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.
Sasha is refurbishing a house in California, and that means hiring a painter. When he winds up with the burly Perico instead of the young hunk he preferred, he didn’t know he was in for a wild ride of alpha male machismo, activo and pasivo action and dominant masculinity!
Read it now as an ebook!
Or read the whole thing here!
Sasha Lavendeur paid for the painting of the “rec room”, and he went with a low-budget local company, Paint-It Quick, because he was in Santa Monica and California deserved no better than a low-budget company such as that. If Sasha were back in Texas, where he did hail from, he would have chosen a classier outfit. He needed the guest bedroom painted too, in this hideous home he was renovating in California, but he didn’t want to do that just yet. The house was almost ready to move into. Not that he was going to move in. This home was a flip. Sasha did not see why anyone would move in, but he was confident the house would sell for a tidy profit. His knees went weak when he went into the rec room. He had expected Cergio — the eighteen-year old handsome Puerto Rican boy he had hired to do the painting. Instead it was a thirty-something broad-shouldered craggy-faced man with a mustache like a push broom and and an uncomfortably thick ass. He was as handsome as a box of rope and has a similar shape, texture, outlook, attitude and odor. “Oh. Hi… Where is…?” “Cergio, he ees gone, señor,” he said with a cluck of the tongue that suggested he was unhappy about that. “I am his father. Perico.” His accent was much thicker than his son’s. He had the broadly lilting accent of a Puerto Rican, which was unusual, even exotic, out here in California. “Uh… Oh. Okay,” Sasha said, not really listening. He lost himself in Perico’s deep brown eyes and his powerful hands gripping Sasha’s. They shook. Sasha blushed, he couldn’t think about anything but Cergio, who had been positively lovely. But Perico had a certain brutish charm to him, Sasha thought. Oh, that hair, so wild, untamed, like the mighty mustang of the Texan prairie, and lo, the flecks of paint so tantalizing across his sturdiness… Sasha wanted to run his fingers through that tangled mane. He wanted to wash and comb it then watch Perico get it all greasy and tangled again. “You want odduh room, señor?” Perico asked. “I will paint, eh?” He counted and put away the money Sasha had done proffer for the rec room. He tucked it into the pocket built into his painter’s overalls. Sasha blushed and smiled at him, then blushed even more intensely because Perico patted his arm. It was coachly, not at all seductive. It was professional and warm and it made Sasha swoon because he could smell Perico’s clothes and feel his body heat radiating off him. Perico’s overalls were speckled with multi-colored paint, most freshly the pale seafoam green that he had painted the rec room. “I can paint the other room, señor, two hours. fiddy bucks, señor, I do a good job. Do very good, very quick, more quick than so is my son. He is a lazy and he is gone again and I will hit him in the face for you.” He made a fist to demonstrate. “That’s not necessary, muh dear Perico-“ But Perico’s face narrowed to slits, and his nostrils flared. “It is needed for yes, I will. He should not have left me, señor, to do this all myself.” “Hmm… indeed,” Sasha said. Perico grunted. “So you will hire me for now for the other room, si?” “Oh, uh, not today, sorry,” Sasha said. “I’m not sure what color we’re going to want that. We might not want the seafoam.” Perico nodded but didn’t acknowledge it. He led Sasha into the other room, which was currently a dingy, slightly-yellowed white, like the color of an abandoned asylum. The paint was peeling, and Perico pointed it out to Sasha as though he hadn’t noticed it. Sasha always noticed imperfections in decor. “See? I am to paint, si?” Perico said. “Fiddy dollars for right now, yes?” He paused. “Forty dollars, and I will do it now.” Then, like he had forgotten, he added, “Señor.” “Yes, it needs to be painted,” Sasha said. “I’m just not sure what color we want it, so I can’t hire you right now.” Perico shrugged. “I have the paint here, señor. I do it now?” Sasha shook his head. Perico was big and didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. He put one of those meaty paws on Sasha’s shoulder and squeezed firmly. “You want dick? I will ram you and paint the room.” His voice trailed off, and he added another one of those distinctly Puerto Rican tongue-clucks that passed for communication. “Sixty dollars, señor.” Sasha hesitated, but he already savvied the answer. He batted his eyes as winsome as the most tender of French prostitutes. Sasha pretended to be coy, and Perico roughly grabbed Sasha’s asscheeks like disobedient dough. He grimaced and grunted into Sasha’s face. Sasha’s heart skipped a beat, he wasn’t expecting this, but he loved it, and his whole body fluttered. “Oh… Ah, Perico-“ “¡Silencio!” Perico said. He waited to make sure Sasha would obey him. Then he very roughly, painfully kneaded the flesh of Sasha’s ass with one hand. He spread his cheeks and ran his fingers through the asscrack. Then he nodded like Sasha had passed his inspection. Sasha clutched Perico’s chest. “Ooh, papi, can I-“ “No, silencio,” Perico said. He squeezed Sasha’s cheeks, checking his mouth. Sasha couldn’t tell if he was more interested in size, or moistness, or maybe he was looking for sores. But again, he nodded like Sasha was sufficient. Perico stood there, motionless, muscles rigid. He nodded. “Manos a la obra.” Sasha smiled. He caressed Perico’s bicep, which Perico flexed for him. He was a hard worker and he was naturally thick, but he was no bodybuilder. Something was alluring about his real, everyday muscles, moreso than any of the bodybuilders Sasha had worshiped. He reached into Perico’s overalls to test the size of his cock — he wanted to “inspect” Perico since Perico had inspected him. Sasha was glad to feel that it was thick and long and uncut. Sasha nodded. “Good,” Perico said. He sighed and leaned against the wall. He undid the overalls and let his cock fly — he had obviously done this before, Sasha thought. That was true. Perico let guys jerk him off all the time. Fellow Puerto Ricans could do it for free, as long as no one saw (or at least no females). But he made gringos pay. He didn’t used to, but after letting this one farmer jerk him off for years, Perico discovered he was paying other hombres for their cocks. He had been insulted that he was never offered money. This gringo — Sasha — was rich though, Perico was certain of that, and he wasn’t gonna walk away without at least getting some extra work out of it. Almost as soon as his dick touched Sasha’s tongue, Perico snarled and swiped it away. “You have beer, gringo? I like to drink when I let a male jerk me off.” Perico was scrupulously polite to his clients, but when he let a man jerk him off, he didn’t do it nicely — that was demanded by his machismo. Sasha nodded. “I’ve got beer, papi, whatever you want.” He got up, the tender taste of the tip of Perico’s dick still dancing on his tongue. He loved its funky, spicy taste, and he adored the unwashed musk of Perico’s crotch that wafted out when he undid his fly. He had a case of beer in the fridge, bottles of a fine microbrew. He wasn’t sure if Perico would like it, but that was all he had. “I hope you’re okay with an IPA!” When he went back, Perico still stood there, leaning against the wall, his big brown cock hanging limply out of his overalls. He hadn’t lowered them at all. They were unzipped just enough to let his cock hang free. Sasha played with his limp dick. Perico swayed back and forth to make it slap between his legs. He always did that when he had his cock out because he liked to remind his friends who had the biggest one around. It was normal for him and his friends to drink beer in the backyard behind his house, and when he had to piss, Perico just stood up and whipped it out. It was macho to be unconcerned with letting males see it, since Perico could hold his own if a male tried anything, and, of course, he wanted them all to see how big it was. His friends’ machismo required them to do the same thing, of course. “You gonna jerk it, esé?” Perico laughed. He was cocky, moreso than normal — being naked around men always did that to him. He always felt threatened and overcompensated at first, but once he started getting his dick jerked, it was like slipping into an old sock that fit right. Getting jerked off by a man was better than a woman, Perico often thought but never said out loud. He thwacked his cock against his palm, trying to make a loud sound, a meaty thwacking that caused a sly smile to appear on Sasha’s face. He drank from the beer. It felt good to drink beer while you got a nut off, he thought. He’d been drinking all day, but he didn’t tell this gringo that. “Don’t tease me, esé, get it wet,” Perico said. Sasha was on his knees now, and Perico felt a surge of victory like he had conquered Sasha — it felt good to have a rich man jerking his dick. Perico hooted and lightly slapped Sasha, first with his palm, then with his dick. He watched Sasha’s eyes light up as he begged for more. Perico slapped him harder. He rubbed his limp, sweaty cock over Sasha’s face. When Sasha tried to chase it, Perico pulled it away, teasing him. “Please?! Lemme taste it…” Sasha begged as femininely as he could manage. He blushed as Perico hit him in the forehead, eyes, nose, even his ears — Perico’s girlfriends never let him do that. Finally, Perico leaned against the wall again and closed his eyes. He lifted his sweat-stained tee shirt over his head so it wouldn’t get in the way, but he didn’t take it off, he just put it behind his neck. “Go on, make it wet,” he said with an annoyed grunt as though he hadn’t been the one teasing Sasha. His dick twitched even before Sasha slipped lips over it. Then as soon as it popped into his mouth and hit his moist tongue, Perico moaned and grunted. His dick firmed up in Sasha’s mouth in seconds. Perico would never admit this, but he preferred getting jerked off by males. Females were smaller, so had smaller mouths and throats, which was annoying enough, but even worse, they saw a blowjob as a preamble to real sex. They just wanted to suck long enough that they could say they’d done it and move on to pussy-sex. As far as Perico was concerned, it made more sense to just move right to pussy-sex and skip the blowjob — as a rule, he did not eat pussy himself, so that was not an option, he saw that as a blow to his machismo. He had only ever licked one girl’s pussy. That memory filled his mind now, with both arousal and shame. She had been a beautiful blonde college girl, slumming it with the painter her father had hired. She pushed his head down to her pussy as though she expected him to lick there, and he was so excited that he had done it. That was his first and only time performing oral sex on a woman. He had enjoyed it but also felt humiliated, because she rode his face and used him like a dildo. Maybe that would have been okay if she would be his girlfriend, but she never talked to him again. She had just spent that day rubbing his face in it like a disobedient dog, humping that mustache until it gleamed with moisture. “Chúpalo todo el camino,” Perico murmured, drilling his dick into Sasha’s throat. His dick was rock-hard now. Salty precum flowed down his shaft, and it coated Sasha’s tongue. It tasted spicy and warm and it made Sasha want to guzzle down more. As usually happened in these situations, Sasha was so impassioned in the moment that he wanted to spend his life doing exactly this. He looked up to make eye contact with Perico as he nuzzled his nose deep in Perico’s pubic hair, but Perico had his arms over his chest and his face aimed away, as though he wasn’t experiencing a mind-numbing wave of pleasure that wracked his work-weary body. Perico was uncut, so when he was hard, his shaft seemed to have lots of extra skin. Sasha loved that. He played with it, stroking Perico’s shaft with one hand. He kept looking up, trying to make eye contact, no longer deep-throating. He teased Perico by daintily licking the vein that ran all the way up and down his dick, but Perico just grunted and shifted his weight the best he could with those overalls still around his ankles. “C’mon, esé, swallow it, don’t play wit’chit,” Perico murmured. He repeated that a few times, “don’t play wit’chit, don’t play wit’chit, you just playin’ wit’chit it now, esé.” He kept humping, pumping his hips even when Sasha just had a hand on his