of the cabana. “Robert! Robert Winthrop!” His father was outside now, pounding on the door. It wasn’t locked, but he wouldn’t open it. “Are you trying to humiliate me?!” “Aaaaaah….” Rob called out and sighed, attempting to say yes though all that came out was a wordless moan. He tried to giggle too, but the orgasm still flowing through his veins made it hard to concentrate. A surge of fear hit Todd even before his orgasm was even done. He pulled out, heart pounding — was he in trouble with Mr. Winthrop? He hadn’t really considered what would happen if he got caught. At the very least, he thought, he probably lost this client for his pool-cleaning business. “Don’t worry,” Rob said with a dry chuckle. He stood and stretched his legs. “My dad won’t do anything. He hates me for getting it in the ass, not you for doing it.” “Oh…” Todd looked down at his limp dick like it had betrayed him. He wiped it off with a towel that was here in the cabana. His cheeks and chest were ruddy and dappled with sweat, both from exertion and from the humid air of the cabana. “Robert Winthrop! You had better come out of there! I need you getting ready for the fundraiser!” “I told you, I’m not going unless it’s Spiceman Catering!” Rob said. He crossed his arms over his chest, then realized his father couldn’t see that because the door was still shut. He just shrugged and pulled his pants up. Todd’s panicked expression continued, so Rob added, “and you have to pay Todd! You shouldn’t have stiffed him last time.” After a long pause, Rob’s father said, “if I pay him now, will you go to the fundraiser? And behave yourself.” He gulped audibly. “Yes, it is Spiceman Catering. But you have to-“ Rob threw the cabana door open. “Why didn’t you say so?” Spiceman Catering was a Sri Lankan catering company whose employees were the entirety of a local semi-professional cricket team, trying to launch a league in the United States. They were all hunky jocks, and they had big dicks and marvelous mustaches, and Rob had jacked most of them off at previous black-tie events. They were his favorite catering company. “I didn’t want you to embarrass me!” “I won’t! I’ll be as discrete as possible,” Rob said with a grin. “Oh, almost forgot.” He looked at Todd. “You should have reminded me to pay you. Don’t let rich folk stiff you.” He counted out the five hundred dollars. “And dad, don’t count this as his payment for cleaning the pool. You still owe him.” “Yeah, fine. Donate five grand to whatever the fundraiser is for, and make sure Adam Patelli sees you do it.” “Sure, whatever,” Rob said with a shrug. He didn’t care about that part. He had his own goals for the evening. Ignoring his father, Rob headed into the house to change into a tuxedo. He didn’t like dressing up, but for some studly Sri Lankan caterers, he’d wear whatever it took. He remembered only at the last moment to go back out there and meet Todd before he left, making sure he got paid for all of his pool-cleaning. It was funny that that was probably what pissed his father off the most. Getting off the poolboy was embarrassing, and getting plowed by the caterer was too — but most of his wealthy buddies messed with the help too. That was expected. Rob’s mother was fucking her tennis pro, and everybody in the Western Hemisphere knew it. Actually making sure the help was paid? That was beyond the pale for the Winthrop family, or at least the older generation of it. Rob, on the other hand, was already figuring out how much cash he’d need to bring to nab an entire cricket team’s worth of Sri Lankan man-meat.
Rob is at it again, letting a handsome young stoner stay at his place for free… free except for a swing on his dick! Kyle is willing to do what it takes for a free place to stay, a bag of weed and some beer money, making these two a match made in heaven!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Rob came back to his beach-side home on Maui with a bag of groceries, including the jalapeño spam that Kyle said he wanted. Rob hated spam, but he was in Hawaii, so he had been forced to adapt to his culinary environment — and the tastes of his new roommate. He placed the bag on the counter, then went into the living room to look at his latest conquest. He was sprawled out on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Kyle’s rippling muscles were bronzed, and he smelled slightly of seaspray — he had already gone surfing and come back. He watched a documentary about a Filipino surfer, but he didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Kyle ran his fingers through his thick blond hair and scratched his balls. That sent a chill up Rob’s spine because he could see the outline of Kyle’s cock for a few moments. Rob sunk to his knees beside the couch and handled Kyle’s dick beneath his shorts. He felt a twinge of embarrassment, as he always did. But he didn’t mind that, he actually kind of liked it. “Horny again, huh?” Kyle scoffed. “Damn…”He placed his forearm over his eyes. He did that every time Rob started on his cock, but it never lasted long. Once he got hard and got into it, he didn’t mind sticking his dick in a man’s mouth. He just didn’t want it to seem like he was too into it. Kyle lived on the public beaches of Maui, sleeping on friends’s couches whenever he could. He spent all his time either surfing, smoking weed or flirting with girls, mostly tourists. Now he slept on Rob’s couch. He was surprised that Rob expected his dick to be available a couple times a day, but Kyle didn’t mind. He was still young enough that his balls were full of cum and always ready to bust. “Yeah, get it deep down there like that,” Kyle said with an impassioned groan when he felt Rob’s nose in his pubic hair. Kyle would never admit it, but Rob got him off better than any girl ever had. “Goddamn, man!” His dick perked up in Rob’s mouth. Its twitching made Rob get even more excited. He started to rub on his own dick through his pants, while Kyle got hard quickly and spewed precum down his throat. Soon Kyle had stopped blocking his eyes, though he still grumbled like he didn’t want to do this. In fact, however, Kyle had been the one who proposed it. Rob had a reputation for letting young men sleep on his couch for awhile in exchange for a taste of their meat. Kyle came to see Rob one night a few days ago. He was drunk then, and his dick had tasted sweet as candy when he was passed out like a log on Rob’s couch. Now Kyle giggled as he watched Rob on his dick. Kyle picked up his lighter as though he was going to smoke weed, but his bowl was way over on the other side of the living room. He would have to get up and go get it. Kyle rearranged his weight as though he was about to stand, but then closed his eyes, moaned and leaned back. “God damn, Rob…” He muttered like he was annoyed at how good this felt. Every time he used Rob’s name, it made Rob shiver with delight and made his cock pulsate beneath his own fingers. Kyle chuckled to himself — he got plenty of women, but they never so visibly loved the taste of his cock as Rob did. It puffed up his pride and his machismo, but at the same time deflated it because Kyle still had never turned on a woman as intensely as he turned on Rob. The doorbell rang. Rob froze in fear as though he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, even though he didn’t really need to be afraid. What about the weed? Panic flooded Rob’s senses. There was a large amount of illegal weed in here, he thought as he savored the flavor of salty precum coating his tongue. Rob had bought the weed for Kyle — or to be more precise, he gave Kyle the money so Kyle could buy it from his dealer; Rob was too much of a wuss and a nerd to know where to buy anything illegal. Could there be police here to arrest Kyle or Rob or both of them for possession of marijuana? That seemed unlikely. The rational part of his mind said that it wouldn’t be that. The police wouldn’t have politely rung the doorbell, for one thing. Rob was too distracted by his love for the cock in his throat to calm himself down, however. “Damn it…” Kyle leaned forward to look out the window. “It’s my boys.” His friends were out there, three young surfers like him. There was Pony the dark-haired and stormy youth, Yoritsune the punk-haired short one and Makana the pretty-faced indigenous Hawaiian. They were all lean and wiry, with flat bellies more from general waywardness, high metabolism and lack of solid food than from actual exercise. Rob couldn’t see the young men because his face was still buried in Kyle’s crotch. Now that he knew it wasn’t the police, Rob didn’t care what happened — everyone in Maui knew that Rob would jerk off men who needed a place to sleep. Rob was fine with that, he wanted everyone to know, that’s how he found new guys. “Hey, Kyle, come on out. The wind is picking up. Good surf starting, should be a couple hours of perfect waves.” That was Makana, who had a handsome boyish face and naturally bronze skin, as well as a pretty lilting, syllabic accent. He was too boyish for Rob though. Kyle, on the other hand, was a strapping lad with hair like a movie star and a beautifully muscled body. He had a handsome, angular face with a slim nose, and his long limbs were well-muscled and wiry. Kyle exuded machismo and sweated swagger, which made Rob so horny he had wanted to jack off from the moment he first saw Kyle scratching at his balls beneath his shorts — he had been drunkenly swaying on the front porch then, right where his surfer-buddies stood now, and Rob had been hiding to look through the window, right where Kyle now kneeled. “Go away, come back in like five minutes. I’m busy,” Kyle said, holding Rob’s head in place on his cock. As he spoke, he kept pumping his hips, gently, humping Rob’s tongue and his throat. His voice was tight and clipped. He had none of the slackadaisery he usually exhibited. Rob realized with a muffled giggle that Kyle didn’t want his friends to know what was happening. “Go on, I’ll be ready in a couple minutes.” Rob was crouched between Kyle and the wall. His blood ran hot as he slurped on Kyle’s dick. He tried to make it difficult for Kyle to ignore, just as a sort of game — it hardly mattered, since Kyle had told his friends what he was doing. But there was a difference between Kyle telling his friends that it happened and Kyle being unable to leave because he was amid doing it. Kyle groaned and pumped his hips instinctually, slamming his dick all the way into Rob’s throat. Rob sputtered, now wedged so tightly between Kyle’s crotch and the wall that Rob couldn’t move at all. He could even hear the motion of Kyle’s friends outside — if it weren’t for the wall separating them, they’d be so close they’d have gotten splashed by the spit that sputtered out of his mouth. But because of the wall, they didn’t know anything except that Kyle was behaving strangely. “You don’t want to miss it. There should be some good waves in a little while.” “Not that he’d catch a single one of them. Got no skills.” “Fuck you, Pony,” Kyle said. He no doubt intended for it to be mean, or at least rude, but he was so distracted by his dick that his words sounded weak and half-hearted. He glanced down at Rob’s face, disgusted to see a man there, and shocked to see his precum running in rivulets down Rob’s cheeks and chin. “Hey, gimme a sec, lemme talk to them-“ But Rob didn’t stop swallowing. Kyle’s cheeks turned ruddy and he looked back to his friends out the window. “We haven’t had really good surfing weather in months. What’s wrong with the weather these days? We used to have killer waves almost every day.” “Guys, just go! I’ll meet you on the beach,” Kyle snapped. He blushed. A few beads of sweat appeared on his strapping chest, and he closed his eyes. He ground his dick down Rob’s throat, like he needed to hit it at every angle with every single spot on his shaft. He could have pulled out — Rob held him in place by his ass, but Rob was not strong enough to really force it. He was just barely strong enough to make Kyle have to work on it to pull his cock out, and it would be obvious to his friends that something was happening. Kyle was still trying to play it cool. So he wiggled his hips, trying to get his dick out without moving too much, while Rob gripped Kyle’s muscular asscheeks. Rob even tried to get a finger in his asshole, but Kyle’s cheeks were clenched shut. Then Kyle let out an impassioned moan. Now there was no denying what it was — a moan like that came only from the crotch. Rob giggled as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He redoubled his efforts to swallow that cock better than he ever had before. He nestled his nose deep in Kyle’s crotch, nuzzling his pubic hair and his firm flesh. He slathered spit all up and down the shaft and licked the pulsating veins until Kyle gasped. “Hey, what are you doin’ in there?” “Oh, damn, you’re lettin’ your sugardaddy jack you off right now, huh?” “Oh, that’s nasty!” “You doin’ that right now? Right in front of us?” “Holy shit, man, you are crazy!” Kyle laughed and cheered. He pumped his biceps and ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair. He had always covered up his insecurity and anxiety about this situation, even when it was just he and Rob together, but now that his friends were here, Kyle seemed to feel a need to prove how copacetic he was. “I’m makin’ him swallow my shit,” Kyle said with an exaggerated grunt. “Gonna get some dome off him. You guys wanna watch?” “No!” “Hell no!” “No way! I don’t wanna see your dick, man!” But Kyle ignored them. He couldn’t really plow into Rob’s face any harder than he already was, because Rob had been deep-throating him and had already swallowed every bit of Kyle’s cockflesh. But since the surfers outside couldn’t see that, Kyle pretended. He grabbed Rob’s head and held it in place. He bucked his hips back and forth, pulling his dick all the way out and then slamming it right back in. Huge gobs of saliva stuck his shaft and dripped onto the floor as Rob swallowed. “Yee-haw!” Kyle held on to Rob’s head with one hand and held his other in the air like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. He laughed and his friends joined in. “You fuckin’ weirdo!” “Ask your sugardaddy for permission to go surfing.” “Hey! I don’t need his permission,” Kyle said with a sneer. “I come and go whenever I want. I tell him when I want to blow a nut. That’s how this works.” Of course that wasn’t strictly true, but Rob didn’t mind the lie. He loved being dominated by alpha males and would have been fine with it if Kyle came to him when he wanted to blow a nut. “You got any beer money, man?” “Hey, get him to give us money for beer!” “You stick him in the ass yet? He’ll prolly give it to you if you stick him in the ass.” “Maybe…” Kyle laughed like he was confident, but Rob could tell he was not. Kyle grumbled. He didn’t answer his friends. That was because he didn’t know if Rob would agree. After making a big deal out of the fact that Kyle called the shots in this relationship, Kyle couldn’t very well ask for beer money and be refused. That would shake the carefully constructed front he hid behind. But Rob wasn’t about to make this easy for Kyle either. He continued slurping on that thick surfer meat, which smelled of salty seaspray and beach sand. He pretended he hadn’t heard the surfers talking about beer money. One of Kyle’s conditions for moving in here had been that he would not, under any circumstances, stick anything in Rob’s ass. That guarantee, however, was losing its ironclad certainty by the moment. Rob could see nothing but the big beautiful cock in front of his face, but he could tell that Kyle was looking at him to gauge his chances. Kyle was willing to do it now, either because he really wanted beer or because he wanted to prove to his friends that he was rapacious enough to do so, or maybe he had always wanted to ramrod a man but needed a good enough excuse to convince himself it was okay. “Come on, man, get more money outta him. Just like twenty bucks. We could get a bunch of forties with that.” “I don’t want forties of malt liquor, Makana, I ain’t homeless.” Rob grinned, ignoring the argument between Kyle and his friends. Instead, Rob called his father, who didn’t answer — that was normal. He didn’t answer most of the time because Rob usually called to make his father listen to Rob squander his inheritance. Rob hated his father, who in turn hated the lower classes. That was why Rob got into rough trade in the first place, to anger his father. So now whenever he could, while slurping off losers, slackers and white trash, Rob called his father and made him listen to it. The voice mail recording beeped, and Rob made sure to groan extra-loud so his father would hear it. He didn’t know if his dad actually listened to the entire message, or if he just realized who it was and deleted it. He probably just deleted it, Rob thought, but it made him feel good to make the message as long and as loud as possible. “Come on, Kyle do it! Get the beer money, man!” “What’s the point of having a sugardaddy if you don’t get sugar out of him?” “Fine!” Kyle barked at his friends. “For fuck’s sake…” He pulled Rob off his cock, and they both shuddered. Rob shuddered because he was disappointed that he didn’t get to taste that remarkable cock anymore, and Kyle shuddered because he didn’t want to ask this question. “Hey, uh, Rob…” Again his use of Rob’s name made Rob shake with desire. Kyle sneered at him. “You, uh… I’ll stick you in the ass, if you want. But you gotta give me some beer money.” “Okay,” Rob said with a smile. He made a kissy face at Kyle, who looked away. Rob laughed into the phone. “I’ll give you beer money to stick me. There’s cash in my wallet. But you gotta cum in my ass and gimme a reacharound.” Kyle scoffed as though that should have been obvious. “I don’t do that,” he said. “Only perverts give reacharounds.” “Slam it in, Kyle!” “No mercy! Ram him like a bitch!” “Uh! Uh! Uh!” That was Pony, the dark-haired one. All Rob could hear was him grunting, but he guessed from the sounds and the way it made the others laugh that Pony was pantomiming fucking a woman in the ass. When Rob turned around, his face finally poked above the windowsill, so he saw Pony, Yoritsune and Makana standing out there on the patio. He blushed at their shocked looks. He jutted his ass back onto Kyle’s erect cock. Rob decided to just try to force it — Kyle wouldn’t want to look like he wasn’t in charge of this situation in front of his friends. Kyle took a deep, nervous breath. He rested his fat cock on Rob’s asscheeks at first. He looked out the window and steeled his nerves, not wanting to look like he was second-guessing himself in front of his friends. Rob moaned directly into the phone, which was still recording his voice mail, while Rob grabbed his tube of lubricant and greased his ass up. Finally he was ready, his cock hard, Rob’s ass lubed up. Kyle looked very nervous as he pushed his dick into Rob’s ass. When he was finally in, he sighed in relief as though there was some chance he wouldn’t be able to find Rob’s asshole and he was glad he had succeeded. There was a burst of pain in his ass, a familiar sensation to Rob. Rob had taken it in the ass from plenty of men in his time. It always began with this uncomfortable pain, which soon turned into waves of pleasure. But as always, it didn’t stay that way. By the time Kyle’s dick was halfway in his ass, Rob felt his entire body loosen and tremble, as intense sensations wracked his petite frame. Kyle shuddered as well. “I’m in!” he yelled to his friends, who clapped and hooted like Kyle had defeated a conquering army. “Lemme see!” “Fuckin’ gross! Make it loud, Kyle!” Makana came right up next to the window. He tried to peer down and watch Kyle do it, but from this vantage point that wasn’t possible. Rob was back below the window and all Makana could see was a little of Kyle’s pubic hair. He still grinned broadly as though that was what he wanted to see. “Let’s hear those balls slap against his ass, man! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!” It seemed Kyle was trying to slam his dick in in such a way as to make a loud thwacking sound, but he wasn’t entirely successful. There was some noise made when his balls hit Rob’s ass, but it wasn’t loud enough to be heard through the window, especially with Kyle’s friends carrying on. The last of Kyle’s reluctance disappeared with the final few inches of his dick sliding into Rob’s ass. Then they were in perfect sync. Rob backed his ass up as though it was his job to pound into himself with Kyle’s cock, while Kyle flailed his hands like he didn’t want to touch Rob any more than absolutely necessary. He grabbed the ledge in front of the window and held on tight. “Get enough money off him that we can bring something girlie to the party! Wine coolers!” They were all pantomiming gangbanging a woman now. Pony still mimed out violently fucking a woman. All three bounced around on the porch, laughing as they ground their hips into imagined orifices. “Don’t forget about the reacharound, if you want to get paid,” Rob said. He dragged one of Kyle’s arms around his body to his crotch. Kyle wrinkled his nose but gripped Rob’s shaft. His hand barely touched it — just a couple fingers — but Rob was already on the verge of cumming, so he didn’t mind. “C’mon, rub it, I’m not paying you if you don’t do it,” Rob said breathlessly. Kyle grimaced and murmured to himself. He was glad his friends couldn’t see that he was giving a reacharound now. It was hardly the first time he’d touched another man’s cock — they circle-jerked sometimes, when they were drunk enough — but he wasn’t proud of it. He stroked Rob’s cock with one hand loosely. He hoped to not make Rob cum, so Kyle could finish first and make Rob get himself off. But Rob was already so close that, basically as soon as Kyle gave Rob dick a few full-hearted strokes, it sent Rob over the line. Rob’s own orgasm hit him suddenly, waves of bliss flowing through him. Rob sprayed a load into his hand and onto the carpeted floor beneath him. Some of it even landed on his cell phone, which still sat on the floor recording the sound of Kyle’s frenzied gyrating. “You like this, man? This alright wit’ you?” Kyle asked with a cocky grin. He grabbed Rob’s wallet off the floor. He took all of the cash that was in it, more than a hundred dollars — way more than was necessary to buy a couple forties and some wine coolers — and passed it through the window. “I’ll meet you in five minutes. Just get to the beach.” “You don’t want us around, huh? Why not? You gonna make out with your sugardaddy?” The other three surfers were laughing. Their voices faded, suggesting they were leaving to go buy beer, but they kept calling Kyle a pussy as they walked away. Kyle blushed but ignored them. Once they were gone, Kyle moaned like he had been holding that in and now needed the release. He started to grind his hips, forcing his dick in deeper. Rob cried out as intense aftershocks of his own orgasm rocketed through his body. At last Kyle lost his final inhibitions. He grabbed ahold of Rob’s ass with both hands, holding him in place while Kyle pounded away at that tight hole. His huge, throbbing cock slammed in and out of Rob, who buried his face in the ground and kept his ass high in the air. Cum sprayed in Rob’s ass. It was a hot, thick load, full of creamy heat and stickiness. It drifted throughout his body, trickling streams of manjuice seeping into every corner of his body. Rob let out an ear-rattling, hair-cringing moan as that cum just kept on filling him up. It lasted for what felt like both a long time and not long enough, Rob thought. He felt a torrent of cum dripping into and out of his ass, and he savored it, making sure to aim all of the sounds he made — and that Kyle’s cumming cock made in his asshole — into the phone. Kyle’s dick slowly limpened inside Rob. “Okay, thanks for the money, man,” Kyle said with a long, slow groan. He stood and gingerly let his cock slide out, then wiped his dick off. Kyle blushed. He tried to hide it, to look confident, like he did this all the time, but Rob could sense that he was relieved he had gotten through it without embarrassing himself. “Thank you. That was amazing,” Rob said breathlessly. He hung up the phone and tucked it back in his pocket. Kyle either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Kyle grabbed the shirt by the door. He didn’t put it on, he just carried it — in case he needed to enter a store later. He slipped into his flipflops, ignoring Rob who laid there on the floor basking in the glow of his post-orgasm warmth. Kyle opened the door and grabbed the surfboard he kept out on the front porch. “Leave some dinner for me in the fridge,” Kyle said before he stepped away. “I’ll be back later. Or not. If I find a girl, I’ll sleep with her tonight.” He walked away before Rob could answer. Rob said, “Okay…” weakly, even though he knew Kyle had gone. He laid there and savored the feel of cum inside himself, resting his head on the spot where Kyle had been sitting earlier. It smelled like his ass. Rob fell asleep there, on his knees and smelling Kyle’s body even though he had gone. He was glad to have met Kyle, but Rob was beginning to think it was time to move on. He was ready to find a fresh new slice of rough trade who needed a place to sleep.
Rob has an electrical problem, for which he hires an unexpectedly studly American Indian electrician. A freak accident shakes Rob and ends this little slice of rough trade before it begins… or does it? Lindsey just might be more willing than he let on!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Rob was expecting Lindsey Hornbellow to be a woman. He thought he was being all progressive and shit by calling the lady-electrician — something about Lindsey Hornbellow’s website made that seem like a good idea — Hornbellow Electric Work had good reviews on Yelp but not suspiciously good, and the website said they did work on weekends. Rob was pretty sure he had never seen a female electrician in person, nor in TV or movies, so it felt like a blow for female empowerment to hire Hornbellow Electric. He had been without electricity for a camping trip for a weekend, and then came home to a house without electricity and a refrigerator full of rotten food. The whole place stank of fish because of the freezer going out — it actually didn’t smell bad until Rob opened up the fridge and freezer doors, and now nothing would make the smell go away. So he had called Lindsey Hornbellow, expecting some rough-edged blue-collar woman. Rob cleaned his kitchen the best he could despite the smell and got ready to mop the floor before he was interrupted by the service van pulling into his driveway — Rob was staying at a vacation property with no servants, so he had to do all the work himself. Rob went to his window expecting to see the Yelp-recommended female electrician. But Yelp had not pointed out that Lindsey was a man, and it certainly didn’t inform Rob he was handsome, with the muscles of a Greek god. So Rob’s knees went weak when he saw him climb out of the service van. Rob had been assuming Lindsey was a woman for so long he continued to think this man was some sort of assistant. Even after the handsome man came to the door and Rob saw the name-tag sewn on his jumpsuit, Rob thought that they had switched jumpsuits as a joke. And then, all at once, while Lindsey examined the fuse-box and the circuit breaker, Rob remembered that Lindsey was a gender-neutral name. He groaned at his mistake but also grinned: If he had known how handsome Lindsey Hornbellow was, he’d have hired him for sure. “The problem is that you got a bad barnhouse fuse, that’s what you call this right here. These old houses in the woods usually have them.” Lindsey kept going, explaining what he had found, but Rob zoned out. He was entranced by Lindsey’s strong jaw and luxurious black hair, which extended well past his shoulders. He was Native American, Rob was fairly certain. Lindsey had dusky skin that was immaculately smooth, with deep-set eyes and broad shoulders. He moved with a pantherine grace, and Rob could watch him do work for hours. Lindsey’s jaw was strong and high, totally hairless, as was the part of his chest that Rob could see under the tight tee shirt he wore beneath his jumpsuit. “Uh-huh.” “So I’ll have to replace that. The barnhouse fuse’ll be four hundred dollars. The labor to replace it, that’ll be maybe another…” Lindsey paused and took a quick, sneaky look around the house. “Another four hundred, so like eight hundred total-“ “I have homeowner’s insurance,” Rob said. “They’ll cover it.” He grinned. It was obvious Lindsey had looked at Rob’s furnishings and decided to charge him a lot. Rob wasn’t surprised — he was, in fact, very wealthy. But that was why his dad had homeowner’s insurance. When you were rich, every plumber, electrician and handyman upped his rates to compensate. Rob didn’t have the time or wherewithal to negotiate with them, so his dad paid a homeowner’s insurance company to do it instead. Lindsey furrowed his brow. “Fine. I will call them,” he said. Rob gave him his insurance card, and Lindsey stepped away to make a call. He returned quickly to say that they would call him back with an approval. Rob cleared his throat. “Maybe we could pass the time somehow,” Rob said with a seductive smile. That bulge in Lindsey’s jumpsuit attracted his eye and made him leer at it. “I was thinking… I could pay you an extra five hundred dollars for something-“ Lindsey’s face was dour, looking down on Rob as though he thought Rob should know how to do this stuff. “Your homeowner’s insurance will probably cover it, you don’t need to pay. They might not pay for the nice replacement barnhouse fuse, so it’ll probably blow out again in a year or so. You could pay the difference. You really get what you pay for, either a really cheap Mexican-made one that’ll last you a year or a nicer one made in Germany that’ll last a lifetime. You won’t need to pay five hundred dollars though, the difference between them is like a hundred bucks-“ “There’s no… American-made option?” Rob asked. He thought his seductive tone should be obvious, but Lindsey just shrugged like he didn’t notice. Rob’s eyes roamed up and down his body, checking out the bulge of his crotch in that electrician’s jumpsuit. He had a nice plump ass too, and his hands were just a bit gnarled and callused, with some scars perhaps from being shocked — Rob loved a nice pair of blue-collar hands, especially in this case because they were a stark contrast to the pristine look of Lindsey’s face and his unblemished skin everywhere other than his hands. Rob batted his eyes at Lindsey. “I was hoping for something American and solid and-“ Lindsey shrugged and went to the fusebox to point it out. “No, there’s no American manufacturer. The people who built this house used the Mexican kind, see? It says ‘Made in Mexico’-“ “No, I was offering you five hundred dollars to do-“ Lindsey pointed into the fusebox, his finger glancingly touching a bit of exposed wire with the end of his fingernail. An explosion of sparks filled the air. Rob was just inches from Lindsey’s body, smelling the cheap deodorant covering up his masculine scent, and his heart nearly leapt into his throat. For just a moment, he thought Lindsey was so handsome he had exploded. But it was the fuse-box. Lindsey collapsed to the ground and grunted, while sparks rained upon the carpet of Rob’s basement. “Oh… Oh shit!” Rob ran to Lindsey, stopping himself at the last second so he didn’t touch him — he wasn’t sure if he was conducting electricity; Rob didn’t want to electrocute himself. Then Rob saw the sparks on the carpet triggering smoldering and flames. This house is about to burn down. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh… Shit… Fuck! Fire! Fire!” Rob yelled as though there were firemen within earshot. Stop panicking and do something! This was all happening so fast, he thought, he couldn’t decide what to do. Help Lindsey and risk getting shocked? Put the fire out somehow? How could he put the fire out? Lindsey groaned and moved, so Rob knew he was still alive. Rob darted into the bathroom, and, unable to find any other container, he grabbed the mop-bucket he had gotten ready with heavy-duty cleaning solvents in order to get that smell out of the kitchen. He wheeled it out into the den. He dumped the water over the floor, and it sizzled, putting out the fire before it got out of control. Lindsey staggered to his feet. He looked dizzy, and his hair was frizzy, no longer laying perfectly straight behind him. The carpet now stank of mopwater. The water had been clean and soapy, in preparation for mopping upstairs, but the bucket itself stank of stale mopwater. So the entire basement reeked of soil and whatever muck clung to the mop-bucket. “Oh god…” “Are you okay?” Rob asked. It occurred to him only now that there was a fire-extinguisher on the patio, right outside, by the barbecue — that would have been quicker than the mop-bucket. He felt like an idiot. He went to all the trouble of buying a fire-extinguisher and then forgot about it when he needed it. Lindsey nodded. He held up his hand to show that the fingers he had touched the fusebox with were scorched black. His arms and legs jittered. “I think… there is something else wrong besides the barnhouse fuse.” His cell phone chirped and he turned off the ringer. “That was your homeowner’s insurance, but the quote I asked them for no longer applies. I’m going to need to turn the electricity off here at the circuit breaker.” “Yeah, sure, yeah,” Rob said. “Yeah. Cool.” He was still too exhilarated from the electrocution and near-fire to think about anything else, even Lindsey’s body. “You were offering to hire me for something else before I touched the fusebox?” Lindsey said. He wrinkled his nose, the mop-bucket smell growing more intense by the moment. “Yeah, stick me,” Rob said with a sigh. He looked at the carpet. “I’m going to have to get new carpet down here. This is nasty, it smells like a burnt dog-“ “Stick you?” Rob nodded. “I could shampoo it, but that won’t get the scorch marks out. It was a nasty carpet to begin with.” “You want to hire me to stick you?” Rob looked up. He hadn’t meant to be so abrupt about it. He was so focused on what had just happened that it had all slipped out without thinking about it. “Yeah, uh… Sorry, I was… I just wanted to offer you five hundred dollars to cornhole me. Sorry. I usually am, uh… Sorry, I’m unfocused right now.” Lindsey was silent for a long time. His face was expressionless except for the furrowing of his eyebrows. “You want to… cornhole me?” “No! No, other way round, I want you to cornhole me.” “Oh.” Lindsey shook his head. “No way. I…” He sighed. “No.” “Okay, cool, no problem, no biggie,” Rob said. He was disappointed, but rejection came with the territory. Lindsey didn’t even look like he might haggle, so Rob didn’t offer more money. This day had turned out to be too stressful to worry much about that anyway, and Rob could always go to the biker bar if he got horny. There was always someone there with a slab of meat Rob could swing on. Lindsey just turned off the electricity for a few hours, and Rob played on his cell phone upstairs since he couldn’t really do much else without power. He had re-stocked the refrigerator and freezer, and now, he thought, it was all going to go bad again. Around five o’clock, the electricity turned back on, Lindsey came upstairs and said he had fixed it — he hadn’t gotten to the barnhouse fuse, but he had fixed the main circuit breaker, and that meant the house could have working electricity for now. It would probably break within a week again, but by then, he’d have fixed the fuse so the circuit breaker didn’t get overloaded again. Lindsey left, leaving Rob in the living room to watch his ass shake as he got in his van and drove off. Rob was disappointed, but that near-disaster earlier today had left him so shook up he didn’t think about it too much. Today could have gone much worse than simply not getting laid. Rob even thought about going out to one of his regular haunts — he could go to the biker bar, for example, where there was always some alpha up for a bit of fun. He just didn’t feel like it though. That was another reason he hadn’t offered Lindsey more money. He had been reminded of his own mortality, and Rob couldn’t stop thinking of what it would be like to die from fire, electrocution or smoke. So he just stayed in for the night. It was nearly midnight when he heard a knock on the door. Rob saw through the window that it was Lindsey, his tall, stately body tottering on unsteady legs. He was obviously drunk. He looked bleary-eyed and half-asleep. “Hey, hi, Lindsey, what’s up? Are you okay?” “I…” Lindsey burped and swayed as though the burp had knocked him off-balance. “I… I wh-whi-lllllll do it.” “What?” “I’ll… I’ll lll lll lll ll lll…” He laughed at his own torrent of L-sounds. “Lllllllllllluh…” “Lindsey, I-?” “I’ll do it!” He blurted out. “The whole… uh…thing. Doin’ it. That… thing.” He pointed to his own crotch. “That.” “Yeah, okay, I get it, but uh… you’re very drunk.” He nodded. Then he launched into a long, incomprehensible drunken monologue. “Thass all I was… wassssh all at the… … sssssshump all ovuh…. … … There I ahhhhm! What issssssh it? I will do… what I, I am in the nnnnnnnnnnight, at that… Where I am.” He belched again and took a deep breath. He scrunched his eyes up. Then he over-enunciated with all the effort he could muster. “I. Am. Drunk. Enoughffffffff. Right. Now. To. Do. It. Diiiiick. Diiiiick.” He laughed at the word. “Diiiiiiiiiick.” “Uh… no,” Rob said. “You’re way too drunk. You’d probably puke on me.” “What? You — You — You — You — You offffffffffered, man, you sssshaid it, you-“ “Lindsey, I never said I’d do it any time no matter what. You’re much too drunk. Did you drive here?” He looked at the van, which had been parked slightly off the driveway, one wheel crushing Rob’s begonias. “Damn it, you are way too drunk to drive. You killed my begonias.” “No I ammm… ammmmm… I am not druuuuunk!” he shouted triumphantly but then tripped over his own foot and leaned against the house for support. “You’re too drunk to stand, you obviously can’t drive. Or anything else,” Rob said. Then he realized there was little point in trying to be polite and convince him of anything — he was too drunk to think and wouldn’t remember this tomorrow anyway. “Do you want to come in?” “You willlllll… get me off?” “No,” Rob said, but he motioned for Lindsey to come in. Lindsey frowned and arduously stepped up into the house. He grunted and roared in frustration. “You ssssshaid you would!” “No, I — Nevermind, just go lay down on the couch. I’ll jack you off in a minute,” Rob said. Lindsey flopped onto the couch, sighed, tried to undo his jeans but just fumbled for a few seconds before quitting. He murmured something about Rob taking his pants off, and then he was asleep. He snored loudly. Rob sighed and took Lindsey’s shoes off, but nothing else — he didn’t want Lindsey to think Rob had touched him during the night. Rob then laid out a glass of water, some aspirin and a bowl to vomit in, before he went to bed by himself. The house was quiet all night, Lindsey passed out cold and Rob sleeping soundly. Rob awoke late, to the sound of water running in the kitchen. He crept out to see if Lindsey was alright. He must have undressed in the night, Rob thought, because he wore nothing but a pair of boxer shorts now. His muscular torso gleamed. He was rinsing out that vomit bowl, and his hair was wet like he had taken a shower. A few drops of moisture remained on his golden-bronze back, which was broad, gleaming, curving as he flexed his shoulders muscles wiping out the bowl. Despite the shower, Rob sniffed out the musk of his manhood, and it made him draw near. He came quietly so he could smell the man’s magnificent physique. “You should not have let me in,” Lindsey said without turning around. Rob blushed. Had it been obvious he was looking at Lindsey’s ass from behind? “I would have been fine sleeping on the ground outside,” Lindsey said. “Oh, well… Yeah, I guess that’d be fine,” Rob said. He shrugged. “Are you feeling okay?” Lindsey nodded. “I do not get hungover.” “Cool, cool,” Rob said with a nervous laugh. “Are you…?” “Still going to cornhole you for money? Yes,” Lindsey said. He turned around and sighed. He dropped his boxer shorts, revealing a big uncut cock that he thwacked against his palm. “Five hundred dollars.” Rob nodded and blushed. “Are you still going to fix the fusebox today too?” “Yes. Hurry up, and I will get to it today,” Lindsey said with a big frown. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, and Rob sunk to his knees in front of him. Lindsey grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the counter and lit one, pointedly glaring at Rob as though daring him to object. Rob didn’t mind that bad — the house already reeked of rotten food, mopwater and scorched carpet, so he could hardly complain about some cigarette smoke. Though Lindsey himself smelled clean, his cock was deliciously filthy. It reeked of cigarettes and beer — Rob suspected he had spilled beer on himself last night, or someone else did, and Lindsey’s shower today had been hungover, quick and focused more on his head and hair than on getting his whole body genuinely clean. It was musty too, and it stayed semi-limp in Rob’s mouth for a couple minutes, presumably because Lindsey had been so drunk last night. He had beer-dick at first. Rob didn’t mind, he deep-throated it and slathered it with spit, making Lindsey’s whole body jerk and tense up. Then he shifted his weight on his feet. His cock finally popped into full erection and throbbed in Rob’s throat. Lindsey acted as though he wasn’t allowed to touch Rob’s head. His hands flailed and moving around at his side, while he pistoned his hips back and forth. Rob didn’t use his hands either, so he focused entirely on loosening up his throat, so he could swallow every inch of that magnificent cock. That way Lindsey could fuck his dick in and out, treating Rob’s throat as a tight pussy, without any need for hands. “Ah, yes…” Lindsey closed his eyes. His broad chest muscles rippled, then flexed all at once when Rob reached up to touch them — Lindsey was surprised. The girls he was with rarely did anything like that. This throating, he thought, was much better than he had predicted. It wasn’t awkward at all, once he got past his initial inhibitions. Pleasure shot up his spine, and he forgot about the lingering pain in his hand from when he had been shocked. He put his arms behind his back, enjoying the challenge of cramming his cock down Rob’s throat completely hands-free. “Are you ready to cornhole me?” Rob asked when he finally pulled off. He tasted precum on his tongue, salty and sunny, and a little beery too. It was strongly flavored but copious and watered, again presumably because of all the heavy-drinking last night. “Yes,” Lindsey said. He tried to look nonchalant. He ran his fingers through his long hair, which shimmered — it was cleaner than it had been for awhile because he washed it very well in the shower this morning. He was glad Rob had refused him last night. Lindsey would have felt like a jerk if he had woken up today having passed out all over Rob’s bed. Plus, last night he would have been sloppy and probably wouldn’t even remember it today. This felt good enough he didn’t want to forget. His eyes lit up at the sight of Rob’s bare ass. He had psyched himself up last night as he drank by thinking he could get through cornholing a man despite his ass being big and hairy and gross — but that had always been a worst-case scenario. Lindsey had known even before he started drinking that Rob was kind of girlish, almost as hairless as Lindsey, and not at all gross. He had simply prepared himself so much for the worst-case scenario that he had forgotten that was not the scenario he was in. Rob’s ass was tight, his cheeks plump, pure white and unblemished like porcelain. Lindsey kneaded his flesh with one hand as he rubbed his dick in Rob’s asscrack. He just humped his hole at first, waiting for Rob to buckle and moan with desire. “Oh god, stick it in me!” Rob panted, his ass tingling and begging. He needed it inside him. He couldn’t think about anything else. He lowered his head, lifted his ass and pushed it right back onto Lindsey’s crotch, with one hand craned behind himself to guide it in. Lindsey smirked. It felt good to not have to use his hands once again. He could just stand there and wait for his orgasm to come — it barely even counted, he thought, he was just standing here with an erection, and he was only here, he could always claim later, to fix the fusebox. But as his orgasm approached, Lindsey found he didn’t want to stand there anymore, letting Rob do all the work. He wanted to get this nut off. He let out a simmering growl, bent his knees a bit and grabbed ahold of Rob’s side roughly. Rob winced and moaned with desire. Lindsey gripped him on both sides and pushed his ass back hard. “Shit!” Rob cried out as pain and bliss flowed through him in equal measure. His ass rubbed against Lindsey’s crotch, and Lindsey started plowing into him repeatedly, using all his might to get deep in his ass. Lindsey swayed his hips back and forth. He threw his head back, long wet hair dangling behind him. His chest muscles rippled and the veins in his neck popped against the surface. “Ah, goddamn…” For a moment, Lindsey thought, it was like Rob disappeared, leaving behind just a tight hole that Lindsey could do with as he pleasure. He could demolish his ass, which was so moist and drippy that it was like sticking his dick in an ocean. Lindsey didn’t even realize he was already cumming — it felt so good he wasn’t aware of his own orgasm until it hit him like a punch to the head. He howled and slapped Rob’s cheeks, the rippling of his flesh sending Lindsey to new heights of pleasure. He wasn’t even aware of Rob jacking himself off, onto the kitchen floor, at the same time. It was like nothing mattered but the intense pleasure coursing through Lindsey’s veins, little sparks of orgasmic energy flying across his field of vision. He had never experienced anything like it. “Goddamn,” was all he said as he fell limp, flopping onto the ground on his ass. I wish women let me fuck like that. He snorted and wiped sweat off his forehead. He had just showered, and now, he thought, he felt dirty again. Rob was sprawled out on the floor. He had rarely been ramrodded so hard. Rob stood on sore legs as the phone on the counter buzzed. He glanced at it and handed it to Lindsey. Lindsey listened to a voice-mail, frowning, still sprawled out on the floor, his chest dappled with sweat. “Bah,” Lindsey said, “Your homeowner’s insurance won’t cover anything to do with the barnhouse fuse. They want their own electrician to make sure you’ve been maintaining it. Which you haven’t been, so your insurance won’t cover it.” “What maintenance?” Rob asked. He knew he was annoyed, he felt that annoyance in the back of his mind — what had been the point of buying homeowner’s insurance?!?!?! — but it all seemed distant and unimportant. Rob would just put it on the family credit card. This was technically a family-owned vacation home, even if Rob was the only one who ever used it. “You’re supposed to flip the circuit breaker on and off once a year. I could tell you never did it. No one ever does. These old houses with-“ “That’s bullshit…” Rob sighed. It was hard to get worked up about stuff when basking in post-orgasmic glow. He shrugged. “Fine. I’ll just pay for it. Will it take you all day?” Lindsey smirked and nodded. “I might have to come back tomorrow,” he said. “And do even more work for you.” Rob blushed before agreeing. “Well,” he said with a chuckle. “Go ahead and get started.”
Rob has paid off a child support beef for the legendary drifter and hobo Tommy Weathers, and for that, Rob is ready to taste his filthy, raunchy meat. Is Tommy willing to give it up?