shaft, so he was humping Sasha’s hand instead of ramming down his throat. But Sasha liked teasing, and he loved making machos desperately horny, so turned on they couldn’t even control where their cock went. He slurped Perico’s cock and slathered spit up and down the shaft with his tongue. He let the cocktip leak precum into his mouth as he stroked that meaty shaft. “Shit, c’mon, señor…” He jabbed his dick into Sasha’s face, but still Perico didn’t look directly at him. That’s because Perico was an activo, and Sasha was a pasivo, or at least in a pasivo’s role. That meant Perico would be on top. His goal as an activo was to stick his dick in Sasha’s moist mouth or tight asshole, he didn’t care. If he did that — which he often did — then he was more of a man: he was an activo. If Sasha were Latino, he’d be called a pasivo. Perico pounded on his chest. He had been raised to believe in the distinction between activo and pasivo. It was very important to his father, and his uncle, and all the older males back in Puerto Rico. The first time Perico had done it, he had been barely eighteen. He was skinny then, and he had just gotten his first tattoo. His father and uncle had brought him a puto as a belated birthday present — he was just a man in a dress and a wig that kept falling off. But Perico’s father referred to the man was her. “Put your dick in her, it will make you a man,” his father had said. The prostitute waited in an alley on his knees. Perico had gone back there, heart pounding. He thought he might just do it enough to get his dick wet, to say he had done it. The man started swallowing with such force Perico yelped, like he was about to slurp his cock off. “Oh, papa, he is… Oh… I do not think I can do it-“ “Of course you can, you are a real hombre! I know it” His father yelled out from around the corner. “Just do it, your dick will know what to do.” By then it was too late anyway. That man had swallowed him down better than any female ever did. Perico stood there like a wuss as the man swallowed his cock and sucked out every drop of his nut, all in a matter of a minute or two. “You took no time, boy! You must take control of it-“ “Wreck his throat, you should make him gag and sputter-“ “Yes, men should struggle to swallow dick, it should not be easy, you made it too easy on him-“ Perico had not taken the criticism well back then. He got defensive and punched his father, leading to a fight that Perico was sure to lose because he was young, small and still had his pants around his ankles. But he had taken the lesson well, in the long run. He needed to take control of men when they jerked him off. He needed to ram their throat like a pussy. “Jerk on my huevos, gringo.” His eyes narrowed to slits. The longer he spent with his dick hard and getting jerked off, the more he imitated his father’s brutally aggressive treatment of his pasivos. Sucking on balls, his father had said, was humiliating, something only a true macho could make anyone do. So Perico had to suppress his grin at the sight of Sasha hurrying to obey and suck the sweat off his balls. Sasha pulled Perico’s heavy ballsac out of his painter’s overalls, which were around his ankles now. There must have been a few drops of undried paint somewhere on those workpants, because the astringent scent of paint hit Sasha’s nostrils. It didn’t slow him down, he still swallowed both of Perico’s balls. Perico groaned. He puffed up his chest and held Sasha in place as he lifted his balls up and plopped them in his mouth over and over. “They are sour, si, esé, you are good pasivo, suck on them…” He couldn’t believe Sasha actually got deep under his balls, licking all of the funky sweat off his sac, and he even got between Perico’s legs to the dense and kinky black hairs of his taint. This was good, Perico thought, he kind of wished his friends were in the other room, because they would have spied and laughed and teased him for it, but that was a teasing Perico could accept. They’d say he had over-full huevos, that his cock was so macho he couldn’t resist getting it wet and it must have tasted so good it made the puto jerk his nasty hairy balls. “Will you ram me in the ass?” Sasha asked, licking his lips to get all that uncut Puerto Rican cock flavor. He already knew the answer — it was obvious that Perico was preening his machismo: he flexed his muscles even though his eyes were closed and no one else was around. Perico hesitated and bit his lip. He could do anal with a pasivo, he had done it before. The first time he had done anal with a male was in prison, back in Puerto Rico. A punk there who begged Perico for it for months. Perico only gave in a few days before his release, when a guard said the man had been tested for disease — that was the thin thread of justification Perico needed. He had thought he would never do it. His father and uncle had said it was fine — again, as long as he was no pasivo, it was fine — Perico had always been reluctant simply because it wasn’t necessary. He could prove his machismo simply by plowing his cock down a man’s throat. No need to do anal. But that man in prison had been youthful and female-like, slutty, feminine, flirtatious, coy, always showing his big brown ass and begging Perico to ram him in it. Finally Perico had given in, and he was surprised at how good it felt. It didn’t just feel good because he was in prison and it had been months since he’d felt a tight hole around his cock; it wasn’t just because it made Perico feel like uno hombre macho. It just plain felt good to ramrod a man who didn’t care how hard you plowed or if you accidentally banged his head into the wall or the side of the prison cell toilet, or if you belched during sex or if your balls were sweaty and smelled bad. He had rammed his bottom every which way, for hours, cumming five or six times before he was spent. That was the memory that flooded Perico’s mind when Sasha turned around and bared his ass. “Please, papi, I need your cock inside me… Ruin my ass, please?! I want it so bad…” Perico couldn’t resist that, it was rather like what the man had said in prison in Puerto Rico. He couldn’t stop thinking about that. All of a sudden, all of his reluctance was gone. He let out a growl. He’d later on brag that he had said no and Sasha wouldn’t stop begging so pitifully that Perico had agreed even though he already had a girl who’d asked him to come fuck her that evening. “Bend over, puto,” Perico said. He groaned, his dick aching, huevos begging for release. “I will ram your ass hard now. You can beg me to go easy, but… do not beg me to go easy. Spread those cheeks. You will love it, yes? You will say you love it?” “Yes! Si! Yes! Fuck me!” Sasha cried out. He bent over the stool Perico used to reach the upper part of the walls. It was splattered with paint, some of it still wet, which left a seafoam stain on Sasha’s clothes. He bared his big white ass and showed off his tight hole. Perico let out another growl of desire, this one less forced. He felt that familiar surge of uncontrollable desire just like when that man had seduced him in prison. Perico slipped his dick in, gasping and biting his lip at how easy it went in, just the tip at first. “Yes, you will say you love it-?” “I love it!” “Say my name.” “Perico!” Perico grinned. He loved it when women called out his name. He liked the idea of anyone walking by hearing and knowing what he had done. Sasha called it out again. “Perico!” Sasha’s voice broke. “¡Amo la polla de Perico!” Every time Sasha called out his name, he felt Perico’s dick twitch again in his ass as they both came closer to orgasm. He gripped Sasha’s hair and held on tight, drilling his dick all the way in. Part of that machismo Perico felt was that he had to make it good for Sasha — Perico felt obligated to ram him hard but to also bring him to orgasm; making sweet love would not be as manly, nor would rutting in his ass like a dog. Perico had to really grind his dick in, hitting Sasha’s prostate and making him let out a long, low moan. That was how Perico knew he was doing this right. All he had to do was touch the right spot with his cock and Sasha cried out with an intense prostate orgasm. Girls, on the other hand, required a whole series of action and romance, lots of kissing, so much time-wasting, Perico thought, and if anything went wrong or just unusual at any point, she’d back out. Not Sasha. Sasha would take anything. So Perico pounded into him, with all his might, with more power with each thrust of his hips as he grew to realize that Sasha wouldn’t make him slow down no matter what. He grunted and moaned as though he didn’t care that Sasha was turned on too. He rammed his dick in and out. Then he wrapped one muscular, paint-splattered arm around Sasha’s neck. He didn’t actually choke him, he just wanted Sasha to know he could. He wanted to feel a clenching burst of fear in him. His biceps flexed, squeezing Sasha’s neck as Perico slammed his dick in once more. Perico grunted into Sasha’s ear. He moved his hips in little circles on Sasha’s ass, ramming at every corner of his insides. Hot breath condensed on Sasha’s cheek. Perico’s breath smelled of the fried chicken he had eaten for lunch (which Sasha had bought him, thinking it was for Cergio), and his hairy chest undulated against Sasha’s smooth back. The chokehold was just tight enough that Sasha needed to concentrate to breath, but he didn’t mind that, both because the tension made his orgasm more intense and because it meant he was ensconced in Perico’s work-toned arms. “Oh god, yes, fill me, Perico!” Sasha forgot all his Spanish, so he yelled in English. A potent prostate orgasm exploded within him, as Perico’s cock twitched and spasmed in his ass. Pleasure shuddered up his spine. That sight was enough to take Perico to the next level too — he loved seeing a man cum with his cock in his ass, because to Perico, that seemed magical. His manhood had brought so much pain to this weaker man that he had orgasmed from it — that was how Perico saw his pasivos — and that made Perico roar with pride. Just the sight of Sasha twitching, ass clenching as he sprayed cum onto the floor was enough to send Perico into his climax. Sasha sprayed his wad all over the floor and that stool he had been bent over, just as Perico let out his own crooning howl. The sound of Perico’s orgasm echoed and resonated in Sasha’s ear, making him squirm and beg incomprehensibly. I need to go to Puerto Rico for certain, Sasha thought as the most powerful orgasm he’d had in years hit him like the donkey-like cock rampaging through his ass. Cum filled Sasha’s body, great gobs of it seeping into him, trickling into his flesh. It was warm and creamy and copious, and it dripped through his body, some of it slipping out and coating his ass. “Shit, esé…” Perico said with a hoarse snicker. He kissed Sasha on the cheek, just once, chastely — he’d never done that, but his orgasm had been so intense he felt he needed to show it. He acted on pure instinct and even very nearly kissed Sasha on the lips. Then he kissed Sasha on the neck, and his hands roamed over his tiny twink body. Perico had no idea he was doing it or why, he just felt compelled to slather Sasha in kisses. Sasha was just as surprised as Perico, and he didn’t react. It only lasted a moment. “Esé…” Perico said, moaning into Sasha’s ear, as his hand touched Sasha’s cock. As if a switch had been flicked, Perico let go. That was turning too romantic. He dropped Sasha, who flopped onto the ground where he had just shot his load. Perico stood up. He pulled his overalls up and tried to look nonchalant, as though he kissed his bottoms all the time. He blushed, ignoring Sasha’s shocked stare. “You best pay up, esé, or I’ll kick your ass,” Perico said. He paused. “I will do painting too, as I did promise I say would do.” He shook his limp dick between his fingers and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, trying to switch back to his polite-worker mode. “Si, señor? I will do a good job.” “I’ll pay.” Sasha patted him on the belly. “I’ll pay, don’t worry. Thanks, Perico. You’re a great worker.” Perico paused and bit his lip. He tucked his cock away in his overalls again, and he put that tattered, dingy tee shirt back on. He looked serious. “Señor, maybe you will hire me more again in the future?” “Si, Perico,” Sasha said with a satisfied smile. “That is very likely.”
Avery is in a new apartment, and his neighbor is a pimp. Slim Jay don’t play around, so when his ho proves recalcitrant, he seeks out Avery for a no-holds-barred exploration of dominance, submission and one nasty rimjob!
Can Avery satisfy his new neighbor?!
Read it now as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here
Avery’s back ached. He hated moving, and it seemed like he did it all the time these days. He had moved four times in the past five years. He was never fully moved into his previous apartment. Now this time, he felt confident, would be his last for awhile. It was a nice place, plenty big for him and in a nice neighborhood. It was only on his last trip up the stairs with a trash bag full of towels and a few odds and ends that Avery saw a black pimp sauntering into the building in front of him. He was a tall, powerfully built man with a broad-shouldered frame, wearing a brilliant chartreuse suit, tapping with a jeweled cane as he walked. He had a handsome face marred by a recent scar slashing across his cheek and left eye. “What’s crackin’, homeslice?” the pimp said, holding the door open for Avery. “You the new whomdiddy, huh?” Avery nodded. “Yeah, guess. My name’s Avery.” He shook hands with the jive-heavy pimp, who was dipping and dapping up and down even when he stood still. Once they shook paws though, he turned around and did his dippy-dappy pimp walk towards the stairwell. “Nice to meet ya, nice to greet ya!” he called out, his booming voice echoing in the lobby. Avery followed him up the stairs. “My name’s Slim Jay.” “Oh, okay-“ “Now I got a deal for ya, honky,” he said. “I give every motherfucker in this buildin’ the same deal — I know you prolly don’t like living with a pimp, but don’t you worry, I don’t bring my work home with me. My hos be in hotels, nigga. Nice ones too. I’s a classy nigga, see? So we cool, right?” He held out a fist, which Avery bumped awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I guess-“ “So what kinda girl you like? That’s my deal. You get a one-time freebie. You like Asian girls, I bet. You look like the kinda white man who’s into Asian girls.” “No…” Avery hesitated. “Go on, you can tell me,” Slim Jay said. He smiled. “I got anything you want, man. ‘Cept for children, I don’t mess wit’ that. I got fat chicks. I got this nasty old lady too, you like old bitches?” “No, no…” Avery said. “You into freaky shit? I got two chicks who’ll lick ya asshole, honky.” “Uh, no. No thanks,” Avery said. “Okay, then, you prolly wanna swing on my meat, huh? You-“ “Hell yeah!” Avery blushed. He didn’t mean to sound so desperate. But he did love servicing thugs like Slim Jay, and he couldn’t resist his own enthusiasm. He had often had good luck in seducing thugs too, it was a sort of superpower that Avery had developed over the years. Slim Jay stopped and glared at him. “Motherfucker, do not interrupt me. I ain’t gonna slap you since you ain’t my bitch, and I don’t normally hit civilians. But do not interrupt me again, or I may have to reconsider that. Got it, motherfucker?” “Uh, yeah, okay. Sorry, Slim Jay,” Avery said. “I was gonna say that you can prolly get me drunk and take my dick out sooner or later, but I’m mostly sober now, and I can get a female over here anytime,” he said. He stopped in front of his apartment door, slapped hands with Avery and then paused. “I let you kiss it. You wanna kiss it? Just a kiss.” “Uh, okay,” Avery said. He followed Slim Jay into the sumptuously decorated apartment, decked out with gold lace. It looked exactly like Avery would have guessed a pimp’s home looked, with ornate jeweled goblets and bottles of cognac scattered about, multicolored clothes draped over the furniture and floor. It smelled like cologne and sweat. Not female sweat either. Slim Jay didn’t bring his bitches back to his apartment. It smelled like male sweat. Slim Jay took a massive cock out the fly of his slacks. He smiled at Avery’s shocked expression. “Big as shit, huh? You like it? You prolly wanna jack me off.” “Yeah, I do.” Avery hefted Slim Jay’s cock in one hand, and he kissed the tip as wetly and moistly as he could manage, making spit run down the shaft. He hoped to get Slim Jay so aroused he agreed to let Avery jerk him off, but after just a quick half-stroke of his hand, Slim Jay pulled away. He smacked his cock over Avery’s face as hard as he could, and it was so thick and meaty it almost hurt a little, not that Avery was complaining. “You freaky as shit, huh?” Slim Jay said as though a little surprised, like he had thought Avery might prove himself to be after all. “You can beg me fo’ it. I think about it. Maybe you change my mind.” “Oh, please, Slim Jay, let me jerk you off. Let this little whiteboy swallow it. I’ll deep-throat it the best I can-“ “I know that, motherfucker, I’d throat you. I will slam that shit down, honky,” he said. Then he tucked his cock away. “Nah, I ain’t into that shit. Go on, git,” Slim Jay said. He snorted and wrinkled his nose. “Nice try though.” Avery stood with a weary shrug. He had thought this was going to work. He was pretty good at getting alpha thugs like Slim Jay to let him swing on their meat, and he had suspected that Slim Jay planned on saying yes all along, just needing to protect his self-image by pretending he had to be convinced. Avery made sure to shake his ass though, as he walked out, and he felt sure that Slim Jay watched. There was still time. But it wasn’t all bad — he really did want to get moved into his new place; he hated being in limbo, between homes. He hurried to his apartment just down the hall, trash bag of towels and some clothes, mainly socks, in tow, and set to work emptying his bags and boxes. By the time he went out to pick up dinner and came back, he had nearly forgotten about Slim Jay. The movers were coming with the mattress and a few other big things tomorrow, so Avery set up the air mattress for tonight. He hooked up his monitor to his laptop, fired up an episode of Fawlty Towers and devoured his meal of fried rice and steamed dumplings. He was so tired he didn’t feel hungry until he ate, but his muscles remained exhausted from a day of carrying virtually everything he owned up the stairs to this new place. Once he tucked in, he ate ravenously. Then the food made him sleepy, so he crawled to his air mattress and slipped into slumber. There was a knock on the door. It was almost ten o’clock at night, so Avery jumped and his heart thumped into wakefulness. He tiptoed to the door so he could still pretend not to be home. He looked through the peephole and saw Slim Jay standing there. He opened the door. Slim Jay burst in past him, smelling of cognac. He eyed Avery suspiciously. “Told you, honky,” he said. “My bitches pissed me off tonight. They ain’t barely make any cheddah, and then when I tells ‘em to lick my asshole, they complain like whiny bitches. You lick asshole, right?” “Uh… Yeah.” Avery yawned. “Good. Get on yo’ back on the ground,” he said. He slammed the door behind himself. Avery was shocked — this was all happening so suddenly — but he wasn’t about to say no. He laid on his back on the floor. “Open yo’ mouth, and stick yo’ tongue out,” Slim Jay said. He spat as though upset Avery hadn’t read his mind and already done so. Avery licked his lips and got into position. He loved eating ass, and he suspected Slim Jay had a perfect one. Much to his surprise though, Slim Jay just looked down at him. He put his jeweled cane on Avery’s chest, as though he was going to use him for support, but didn’t actually put any weight on the cane. “You want it, bitch?” “Yes! Please god, let me lick your ass! And your cock! And-“ “Shut the hell up, stop listing body parts,” Slim Jay said. He swayed like he was drunk, and his breath reeked of sweet cognac. “Don’t move.” Avery stayed right there with his mouth open, tongue sticking as far out as he could manage. Slim Jay looked at him for what felt like a long time, then walked away. He took a tour of the apartment. He opened the refrigerator and groaned at the sight of its emptiness. “You ain’t bought food yet?” “No, sorry,” Avery called out from his spot on the floor. “Get beer,” he said. “Malt liquor. I want you to keep a forty here all the time. If I’mma let you take my dick, you gotta have malt liquor for me. Got it? Also cognac. Get a bottle of cognac.” “Yes, Slim Jay,” Avery said. He took a deep breath. “I go get another cognac from my joint. You owe me though. Go buy a bottle tomorrow to replace it,” he said. “You got a dildo here?” “Uh… yeah…” Avery said. “Over there.” He pointed to a box in the corner of the living room. Slim Jay nodded. “Go get it. Put it in yo’ ass, boy. Start loosenin’ yo’self up,” he said. “I be right back.” Then he walked out the door, leaving it wide open so anyone who walked by would see Avery hurry to the box and get out the dildo. It was a tiny one, a nondescript purple cylinder. He got back in position on the floor, opened his mouth and slipped the dildo in his ass. It hurt for just a moment, then his ass loosened. Slim Jay walked back in with a bottle of cognac and one of those jeweled goblets from his apartment. He filled his cup, then put the bottle down. He got on his knees, lifted up Avery’s legs and peered at the dildo in his ass. He pushed it in all the way, and he smiled when Avery spasmed in both pain and pleasure. “You saw my dick, right? I got big nigga meat, you saw that,” Slim Jay said. “This dildo ain’t big enough to get you ready fo’ me.” “That’s the only one I got,” he said. Slim Jay shrugged. “Whatevuh, it’s yo’ problem. Gonna hurt like hell when I ram you. I don’t do it nice, just so’s you know. It’s gonna hurt real bad.” “Okay, Slim Jay. I like it hard.” “I bet you do,” he said with a sneer. He pulled his sweatpants down to his knees and let that slab of meat flop out. He kneeled over Avery’s face, pointing his crotch down at Avery’s open mouth. He pushed his dick in Avery’s throat. When Avery gagged, he flexed his hips to push his cock in even harder. Avery choked, but Slim Jay grunted as he tried to force it farther. Avery’s throat loosened, and his nose nestled in Slim Jay’s kinky black pubic hairs. Slim Jay smiled. “Ah, fuck, boy, you swallow dick good, damn! Why can’t females get they throat open like you. I gotta work on stretchin’ them out, but you all ready to go.” Avery gagged uncontrollably. He was laying on his back on the carpeted floor, while Slim Jay humped his throat. Slim Jay wrapped his arms around Avery’s body, seemingly unaware that the position put Slim Jay’s face right between Avery’s legs. Avery’s rock-hard cock pressed through his thin pants into Slim Jay’s body, but Slim Jay didn’t seem to care. “Keep yo’ throat open, boy. Make some mo’ spit. Make some mo’ spit,” he repeated himself a few more times, then slammed his dick down all the way. Avery choked, but he stayed in position. “You ain’t listenin’, boi, do I got yo’ attention now? Slap my ass cheek one time if you understand me?” Avery’s lungs cried out for air, and his hard cock demanded attention. Slim Jay was so close to it. Avery forced his flailing hand to smack Slim Jay’s asscheeks once. “Good. I tol’ you to make mo’ spit. You wasn’t listenin’ so I had to get yo’ attention by chokin’ you. Always listen to me when you got my dick in yo’ mouth.” Then he pulled out, and patiently waited while Avery gasped hoarsely. Avery heaved for breath, but Slim Jay held his head in position just below Slim Jay’s dick. His balls still rested on Avery’s nose. “Now make some spit, boi,” Slim Jay said. Avery loudly retched up saliva, and kept going until Slim Jay nodded his approval. Avery opened his mouth to show it off. Slim Jay plunged his fat dick right in. “That’s how you do nice sloppy dome. That’s usually what I want, whiteboy.” Once he got a rhythm going, Slim Jay was relentless. He picked his hips all the way up so his cock was right above Avery’s face, thick tendrils of spit connecting it to Avery’s mouth. Then he plunged back in all the way. Every thrust of his hips was equally powerful, and he demanded Avery deep-throat it every single time. “Don’t worry, I ain’t forget about that rimjob,” Slim Jay said. “Beg me for it.” Avery waited for Slim Jay to pull out of his mouth, but he didn’t. Slim Jay planted his hips all the way down on Avery’s face, so his pendulous balls rested on Avery’s nose. He repeated his command. “Beg me for it.” So Avery said I wanna lick your ass the best he could with his mouth full. Of course all that came out was a muffled gagging sound, which made Slim Jay laugh. He pulled out and used both hands to keep Avery’s head on the ground, not allowing him to buck and retch. As a result, the torrent of spit and precum in Avery’s mouth just spilled out his cheeks. Slim Jay frowned. Then he stood over Avery, pulled down his thick pants and revealed a big, wide ass. He squatted over Avery’s face so that his asscheeks separated. Avery could see and smell that beautiful musky hole just inches from his face. Slim Jay hesitated before dropping his hips the rest of the way. But at last he did so, and Avery’s open mouth enveloped his hot ass. It turned out that he had hesitated because he pulled out his cell phone and made a call. “Yo, bitch,” he said into the phone. A female’s tired voice came out of the speaker. Avery couldn’t hear the words, but it was apparent he had woken up a ho. He said, “Don’t pretend you sleepin’, bitch. I know you probably fuckin’ wit’ some nigga, you goddamn slut. Don’t gimme that shit.