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It took a long time after Rob paid off the child support for Tommy to be released. Rob’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his latest lust striding cockily through the jail, his eyes darting suspiciously towards the uniformed cop who escorted him out. “I thanks ya kindly, suh,” Tommy said when he was in the waiting area and his handcuffs were unlocked. “You a real prince among men.” The situation was awkward, the waiting area clogged with dour-looking girlfriends, mothers and lawyers, all of them pretending they weren’t eavesdropping. Tommy was oblivious though and shamelessly spoke loudly and at great length in front of them. “Uh, yeah, no problem. You’re welcome,” Rob said. Tommy’s deep voice boomed. He was tall and big-bodied by nature, but with the lean, ropy build of a drifter. He was white but with very sun-tanned skin, burnt and reburnt by his days of shirtless work. He was missing several teeth. His accent was so thick it reminded Rob of the incomprehensible hillbilly, Boomhauer, from King of the Hill. He talked incessantly too, as though he was required to verbalize every thought he had. “I’m gonna pay you back, suh. Not in money, you know I ain’t got none of that, and if’n I did, I’d just spend it all on booze, ya hear. The ol’ Tommy, he would-a say he gonna pay you back in cold hard cash, ya hear, but he wouldn’t do it. Nosirree. He just use ya and abuse ya for as much as he can, then spend it all on fentunill, uh-huh, ya hear, son? I ain’t that kinda man no mo’, suh, and I thanks ya rightly for all that you done. I’s gonna tell ya upfront that if I gets any cash, I be buyin’ liquor wit’ it. Ain’t proud of it, ’s just my weakness, ya hear? God ain’t see fit to gimme the strength to resist sweet lady drink.” He kept talking as they walked back to Rob’s car and drove away from the jail. Rob found his accent alluring, and his intense energy made Rob horny. He couldn’t focus on Tommy’s words because he was so aroused. So far, Rob had only managed to jack Tommy off once when he was drunk. They met because Tommy was holding up a sign asking for money at a busy intersection — he had insisted even as he begged for handouts that he didn’t accept welfare (he offered to write down every person’s address and pay them back at some point in the future, but most people understandably declined). Rob had offered him thirty bucks to jack him off. Tommy agreed without giving it a second thought and jumped into the passenger seat. Once he was there, however, he made a big show of this being contrary to his ideals as a Christian. Those ideals didn’t slow him down any, but he did make Rob buy him liquor first, and by the time he had his dick out in the shadowy corner of an All-Mart parking lot, Tommy had been piss-drunk. His dick was thick and fleshy, nice and long, and it throbbed beneath Rob’s fingertips. Tommy had demonstrated its thickness by holding it next to his forearm — it was just a bit thicker than his cock. He cackled with pride. “Mah friends always used to say I got color cock,” he grinned, showing off his gap-toothed jaw. “You know what that mean? I got dick like a color boy. Ain’t prejudice now, ya hear?” “Uh-huh.” He went on, talking about his lack of prejudice and, at the same time, all the groups of people he was prejudiced against: Filipinos, blacks, foreigners, electricians, feminists, Marylanders, Jews, Frenchmen, people named Bruce, Canadians, psychiatrists, people who eat smooth peanut butter, Texans, politicians, Mexicans and Mormons, among others. Even as his dick got hard in Rob’s hand and leaked precum into his fingers, Tommy didn’t stop talking. “I used to fuck this color girl, she loved me somethin’ fierce. Ah, damn, she got this ass, man… It’s enough to make me unchristian, it rightly is, suh. I tell you one thing. Uh-huh.” When he orgasmed, he shut up for about half a second, then let loose with a loud torrent of moaning. Even his moans had a redneck accent though, which made Rob giggle. Sitting there in the car in the All-Mart parking lot, Rob had nearly busted his own load just from the sight of Tommy’s muscles writhing beneath his t-shirt, his scruffy chin and his unwashed hair shaking. He finally stopped talking for a few seconds, long enough to spray sweet, sunny-smelling semen all over Rob’s hand. It spurted over Tommy’s t-shirt too, soaking into it. That made Tommy drunkenly groan with disgust, but Rob had given him a new t-shirt. Tommy allowed him to keep the old one, which Rob had fallen asleep sniffing and licking. So that had been how he met Tommy. He had paid Tommy thirty bucks and the bottle and said he could stay at Rob’s place. He slept on the couch. That first night, he had spent the whole thirty bucks on more booze. He said that it would last him a week, but he actually finished it in two days — he shared some with a couple of homeless men, but he drank most of it himself. Since then Tommy had been out and about — “testifyin’ at ‘bout the Lord on heaven” — so Rob hadn’t had the chance to get at his dick again. Until today. Tommy had spent a day and a half in jail after being arrested for being drunk in public. It turned out he owed five hundred in child support, which Rob paid to get him out. When they pulled into Rob’s house, Tommy cleared his throat. “Ya need any more work done, suh?” Rob shook his head no. Tommy had refused to take charity, so he had done some work around the house in exchange for a couch to sleep on. But that work was all done. “You gonna wanna jack me off, huh?” “Yeah,” Rob said. He sighed. “Fine. I knew it was gonna come to that. I don’t take charity, so I’ll do whatevuh it take,” he said. “I might know someone who needs work done,” Rob said. “Why don’t I make some calls? I might be able to find you a job.” “I’d be much obliged,” he said. He sniffed his pits. “I should go take a shower. I got jailstink in me.” “No.” Rob blushed. “Wait. Lemme… y’know… first.” “Oh, you like it stinky, huh?” “The stinkier the better,” Rob said. He sent off a text message to a friend of his, asking about a job for Tommy. Then he dropped to his knees and massaged Tommy’s cock through his jeans. Tommy snorted and was silent for a moment — that was highly unusual for him, and it was enough to make Rob chuckle. He undid the fly and let Tommy’s cock flop out. Rob opened his mouth and swallowed it down. That triggered Tommy to start talking again, but Rob ignored him. He focused on the taste of his meat; it was salty and musky, with a sun-drenched summery flavor that made Rob drool all over it. “You really like jackin’ dick, huh? What’s up wit’ dat? Huh? Dick don’t taste good, I never put it in my mouth — no how, no way — but I knows dat, yessuh, you best believe it. That’s where piss come from, why don’t it just taste like piss?” He paused, his voice scrunched up as he pondered this conundrum. “Oh, but girls piss too. Pussy does piss I know dat, suh. But they’s cleaner. That’s the diff’rence. Tastes like piss, yessuh. I know dat.” His dick got hard easily — Rob was glad to see he didn’t have whiskey dick, despite the bottle of whiskey he had drunk before getting arrested. It was massively thick, one of those rare cocks that Rob actually needed to struggle to deep-throat. There were two reasons in Rob’s book to practice rough trade. Firstly, he just plain enjoyed it. Secondly, and even more important, Rob loved to humiliate his father. Dad was an upper-class elitist who hated the lower classes. He genuinely thought poor people shouldn’t be allowed to speak to the wealthy unless spoken to first. So as Rob swallowed, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dad. As expected, it went straight to voice mail — Dad knew what it meant when Rob called him. Rob was fine with the voice mail, since Dad couldn’t hang it up. Rob left the phone recording while he moistly put his mouth on Tommy’s cock, whose incessant yammering in his Southern dialect would enrage Dad so much it made Rob smile. “You got nice lips, damn, suh. I wasn’t expectin’ that, nosirree. I never do no pervy shit wit’ no male person befo’, nope, no, no, no, no way, and I will slap the bitch off anyone say different,” he said. “But I’s a Christian man, so I won’t do that. I don’t slap no one. I would though, I’d do it and get meself some fo’giveness later. I’s Christian fo’ real, suh. Don’t hit anyone who question me, not even men. Nope, that ain’t Christian. But don’t doubt that I ain’t nevuh do none of that pervuht shit befo’, or I will hit ya, and that’s a Christian promise.” He continued swearing that he both would definitely hit this hypothetical person and definitely would not, apparently having no realization that he was contradicting himself over and over. He peered down at his cock as it disappeared down Rob’s throat. He covered his eyes with one hand, peeking through his fingers before looking away again. Rob loved hearing Tommy’s rumbling drawl, his gravelly voice filling the air with the words that dripped out of him like molasses. His cock dripped too, salty precum flowing down Rob’s throat. He gurgled on it, letting some leak out from his lips and down his chin. The phone rang — not Rob’s personal phone, but his landline. Rob wasn’t going to answer until he saw he caller ID. It was a friend who owned a small bakery in town. “I should take this,” Rob said. “It’s the guy I asked about giving you a job. I sent him a text. He called on the landline-“ “Hell yeah, answer that, suh, I rightly need dat, yeah,” he said. He wrinkled his nose as Rob lazily stroked his dick and answered the phone. He stared at the cock as he had to fight back the urge to start jacking on it again — he needed his mouth free to talk on the phone. It turned out his friend did have a job available. He needed someone to re-tile his bathroom, and, when Rob asked, Tommy nodded as though he didn’t have experiencing tiling but was willing to pretend he did. So Rob passed the phone over. Tommy took a deep breath before answering, and Rob couldn’t help but lick his dick. He didn’t put it in his mouth again while Tommy interviewed over the phone, he just licked and lightly stroked the shaft. “Hello, suh. Yessuh, I swears, I do got experience. Yessuh, I ain’t gonna lie to ya, ain’t nevuh tiled a bathroom all by myself. But I done it. I know all ‘bout that, yessuh. And you can rest yerself unworried, suh, I’s a Christian man. I’s a God-fearin’ man, uh-huh.” His voice broke when a drop of precum leaked onto Rob’s tongue. “Yessuh. I got dat punc-tual-ity, yessuh, I always do. I do good work. I was raised propuh.” His dick twitched in Rob’s mouth. Rob kissed the tip as loudly as he could, giggling when Tommy frowned at him. Rob licked up all the precum that dripped out of his dick. “I only ask that ya treat me wit’ respect as well. I only ask fo’ you to treat me like a man, ya hear. I don’t like to hear no kinda disrespec’. Ya got me? Huh? I see, yeah. Yessuh,” he said. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, suh. I do gots a problem wit’ the drink, yeah. I’s man enough to admit dat. Uh-huh.” Tommy used one hand to keep the phone on his ear, while his other hand grabbed Rob by the head. He bucked his hips one time, slamming his dick all the way into Rob’s throat. He listened intently to the phone as he did, like he didn’t even notice what his cock was doing. He smiled and stuck his tongue out when he was all the way in Rob’s gullet, and he moaned loudly. Then he blushed and stammered into the phone. “Sorry, suh, I was, uh… I just stubbed my toe, so sorry,” he said. “I ain’t know ‘bout that, suh. It might not be the best way to go. I do drink me some ‘lcohol, that’s fo’ sho’. Uh-huh. I ain’t gonna lie to you, suh, I’s a Christian man, I do drink e’ry night. The Lord ain’t seen fit to take that burden from my back. I pray e’ry night, both befo’ and aftuh I get drunk, ya hear. I pray fo’ guidance, yessuh, and I pray for forgiveness.” As Rob started to stroke Tommy’s cock in earnest again, he looked up at Tommy’s serious face. Tommy had one arm crossed over his flat belly, rubbing against the blond hairs there. Rob suckled loudly and moistly on his cockshaft, which throbbed and precummed down Rob’s throat. “Alright, yessuh, thank you, thank you fo’ the oppo’tunity, yessuh, I do ‘ppreciate it, mighty fine,” Tommy said. Then he hung up the phone. He snorted. “He ain’t hire me.” “Oh? What happened?” “He say he gonna need me to do some drivin’. The tiles he wanna use is in some far-away warehouse or somethin’. He say he gonna make me take a breathalyzer first. He say insurance make him do it,” Tommy said. “I can’t get no kinda DUI no mo’, or I do some big-boy time in the slammer. That’s what my lawyer say last time. So I tell him, I tells ya friend, I tells him nah, I can’t lie. I gonna be drunk, at least at the legal limit from the night befo’. ‘nless you pick me up from jail like you done today, that’s ‘bout the only way I might be sober fo’ him. God ain’t seen fit to take the burden of drink off my back, ya hear.” “Uh-huh. That’s too bad, I’m sorry to hear that,” Rob said. He was too horny to really care, though a part of him was annoyed that Tommy hadn’t even been willing to try to quit drinking for the job. Rob was also certain that his friend was making that up — he had no breathalyzer, he was just saying that to scare Tommy into admitting he would never show up sober. “Hey, suh, I wanna-” Tommy said. He snorted and threw his head back to moan, biting his lip as he nearly orgasmed right then and there. He pulled his dick out and let it flop against Rob’s face. It smelled like hay and saliva and sweat, and it made Rob’s mind race as dizzying desire overwhelmed him. Tommy took a deep breath. “I’s in need, ya know that, ya hear. You seem like the kinda man who wanna help a Christian brotha out, and ya know I don’t take no kinda charity, no way. Huh-huh. I don’t do dat. I got some pride left in these old bones.” “What do you want, Tommy?” Rob didn’t meant to be impatient, but he desperately wanted to get back to swallowing his dick. “I want you to forgive me my debt fo’ that child support shit, and I need more. If you gimme ‘bout two hundred, I can buy enough liquor to last me for weeks and still have enough to pay child support fo’ this month, ya hear. That’ll keep me outta jail long enough to get a job.” “A job that doesn’t expect you to come to work sober?” Rob asked. Tommy wrinkled his nose, and Rob smiled. He didn’t mean to be confrontational — he wasn’t Tommy’s social worker, after all. “That’s fair, I say. I say that’s fair,” Tommy said. “But the Lord ain’t seen fit to tell me to quit drinkin’. The Lord ain’t say that yet. Maybe it’ll happen tomorrow. Maybe the day aftuh that, I dunno. The Lord works in mysterious ways, suh, as I’m sure you well know.” “Uh-huh.” Rob inhaled deeply from the musky cock that rested and pulsated atop his face, as he looked up into Tommy’s ultra-serious mien. “So I’s askin’ for two hundred, suh, but I wouldn’t be askin’ if I ain’t wanna earn it, like a real man. I dunno if you know this ‘bout me, but I don’t take charity. Nope, no way, no how,” he said, and even though he had told Rob that maybe a hundred times in the week or so they had known each other, he seemed to be genuinely unaware that he had said it before. He took a deep breath. “I’s willin’ to treat you in a most unchristian way, if that’s the way you want it.” Rob would have had no idea what that meant, but from the way Tommy raised his eyebrows and stroked his twitching cock, Rob guessed it was exactly what he wanted. He glanced over at the phone to be sure his father’s voicemail would pick up this conversation. “You’ll stick it in my ass?” Tommy blanched, frowned and chuckled nervously. “Damn, you really speak blunt, suh, but yeah, that’s what I’s sayin’.” “Have you ever done it before?” “Nossuh!” he said. Then he paused. “I been drinkin’ a lotta drink fo’ a long time, suh.” He put his hand over his heart. “I ain’t wanna lie to ya, suh. This man I know — Willie — he tells me one time that we get drunk together in a tramp camp out near the highway — not the highway here in Tuscaloosa, this was down in Florida — and we get so drunk, me and Willie, we get so drunk we can’t even stand, I swear to God. I wasn’t composed-mentis — that’s a legal term, ya hear — and I ain’t even remembuh it the next day. But Willie, he a color boy, not that I’s prejudice, but he say the next day, he say that we was real drunk and I was attemptin’ at his asshole all night. Color boys say dat, yessuh. But I wasn’t right in the mind then, and I don’t rightly remembuh it. I punched that Willie in the face and I ain’t even ask fo’giveness. He say we was drunk and messin’ each other off — color boys call that ‘sixty-ninin’’, yessuh, and then he say he stick me in the asshole, and I say no way, no how, I don’t do that, nossuh. I don’t let no white man in my ass, and I don’t let no color man in there neither. I ain’t prejudice. He say we both do it, but I punch him in the face.” Tommy laughed. “He punch me back, but we make up and get to smokin’ some ice togethuh, all forgotten. We was both smokin’ that crystal meth-am-phetamine then. I quit that now, by the grace of God, thank you, suh.” As he told that long story, Rob got into position. He bent over on all fours, above his own cell phone so he could be sure his father would listen to every moist sound and intense moan. He slathered lube all over his ass. It was only as he finished his story, talking about smoking meth and over-enunciating the word methamphetamine, that Tommy got in position to enter Rob’s ass. He kneeled and got behind Rob, who cringed as soon as he felt that thick prick at the entrance to his ass. Tommy grabbed Rob’s hair, which was just long enough that he could grip it. He screwed up his face like a mean thug for a moment, and he slapped Rob’s asscheek. “I ain’t gonna stick ya real mean-like. Ya reckon it’s okay if I hold onto yer hair, suh?” “That’s fine.” “I just likes to hold on, like for somethin’ to grip. Plus I can pull on it just a bit, make ya tighten up some. Ya just gotta tell me to stop or slow down,” Tommy said, sounding like he really hoped Rob would make him stop. But Rob didn’t. He was so horny he backed his ass up while Tommy was still talking, so in the end, Tommy didn’t penetrate Rob — instead Rob penetrated himself with Tommy’s dick. He threw his head back and moaned as Tommy’s cock hit his prostate, inch after inch of it squeezing into his ass. Rob had rarely accepted such a thick slab of meat, so he struggled to take in the whole thing. “Oh god! It’s so big!” Rob knew that men like Tommy pounded better if their ego was stroked, so Rob kept shouting about how huge Tommy’s cock was. Sure enough, that made Tommy grin like an ape and bristle with pride. “Here we go, suh, I do hope this is worth it,” Tommy said. He groaned and grunted as he forced the last few inches of his dick in. They were both motionless for a moment. Rob shivered as he struggled to adjust to the cock in his ass and the wave of pleasure enveloping him. Tommy looked down at his dick disappearing in Rob’s ass as though he had no idea how it had gotten there. He chuckled to himself and was again struck silent for a few seconds. Though Tommy’s accent had turned him on, Rob was glad to have a few moments to think as his prostate came alive. Then at last Tommy began pounding away at Rob’s ass. He pulled gently on Rob’s hair to keep his head up, even as Tommy pushed down on Rob’s upper back. He placed Rob’s shoulders on the floor, his ass in the air and his head upraised just enough that he could see. “Damn, suh, from behind you look a lot like a girl,” Tommy said. “A girl who got a real athletic back, that’s nice. A li’l hairy, but hey, I know I ain’t no prize. I met girls a lot hairier than you and I ain’t kick ‘em out of bed. Or outta the tent I be sleepin’ in, or whatevuh. I don’t fuck wit’ prostitutes, mind you suh.” He groaned again and slammed his dick in so hard his balls slapped against Rob’s thigh. “Uh-huh.” Rob reached behind himself and massaged Tommy’s balls. It wasn’t clear Tommy even realized he was doing it — Tommy’s mind was fixated on the pleasure and the horror of his dick in a man’s asshole. Rob’s fingers slipped behind Tommy’s balls, rubbing that sensitive spot where his sac met his taint. The thick nest of blond hairs there was choked with dried-on sweat. Tommy stopped moving. He coughed. “Ah, damn, does this make me a rentboy, suh?” “Uh… No, you’re just…” Rob winced. It was hard to concentrate on speaking with such a huge cock throbbing inside his ass. It was right on his prostate, sending jolts of bliss through his body. “You’re just givin’ me a lesson on masculinity. I’m small and weak-“ Tommy chortled. He mulled around the word masculinity in his mouth and repeated it, dick twitching inside Rob’s twisting body. “Muscle-innity? Wuzzat?” “It’s, a, uh… bein’ a man” Rob said. “Well hooty toot, ain’t that right. I ain’t no pervuht, just doin’ what I gotta do to make some scratch. Wish I could tell my sister that and have her get impressed. She called me a failure and a loser, can you believe that? She accuse me of stealin’ cash from her when I was sleepin’ on her couch,” Tommy said. He started moving his hips again, rubbing his dick on every surface of Rob’s guts. Tommy moaned and bit his lip. “I did steal cash from her, mind you. I done sought forgiveness fo’ it already,” he said. “But she ain’t know I done it. She ain’t have no kinda clues ‘bout that. She just ‘ssumed. To me, that ain’t right. She my sister. She should gimme the benefit of the doubt. Ya hear me, suh?” “Yeah. Uh-huh.” He chuckled dryly. “I can tell you want me to blow my load. You like, uh, nut, huh, suh?” He shuddered as though that thought was unspeakably disgusting. “Yeah. Stick it in me,” Rob said, still too distracted by his ass to speak normally, so his voice was wrenched by moans. “Now when I fuck a girl in the ass, she nevuh want me to fill her up inside. Huh? You want me to pull out? I like to fill her up, cuz that’s in the Bible,” Tommy said. “Spillin’ yer seed is bad, I know that. I hears this preacher say it one time.” “Yeah. Just cum inside me, okay,” Rob said. He rolled his eyes while he shot his own load into his hand. Some of it even landed on the phone on the floor, which still whirred as it recorded Tommy’s voice and the sound of Rob’s orgasm. Rob smiled — his father was going to hate this. Tommy’s earnest nature, his Christianity, his dirtiness, his redneck accent, he was everything Rob’s dad despised. “Yessuh, I am glad you say dat,” he said. He spat into the palm of his hand and used that as additional lube. He groaned and slammed his dick in. He pulled it all the way out and did so again, grunting each time, as Rob bit his own lip, the waves of pleasure overwhelming him with each thrust of Tommy’s cock. Rob could feel his orgasm approach. He writhed, his sensitive ass tingling so intensely Rob could do nothing but bury his face in his own arms. But that didn’t last long because Tommy pulled on his hair as he climaxed. “Aw, fuck yeah…” He spoke softly for once, and he paused, allowing a moment of delectable silence to fill the room. “Gonna shoot so much you ain’t nevuh stop drippin’, suh… Got a ‘nfinite ‘mount of cum to fill ya up wit’, suh. I always shoots some big loads, like a color boy. I ain’t color, mind ya, and I ain’t prejudice.” A big jet of creamy cum hit Rob’s prostate, reawakening his own orgasm. Rob twisted and contorted, but Tommy kept a tight grip on his hair. Then Tommy collapsed his body onto Rob’s back. That pinned Rob down as Tommy gyrated his hips, shooting wad after wad of hot cum inside his ass. It was thicker than most cum, or so Rob thought he sensed as it trickled into his body. He could feel it sticking to his innards, soaking into him, its heat seeping into his flesh. Rob moaned, but the sound was overpowered by Tommy’s own moan. Tommy’s ropy, dusty, sunburnt muscles flexed where they pressed against Rob’s bare back, and Rob moaned beneath his grasp. “Ya feel me fillin’ you up, suh? That how you like it? Huh? Girls don’t like that, or some of them do but I think they just prostitutes and sluts, that’s what they is. They usually make me pull out, shoot all over the floor, but I don’t like dat, nossuh. I like-” he paused and his voice broke as he moaned again, another few drops of cum dripping into Rob’s ass. “I likes this, yessuh. I do this fo’ two hundred anytime, yessuh, that’s fo’ sho’. Ain’t Christian to do it, ain’t propuhly Christian, but that’s why the Cath-olics invented forgiveness, yessuh.” At last they were both done. Rob didn’t know how long he laid there. It felt like eons. All he could focus on was the feel of Tommy’s muscles writhing above his back, his cum trickling into his ass and his breath condensing on Rob’s neck. “Alright, suh, that okay?” “Yeah, Tommy, you can get off me now,” Rob said, breathless and strained. “Yessuh,” he pulled off. He wrinkled his face at sight of his cum-coated cock, dripping with santorum and goop. He laughed at himself. “Well, shit, I wasn’t sure I could do it, but I did it. Yessuh, I did.” “Yeah. That was good, Tommy,” Rob said. He took a deep breath. Tommy crossed his arms over his wiry chest and shot Rob a suspicious look. “You ain’t gonna stiff me, right? Two hundred. That’s what you said.” He thought for a moment. “You pretty rich, right?” “Well, not exactly,” Rob said. His own cock was rock-hard, even though he had cum a couple minutes ago. That’s because the stink of Tommy’s hobo armpits filled the room, and Rob kept playing with Tommy’s rubbery soft cock and wiry muscles. “But I do okay. You said you’ve been in prison before, right? Not just jail-“ “Ayyuh, yessuh, I been gone to lockup buncha times, big-boy prison too, a year and a half once, back befo’ I was a God-fearin’ man,” he said. “That’s how I seen pervuhsion befo’, I know how bad that taste, so I bet — I ain’t taste it, mind you, I know from rep’tation. I hold my own in prison.” He looked away. “So you’ve never tasted cock?” “Nosuh, nosuh, nosuh,” he said. “And I nevuh would, nevuh. I tol’ this one color fella he best shank me, cuz no how no way, uh-huh, I ain’t puttin’ his nasty old thing in my mouth.” “Oh, okay,” Rob said. He had hoped maybe there was a chance he could get his dick in Tommy’s mouth, but he knew that was always a longshot, so he just shrugged. But Rob saw a hesitant look on Tommy’s face. Rob said, “Four hundred.” “Eight. I don’t taste no color fella prick, nosuh.” Rob nodded. “Fine,” he said. His heart pounded. Was he really about to get his dick wet in this redneck? Tommy got on his knees, weary look on his face, his mouth already puckering. He looked at Rob’s dick and wrinkled his nose. “I nevuh done it — I love me some drugs, you see, but I tol’ that color fella I ain’t tastin’ no hog fo’ it,” he said. “Tastin’ like shit anyhows, on ‘ccount of he always stickin’ his homeboys in the butthole.” He picked up Rob’s dick with two fingers and winced. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Just before it touched Rob’s dick, he closed his mouth again. “You ain’t gonna stiff me, right?” “Swear to God,” Rob said. Tommy closed his eyes. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, you feel me?” Rob nodded. “No judgement, it’s-” He gasped as his cock slid into Tommy’s mouth. Tommy immediately deep-throated him most of the way down, but as soon as Rob’s cock touched the back of his tongue, Tommy violently retched. Tommy sat back and closed his mouth like he thought he might vomit. He paused. “First taste is always the nastiest,” he said as though that was a cliche he’d said before. “I-” His face turned pale and he snapped his mouth shut. He got up and hurried the best he could with his pants around his ankles. He went to the bathroom and bent over the toilet, retching into it. “Sorry, suh, sorry, I’s tryin’ — first taste is always the worst, makes ya puke, but I’ll get-” He retched again. “I’ll get through it, swear to God.” Rob came into the bathroom then. Tommy was bent over the toilet dry-heaving and spitting. His pants were still down so his asshole was bare, wrinkled, pale as could be but studded with off-blond hairs, especially running up his asscrack. Rob came up behind Tommy and thwacked his cock against Tommy’s asscrack. “Don’chu even try and stick it in my hole,” Tommy said. He turned back around, leaning his back against the toilet. He eyed Rob’s cock with disdain. “I wasn’t tryin’ to stick it in, just playin’,” Rob said. He slowly got closer, expecting Tommy to open his mouth. But he didn’t. Rob got closer and closer, until his dick touched Tommy’s lip. He didn’t react. Then he opened his mouth a crack. Rob slid his dick in. Again, Tommy gagged, but not as violently, and Rob was able to keep his dick in there. Tommy kept his mouth opened wide and his tongue low, minimizing the amount of Rob’s dick that touched his tongue. His chapped lip rubbed against it. “Oh god, yeah…” Rob moaned loudly. He grabbed Tommy by the ears and pushed his dick in as a sudden orgasm overwhelmed him. The change in angle meant his cock rubbed thoroughly against Tommy’s tongue, and he gagged once more. “No wai-sshh, I cauuhn’t-” Tommy tried to pull off Rob’s dick, but he was pinned with the toilet behind him, and Rob had a grip on both ears. He let go to hold onto Tommy by the mullet on the back of his head. His hairy was dusty and coarse, and he let out a furious stomach-churning retch as Rob’s dick slid all the way into Tommy’s throat. “Sorry, just a sec, just a second,” Rob said softly, his face turning red. A jet of cum hit the back of Tommy’s throat, dripping straight down his gullet. This time when Tommy gagged as the second cumwad hit him, he spat up all the cum he had swallowed so far. His whole body writhed as a big ball of spit and semen slipped out onto Rob’s cock. Tommy finally managed to get himself off Rob’s dick. “Nasssshuh-” Tommy tried to hold back a vomit, but he couldn’t. He twisted sideways so he could vomit into the toilet bowl. His stomach was empty because he had thrown up before, then spat up Rob’s first cumwad. Rob wasn’t done cumming though. His third spurt of cum landed on the strap of Tommy’s wifebeater on his shoulder. Then Rob moved to the side of the toilet, so he could jam his dick back into Tommy’s mouth, as Tommy let out a hoarse breath and spat again. Tommy didn’t see it coming, so Rob managed to get his fourth and final cumwad into Tommy’s mouth. “Sorry, sorry,” Rob said. He thought he shouldn’t have to apologize, since he was paying good money for this, but he figured apologizing would make Tommy more likely to come back. “I’m all done.” Despite being done, Rob didn’t stop moving his limpening dick in and out of Tommy’s mouth. Tommy was hunched over the toilet, letting fluids drip from his mouth into the bowl. Finally he took Rob’s dick in two fingers and held him back. He closed his mouth, spit again and took a deep breath. “Alright, alright, you got’cha money’s worth. Damn, that’s the dickens! Still, you ain’t taste as bad as that color fella,” he said. “Or so I hears.” He stood up and pulled his pants up. “I’ll get you your money. I’ll have to write a check, I don’t have that much cash. What kinda fee will you pay at the check-cashing place.” “Like five percent plus, uh…” His voice trailed off. “Hundred bucks. Five percent plus a hundred bucks.” That was clearly a lie, he was exaggerating the cost. But Rob didn’t care. Money was no object to him. He wrote out a check for two hundred dollars, which would more than cover any check-cashing fee. He didn’t get up, his body still too weak and basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. He passed the check over to Tommy. “Thank ya, suh,” Tommy said. He stood, stretched his knees and wiped his cock off with a napkin. “I thanks ya mightily. I’m just gonna go cash this check, yessuh. I got big plans fo’ it. Gonna buy just a little liquor. Enough to get me drunk fo’ a couple nights. Gonna make this money last, yessuh.” “And child support,” Rob said weakly while Tommy got dressed. “Don’t forget, you want to be able to pay your child support for a couple months. Or else you’ll just get arrested again.” Tommy paused for a long time. It was clear he had no intention of paying his child support. He stared at the check for a long time. He smiled at Rob. “Yessuh, ‘course. Thanks a lot fo’ ya help, suh. I swear, I be back. I am gonna turn my life around, yessuh.” “Okay, see ya, Tommy,” Rob said. As the door slammed shut behind Tommy, Rob knew that was it, he was not going to see Tommy again. All of that money would be spent on booze, and it would all be gone in a week or two. Tommy was a drifter, and it was time for him to drift away.
Rob is after a studly ex-con working as a florist, and he nabs him with an offer of money for manmeat. That’s a good trade, made complicated by the arrival of a patronizing customer and by this florist’s intense need to up his asking price. Can Rob meet his floral needs and satisfy his florist?