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Avery plunged his tongue deep into Slim Jay’s ass, tickling his prostate as he felt Slim Jay’s whole body shake. “I got this female lickin’ my asshole, bitch. She loves it. Gonna make her my new bottom bitch, I think.” The woman on the other end responded with either fear or anger or both, Avery couldn’t quite hear the details, but it was obvious she was upset. Slim Jay chuckled quietly enough that she couldn’t hear. “You wanna listen? She makin’ noise.” Avery blushed. Slim Jay put the phone up next to his ass, and Avery licked as loudly as he could. He suckled on Slim Jay’s rectum as though trying to get the last bit of milkshake out of a straw. He wiggled his tongue, blowing a raspberry that made a grim fluttering sound. Slim Jay’s body shuddered with pleasure. “So whatchoo think bitch?” Slim Jay said, bringing the phone back to his ear. “I don’t wanna hear no ‘pology. You know where T-Boy lives, right?” He laughed as the woman made a disgusted sound. “Shut the fuck up! You wanna stay my bottom bitch, you go to T-Boy’s right now. Yeah, he still fat. He even fatter I think. Go’n and wake him up. Give him a rimjob. I don’t give a shit, he probably will fart on your face, bitch. You deserve it. You tell him to call me once you done. I ask him if you give a good rimjob. If he don’t give it at least a nine outta ten, I ain’t gonna keep you on as my bottom bitch. I’ll cut you loose, slut.” Slim Jay held the phone away from his ear. He laughed at the woman’s frenzied begging. He lifted himself off Avery’s face, put a finger to his lips and then lowered himself over Avery’s ass. “Go on, bitch. Go to T-Boy. The longer you wait, the nastier his ass is gonna be. He don’t take showers at night,” Slim Jay said. Then he hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. “You into fat dudes, whiteboy?” “Uh, no.” “Good, that shit’s gross,” he said. “That bitch. She gonna try to kiss me tomorrow too, I know it. Gonna slap the teeth outta that bitch.” Without a word of warning — and without having ever asked if it was okay, not that Avery would complain — Slim Jay pushed his dick right into Avery’s ass. Avery was still laying on his back on the floor, so Slim Jay had to drop his crotch awkwardly on him. At first he kept his chest away as though he didn’t want to come into any more contact with Avery’s body than he had to, but after the first inch or two disappeared into Avery’s ass, he grimaced and lowered himself. His whole body pinned Avery down. Slim Jay wrapped his arms around Avery’s face. “You like it rough, whiteboy.” “Yes, Slim Jay.” “That wasn’t a question,” he said. Then he slammed his cock all the way in. Avery screamed out in pain. For a moment, he though he wouldn’t be able to take this. The agony was too intense. But he almost always thought that when bottoming, especially with someone who had a big dick on top. As always, however, after a few pumps of the top’s cock, Avery’s ass loosened. His prostate came alive, and Avery grunted loudly. He tried to stroke his own dick, but Slim Jay slapped his hand away. “Nah,” he said. “When I’m rammin’ you, you should be focusin’ on nothing but that. This ain’t ’bout you. No jacking off.” Treating him like a ragdoll, Slim Jay rammed harder than Avery thought possible. Slim Jay pushed Avery into the ground as though trying to shove him into the apartment down below. He ground his cock in Avery’s ass, and when Avery shook with pain, Slim Jay kept plowing in that direction to make sure it hurt. “Anal should hurt the bitch who’s takin’ it,” Slim Jay said over and over. “If’n it don’t hurt, you either doin’ it wrong or you is inside’ a real loose slut.” “Yes, Slim Jay. It hurts,” Avery said. “Can I please jack off?” Slim Jay gripped his neck from behind, squeezing just enough that Avery had to focus to breathe. Slim Jay didn’t actually answer, but it was clear what his answer was: no. Slim Jay had never taken his shirt off, so Avery felt the man’s strapping muscles writhe through the fabric. Avery’s own back was bare, squirming as pain and pleasure wracked his body. Slim Jay pressed his chest down harder as he neared his own orgasm. He nibbled on Avery’s earlobe. “Normally, I’d make you take my load in yo’ mouth,” Slim Jay said breathlessly. For the first time since this began, he actually sounded like he was ramming — he had that tight, pinched tone to his voice. “Real gangstas always get ass-to-mouth. But yo’ ass is just perfect, whiteboy. So I’m gonna cum inside you.” “Yes, Slim Jay.” “When you feel me cumming, you shout out my name, okay?” “Uh, what?” Slim Jay smacked his cheek lightly. His face was just inches from Avery’s, and Avery had the feeling that Slim Jay would even kiss him if Avery’s face weren’t covered in assjuice. Slim Jay sneered. “You havin’ trouble payin’ attention, boy,” Slim Jay said. “I don’t like that. You pay attention to my words. When you feel me cumming inside yo’ little bitch-ass, you shout out my name. You don’t stop shouting until I’m done cumming. Got it?” “Uh, yeah. Yes, Slim Jay,” Avery said. He didn’t yet know how thin these walls were, but he guessed he was about to find out. Moments later Slim Jay’s body shook. He stopped humping for just a second, then began again with renewed vigor. A fresh bout of pain shot through his body. Avery screamed He tried to say Slim Jay as he screamed, but the bliss and the agony were too intense to form real words. It ended up being consonant-less cry. Hiiiiii-hu Haaaaa-aaay! Slim Jay shot an incredibly huge load, which kept flowing and flowing, so Avery had to concentrate to keep shouting the whole time. At last it was over. Slim Jay was laying on Avery’s back, his entire weight pinning Avery down. His hot cum congealed as it seeped into, and out of, Avery’s body. His dick sat, rock-hard still, in Avery’s asshole. “How was that, whiteboy?” “Oh god yes, please come back again,” Avery said. Tears twinkled in his eyes. “I’ll get malt liquor and cognac. I promise. Any kind you want.” “You can surprise me, just don’t buy cheap shit,” Slim Jay said. He paused, then whispered in Avery’s ear. “You been a good sport. You like my dick in yo’ ass, huh, whiteboy?” “Yeah!” “You like nigga dick?” “Yeah!” “Say it.” “I like-” Avery hesitated, instinctually unsure whether he could say nigga. When Slim Jay laughed at his hesitation, Avery blurted it out. “I like nigga dick! I like your nigga dick!” Slim Jay smacked his cheek. “You callin’ me a nigger, whiteboy?” “No, I-“ “Shut up,” Slim Jay said. He sat up, but took Avery with him, so his now-limpening cock remained deep in Avery’s ass. He wrapped his powerful arms around Avery’s bare chest. “Since you been good to me tonight, and you licked my ass like a champion, I’mma let you jack off now, wit’ my nigga meat inside you. You don’t tell no one, yeah?” “Okay, I promise. I won’t tell anyone,” Avery said. He grabbed for his cock, which was stiff and straining, already near orgasm even though he hadn’t touched it. Slim Jay bristled uncomfortably as though Avery’s ass had squeezed around his sensitive cock. It was enormously painful, and the pleasure emanating from his ass was now only a dull ache. Slim Jay had such a huge cock that even soft it felt like he was being fisted. But as soon as he touched his own dick, climactic energy sprayed throughout him. Avery’s prostate burst into life, and leaned back into Slim Jay’s muscular arms. “Nasty…” Cum spurted from Avery’s cock. It sprayed over the floor and Avery’s fingers. Avery felt his asshole squeeze around Slim Jay’s rod, which made his muscles all shudder with post-orgasmic pleasure. Avery writhed in Slim Jay’s well-muscled arms. When it was at last all over, Slim Jay wasted no time in dropping Avery, who collapsed in a sweaty pile on his own load of cum. He laid there, looking behind himself as Slim Jay stood up. He took ahold of the sheet Avery had been using with his air mattress, then wiped the assjuice off his cock. He put his dick back in his sweatpants, gathered his cane, then stepped right on Avery’s back as he walked to the door. “Good job, bitch. You wanna take dick for money?” He stopped on Avery’s back. Straining to speak with so much weight on him, Avery only shook his head. “Pity,” Slim Jay said. “If you ever decide to do it, lemme know. I could make bank off you. I’ll see you next time, neighbor.”
There was a young man there, maybe nineteen years old or so, short and broad-shouldered, wiry-muscled, with a few tattoos dotting his body. He wore a sleeveless shredder — that’s one of those muscle shirts without sleeves or sides, so it was really just a hunk of fabric that covered his chest. He had a fantastic body, short and compact but stunning, six-packed, bulging where it needed to be, smooth and nut-brown.
Joey was a ruggedly handsome barrel-chested lug in a tailored suit, with a hangdog expression on his face like he was just waiting for Don Collera to call him an idiot again.
I don’t mess wit’ weak-sauce girls who don’t do anal, y’know, I ain’t no pussy, swear to God. I mean, I fuck pussy, I ain’t too good fo’ some pussy. But sometimes a real man need ass, ya dig?
“Yeah, but I mean… I got a rep to protec’,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders. “Lotta… I mean, a lotta guys do that, right? Like… fo’ real? That’s true, right? People say that. Like… old guys. Old motherfuckers, y’know, when I was comin’ up… I ain’t nevuh think I get no freak swinging on my nuts. Man, they say that’s how it used to be…” He took a step back towards the door. Then he paused. “Yo, this gonna mean you my puttana. In the old country, a man who get rammed is a lesser man, a bitch, a puttana. That’s old-school, man, but that’s how I roll. You feel me?” “Hell yeah…” Joey said with a grunt, cum flowing like a river into Avery’s body. Then he sucked up his spit and licked his lips. ” Yeah. Fuckin’ yeah. I fuck girls in the ass all the time. I tells ‘em, y’know, when we first hook up, you best give up the booty. I don’t mess wit’ weak-sauce girls who don’t do anal, y’know, I ain’t no pussy, swear to God. I mean, I fuck pussy, I ain’t too good fo’ some pussy. But sometimes a real man need ass, ya dig?” Even as he was still cumming the last few drops of semen, he was already boasting and talking again. Now his deep, throaty voice was right next to Avery’s ears, making Avery moan, his own orgasm continuing as long as Joey’s dick teased his prostate.
Avery’s up for another adventure in rough trade, and this time it’s a cocky guido named Joey Rizzoli. He’s got manhood to prove, money to earn and balls to drain…
Avery forced himself to exercise. If he didn’t make an effort to move around, he’d burn about fifty calories a day because he could do all his work sitting at a desk. So he occasionally stopped by a Cornerside Gym — he traveled around the country, and Cornerside Gyms were common enough he could usually find one somewhere not too far away from wherever he was. He was in north New Jersey when he decided to go in for a workout. He had to do it quickly because he hadn’t done any work yet today. But he wanted to do his workout first, so he could finish up before the place filled with overweight divorcées working off their mimosas. But when he walked in the front door, Avery’s plans changed instantly. There was a young man there, maybe nineteen years old or so, short and broad-shouldered, wiry-muscled, with a few tattoos dotting his body. He wore a sleeveless shredder — that’s one of those muscle shirts without sleeves or sides, so it was really just a hunk of fabric that covered his chest. He had a fantastic body, short and compact but stunning, six-packed, bulging where it needed to be, smooth and nut-brown. “Yo, man, whatchoo sayin? I ain’t gotta show no ID, I know that-“ “I’m afraid I’m required to ask for it in this case.” “Ain’t not a single other motherfucker here that you ask fo’ ID. Nah. That ain’t right.” The young man grunted and his hands formed fists at his side. “You’ll need to purchase your own membership, sir,” said the clerk, who stammered and blushed. The guido, Joey, ran his fingers through his dense mane of black hair. He clucked his tongue and feinted like he was going to punch the clerk. “Man, this ain’t ‘bout money.” “I know you’re not Thomas Molloni,” the clerk said. “Sorry. I don’t care if you share passes. But my boss said we have to put a stop to it. You can buy a year-long membership for only-“ “Man, it ain’t ‘bout the money.” Joey paused. “Ain’t Tommy got some kinda guest passes on his account?” The clerk shook his head. “Sorry. He had three for the year, but he used them up in January.” “Man, this is fucked! I been comin’ in here on Tommy’s pass for two years, boy, I swear to God!” Joey had a thick Italian New Yorker stawk. Avery wasn’t sure if that was genuine or an affectation, but it sounded real to him. Joey must have made a face or a gesture that got the clerk scared, something Avery couldn’t see from where he stood. The clerk took a step back and put his hands up. Joey scoffed. “I ain’t gonna hitcha, boy. Man, just… Fuck you. Alright, go fuck yaself.” He spat, turned and licked his lips. He saw Avery and nodded as though they knew each other. Joey sauntered outside. His hands were clenched in fists, and since his shredder didn’t cover most of his chest, Avery could see that his muscles were tense all over. He walked like he didn’t care though. “Hey, man, I can help you out,” Avery said. He followed Joey outside. Joey was distracted by his anger, so he didn’t realize Avery was talking to him. “I’ll buy you a membership for a whole year.” “What?” He paused and thought. “Wait, what? Huh?” “Will you ramrod me? I’ll buy you a membership for a whole year if you cornhole me,” Avery said. There was a long pause. Then Joey guffawed. He clasped his belly and bellowed, “Yo, what?!” “I’ll jerk you off better than any girl, and you can demolish my ass,” Avery said. “Come on… A whole year of gym membership.” “Yo, man…” He made a face like he was going to say no, like he was going to shout ‘of course not’. He grabbed his dick through his workout shorts. “Yo… Yo, man… Hey… Uh…” He sighed. “Yo, I ain’t poor or nothin’. Don’t get that impression. I ain’t, y’know, I ain’t not buy that membership myself cuz I can’t afford it. Ain’t ‘bout that, man, I swear to God. I’ll light a twenty-dollar Avery on fire now just to prove it-” he took his wallet out then put it back. “I ain’t got no cash, man, but I would, I swear to God-“ “Okay, I believe you. Even when you can afford something, it’s always better to get it for free, right? Plus you get to ram me silly,” Avery said. “Yeah, but I mean… I got a rep to protec’,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders. “Lotta… I mean, a lotta guys do that, right? Like… fo’ real? That’s true, right? People say that. Like… old guys. Old motherfuckers, y’know, when I was comin’ up… I ain’t nevuh think I get no freak swinging on my nuts. Man, they say that’s how it used to be…” He took a step back towards the door. Then he paused. “Yo, this gonna mean you my puttana. In the old country, a man who get rammed is a lesser man, a bitch, a puttana. That’s old-school, man, but that’s how I roll. You feel me?” “That’s fine. I’ll be your bitch,” Avery said. He followed Joey inside, and they went to the fearful clerk. Avery paid for a year-long membership, while Joey mean-mugged the clerk. Joey jutted his chin out, flexed his pecs in the clerk’s direction and snarled arrogantly when Avery paid the Avery. Then they went to the back, into the sauna. As soon as he got in there, Joey took a deep breath like he was nervous. He didn’t say anything though. He just bit his lip and flipped his shirt off. “Yo, I got a sick body, don’t I?” He licked his lips. “Yeah, girls love me. I don’t even need the gym, man, I swear. The world is my gym, y’know.” He paused. “Like black guys in prison, y’know, you can get hard just in ya bedroom or whatever. You don’t need a gym.” “Uh-huh,” Avery murmured as he sunk to his knees and pulled Joey’s shorts down. Joey gasped, but covered it up with a cocky chuckle. He leaned back like he was trying to escape. After a pause, Joey blurted out, “not that I can’t afford it, man. That ain’t why I work out, y’know, wherever. I just…” He gasped a little as his cock popped out. “Damn, boy, you eager.” Then, like he needed to remind himself that he was supposed to be arrogant, he added, “‘Course you is. You wanna taste my meat. Y’ain’t no kinda vegetarian, I bet, no way.” He chuckled to himself. Despite his cocky words, Avery thought Joey was perhaps the most nervous guy he had ever jerked off. Avery was glad to see that Joey had a big horse-cock — he had been worried that Joey was overcompensating for a small piece of meat, but that wasn’t the case. It was long and thick and veiny, and it twitched as soon as Avery popped the tip in his mouth. “Yo, man, yeah… I, uh… swallow that shit, bitch,” Joey said. His voice was tremulous, like he had read somewhere that guys should trashtalk when they get dome from a man, but he didn’t really know how to do it. “You some kinda girlyboy, huh? I bet… Pansy, uh… You’s a pansy-ass.” His dick stiffened up in Avery’s mouth. Joey tasted strong and firm, his cock warm and sending flavors of musk, salt and expensive soap through Avery’s senses. He could tell that Joey used some kind of fruity lotion, either as lube when he jacked off or just as lotion and then he jacked off; either way his cock tasted like it. “I bet you like this, huh? You into it, girlyboy? Huh? This the best dick you evuh ate? I bet so,” he said with a throaty chuckle. Avery took his dick out and thwacked it over his face. He shrugged. “Could be better. You can ram my face, y’know. Just grab my head and go for it.” Joey’s eyes bugged out. “I, uh… I know, man.” He screwed up his eyes as though it was obvious. “Yeah. I assumed that was gonna happen. I was just lettin’ you get started. I’m hardcore, man, swear to God, you don’t even know.” He gingerly grabbed Avery’s scalp and held on tight to his hair. He gulped. “I ram, man, that’s what I do.” He danced a little on his feet. “I don’t let up neither. I tell girls, don’t mess wit’ me if you don’t want yo’ mind blown. It’s gonna be difficult, but it’s worth it, ya know? E’rything good is difficult, swear to God. Ya gotta work at it, baby. So yeah, I’m-a ram ya throat. You my puttana, that’s just right. It’d be wrong fo’ me to be gentle on ya throat, bitch. God don’t want that. God want puttanas treated like puttanas.” He gulped again and pivoted his hips. His dick slid down Avery’s throat once more. Avery opened up as wide as he could to swallow it, and when he couldn’t take any more, he gagged. He loved that meaty feeling crowding up his throat, making his eyes water as he accepted it all. “Oh, wait, I seen my uncle do this,” Joey said, his voice finally betraying his excitement. Then he made a serious face. “No gaggin’, baby, show me that you love me.” He lightly slapped Avery’s face and rammed his dick down again. When Avery gagged, Joey said, “No gaggin’, baby, show me that you love me.” He did it again, and again, his words not exactly mean but firm and strict, like he was talking to a disobedient prostitute. Avery loved it. He made no effort to stop gagging. He loved being facefucked, and he loved Joey talking to him like a slutty girl. Joey’s balls slapped against Avery’s chin as he savored the salty taste of precum that flowed down his throat. “No gaggin’, baby, show me that you love me.” Finally Joey managed to get his dick all the way in, balls dangling against Avery’s chin. Joey pumped his biceps and cheered. He grunted loudly like a caveman, then realized he might be heard outside the sauna so he stopped. “Yo, yeah, you my puttana now, hell yeah! Ram! Turnin’ yo’ throat into my pussy, bitch!” Joey said. “Got my balls on yo’ chin. You got chinballs, that’s what you got. I see that, bitch. Yo’ daddy must be ‘shamed of yo’ chinballs, ain’t he? Should be.” He sniffled. He pulled off and let Avery gasp for air. Thick tendrils of spit connected Avery’s lips to Joey’s cock. Joey’s face was a little reddish, both from sexual arousal and embarrassment, not to mention a physiological reaction to the warm, humid air of the sauna. “You worshipin’ my shit, right? Yo, you ever seen a man wit’ a body like this, huh?” He gestured to his six-pack. “Fuckin’ bomb, right?!” “Yeah-“ “Yo, man, I try to strip and the woman — who was a total fuckin’ bitch, lemme tell you. But she say nah, she won’t hire me, she say no way on ‘ccount of I’m too short.” He looked like that was the biggest injustice he had ever heard of. His eyes popped out, jaw jutting forward. “Fuck that, man! Fuckin’ hell!” “You have a great body-“ “I know, man, I know it! Whatevuh, fuck her, I don’t even care.” He paused. “It weren’t about the money, neither. Strippers make good money, but I got money, no problem. That ain’t it. I just wanted to give girls access, ya know. They deserve it. They need it. Ya dig?” He paused. “I ain’t poor, swear to God.” “Uh-huh,” Avery said as he rubbed Joey’s precum leaking cock over his face. Then he slowly licked a trail up Joey’s body, licking his chest and savoring the salty sweat that collected there. Joey was visibly uncomfortable with that — it looked like he was ticklish and trying to suppress his giggling — but he didn’t want to stop Avery; he puffed up his chest to make his muscles bigger. Avery smiled. “You know if you were a male stripper, you’d get hired by a lot of men. It’d be a lot of dudes feeling you up, appreciating your physique.” He narrowed his eyes to slits. “I wouldn’t be that kind of stripper. Unless they pay good.” He paused. “I mean, no… No way, not for no amount of money. I got money, man. My papa got money, yo. He work for the Mafia. You ain’t hear that from me.” “Sure, yeah.” Avery sucked the sweat off his biceps. “You have amazing arms. I’ve never seen anyone with biceps like yours. So big… You must be so strong.” “That’s right, puttana, I swear to God. People don’t even know. I’m short, I know that, people’s always, y’know, talkin’ smack ‘bout me bein’ short. But y’know, I got meat, I got muscle, and I work out like none other, swear to God. I be in this gym e’ry day, man, you don’t even know,” he said. He flexed his biceps. “I’m gonna be a stuntman, yo, I swear to God.” Avery dropped back to his knees and licked Joey’s cock until it was fully hard again, while he rubbed lube into his asshole. Joey didn’t seem to notice, he had his arms folded over his chest as he daydreamed about being a stuntman. “My papa don’t even know, man, he always talkin’ ‘bout how I gotta go work at McDonald’s or somethin’,” Joey said with a groan. Then he startled and stood up. “I mean… as a front, ‘course. He want me to have a visible source of income, ya know? For the IRS or whatever.” He paused. “I don’t live wit’ my parents. I mean… Wait, yeah, I live wit’ my parents, but only so I can protect ‘em, y’know. There’s all kinda families who wanna hit ‘em, who wanna hit me and might stoop so low as to hit my mama to get at me.” He peered down at Avery to see if Avery was buying this. Avery didn’t care, he focused on slathering spit up and down Joey’s cockshaft. Avery didn’t believe Joey at all about any of this, but he saw no reason to let on. Joey sniffled like he was satisfied. “That’s, y’know, that’s part of bein’ hardcore. You gotta put up wit’ risk, ya dig? Always someone tryin’ to come at me.” “You ready to ram me?” Avery asked. He kissed Joey’s dicktip, then turned around and guided it towards his ass. “Hell yeah.” Joey’s voice again betrayed his lack of confidence. Avery wondered if he had ever even rammed a girl in the ass; he suspected not, but Joey, of course, would never admit that. Joey jerked in his breath as his dick pushed into Avery’s ass. Joey closed his eyes and gasped. He leaned against the wall of the sauna. “Gonna wreck, uh… Gonna wreck ya butthole, man,” Joey said. He sounded like he was near tears, which made Avery suppress a giggle as Joey continued to haltingly, tensely talk shit. “Damn, boy, shit… You, uh… Gonna turn yo’ asshole into my, uh… Uh… pussy. Or, uh… Yeah.” His hands jumped around in the air above Avery’s back, like he didn’t want to touch a man’s flesh any more than absolutely necessary. He pumped his biceps, showing off his muscles in the mirror on the sauna wall — no one was here to watch except for Avery, who faced the wrong way, so the only person who could see Joey’s muscles was himself. “Oh!” Joey gasped like he had just remembered something. “You gotta play along, man. I’m callin’ my boy.” He bent over to pick his phone out of his pants pocket. Then he dialed a number. His voice was suddenly deep and gruff, betraying no hint about what he was doing. His dick rubbed against Avery’s prostate, forcing Avery to muffle the sound of his tortuous moan of pre-orgasmic bliss. Joey sneered at him. “Yo. Yeah. I just wanted to let you know I’m doin’ that thing we was talkin’ ‘bout, that you said we should all do but nevuh admit-” He laughed cockily. “Nah, not that. Nah. Nah.” He rolled his eyes. Then he whispered, “ain’t a fat chick, man. I don’t ram wit’ fat bitches, quit sayin’ that, and she weren’t that fat. It ain’t no kinda girl. Remember? You said you’d do it and I was like no way. Well, y’know, my balls got swole and-” He laughed. “Yeah, man, yeah, I’m demolishin’ this boy. He owe me money, y’know.” Avery grunted as he slid all the way back, finally getting every inch of Joey’s dick in his ass. It was thick and hard, throbbing, and it sent waves of intense pressure through Avery’s body. He felt pleasure too, but it was more distant for now, growing with each thrust of Avery’s body back and forth on Joey’s manhood. “Nah, this is some bitch who owe me money. He ain’t got it on ‘ccount of him being a deadbeat. So I shove my interest rate right up his stupid bitch-ass, to remind him he gotta pay me. Ain’t that right, puttana?” “Yes! I’m a deadbeat and I’m your bitch!” Avery groaned. He didn’t make an effort to sound like he was really a deadbeat, but the tension in his voice was enough to further the illusion for the friend on the other end of the line. Joey scoffed at whatever his friend said. “Yeah, man, I don’t gotta tell you e’rything. Ain’t loan-sharkin’, not exactly. I just got some business interests, y’know. I loan out a little money here and there. Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ it, I just gotta get a little creative to get paid. I swear, man, whatchoo sayin’? Huh? I don’t tell you ‘bout all the Mafia-shit I do. Ain’t s’posed to, man, it’s secret. Go ram yaself, Tommy. You don’t know e’rything I do. I swear to God, I just make loans — I got money, Tommy, you know that — fuck you! Fuck you! I don’t ‘live in my parents’ basement’, man, it ain’t like that! I’m security! I keeps ‘em safe!” He paused, screamed into the phone and punched the wall behind himself. “Ram you!” He hung up the phone. Then, before Avery could say anything, Joey grabbed his hips and rammed his cock all the way in. He growled and grabbed Joey by the hair. He held on tight as he rode him hard. Pain exploded in Avery’s ass. He moaned, biting his lip to avoid making too much noise. Though the pain was intensified by Joey’s angry plowing, the pleasure was magnified as well. Avery grunted and squirmed beneath Joey’s body. “Man, ram that asshole, I swear to God. I could kick his ass. I should, man, I swear to God, I will. Next time I see him, I gonna demolish him. He don’t know, man, he don’t know jack-shit ‘bout me, swear to God,” he said. “He knows I’m in the Mafia. He knows that. He just denies it to piss me off.” He was so focused on expressing his anger against his friend that he barely noticed when Avery motioned for him to lower his body. So Joey just did it. He had started off not wanting to touch Avery any more than necessary, but now he slammed his heavy, muscle-dense body on Avery’s back. He grunted into Avery’s ear as he rammed hard, ramming his dick in and out. He was oblivious to everything except his harsh words muttered into Avery’s ear. “He’s a pussy anyway, man, he didn’t lose his virginity until senior year, swear to God, that is some weak sauce. He always cryin’ bout how he loves some girl or another, man, that ain’t hardcore,” Joey said. “So he don’t even know. He don’t even know, man, swear to God.” He paused and grabbed Avery by the hair, lifting his head up so he could see his face. “You know, man, right? I go hard, huh? You evuh been rammed this hard?” “No, never. It’s too much!” Avery said, laughing even as he climaxed. His torso twisting, lungs heaving for air, covered up the sound of his laughter, so Joey interpreted it as genuine agreement with his boasts. “See! Ha! I bet he never got no one sayin’ that,” Joey said with a groan. “He make love, ya know, he don’t cornhole punks. He ain’t hardcore like me, swear to God.” Avery’s orgasm continued. He gasped, covered in sweat. Joey would have cum already — Avery could sense it in his throbbing cock and his balls rising up in their sac — but he was still angry and more focused on that than his own pleasure, so he just kept pounding numbly while Avery shot his own wad onto the sauna floor. It was the smell of Avery’s cum that sparked Joey to realize what he was doing. Joey took a deep breath. He licked his lips and grunted. He opened his mouth to speak, but all of the pleasure and climactic bliss that had been building up in him while he was distracted erupted at once. Joey moaned. When he moaned, his open mouth landed on Avery’s cheek. It was close enough to a kiss for Avery, who melted into Joey’s powerful arms. Hot cum sprayed into Avery’s tight ass, while Avery lazily licked Joey’s neck and muscular shoulders. Joey shot a huge load, thick and creamy, hot, seeping into Avery’s flesh. Avery shuddered as he felt it flow within him. Joey’s cock throbbed and spasmed inside Avery’s ass, making Avery squirm beneath Joey’s massive muscles. “Hell yeah…” Joey said with a grunt, cum flowing like a river into Avery’s body. Then he jerked up his spit and licked his lips. ” Yeah. Fuckin’ yeah. I fuck girls in the ass all the time. I tells ‘em, y’know, when we first hook up, you best give up the booty. I don’t mess wit’ weak-sauce girls who don’t do anal, y’know, I ain’t no pussy, swear to God. I mean, I fuck pussy, I ain’t too good fo’ some pussy. But sometimes a real man need ass, ya dig?” Even as he was still cumming the last few drops of semen, he was already boasting and talking again. Now his deep, throaty voice was right next to Avery’s ears, making Avery moan, his own orgasm continuing as long as Joey’s dick teased his prostate. But finally that came to an end as well. Joey backed up and sighed, visibly relieved like he had thought he might not be able to do that. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Alright. Good. Fuck you, pansy,” he said. He chuckled to himself. “Yo, I’m a real paesano, ya know.” He grabbed Avery’s pants, pulled his wallet out and took the twenty-dollar Avery out of it. “I’m chargin’ you an extra twenty bucks cuz I rammed you so good. I ain’t mean to ram you that good.” He sniffled. “Not that I need the money. Ain’t ‘bout that.” Avery couldn’t respond because his body flooded with endorphins now that his ass was empty. He laid limply on the floor. He didn’t mind losing the extra twenty dollars anyway. He smiled. Joey tucked his cock away. He flexed his biceps at himself in the mirror. “Yeah. Good, that was cool. Fuck yeah. If anyone ever ask, boy, I swear to God, you had best say you owed me money. You.” He looked at Avery. “Well, whatever. Nobody gonna ask. If we run into each other at the gym again, you pretend you don’t know me.” He paused. “Unless I’m alone. You can, y’know, make another offer if you want. I don’t need the money. But, y’know, maybe I do it, just to pass the time or whatever.” He frowned. He walked to the door, then paused before he walked out. “But you gotta offer me money, man. I won’t do it for the money, but I won’t do it wit’out it either.” “Okay, yeah, no problem,” Avery said. “Good.” He paused again. “I mean… Even if I’m wit’ someone, you can offer. Make me an offer. I’ll prolly say fuck no. But hang around and I’ll find you after. Ain’t ‘bout the money. You can suck my swagger, bitch.” “I know, okay. I can’t wait.” “I know. You ain’t gotta tell me, bitch,” he said as he slammed the door shut.