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“We close in four minutes, suh,” Thurgood said when Rob walked in to the florist shop. Rob nodded. “That’s okay. I don’t actually want any flowers right now,” he said. His heart skipped a beat. He had no idea what made him think this would work, but he’d wanted to do it ever since he bought flowers here a few weeks ago. Rob loved flowers and florist shops, but he’d never seen a florist like Thurgood Pugh. That’s because Thurgood had stacks of muscle with a brusque demeanor and a scruffy face, looking like a muscular goat. He licked his teeth and looked down Rob’s slim twink body. Thurgood had a rough-tinged voice too, a distant-thunder murmur like a car driving very slowly over rumble strips, and his fingers were thick, his hands big and callused like mallets. “Oh, you got the roses for that wedding?” Thurgood asked. He said it with a twitch in his nose like he wasn’t used to talking politely with men. “How was it?” “It was wonderful! Thank you!” Rob said. He flashed a limp wrist at Thurgood. Last time he was here, Rob sensed Thurgood checking him out, looking him up and down, and he was confident Thurgood was the kind of alpha male who would stick his dick in a man. He was a ‘a hole’s a hole’ kinda man, and he’d do what was necessary to get his dick wet. He had that swaggerous stance that suggested he got stiffies a lot and needed to bust a nut to get rid of them. Rob licked his lips and touched Thurgood’s muscular arm through his polo shirt. “You were so helpful, oh my god.” “Good. Whatcha need?” Thurgood took a deep breath. He snorted and rubbed his face. He leaned against the counter, then against the wall behind himself, then he stood up straight. “Can I ask you a question?” He sucked on his teeth. “Yeah, fine.” “I’ll give you a hundred dollars to stick your dick in me,” Rob said. “That’s not technically a question. Will you stick your dick in me for a hundred dollars? There you go.” “Hmmm… Thought you was thinkin’ sumfin like that. You crazy, man, you crazy. Man…” Thurgood looked away and covered his face for a minute. “No way, suh, not for no amount of money. No way.” “Oh-“ He furrowed his brow. “Two hunnerd dollars, man. Two hunnerd dollars. I stick ya you so good you won’t eat beef for a week, man, two hunnerd dollars.” “Oh, well… You said no way… but okay. Yeah. I can do that. Two hundred dollars,” Rob said. “Wait, uh… Whatchoo want, huh? You can taste my dick. That what you want?” “Yes, I want to taste your dick, please, sir, Thurgood. Mr. Pugh. But I also want it in the butt…” Rob said with a seductive smile. “Hmm… Lemme think, boy.” Thurgood’s reaction had gone from no way to hell yeah to maybe. Rob suspected that the answer was yes, but Thurgood thought he could negotiate more money this way. Rob didn’t mind too much — he could afford it, and he wanted to see what he could tease out of Thurgood. “Why don’t I just start licking? When you’re ready, you can tell me to bend over and spread my cheeks.” “Hmm…” He grumbled like he didn’t want to do this, but a smile flickered over his face too. Rob came around to the other side of the counter. “What? Right now?” Thurgood bristled. “The store’s still open, man.” Rob smiled as he dropped to his knees behind the counter, concealed from anyone who might come in. Rob pulled his head under Thurgood’s apron, then unzipped Thurgood’s khakis, which had a musky unwashed smell even over the floral scent that dominated the florist shop. His cock popped out. It was thick and veiny and so long it sent an anticipatory thrill up Rob’s spine. That was going to hurt. But he couldn’t wait, Rob loved a challenge. He touched the firm bulge of Thurgood’s cock through his khakis. His hands moved upward, under Thurgood’s polo shirt. “Yo, whiteman, you doin’ it or what? Huh?” He shouted, his gravelly deep voice a low throaty rumble that made Rob’s throat crave his meat. Rob’s fingers explored his warm stone-like chest until Thurgood swatted his hands away. “Get started, damn…” Rob unzipped Thurgood’s jeans and let his cock come out the fly. At last, Rob licked Thurgood’s shaft. It twitched beneath his tongue, and the flavor of his coconut-oil-scented skin overwhelmed Rob’s senses. He shivered and ran his tongue up and down the shaft. “Man, I ain’t closed. Someone could walk in here anytime,” he said. “Then go lock the door.” He shrugged. “I don’t wanna lose no customers, man. People sometimes come in the last couple minutes — oh, good evenin’, ma’am,” he said with a forced warble to his voice. Rob suppressed a laugh at the realization that a customer had indeed come in. Rob couldn’t see from this side of the counter, but he heard her fat-footed steps and her heavy breathing. She sounded like a heavy woman, possibly old. “Oh, hello…” “How can I help you today, ma’am?” Thurgood asked. He sounded vaguely flirtatious. Rob wasn’t sure if that was because he flirted with all his female customers, he flirted with this one in particular or because he was just overwhelmed and found it difficult to modulate his demeanor with Rob slurping on his cock under his apron and behind the counter. Thurgood chuckled. “You gettin’ flowers for the beauty contest you just won?” “Oh, stop, you’re bad, you’re so bad,” she said. Rob could tell that she blushed and also that she didn’t want Thurgood to stop. The customer giggled like a high schooler, though it was clear she was much older than that. “I’m hosting a dinner party for my Purple Hat friends.” “Sure, sure, of course.” It was clear Thurgood didn’t know what Purple Hat was. His cock stiffened and throbbed in Rob’s mouth. A few drops of precum leaked out. “And I wanted a table decoration,” she said. “Something understated. Something like this, but more colorful. Maybe that — but that’s awfully large. And it can’t have geraniums in it. My friend Suzie is actually allergic to geraniums, can you believe it?” “Gerania,” Thurgood said. “I’m sorry, dear?” “The plural of geranium. It’s gerania.” Thurgood pounded on the glass counter. It probably looked like he was in pain, but he was just covering up a moan. His cock dripped precum, its salty flavor coating Rob’s tongue. Rob was pinned between Thurgood and the counter, which was high enough that the woman couldn’t see anything below Thurgood’s chest. Rob probably would have been overwhelmed by hysterical laughter if his mouth weren’t full. He reached around and grabbed Thurgood’s asscheeks, making him yelp and squirm. Thurgood leaned over the counter and smiled at the woman. “Oh my, are you alright?” she asked. “Yes, ma’am.” He pointed to something. “I was just… ugh… I was, uh… That’s a very nice bouquet. No gerania.” “Oh, that is remarkable!” She scurried away from the counter. “That is remarkable, Thurgood. Did you put this together?” “Yes, ma’am.” “You are an artiste, sir,” she said. “I am so happy for you. I think it’s great that your passion for flowers has brought you out of the ghetto.” She smacked her lips. “It just brings a tear to my eyes. Most people think that flower arranging is unimportant. But it matters, it really does. It beautifies our homes, and-“ “Uh-huh.” “It changes lives. If there were a reality show about florists, Thurgood, you should apply. You would win. You have such a great life story,” she said. “Yep. Yes, ma’am. Uh-huh,” he said. His knees buckled, and he licked his lips. He laughed, apropos of nothing, shifting his weight between his feet as he covered up his moans of desire. His cock throbbed in Rob’s throat. Thurgood tried to keep his hips still, but his instincts had him grinding his dick on Rob’s tongue, and he kept fidgeting to cover up the motion. The first credit card she gave him was declined. “Oh is that card not working? My husband, I swear, it’s like he barely even tries to manage the finances. Try this card,” she said as she handed Thurgood her backup credit card. Thurgood sighed and flared his nostrils. Rob guzzled down precum, making big moisty sounds that Thurgood had to cover up with a coughing fit. Thurgood writhed and ran the second credit card. “Are you okay tonight, dear? You seem distracted.” “Uh… Just… Comin’ down wit’ something, I’s afraid, sweetheart,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not serious. Credit card went through, here you go, darling. I hope the hat… I hope the hats, the purple hats… I hope they’re okay. With the flowers. Good flowers. Okay.” He bit his lip and rolled his chest. “Ma’am.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Oh, you poor dear, you get some sleep tonight. Don’t stay up all night carousing with pretty young girls.” “Oh, I won’t. I’m… I’m a Christian man, ma’am,” he said. As though to accentuate his point, he grabbed Rob’s forehead and held it in place. Rob guzzled anyway, fighting against Thurgood’s hand to sswallow his cock deeper. Thurgood got two hands on Rob’s head, trying to pull him off, but Rob was stubborn and stayed right where he was, letting Thurgood’s cock rest in his throat. Even as he tried to stop Rob, Thurgood kept humping his dick back and forth in Rob’s mouth, moving his hips in little circles so the woman wouldn’t see. “That’s wonderful, it really is!” she leaned against the counter and sighed. “I think this country has really moved away from religion in a big way, and that’s not a good thing. I’m not a believer myself, but I think people need that. People need a sense of mystery, and a sense of social obligation, a reason to be part of the community.” “Yep. Uh-huh.” “I did… Thurgood, I did want to talk to you about something,” she said. “I hope this doesn’t come across as rude. I’ve just been buying flowers from you for a long time.” He sighed and muttered, ah, god…, but he just smiled and nodded at her. Rob reached his hand into the fly of Thurgood’s khakis and played with his balls, which were sweaty and heavy, low-hanging, feeling juicy and plump in Rob’s fingers. “Are you a Democrat?” “Ain’t allowed to vote, ma’am. Convicted felon,” he said. “Oh, right, yes. Of course. But you would vote Democrat, is that right?” “I, uh… I don’t really follow politics. Since I can’t vote…” He spoke through gritted teeth. Surely it was obvious to the woman that he wanted her to leave, Rob thought, but she didn’t let on that she was aware. Rob nuzzled his nose all the way down into Thurgood’s dense nest of pubic hair. “Sure, that makes sense. But most… African American people nationwide-” she said it like she expected Thurgood to burst into applause for using the politically correct term. “-do vote for Democrats.” “Yeah, okay.” “Well I’m part of the city Democratic Party, and we’ve been seeing a decline in voting rates, and I think that means we’re not communicating, you know?” Her voice was bright and sunny. “So we’ve been trying to come up with ways to speak to the African American community. No, I’m sorry, that was offensive. We don’t want to speak to them. We want to speak with them. With you. With people like you. We want to have a dialogue.” “Uh-huh.” “So we’re having a dinner next Friday!” She cackled as if that was a punchline but stopped when Thurgood didn’t join in. “And we’re inviting some local businesspeople and religious figures. From churches. Black churches. I mean, African American churches. I mean, churches catering to African American people. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She smiled at him. “And, uh, anyway, I wanted to invite you. You’re a local business leader.” “Yeah.” “Oh, you’ll come?! Thank you so much, Thurgood! I can’t wait, we’re going to have such a dialogue!” “Ah…” His mouth twisted into shapes. It was obvious to Rob that he searched for an excuse to say no but didn’t come up with any. All he could think about was his cock spewing precum down Rob’s throat. So he just sighed and said, “Okay…” “That’s wonderful! I’ll see you then! Thank you!” she said as she walked out the door. When the door swooshed close, Thurgood sighed and looked down at Rob. He opened his mouth to say something angry, but then the door opened. The woman walked back in. “And God bless! Thank you, Thurgood, and God bless you!” “Uh… Yeah. Good… night.” He scoffed when the door finally shut with her on the other side. He grabbed Rob by the neck and slapped him. “That lady was a Democrat. If she saw you, she’d shit a brick. Ladies like that can’t know about this kinda prison shit.” “She might be into it,” Rob said, gasping for air. “You should communicate better with her, as a representative of your community-“ “Shut up,” he said. He sniffed. “Now go lock the door.” “Me-?” His nostrils flared. He slapped Rob on the cheek with one hand, his cock pulsating on Rob’s face. “I ain’t pullin’ my pants up on ‘ccount of I got a big cock, and it hurts to try to tuck it when it’s hard. And this place got windows, man, I can’t go walkin’ over there.” Rob nodded and walked over to the door. “So, Thurgood, have you fucked that woman?” “Hell no. You don’t understand girls. She the kinda fat white chick I don’t fuck. She that other kind,” he said. He lowered his eyes. “The bad kind.” Rob flicked the lock, and turned the sign over from Open to Closed. “Sorry you have to go to a Democratic Party dinner.” He looked at Thurgood sympathetically. “That sucks.” “Yeah, I oughta kick yo’ ass, boy, that was fucked up. I couldn’t think of no reason to say no, man. I got a million reasons now. I should’ve told her I gots a court order to stay away from Reverend Chandler. I know he’s who she meant by ‘local religious leaders’.” When Rob returned to the counter, Thurgood scowled and grabbed him by the neck. Thurgood dragged him into the backroom, where there were no windows that could be seen from the street. “I hate how white people like that say ‘African American’.” “I want to taste your African American cock,” Rob said as he got back to his knees. “Was that better?” He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. You do it fine. I bet you don’t say it often though. Do you?” “No, I just say black people.” “See?! I gots this theory,” he said as Rob resumed licking his cock, which had only lost a trace of its erection as they shifted rooms. Thurgood cleared his throat. “Outside of the media and shit, the only people who say African American is racist. They’s overcompensatin’. They think black is an insult so they don’t wanna say it. If you ain’t racist, you just say black.” Rob’s mouth was full, so all he could do was nod and mumble in an agreeable way. It didn’t seem Thurgood really cared what he thought anyway. Thurgood barely paid attention to his own dick. He fumed and humped his shaft down Rob’s throat. When Rob gagged, Thurgood lightly slapped him on the cheek but kept plowing his face. His dick slipped out and rammed all over Rob’s face, but Thurgood didn’t stop pumping his hips back and forth, he just aimed it back for Rob’s mouth. “Maybe I’ll tell her I got somethin’ black I gotta do that day. What do black people do that she can’t deny? I got… a meeting with the parole officer that day? Nah, that’ll confirm her stereotypin’. I gotta go buy some doo rags?” He chuckled. Rob had an idea, but he couldn’t say it with his mouth full. He tried to pat Thurgood’s plump asscheeks to signal he needed a break, but Thurgood ignored that signal, treating his face like a pocket pussy. His balls slapped against Rob’s chin. “Somethin’ ‘bout diabetes? Nah, she fat as shit, I bet she got diabetes too,” he said. He lowered his eyes as he finally realized Rob’s flailing signaled he wanted Thurgood to stop. Thurgood glowered at him. “What? You want a break? You payin’ for it’, man, I oughta charge you extra for breaks. I like plowin’ bitch’s throats. You serious you need a break? Show me on a scale of one to ten how bad you need a break, boy. Just stick up fingers.” Rob’s face was bright red. He didn’t even really want a break, he just had an idea to tell Thurgood. So he only held up two fingers. “Two? You don’t need a break then. You tell me when you really need it, boy,” he said. He shook his head. “Don’t be tellin’ yo’ nigga to stop ‘nless you really need it, that ain’t right. Ain’t respec’ful.” He paused. “We ain’t nevuh finalize no price for that butt nonsense, boy. I’ll stick it in you for five hunnerd.” Rob’s throat closed up around Thurgood’s throat. He clawed at his body as his lungs cried out for air. He knocked a vase off the counter, but Thurgood caught it with lightning-fast reflexed. Some of the flowers — a bunch of pale irises — landed on the floor. Thurgood ignored them. “Hold up yo’ right hand if five hunnerd is alright. That’ll be seven hunnerd total,” Thurgood said. “Hold up yo’ left hand if you sayin’ no.” Rob held up his right hand. “Good.” Thurgood stood there with his hands on his hips, watching Rob squirm. He didn’t hump anymore, he just stood still with his cock being rubbed and caressed by Rob’s sputtering throat. Great gobs of saliva escaped out of Rob’s choking mouth, soaking into Thurgood’s khakis. “Bend over and grab your ankles. Don’t cry about the position, that’s the only way I do it with a man,” Thurgood said. He finally pulled away from Rob’s mouth, allowing Rob to gasp for air. Rob staggered away from the wall. He was overwhelmed by dizziness as he gulped down air. Thurgood roughly dragged him to the center of the room, surrounded by buckets full of potted roses. He snarled at Rob. “I say bend over, boy!” He smacked Rob’s asscheek hard. “You want a nigga to stick you? You gonna get hard, and you gonna get it rough. That ain’t easy. You might not like it. But you ain’t pay me to make you like it.” Rob knew he would like it, but he was still apprehensive. Thurgood’s cock was huge, after all. He bent over and grabbed his ankles. It was an awkward position for him, but Rob didn’t mind it — part of the joy was getting it from unusual angles, from unusual people, in unusual situations. “I had an idea,” Rob said. He was still gasping for air, tendrils of spit and precum clinging to his lips. “That was what I wanted to say. She’d love it if you were doing something Democrats like. So tell her you had to drive to some other city because you bought a black barbershop, and there was some problem you had to fix. Tell her some employee was selling drugs out of it, so you went over there to beat him up and tell the police. She’ll think you’re the greatest African American ever.” He stopped with his cock right at the tip to Rob’s asshole. He grunted. “Yeah. That’s good. Okay.” He chuckled and slipped a few more inches in. “Good idea, whiteboy. When I call her, I’ll be on the road, man, I’ll call her last minute.” He groaned with his dick almost all the way in Rob, then mockingly imitated his own voice on the phone with her. ‘Yo, girl, I can’t come to yo’ dinner tonight on ‘ccount of I gotta go rip this nigga’s head off fo’ sellin’ crack outta my store. I don’t even care ‘bout getting locked up again, I ain’t got my religion no mo’, I just wanna make this nigga dead for disrespectin’ me!’ She gonna freak the fuck out and talk me outta killin’ that nigga. I tell her I go sleep in a church somewhere to recover my faith. I thank her for savin’ my soul. Then I don’t gotta go talk to a bunch of Democrats and Rev’rnd Chandler. Fuck him, he do anything for a pancake dinner, man, I swear to God. Devil can tempt him easy: high yellow girl wit’ pancakes. He sin every which way for a high yellow girl with a plate of pancakes.” Just like before, Thurgood seemed distracted. He complained about Reverend Chandler as he slammed his dick in Rob’s hard. His cock slammed all the way in, tickling Rob’s innards and sending shards of pleasure through his body. Thurgood may not have noticed that he didn’t prepare Rob’s ass in any way. “I bet that’s the only reason he comin’. There gonna be at least one high yellow girl there. Pancakes prolly not, but somethin’ carby, that’s for sure. Whatever it is, you could squish it down on ya plate till it’s flat.” “Uh-huh.” Tears welled up in Rob’s eyes, the pressure in his ass was so intense he thought he was falling apart. It was too difficult to jack off with his hands around his ankles and his ass in the air, so his own cock just throbbed between his legs. When he let go of his ankles once to touch himself, Thurgood just smacked him in the back of the head. “Nah, boy. You pay extra if you wanna jack off while I stick ya,” he said. “I like it like this.” He paused. “You wanna pay extra? For five hundred dollars, you can jack off. For another five hundred dollars, I kiss ya while we both cum. You want that?” “Hell yeah! I’ll do it! Please! Do it, Thurgood!” Rob knew he was being cheated — Thurgood must have decided Rob could afford to pay more, which was accurate, and he was cheating Rob into agreeing to it. “I like hearin’ you beg, boy,” he said. He grabbed Rob’s head by his hair, and he took them both down to the ground. Thurgood dropped, but it was a controlled fall like he had done this many times before. Rob’s heart leapt into his chest because it felt like he was falling, but he ended up landing on his stomach. Thurgood was atop his back, pressing down with all his weight. He slammed Rob’s face into the floor — not a painful attack, just a grinding push onto the tiled floor. He swayed his hips from side to side as his balls crawled up in his sac. “Look at me, boy,” he said with a growl. Rob turned his head to the side. Thurgood kissed him on the lips. It was a very awkward, sideways kiss because Rob’s head was shoved into the floor. Moments later, however, Thurgood rolled over. Rob screamed in pain and pleasure. He sat on Thurgood’s cock, all twelve inches of which pulsated in his ass. He could feel Thurgood’s orgasm growing. Rob laid back onto Thurgood’s chest, exulting in the feel of his prison-starved muscles flexing against Rob’s smooth skin. From this angle, Rob could kiss Thurgood more effectively. He sucked on his lip and stuck his tongue in Thurgood’s mouth. Thurgood kissed him back passionately, slathering spit over Rob’s tongue as he ground his cock in Rob’s ass. They both came at the same time. Almost as soon as Rob felt the first burst of cum in his ass, his own cock throbbed in his fingers and his wad spurted out. It sprayed over Thurgood’s chest and shoulders. Pure liquid bliss flowed through Rob’s veins. He gasped and gulped down air, savoring the taste of Thurgood’s sweaty body and hot breath. He licked Thurgood’s grizzled chin and neck, prompting a grimace from Thurgood as he filled up Rob’s ass. He shot a huge load. It just kept on flowing, even after Rob had emptied his own balls over Thurgood’s pecs and shoulders. Thurgood kept on groaning into Rob’s his ear, licking his cheek and spurting jet after jet of creamy hot cum into him. Finally he was done, but Thurgood didn’t stop. He wrapped both arms and legs around Rob’s body to hold him in position. He pistoned his hips to keep his limpening dick inside, until his massive wad turned into a big frothy mess that leaked down his shaft into Thurgood’s bushy crotch. Thurgood groaned and fell limp. His cock was still hard, but the rest of his body was soft like half-melted chocolate. Rob loved that feeling. He rolled his head over to lick Thurgood’s neck, then down to his sweaty chest. Rob licked every drop of salty sweat off, while he watched cum drip out of his ass. “Alright, you got yo’ money’s worth,” he said. He didn’t physically force Rob off him though. He just held his hands above Rob’s head and watched him lick. Rob pulled away. He stood and stretched his sore legs. Thurgood remained there on the floor, khakis around his ankles, apron and shirt pulled up and over his jizz-splattered chest. After a minute or two, he finally got up and wiped his chest off. “Thanks,” Rob said as he wrote out a check. He laid it on the table surrounded by gerania. “Lemme see that,” Thurgood said with a growl. Rob handed him the check and he hobbled to his feet. Pants still around his ankles, he went to a check-reading machine. “Don’t go nowhere. I wanna make sure this is a valid check.” “Sure. I’m just gonna lick your ass a bit,” Rob said. He dropped to his knees and licked Thurgood’s smooth plump asscheek. Thurgood growled. He shifted his weight between his feet as though he expected a show of hostility to scare Rob off. That was probably a good bet most of the time — Thurgood was large, muscular and scary, while Rob was thin, delicate and weak. But Rob knew how to handle men like him. So he just licked all of his ass-sweat off his butt. From the way his back shuddered, it was clear Thurgood liked the attention. He grumbled as he cursed the check-reading machine for taking so long. He sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. Finally he clapped. “Alright, it’s done. You fine. Get outta here, freak.” Rob nodded and stood up. He put his clothes back on, using Thurgood’s body for support as he got his pants on. Thurgood snorted and rolled his eyes, but he allowed it. Then Rob kissed Thurgood once more on the lips. Again, Thurgood bristled and grumbled, but he didn’t make Rob stop. He narrowed his eyes to slits. “Thanks, Thurgood. You’re a great florist, a real artiste, a rose sprouting from concrete. Do you wanna be a Democrat?” Rob said, giggling. “Just get out.”
Desmond is a trustee at the local police station, and that means he gets his pick of alpha-male cop meat… except for the studly Officer Savillano.
Until one day Savillano himself arranges a meetup. His wife is sick, and he is desperate to get a load off, which Desmond is all too happy to help with!
Can Officer Salazar Savillano find the sweet release he craves?!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
The storage closet was dim and dark. Desmond Talley hurried in, then tried to switch the light on. The door shut as he flicked the switch. The light didn’t turn on. The closet remained pitch-black. “Damn it,” he muttered to himself. “Nothing in this place works right.” He grabbed for the doorknob to reopen the door — just enough to get some light in so he could see. But the door swung open before he could, and Officer Savillano walked in, quickly, quietly shutting the door behind himself as though he didn’t want anyone to see him come in here. Desmond caught a whiff of his cologne, which was potent and spicy, warm, musky, pungent, like the jockstrap of a very clean Chinese sailor. Desmond had been in the jailhouse at Precinct 17 for a couple weeks, and he’d found it mind-crushingly dull. He had always greatly admired the male form, and he thought the one bright spot of going to prison was that the men would have marvelous physiques. That might be true in prison — Desmond hadn’t gone yet — but in a jail, it seemed, like the jailhouse here, the average inmate was sixty-four, sickly, fat and possessing a cock like a mosquito bite. Desmond was not into it. The one genuinely handsome guy he got to share a cell with at all was a male stripper (a bit of a prettyboy, but Desmond wasn’t going to complain) who was also literally piss-drunk. Desmond wasn’t into molesting unconscious prettyboys who stank of urine. But the one bright spot was Officer Salazar Savillano. That’s because Savillano was a thick-limbed amateur bodybuilder, with a craggy face, square jaw and an intense, stawk-laden accent like a Bronx cabbie. He was short, about Desmond’s height, and he carried around his muscles like he stole them from a much taller man. He had a harsh voice like he gargled with cigarette butts, which made the other cops call him a goblin. “Yo, hey man, hey,” Officer Savillano said, whispering, his double-barreled voice resonating in the tiny closet, into which he followed Desmond. The jailhouse was quiet because it was night-time in the middle of the week, no crowds of revelers in the drunk tank, no convention at the hotel filling up with desperate men and desperate hos, no holidays right now to drink at then drive home. It promised to be a night of quiet dullness at Precinct 17. Except for this one dalliance in the closet, wherein Desmond got so close to Savillano he could smell both his cologne and the medical-grade deodorant he wore underneath it. Savillano was the only officer on duty right now, though the kitchen crew was in the other room cleaning up for the night. Desmond wasn’t in his cell because he was a prefect now, which meant he was allowed out to work in the jailhouse. He mopped floors and did whatever other tasks the cops asked. Sometimes that included jerking them off, when their no-doubt bitchy wives refused to put out. Sheriff Torkelson told Desmond he could say no any time he wanted, but Desmond had a thing for cops, and he hadn’t yet met one he would turn down. Savillano never asked though. It was Officer Savillano who had asked him to come into this walk-in closet to get a box of breathalyzer tubes. As always, when that gravel-coated voice filled Desmond’s ears, Desmond felt a surge of adrenaline and shivered in the wake of his body heat. His uniform shirt was partially unbuttoned now, revealing his hairy chest. One pearly drop of sweat plopped off his heavy cavemanish brow onto Desmond’s nose, making him shimmy and lick his lips. The salty flavor flooded his senses. “Yo, hey,” Officer Savillano said. His gravelly voice wavered, and it filled the air like a steam cloud, echoing in the walk-in closet. He pursed his lips and let out a little grumble like there were other things he wanted to say but hadn’t yet come up with the words to say them. “Hey. The light isn’t working. I think the breathalyzer tubes are over here. But the lightbulb doesn’t work, I keep telling Jefferson he needs to get more lightbulbs, he’s such a retard. If you just open the door a crack-” Desmond blushed, not that anyone could see it. It was obvious Officer Savillano wanted to talk to him, probably to ask if Desmond knew who was smuggling weed into the jail. Desmond did know, but he wasn’t about to say. His hands clutched Savillano around the waist, which Officer Savillano didn’t stop or even respond to. Desmond liked the thickness of his meaty frame, and his muscles flexed under Desmond’s touch. Trustees weren’t allowed to touch cops, and cops couldn’t touch trustees except by following the Five Pillars of Compliance. Desmond had seen the training video, and he’d watched the cops sign off on it without watching the video. Desmond couldn’t blame them for not watching it, but the rank hypocrisy did annoy him. Desmond had had to watch the same video, so that he would know how to comply, using the Five Pillars of Compliance. So far, not a single Pillar had been used. “I know it don’t work. The light ain’t workin’ cuz I took the bulb out,” Savillano said. He paused. “I threw it away. I’ll tell Jefferson to put in the order. But shush up.” He wrapped his powerful arms around Desmond, whose heart fluttered, then Savillano picked him up to switch positions with him. That placed Desmond right next to the door. “Oh. Savillano…” Desmond was confused, a bit scared, and a whole lot aroused. Savillano’s warmth and the musk of his cologne swarmed and swirled around him, and Desmond got dizzy in his thick-bodied presence. “I put ya next to the door, on account of so you can leave,” Savillano said, aiming his voice right at the back of Desmond’s neck, where his breath condensed moistly. He whispered, but he had such a deep, potent voice that it wasn’t very quiet. No one was around anyway — it was after five, so all the cops save Savillano were gone. There were only four inmates in the jail census, so there was only a need for one officer at night. “Oh…” Desmond’s dick rocketed to attention. He was already imagining getting rammed by Savillano’s hopefully fat cock, but the intellectual part of his mind assumed that wasn’t it. Savillano presumably had something else to ask. Desmond was just too horny to think of any other reason to go through all this. “So… I ain’t like… a bad guy or nothin’,” Officer Savillano said. He talked a lot of shit about his prowess with women, he was always bragging about it. Desmond didn’t believe a word of it. Savillano was married, and he didn’t cheat. Desmond would put money on it. Savillano liked to front, but he wasn’t the kind of man women lust for. He wasn’t charming, rich or even tall. “Oh. Okay…” “I mean… Look, man… Y’know ‘bout my wife?” “No.” “Ain’t Thorne tell you?” “No.” “Oh. She got cancer, man. She-“ “Oh, wow, I’m sorry, man, that sucks…” “Yeah. She got bone cancer, she gonna be dead soon.” “Damn…” This dark-closet encounter was becoming more morose than arousing, Desmond thought. But he caught another whiff of Officer Savillano’s natural musk beneath his cologne, and Desmond had to suppress an embarrassing moan. “Yeah, look, man… You can say no. Forgett’boutit, yu know. It ain’t a big deal. I got, y’know… I can do… othuh shit… I just was, yu know, like, whatevuh…” He snorted and wiped more sweat off his square-jawed face with one hand. “Look, dawg, man, like… I been, yu know… You cool, right?” Desmond nodded, too nervous to say anything. Then he remembered he was in the dark, so he had to say yes out loud. Before he could, Officer Savillano just kept talking as though he