He had long, tangled blond hair and a surfer’s build, with broad shoulders and a sun-bronzed frame. He wore shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt that bared his biceps and the soft curly blond hairs that sprouted up and down his arms. He had a vaguely southern accent — a Bakersfield accent — and a deep voice.
Avery is at it again, this time on a legendary Southern California beach. That’s where he runs into a hunky surfer jock in need of some dollars, and Avery is all too eager to help out.
San Guapo Beach in the summer of 1972 was warm, even by SoCal standards, and Avery enjoyed looking at all the college and military guys out there doing push-ups and play-fighting each other for the benefit of the flirty bikini babes who flocked there. This particular beach had more hot girls than you could shake a dick at. There would not be any alphas desperate to bust a nut here. But Avery enjoyed a man with hair you could run your fingers through. It didn’t have to be long hair, just thick and luxurious and maybe just a little bit greasy. That described a lot of guys here — virtually all the guys who weren’t military had a full head of hair, and there weren’t many hats to be seen either, probably since it was an overcast day. There was a surfer who drew Avery’s gaze. He was hot, tall, dark-haired and well-tanned, with perfectly greasy blond hair. He slicked it back as he rose out of the water. His chest was hairy tooy. The surfer held his board in hand as he headed away from the water, sandals thwacking on the sand with every step. Avery was just about to proposition him when a girl appeared. “You didn’t wait up for me!” she squealed and giggled. “You gotta keep up, baby,” he said, kissing her on the lips. Avery stared at his crotch and saw his dick twitch when his tongue rammed into her mouth, and one of his hands gripped her breast. For just a moment, it looked like they were going to have sex right here on the sidewalk. Then they just continued on. Avery was disappointed. They watched the handsome man’s ass sway as he walked down the street. He sat there watching the surfers. Most of them wore swimwear, mere briefs that left little to the imagination. Avery could see their cocks outlined, jiggling as they rode the waves up and down. Many of them had treasure trails leading down to their crotches such that their belly hair and pubic hair intermingled, and those bathing suits were not large enough to cover the part that was clearly pubic. Not that Avery was complaining. But there were so many hot guys, that wasn’t just in his head. (Lookitthat Marine-type learning how to swim for the first time, his little hippie girlfriend giggling as he heaves onto the board! His muscles rippled like a sac of snakes.) The Marine’s dog tags jingled, and he stole a quick kiss from the girl, who squealed and pulled away then kissed him back. They stood there in waist-deep water, locking lips. Avery couldn’t see either person’s hands, but he had a guess where they were. Avery rented a motel room. With all these guys around, he could surely find the rough trade he sought. There were just too many pretty girls in southern California, he thought, it was ridiculous! There was a surf shop a little ways down the promenade, and Avery headed that way. A Hang Twelve Surfer Joint, it was called. He thought he might be able to nab one of the clerks. They were probably young, alpha as hell and ready to bust a nut, and, of course, they wouldn’t have a girlfriend nearby when they were at work. But there was only one clerk, and he was a little old for Avery’s taste. That was disappointing. On the other hand, the clerk was busy with a customer who was one of the handsomest surfers Avery had ever seen. He could tell Avery liked him too because of the way Avery’s eyes bulged out when he saw him. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kyle, man, Mr. Winthrop will come down on me so hard if I sell it to you at that price-“ “Man, you told me to bring back the money!” Kyle pleaded. He had long, tangled blond hair and a surfer’s build, with broad shoulders and a sun-bronzed frame. He wore shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt that bared his biceps and the soft curly blond hairs that sprouted up and down his arms. He had a vaguely southern accent — a Bakersfield accent — and a deep voice. “You said to bring back another twenty dollars-“ “And then you took three days to do it, Kyle! That was the sale price. I gotta account for this shit in the ledger, man,” the clerk said. He looked at Avery and pointedly asked, “can I help you, sir?” “I wanted to talk to him,” Avery said. He motioned to Kyle, who took a moment to notice — he was biting his lip, flexing his arms and trying to think of a way to make some extra money. Kyle furrowed his brow. He had deep dimples and brilliant blue eyes that made Avery swoon. “… Oh? What? Me?” Kyle blushed. “What?” “I just wanted to ask you a question,” Avery said. Kyle hesitated. “It’s a private question.” Kyle looked at the clerk, who just shrugged. He gestured towards the sidewalk. Kyle scowled back at him. “Man…” He looked at Avery, then at Avery. “Who the hell are you?” “My name is Avery. I’m from out of town.” “Oh… like… oh…” Kyle looked like a bit of a dumbie, Avery thought, which was cute. His eyes stared blankly as Avery led him just outside the shop, to a bench near the sidewalk. “I wanted to say that I’ll buy the surfboard for you. I’ll buy whatever surfboard you want,” Avery said. “If you cornhole me.” Kyle’s eyes opened wide. He chuckled, nervously at first, then for real, then nervously again. He ran his fingers through his tangled mane of blond hair. “Ah… Oh…” He paused. Then he said it again, “ah… oh!” like he had just figured out what Avery said and that it wasn’t a joke. “No one will ever know,” Avery said. He teased like he was going to grab Kyle’s cock in his board shorts, but he stopped short. Kyle scooted away. Then Kyle reconsidered and scooted back. He blushed again, a deep crimson that contrasted well with his suntanned skin. “How’d you know my name?” “The clerk said it.” “Oh. Right…” He chuckled at himself. “Uh… So you’ll like… jerk me off and shit?” He paused and thought about it, looking around to make sure no one overheard. He took a deep breath. “If you try to go for my ass or anything, dude, I swear I’ll kick your ass. Totally.” “No problem. I’ve got a motel room,” Avery said. “And I’ll pay for the surfboard when we’re done.” They went to the motel, Kyle awkwardly silent because Avery wrapped an arm around his well-muscled back. Kyle was pretty sure no one saw him, so he breathed a sigh of relief when they actually made it into the motel room. There was one window in the small one-bed room, which opened on the beach until Avery drew the curtains closed. He left a small crack so Avery could watch through the window. Kyle gulped. He ran his fingers through his thick tangle of blond hair, which stretched to his broad shoulders. He had never done anything like this, and wasn’t even really sure how to do it. He knew how to get a girl to give up the pussy — sort of, it wasn’t like he was an expert casanova or anything — but what was he supposed to do with a man? But he needed a surfboard. Aside from being a hobby he considered very important in his life, Kyle surfed to impress the girl he currently liked, Marsha, who would definitely lose interest if he had no surfboard any longer. He was glad to be in a motel room where no one could see him, but he was nervous too because he could hear people outside on the beach, playing, laughing, girls laughing at guys who were surfing — it felt like they were right in the room, laughing at him. “You gotta take your shorts off,” Avery said. He rubbed Kyle’s shoulders, but that just seemed to make Kyle tense up more, so Avery stopped. He did run his fingers through that glorious hair. He kissed Kyle on the back of the neck. “Shit… okay…” Kyle said. He blushed. He lowered his board shorts gingerly, pausing when Avery came around to his front and sink to his knees between Kyle’s legs. A few of his pale blond pubic hairs were visible, but he didn’t take his dick out yet. He wore old-fashioned tighty-whiteys beneath his board shorts. He dove for it without even suggesting Kyle remove them. Avery wasn’t an underwear fetishist by any means, but Kyle’s briefs were pure white and smelled strongly of his scent. They made Avery’s dick so hard it ached. Kyle looked both a bit horrified and relieved, like a part of him hoped Avery would just be satisfied by smelling his underwear. But instead he pulled Kyle’s briefs down, making Kyle gasp as his cock popped free. Avery rubbed Kyle’s limp dick over his face. “What’s wrong?” “Dude… This is weird…” Kyle said. He whispered and looked towards the window. He could just barely see a pretty blonde girl in a bikini out there. He knew she couldn’t see in, but still, it was unnerving and Kyle pulled the curtain closed more. “I’m just jerking you off, it’s exactly like a blowjob. There’s no difference. I don’t even have any beard hairs, see?” He displayed his perfectly smooth cheeks and chin. “Still…” “Well, it’s up to you. But if you say yes, no one will ever know,” Avery said. He backed up, no longer touching Kyle’s dick — which twitched a little — just staring at it as he spoke. “And if you say yes, tomorrow I’ll track you down on the beach, whenever some people are around, and I’ll make sure they all hear as I explain that I bought you the surfboard because you saved my daughter from a rapist. No, not daughter, then the girl you like will think she has competition: my elderly aunt. You saved my elderly aunt from a rapist, so I bought you the surfboard.” He thought for a moment. His eyes were dull like he didn’t get the plan at first. “Shit, okay!” He paused. “Hey, how did you know there’s a girl I like?” Avery rolled his eyes. “Just a good guess.” He licked his lips. “C’mon, lemme jerk you off… You already let me play with it a little. I’ll make you feel so good you forget about girls.” Kyle closed his eyes and nodded. He gulped. “Fine. You better buy me that surfboard, dude.” “I will. Ssssh, baby, it’s okay, it won’t hurt at all,” Avery said. He popped his cock into his mouth and giggled at the shocked expression on Kyle’s face, his eyes still closed. Avery began swallowing it as deep as he could, wanting to immediately impress Kyle with his deep-throating. Outside the squawking of seagulls and the giggles of pretty girls filled the air, and Kyle tried to focus on that. He was both embarrassed that this was happening and that his dick hardened up right away, turning into a stiff rod that filled up Avery’s mouth. He sucked in his breath. Kyle couldn’t believe how good this felt. If it was a girl, he’d say things like “I like you so much, baby…” but he didn’t want to say that now. He didn’t want to lead this freak on. He touched Avery’s head to drill his dick in but then thought that would seem almost romantic. “Ah, shit, dude… You’re really doing it…” Now that it had started, Kyle thought it didn’t feel as weird as he thought it would. It really was just like a girl, but maybe even better. He bit his lip hard as Avery swallowed him all the way to the root, until his face nuzzled Kyle’s unkempt pubic hair. It wasn’t the first time Kyle had done something like this, but he wasn’t sure the first time counted. It was last year, when Kyle was just barely nineteen. He and his male friends Scumdog and Pony had spent a day surfing and talking to girls on the beach. They’d very nearly gotten a girl to give them all blowjobs. They tried to pretend like it was no big deal, like she should just do it as a big practical joke. She was definitely thinking about it. She blushed and giggled and said “oh my god!” a lot. But in the end, she had said no because Pony farted and Kyle and Scumdog both laughed; that was immature, she thought. She had walked away in a huff. Kyle was standing there on the beach with a hardon in those tiny tight swimming shorts, next to Scumdog and Pony. It was Scumdog who first noticed everyone’s boners. He tried to hit Kyle’s with his like they were jousting, which made Kyle blush. Scumdog later acknowledged that his boner wouldn’t go away, that he needed to get a nut off. Scumdog suggested they circlejerk instead. But where to go on a crowded beach? They couldn’t just jack off here. So instead they had gone to the beach showerhouse. At the time, Kyle had been nervous. He assumed they were going to take turns jacking off in the little back area, with the others making sure no one came in. All kinds of people came into those beach showerhouses, the kind with no stalls or anything, just bare showerheads spraying fresh water to clear the salt off people’s body. It wasn’t expected that people would be naked in there at all. Only weirdos took their shorts off in those places. But no one was in there then, not in the back where no one ever went. Kyle still had a hardon when he got in there with Scumdog and Pony, all of them walking stiffly and continually adjusting themselves to hide the boners. The more they thought about it, the less they could stop their cocks from throbbing and even leaking a few drops of precum just because they had to keep moving their swim trunks around. “I’m going first, you keep a lookout-“ “No way-!” “It was my idea, you keep a lookout.” “Hey, you know what… Hey you know what’s not pervy, like for real, not?” Scumdog said. He was the tough one of the three, his older brother in prison and his father on parole. He had tattoos and a shaved head. He leaned his surfboard against a wall in a way that provided some protection from witnesses. “It’s for real, they do it in prison. Ya gotta be a real man. You pansies in? Oh are you worried you’re gonna turn pansy too?” And so that was how the circlejerk had started. Kyle was nervous now thinking about it as his dick got slurped on by Avery. He grunted. This felt better than he thought possible. No girl had ever give him a blowjob him like this. Kyle gasped. He didn’t want to sound like he liked this, that would be too pervy. Precum flowed down Avery’s throat. Kyle was so horny it hurt. He gripped the sheets of the hotel bed beneath him, holding on tightly enough to pull the sheets off the mattress. Back in that communal shower, Kyle thought — he was unable to stop thinking about it now, after he had spent the last year trying to pretend it hadn’t happened — he had felt tougher when it was all over, like Scumdog was right, only tough guys did it. Pony’s dick had been big and veiny and it felt so weird in Kyle’s hand. Not bad, just weird. Kyle wondered why it felt different. Was it all in his head? Pony’s dick had been hard like stone, but Kyle thought his always had some fleshiness to it, even when it was totally erect. Scumdog had touched Kyle’s nipples too, and Pony’s. He said guys just needed to blow their wad sometimes, so they could concentrate. He said girls didn’t like desperate guys. Kyle’s heart had raced the whole time, as he endured Scumdog’s big meaty hands stroking him off — Pony was tall and thick all over. It was worse than masturbating, he thought, but the excitement made it somehow hotter. He felt like Pony was stroking less effectively yet his hand was built better, so it stroked whole different parts of his dick that he had never felt before. He got that same feeling now. “Damn, dude, you do that… like… crazy… oh, shit!” Kyle flailed on the bed, the precum flowing like water from a hose down Avery’s throat. A gasp escaped from Kyle’s mouth, so strangled and choked that it sounded painful. His surf-toned muscles all flexed at once, pecs bouncing. Avery reached up to tweak his nipples, surprised at how extreme Kyle’s reaction was — Kyle was both aroused and dismayed because it reminded him of that circlejerk. Kyle made eye contact with Avery, who was balls-deep on his cock. Kyle blushed again — or maybe still, Avery couldn’t tell — he didn’t even know someone could deep-throat an entire cock. Kyle, the poor baby, didn’t even realize yet that his dick was much bigger than average. He just thought deep-throating was impossible, until he saw Avery swallowing him to the root. He hadn’t noticed that during the circlejerk because he’d been focused on not getting cummed on. That hadn’t worked. He’d gotten Pony’s cum on his hand and a bit on his thigh then. He’d bugged out when it happened as though he was going to punch Scumdog. “Ya got your nut on me, dude!” Kyle held his hand up like it was radioactive. But Scumdog just scoffed. “You ain’t some squeamish wuss, right? It’s just a little cum. If we all got that slut to suck us off, we’d probably touch dicks, right, bro? We’d probably cum all over each other’s shafts. That’s how it works for real men, y’know, not the stuffed-shirt crowd, but real men. They blow their wad wherever they can. You wanna cry about it? Go back to Feaga Spit Beach.” He sneered — Feaga Spit Beach was the private, exclusive beach where there was no surfing or virtually any other activity allowed. “Yeah, dude. Yeah. Right,” Kyle had said then, as though he already agreed with all that. He just wiped his hand off on the wall. It still felt cummy though, and he had to hold down a feeling of panic. “I was just — Pony looked like he was gonna cry like a little baby, I thought he was freaking out about it.” “No I wasn’t-!” Scumdog shoved him then. That was the first naked wrestling match Kyle had ever participated in. He had no idea that, if he had said it out loud, Avery would demand a play-by-play as he stroked and slurped on Kyle’s cock to completion. His half-hard, cum-dripping cock had flopped all over Scumdog’s thighs, and their dicks even touched. He didn’t want to even slightly touch dicks when they were jacking off, but Kyle realized only later that he hadn’t had any anxiety about it when they wrestled. That was despite him feeling every inch of Scumdog’s cock sliding all over his body, leaving a trail of cum because Scumdog had just cum as well. He didn’t even realize he had been covered in Scumdog’s cum (and probably Pony’s somehow too) until later. Wrestling was macho enough to make him forget about such things, and it wouldn’t do to act like some prissy little bitch whining about a spider, Kyle thought. They were in the shower anyway at the time. They rinsed off right afterwards, and Kyle, thought with swelling pride, he had won the match even though Scumdog was larger. He put Scumdog in a chokehold, his broad chest encompassing Scumdog’s back as Scumdog turned red and cried uncle. “Say you’re the wuss!” Kyle said. “Okay, yeah, I’m the wuss,” Scumdog had said through his gasps and squirming between Kyle’s bicep and forearm. He blushed as Pony and Kyle laughed at him. That was an alpha enough ending that it made Kyle feel better about it. He wasn’t going to tell anyone though, not even Avery. Now that he was getting dome from Avery, Kyle was glad he had done that circlejerk too. That made it easier now. “Yeah, dude, man, you got… shit…” Kyle felt too good to focus on saying anything. His spine shuddered as a wave of pleasure wracked his body. It was still nerve-wracking, but he could admit it (to himself) it was the best dome of his life. Plus, he thought with a big grin, he was going to get a brand-new surfboard out of it. His hands were on Avery’s scalp, guiding him up and down. That had felt too weird a moment ago because it reminded Kyle he was with a man. He could feel Avery’s short hair. But now that he was on the verge of orgasm, that seemed a lot less important. Pleasure shot up his spine, and Kyle bit his lip. He couldn’t help but cry out. He hoped no one out on the beach could hear him moaning. He drilled in deeper. No girl had ever deep-throated him like this, or at all, really, they mostly just played with it and licked the tip. Avery’s throat was tight and warm and wet and it felt so good Kyle couldn’t even tell when his orgasm began. His face turned ruddy like sunburn, his tanned skin turning reddish. Avery blushed too, his lungs crying out for air. Kyle flexed his muscles, holding onto Avery as his balls throbbed against the skin of Avery’s chin. “Shit!” Kyle shouted as loud as he could. Avery reached up to grab his pecs and his nipples. Kyle didn’t have huge pectoral muscles, but they were firm and bulged a little, especially now that he was orgasming. Avery loved feeling a man’s muscles mid-orgasm. Even men who weren’t very strong always felt muscular when they were shooting a load down Avery’s throat. It kept on going, flowing, more and more, salty and sweet cum coating Avery’s throat. Kyle was young enough to shoot a massive wad that filled up Avery’s belly. It sat hotly in his stomach, and still it flowed. “Goddamn…” Kyle sighed. He’d gotten girls to swallow cum before — twice — but they never let him just cum right down their throat like this. This was amazing. At last he couldn’t take it anymore, the pleasure was so intense he had to pull out. Kyle removed his dick with a loud, moist gasp, the feelings coursing through him so intense a few drops of drool dripped onto Avery’s face. “Shit, man, goddamn,” Kyle said. Now that he was post-orgasmic, his face was an even brighter red than before. His whole body undulated. He gagged a little when he saw Avery licking a hairy trail up from his crotch to his chest. Avery sucked the sweat off Kyle’s chest, and he suckled on each nipple, catching a glimpse of Avery’s face outside the hotel room, still peering in. Kyle bristled and straightened his back, but didn’t say anything. Avery stroked his muscles with both hands. He came close enough that his dick touched Kyle. “Hey, shush…” Avery said. He kissed Kyle on the neck, but Kyle just stood there. Avery had to move his long, tangled blond hair out of the way first. Then Avery touched his erect cock to Kyle’s rapidly limpening manhood. Kyle sucked in his breath but just bit his lip. He frowned. Was it too weird to touch dicks? He and Pony and Scumdog had touched dicks, at least sort of. But was it weirder to touch dicks with a stranger rather than a buddy? Kyle was still pondering that as he nodded — he was too tired to give a crap anyway. “Don’t worry, we’re just touching dicks,” Avery said. “I’m gonna buy you the best surfboard in that shop, dude. You want a hot dog too? I’ll buy you a hot dog from that cart out there.” Kyle nodded just barely enough for Avery to see. His eyes were closed tight and he stood stiffly, sweat dripping down his broad shoulders. Avery sucked that sweat off too. Their dicks jousted together. Avery’s was big and throbbing, veiny, hard, pulsating beneath his grasp. Kyle’s was the same size but soft right now, still a little spongy because he had already cum. Avery didn’t mind that at all. Avery loved jousting with post-orgasmic alphas. Kyle didn’t really think about it. He was nervous about it happening, but after circlejerking and naked shower-wrestling with his buddies and then getting jerked off by this weirdo from the beach, a little jousting seemed unimportant. Then he felt Avery’s orgasm through his cock. Avery stroked both shafts together, basically using Kyle’s dick to jack himself off. Kyle raised his arms above his head so he didn’t have to touch Avery any more than he needed to. He opened his eyes just in time to gag at the sight of Avery’s dick pulsating. “Uh…” Cum sprayed onto Kyle’s crotch and shaft, coating his pubic hair in it. Kyle’s heart raced and he held his breath as he felt jet after jet of creamy cum coat his cock. It dripped down his shaft and onto his balls. Then Avery dropped to his knees and stuck his tongue out. He licked the shaft and balls and his thighs, chasing down every drop of cum. Avery giggled at the sight of his thick pubic bush matted to his crotch. He sucked all those hairs clean. Kyle had never experienced a post-orgasmic bout of pleasure like this. It felt so good it hurt, especially since it was combined with embarrassment and humiliation. He still felt dirty. That just reminded him of the surfboard and his beloved Marsha — if he got this dome, the surfboard and then Marsha out of it, that was a good deal, he thought. Not that he was ever going to tell anyone about it. At last it was over. Kyle stepped away and sighed. He reached for his board shorts and sandals. “Goddamn.” He was relieved. He sighed. “That was cool.” He raced to assuage his masculinity. “I mean, I’ve had better blowjobs from girls and all. But that was cool. It was… cool. It was… I mean… It was groovy.” Avery smiled as he wiped himself off, exhausted but excited to have finally landed the surfer of his dreams. Kyle nervously babbled. He had only a pair of shorts and sandals to put on, but somehow it took Kyle more time than it took Avery to get fully dressed. “You’re gonna buy the Nimbus 9, right? That’s the one I want.” “Of course, baby,” Avery said. He wrapped one arm around Kyle’s waist. His other hand teased Kyle’s six-pack. “Whatever you want.”
Banner had Lance’s thin arm interlock with his softball-sized biceps.