had said it anyway. “Well… I mean… Ain’t no big deal, but yu know, I seen you lookin’ at me, and shit, and Thorne told me you-” He paused, and Desmond didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing. Savillano chuckled throatily. “He say you told him you’d eat beef stew outta my ass.” Desmond giggled. “He told you that?” “Yeah, I mean, whatevuh, but, yu know… I don’t want that. Not that. That’s weird. And gross. And dirty. And-“ “It was just a joke. I wouldn’t really eat beef stew out of your ass. I’m not sure it’s possible. Maybe like some pad thai.” “Uh-huh. Well, yu know… Just…” “What’s wrong, Savillano? Just say it. If you don’t want me to check out your ass all the time, just say so. And, y’know, get an uglier ass, or at least looser-fitting uniform pants. I like muscular thighs, and I can not lie.” Desmond was embarrassed now that he assumed he was in trouble for looking at Savillano’s ass. Could I be arrested over that? He didn’t think so. “Can I ram you?!” he blurted out. “What?” Savillano murmured to himself. “Look, man, you can say no. I ain’t comin’ to you as an officer of the law. You gettin’ outta here in two weeks, ain’t nothin’ I could do about that even if I wanted to, which I don’t. You ain’t gonna be in trouble or nothin’, you can say no.” “Okay…” “But, yu know… If you wanted… I’s…” He grabbed his crotch, which Desmond couldn’t see but did sense in the darkness. “I could do, like… I just… Yu know…” “Oh, you can’t screw your wife anymore, I see…” Desmond said with a sympathetic cluck of his tongue. “Of course, sweetie.” He touched Savillano’s belly. He was a weightlifter, so he had a strong, no-fat belly, but it wasn’t flat either, he was muscular enough that his belly protruded a bit. His muscles all twitched and rippled as soon as Desmond touched him through his uniform shirt, like he had been waiting a long time to be touched. “Ah, shit, okay, thanks, thanks a lot… You can make me stop or slow down or whatever. Just say it, no problem,” Savillano said. He cleared his throat. “It ain’t even like I can’t, yu know, mess around wit’ a girlie. I got females all over, y’know, they want me, they be sayin’ I should calls ‘em up as soon as… Yu know, if I evuh wanna play around, ya feel me? But I ain’t gonna cheat on my wife on her deathbed. That ain’t right.” He sighed a long chambersome sigh of relief. “Alright, man. Here.” He had a bag with him, or maybe he had placed it in the closet in preparation for this encounter. Desmond had been daydreaming about this for so long he went right to massaging Savillano’s biceps, making it hard for him to take things out of the plastic bag in his hands. Then Desmond wrinkled his nose as Savillano sprayed him with perfume. His muscles flexed beneath Desmond’s touch. “There, that’s her perfume. Put this on,” Savillano said. He put a wig on Desmond. It was a long, feminine wig — blonde? Desmond couldn’t tell because it was too dark, but he thought maybe blond; Officer Savillano seemed like the type to date a blonde, or more likely an Italian raven with dyed blonde hair. Savillano sniffed deep of Desmond’s scent, his big, ungainly nose coming so close it glancingly touched Desmond’s neck. Whatever he smelled there must been enticing, because Savillano moaned, and his thick-fingered, callused hands wrapped around Desmond’s waist. Desmond wasn’t allowed cologne in his cell, so he just smelled like soap and deodorant, hopefully. He did buy the soap that smelled like mango though. “Girl, you smell good enough to eat…” Savillano said with a menacing rumble, sounding like that was how he initiated sex with his wife. Desmond shivered and let out a girlish giggle. He placed both hands on Savillano’s broad shoulders, then slowly helped him shrug off his uniform shirt. He leaned in and jerked a few droplets of sweat off Officer Savillano’s hairy chest, on the rim of his sweat-suffused wifebeater. It was unwashed, Desmond realized. The undershirt. The uniform shirt was dry-cleaned, but Savillano wasn’t washing his clothes. Or rather, Mrs. Savillano wasn’t. That made Desmond again cluck his tongue sympathetically, though he didn’t say why. Maybe Officer Savillano realized it. In any case, a chamberous moan escaped from his chest as Desmond spat up and down the width and breadth of his powerful torso. As Desmond removed his shirt, Savillano explored Desmond’s body with his hands. He knew he wasn’t with his wife, of course, but Desmond looked similar to her; he was the right height and size, and he even had a similar personality. Savillano felt his waist and his smooth thighs as he took Desmond’s pants down. He kept his hands away from Desmond’s crotch and chest, not wanting to shatter his own illusion. Desmond smelled so much like her that Savillano could picture her as she had been back when she was well. She had told him to sleep with other women. When she went into the hospital last month — and it was pretty obvious, no matter what the doctors said, that she wouldn’t ever leave — she had told Savillano to find someone else, not to even wait for her to pass away. Savillano had refused, of course. But the more he heard the sound of Desmond’s effeminate panting just like his wife made when they shared the marital bed, the more Savillano knew he had to do it. The fact that Desmond was a man made it easier — physically more difficult, but emotionally easier because it wasn’t cheating. Savillano remained fiercely devoted to his wife and would never cheat on her. When she died though… he didn’t want to think about that until it happened. Dating was going to be difficult. He hadn’t been on a date in twenty years. Desmond dropped to his knees to handle Savillano’s cock, but much to his surprise, Savillano caught him. He wrapped his muscular arms around Desmond once more. Desmond gripped Savillano’s corded-muscle forearm while Savillano swooped down and kissed him on the lips. He moaned into Desmond’s mouth. Desmond never thought an alpha male like Officer Savillano would agree to kiss him, so he was momentarily disconcerted. Then he kissed him back, and Savillano’s tongue plunged into his mouth. Desmond wrapped his arms around Savillano’s broad shoulders, then jumped up and gripped his thick torso with his legs. “You’re so strong, sweetie-“ “Call me big boy,” Savillano said breathlessly, before resuming his shower of kisses.. “Ooh, I love your muscles, big boy,” Desmond said. He kissed Savillano on the neck while he unbuttoned his uniform shirt. “I bet you’ve been struggling with overflowing balls for a long time, huh?” He reached down and teasingly touched his cock through his uniform slacks with one hand, the other one massaging the hump of his toned biceps. “You’re so strong…” “I need you…” He sounded like he was near tears. He kissed Desmond again, his tongue exploring Desmond’s mouth. He was firm and forceful, but gentle, his muscles hard as iron beneath Desmond’s touch. Desmond swooned, dizzy with desire, glad he could support himself on Officer Savillano’s sturdy body. He put Desmond down, then took his shirt off while Desmond dropped back to his knees. Desmond flopped his cock out through the fly of his slacks. He was already half-hard, and Desmond kissed him right on the cocktip. “Ooh, big boy, I can’t wait to taste your dick in my throat. Can I deep-throat you? Please?” “Course, baby…” He pursed his lips. He moaned as Desmond flopped his cock over his face, and Desmond teased his tongue along the underside of his veiny shaft. “C’mon, baby, make it wet…” Desmond knew he was good at getting a man off. He could get any man off in minutes if he wanted to, which he did not. He swallowed his cock down to the root right away, making Officer Savillano’s whole huge body shudder and grunt. He had a big dick. Desmond was glad because a lot of bodybuilder-types didn’t. They either started working out because they were self-conscious about their small cocks or else their dicks got smaller due to steroid use. But not Savillano. His muscles were entirely natural, his frame naturally hefty and inclined towards fatness — he prevented that by working out every day, jogging and lifting weights for hours. That was how he had met his wife, she was a personal trainer at his gym. His dick was rock-hard now, throbbing in Desmond’s mouth. He gripped Desmond’s head and pushed his dick in and out of Desmond’s throat. It was a throating — which Desmond loved — but it was different, more affectionate than Desmond had expected. He would have assumed Savillano wanted aggressive, even violent head, but in fact he made sweet love to Desmond’s mouth. He swayed his hips, clucking his tongue as he worked his dick in. Desmond focused on nothing but keeping his mouth wide open, letting his nose nuzzle into Officer Savillano’s wiry pubic hair. He experienced a flood of desire every time he felt Savillano’s cock pulsate in his throat, leaking torrent after torrent of salty precum down Desmond’s gullet. The taste was so bright and sunny, so thick and creamy, Desmond could tell Savillano had been starved of a woman’s touch for a long time. “Oh, god, babe, you got such a nice mouth, babe, damn…” Savillano said. He clucked his tongue like he was being seductive and flirty with a girl. Desmond gently massaged his balls. He figured this was one thing Savillano’s wife probably never did right — girls couldn’t do it so well because they didn’t have balls. Desmond knew how to make it feel good. Sure enough, it made Savillano’s whole body shake. He grunted, and his muscles all tensed. He could have shot his load right then, but he didn’t. He pulled out of Desmond’s mouth, and his knob jabbed around on Desmond’s face. He chased it with his tongue. “Lemme in ya ass, babe, okay?” “Sure-“ “C’mon, I’ll be so gentle… It won’t be like last time, baby, I’ll go real slow and nice-like…” He bent down and kissed Desmond on the forehead. He cooed and moaned like he needed to seduce Desmond into doing it. “You don’t have to be gentle-“ “Shush.” Savillano’s seductive voice was gone. “Don’t talk like a slut, man.” “Oh, sorry.” Desmond had to put himself in the mindset of a woman. “I don’t know, big boy, what if it hurts? You could tear my ass up…” “I won’t… I’ll make you feel so good, babe.” He kissed Desmond on the lips, seemingly uncaring of the taste of his own cock there. His tongue again explored Desmond’s mouth. Desmond wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders, and mounted his chest with his arms and legs. Officer Savillano held him aloft. Desmond stood and gripped the shelves on the side of the closet. He stuck his ass out. The fact that it was dark in here helped it go more smoothly — Officer Savillano assumed that whatever Desmond was doing in the dark was what his ex-wife would have been doing, that Desmond was shimmying like she used to and moaning for more like she did. He grunted affirmatively like Desmond was doing it right, even though all Desmond did was turn around and grip the shelves. His hairy chest pressed against Desmond’s back, his pants around his ankles. He squeezed his dick between Desmond’s cheeks. It was hot and thick and moist and throbbing like it was its own living being, and it was so fat it didn’t even fit between Desmond’s buttcheeks much less in his hole. “Stick it in me, big boy…” Desmond said. He opened his ass the best he could. “C’mon, I need your cock, big boy…” “I love you.” He grunted and slammed his dick in. A part of his mind was embarrassed because he hadn’t meant to say that, but it was overcome by the part of his mind that just wanted to ram Desmond’s tight hole. All he cared about in that moment was getting his dick in there. Pain erupted in Desmond’s ass. He moaned, his whole body tensing at first. The agony lasted only a few seconds, however, before it melted away, replaced by an intense, overwhelming pleasure. His moan turned into a closet-shaking cringe of desire. “Shush, it’s okay, baby, I love you, I love you, I’ll never hurt you…” Officer Savillano said. He again sounded like he was on the verge of tears, and he kissed the back of Desmond’s head. “Here, baby, you can bite me.” He wrapped one arm in front of Desmond’s face, giving Desmond perfect access to bite on the muscle of his forearm. Desmond didn’t want to bite down though. He just nuzzled it, licking and jerking all the sweat off the surface of Savillano’s forearm. The sensations in his ass grew as Savillano worked his dick in deeper and deeper. “Oh god, yes, ram me, big boy, ram me harder!” Savillano grunted and grinned. “Hell yeah I will. You ready?” “Yes!” “Shush, don’t be so loud. Them kitchen folks could hear,” Savillano said. He kissed Desmond on the cheek and slammed his dick in. He pulled it out, grimacing and shushing Desmond as he did, then pistoned his powerful hips again. Desmond slammed against the shelves, which shook, making more noise than Desmond ever had. But Officer Savillano didn’t seem to notice. He rammed harder and harder, grunting more with each thrust of his hips. Wrapping his hand around his own dick, Desmond reached orgasm as Savillano’s cock rammed into his prostate over and over. The waves of pleasure wracking his body made Desmond tremble like the shelves. Beneath the bliss was just a little pain, enough to make the pleasure even more intense. But it was also enough to make it difficult for Desmond to stay still. He danced between his feet while he sprayed his load over the shelves. Savillano lifted him up as he rammed, picking Desmond off the floor, just a foot or so, enough to give Savillano complete control over his ass. “Oh god, yes, do it to me, big boy!” Desmond couldn’t control himself anymore. He was off the floor now, supported entirely by Savillano’s muscles and his manhood. Desmond’s bright red face gasped as the most incredible orgasm of his life hit him hard. Officer Savillano kissed him again as he too climaxed, groaning, moaning into Desmond’s waiting mouth. Cum flowed into his ass. It had been months since Savillano rammed — he hadn’t gone more than a week or two without sex since high school, so he shot a massive load. It kept coming, filling Desmond up and seeping into his flesh. Since Desmond wasn’t supporting himself, all of that cum slipped right back out, making a big frothy mess as Savillano kept gyrating. Even as his cock limpened inside Desmond’s ass, Savillano continuing humping, groaning and grimacing as he did. He nibbled on Desmond’s nape, while his callused hands roamed over Desmond’s chest and belly. He even glancingly touched the sensitive tip of Desmond’s cock, reawakening Desmond’s orgasmic shudders and moans of delight. “Ah, baby, yeah… take it…” He bit his lip. He kept on grinding his dick within Desmond’s ass, while spasms of post-orgasmic pleasure ran up his spine. He made a big frothy mess of all that cum, which bubbled out and soaked into his slacks. “Shit…” “Damn, you okay?” Officer Savillano grunted. He was exhausted, disappointed that it was over — he had an instinctual and emotional urge to take Desmond out with him to go on a date, take him to a movie and a fancy restaurant, then ram him again in a cheap motel room. But he couldn’t do that. Of course. “I’m perfect….” Desmond moaned. The pressure in his ass was too intense to say anything else. Then Officer Savillano pulled his cock out. “So… like… we still cool, right? You was like… into that?” “So into it.” “Good. Maybe, y’know… Maybe…” Officer Savillano was nervous like a schoolboy. “Maybe, like, we could… you know…” “Do it again?” “If you want!” “You just let me know when, baby.” Desmond said breathlessly. He pulled his own pants up. Officer Savillano was about to do the same, then realized that all of his cum had spilled onto the pants and underwear that were around his ankles. He groaned. “Oh. Can you go to my locker and get my spare pants?” “Sure, baby.” Desmond paused. He opened the door to leave, but then didn’t go just yet. “Can I kiss you again?” Savillano paused and sighed. There was light in the closet now, which made it more difficult to pretend he was kissing his wife. He hadn’t intended to kiss Desmond at all, and he certainly hadn’t intended to say he loved him. But he didn’t want to be a jerk, and he didn’t mind the kiss earlier. He could just close his eyes. So he planted his lips right on Desmond’s, and their tongues interlocked. Desmond squealed and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Savillano’s bare chest again. His skin was slick with sweat. Finally Desmond pulled away. “Thanks, big boy. I’ll be right back with clothes for you.”