The bartender was trying to break up the fight, so Banner reached behind the bar for a bottle of whiskey. He poured two shots (each of which were really doubles, and fat doubles at that). “Come on, let’s do a brüderschaft on this.” Lance didn’t know what that meant — and the German unnerved him — but he followed along. Banner had Lance’s thin arm interlock with his softball-sized biceps, as though they were chorus line dancers facing in opposite directions. Lance felt another surge of sexual thrill at being so close to Banner’s tattooed biceps. The warmth of his body heat suffused into Lance’s flesh. Then Banner lifted his shot glass to Lance’s lips, and Lance did likewise. With their arms interlocked, they both swallowed each other’s shots, and Banner laughed as the harshness of the straight whiskey brought tears to Lance’s eyes.
Walking into a biker bar — the toughest biker bar in Abilene, he had heard — sounded like a bad idea. When he was a young man, Lance would have done that in a heartbeat. Did do it, and a bunch of similar things. He waltzed into a legendary yakuza bar in Tokyo once. Walked right out when the pinkie-less man with the neck tats said gaijin weren’t allowed. But middle age was looming nearer and nearer with every passing day for Lance. He was a married man. He still looked young enough, but he was seeing and feeling the signs of his age. There were strands of hair in his sink. He woke up at night to pee sometimes. Many times. All the time. He woke up to pee many times all the time. He started getting sleepy at like nine o’clock. He felt young right up until he realized he had been feeling like an old man for months. That was why Lance was not interested in playing it safe anymore. The rough-and-tumble biker bar didn’t phase him. He bought a motorcycle on a whim and found that he loved it — once he actually figured out how to ride it. That was why he had come to Lipsweet, the most notorious biker bar in Abilene. The rumbling of the engine beneath his body made him feel young again; it reminded him of when he had first started going to raves, before he met Juliet — his wife — and this bar felt like the perfect place for him, like he had been constructed just for it. At some point he stopped feeling that way dancing to electronic music, but he kept going. He wasn’t a drug user, which was part of what made him not really fit in at raves. He liked the music, and he liked the dancing, but he didn’t do ny of the increasingly diverse bouquet of drugs the others did. The people he came up with became burnouts and losers, scrounging up dollars for a hit of chemicals with street names like love and ecstasy and oneness. They’re named after the things they don’t provide.
Lance is an accountant who just bought his first motorcycle, so he’s hanging out at a biker bar. That means when an alpha biker named Banner comes to him with an intriguing offer, Lance is ready to do what he wants.
So Lance is in for another exciting episode of Twink on Top!
Lance was unsure about Lipsweet before he walked in. It had a reputation as a rough joint. Someone was stabbed here a couple months ago, it was in all the papers. Walking into a biker bar — the toughest biker bar in Abilene, he had heard — sounded like a bad idea. When he was a young man, Lance would have done that in a heartbeat. Did do it, and a bunch of similar things. He waltzed into a legendary yakuza bar in Tokyo once. Walked right out when the pinkie-less man with the neck tats said gaijin weren’t allowed. But middle age was looming nearer and nearer with every passing day for Lance. He was a married man. He still looked young enough, but he was seeing and feeling the signs of his age. There were strands of hair in his sink. He woke up at night to pee sometimes. Many times. All the time. He woke up to pee many times all the time. He started getting sleepy at like nine o’clock. He felt young right up until he realized he had been feeling like an old man for months. That was why Lance was not interested in playing it safe anymore. The rough-and-tumble biker bar didn’t phase him. He bought a motorcycle on a whim and found that he loved it — once he actually figured out how to ride it. That was why he had come to Lipsweet, the most notorious biker bar in Abilene. The rumbling of the engine beneath his body made him feel young again; it reminded him of when he had first started going to raves, before he met Juliet — his wife — and this bar felt like the perfect place for him, like he had been constructed just for it. At some point he stopped feeling that way dancing to electronic music, but he kept going. He wasn’t a drug user, which was part of what made him not really fit in at raves. He liked the music, and he liked the dancing, but he didn’t do ny of the increasingly diverse bouquet of drugs the others did. The people he came up with became burnouts and losers, scrounging up dollars for a hit of chemicals with street names like love and ecstasy and oneness. They’re named after the things they don’t provide. So he bought a motorcycle, and he felt young all over again. It was hot and firm, rumbling, like an extension of his cock, an industrial, gasoline-gulping manhood that sprayed speed and smog in equal measures. He felt bigger and stronger as soon as he sat on that leather seat. Nobody knew he was a mere accountant. Going to Lipsweet seemed natural when sitting on the bike. Everyone knew it was the biker bar — or one of the major biker bars in Abilene, which was a biker town. Lipsweet was controlled by the Jagged Right. Lance didn’t have any gang connections, but he bought the motorcycle at a Jagged Right-connected dealership. Or maybe that was just a marketing trick, but it worked, and anyway, the salesman had a Jagged Right tattoo. He felt like a real biker as he actually walked in to Lipsweet, amid a sea of sweaty biceps and tattered black leather jackets, smell of engine oil and gun grease lingering in the air. As the rumble of the motorcycles doing circuits outside faded from his ears, Lance felt weak and insecure all over again, like an old man at a rave he wasn’t invited to. It was a good thing he didn’t go to raves any more. He’d look like an out-of-place old fool. At least bikers aged without aging out. “Chug it! Chug it!” “Double whissshkey, straight up.” After some initial awkwardness, Lance began to fit in. A few drinks helped, and he gulped them down quick enough to impress anyone watching and quick enough to get tipsy right away. He liked to drink, and that was all the bikers here seemed to care about. They ignored him at first, like they thought he was an undercover cop. But when he didn’t ask anyone for drugs, they gradually warmed up to him, and the alcohol helped loosen Lance up, Soon enough he was a chatty Cathy with all the bikers, and he started to learn everyone’s name. They were really pretty nice and welcoming once you got to know them. He learned that that salesman he bought the motorcycle from was a real Jagged Right. Lance was good at chugging, which helped him to fit in. He downed beers like he did it regularly, which he did, years ago. Juliet — Lance’s wife — would not allow him to chug beers now. She wouldn’t even want him drinking beers you could chug. She only bought fancy white wine and occasionally, for Lance, expensive German beer or “bitters” from England. You ever had bitters? It’s like beer but disgusting, truly revolting stuff. Juliet didn’t see any point in doing anything unless it was status-raising, that was the problem. The blistering hard rock on the jukebox and the chatter filling the air meant a lot of them barely noticed him in the first place. He chugged beers alongside them, and they clapped him on the back. They fell over each other to offer help with his new bike. But Lance was simply glad to be accepted. His bike was brand-new and didn’t really need anything right now, though he was certainly glad to have made about a dozen new mechanic-friends. Maintaining a motorcycle could get expensive. “More beer for the new man!” “Chug it! Chug it!” He had no sooner finished chugging his latest beer when the bar was distracted by a fight. One leather-clad biker punched another, for reasons unclear to Lance — something to do with a girl, he suspected, which was always a good bet when bikers were fighting. Maybe disrespect, maybe something motorcycle-related. The others immediately chanted for more. Fight! Fight! Fight! Lance felt a twinge of desire at the sight of the two big guys fighting, hefty muscles shaking with each thrust of their fists. He added his own chant to the melange of voices. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” But by the time his drunken self got into it, the fight was already over, and the two sloppy-drunk bikers were buying each other bourbons. “Here, lemme buy you a shot,” said the one of the other bikers. His name was Banner — Lance had met him a few minutes ago — and he sported a powerful body and no belly at all, a fact that was obvious because he wore only a tattered wifebeater that had more holes than it had shirt. He was wearing a black leather jacket earlier, but he must have taken it off cuz this bar was like a furnace. Banner didn’t wait for Lance to accept the offer of a shot. The bartender was trying to break up the fight, so Banner reached behind the bar for a bottle of whiskey. He poured two shots (each of which were really doubles, and fat doubles at that). “Come on, let’s do a brüderschaft on this.” Lance didn’t know what that meant — and the German unnerved him — but he followed along. Banner had Lance’s thin arm interlock with his softball-sized biceps, as though they were chorus line dancers facing in opposite directions. Lance felt another surge of sexual thrill at being so close to Banner’s tattooed biceps. The warmth of his body heat suffused into Lance’s flesh. Then Banner lifted his shot glass to Lance’s lips, and Lance did likewise. With their arms interlocked, they both swallowed each other’s shots, and Banner laughed as the harshness of the straight whiskey made Lance shudder and bug out. It tasted like gasoline. When they were done, Lance took a deep breath. Tears welled in his eyes from the astringent whiskey, which was cheap — this bar didn’t stock anything fancy. He didn’t often take shots, especially doubles. Banner cleared his throat. “So… you’re like… cool, right?” Banner had to speak loudly to be heard over the din of the crowd. The fight had died down, and the combatants were engaged in a drinking contest that attracted the attention of most of the bar’s patrons. Though Banner raised his voice, he aimed it directly for Lance, who felt the hot breath condensing on his cheek, and nobody but Lance could hear his words. “Yeah…” Lance said. He was tantalizingly close to Banner’s heat-exuding muscles, and he couldn’t help but touch the rock-hard bulges of Banner’s biceps. “Thought so,” he said, giving no notice to Lance’s hands feeling up his arms. “You, uh… wanna plow me?” Lance just assumed that Banner meant ‘would you like me to plow you?’ So Lance said yes. He might have taken it as a joke, but Banner had a serious look on his tan, craggy face. It didn’t occur to Lance he might have heard the question correctly. The bar was loud, Lance’s mind was hazy with drunkenness, and a huge alpha biker like Banner would never let some accountant plow him up the ass. Worried that Banner would back out, Lance tripped over himself to agree. He nodded like an overly enthusiastic otter. Without another word, Banner smiled and put a finger to his lips, motioning for Lance to be discrete — he just motioned ‘down’, and somehow he and Lance were sympatic enough that Lance knew he meant keep it on the downlow. As casually as he could muster, Lance followed Banner to the bathrooms in the back, pretending they were going to watch the drinking contest that remained the center of attention. Instead they slipped into the back of Lipsweet, and the roar of the drinking contest faded to a dull drone muffled by the wall. Most of the bikers just pissed outside, so the bathroom was empty when they walked in. Bikers walked back and forth from the bar to the alley using this back corridor though, so they all saw Banner and Lance go into the men’s room. Banner locked the door behind them, stripped off his wifebeater and threw it on the filthy floor. “Hey, Banner, whatchoo doin’ in there?” “You know it!” Banner wasn’t in the least embarrassed about this, it seemed. He opened the door again, stuck his head out and said, “Y’all said I’d never have the balls to do it, but I am gonna plow this sissy into next week! You gonna hear him begging for mercy back here, but don’t none of you try to stop me! You know what my dick’s like — once it gets moving, it’s an uncontrollable freight train!” Banner relocked the door amid the boisterous laughs of his friends. “You really gonna plow that sissy? Wreck his ass!” “Relax, man, he ain’t gonna take it in the ass. We know you was in prison too, don’t pretend you never plowed a bitch.” “If you ain’t in prison, that’s nasty.” “It ain’t nasty if you’s on top.” “It ain’t nasty if yo’ balls don’t touch.” “It ain’t nasty if you don’t make eye contact!” Lance’s eyes bugged out, as his ears filled with the raspy-voiced boasting of the bikers. This was all happening so fast, it was dizzying. “I ain’t hear ‘im beggin’ you to take it easy on him.” “That’s cuz I’m goin’ slow, hoss, relax yo’ shit. You listenin’ at the door? You that turned on by a man gettin’ plowed you gotta jack off and listen?” Banner asked. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You the perverted one then, man. I ain’t touchin’ this man’s dick, and I ain’t gonna listen to his cries… unlike you, apparently.” Lance was shocked and terrified. Was Banner threatening to ram him? Lance wanted to go through with this, but what if he took it too far? When Lance was younger, he would have loved the idea of being held down and used by the sterling manhoods of any number of bikers. Now he was a little more hesitant. What would Juliet say?! That thought made Lance bite back a laugh of derision. Juliet wouldn’t go anywhere near a biker bar. “Don’t worry, I’s just playin’ for the crowd,” Banner said softly. He looked suddenly bashful, and the muscles on his bare chest and belly rippled. He stroked one of Lance’s cheeks, then pulled him closer. “I… ain’t gonna treat you wrong.” He kissed Lance on the lips, and he rammed his tongue into Lance’s mouth. Lance was so shocked to be kissed that he nearly fell over. He swooned into Banner’s powerful arms. His biceps were hard, inked, ropy like a statue of a man, lined with scars and imperfections that made him feel so very real and much more arousing than all those smooth-bodied, perfect-faced twinks that Lance had been messing with when Juliet was out of town. Banner felt like a motorcycle, brimming with power and uncontrollable heat, rough-edged and hard to manage. But his mere presence and the smell of his unkempt body made Lance hard. Banner’s words from earlier ricocheted within Lance’s head — ‘You wanna plow me?’ — now that they were outside of the roaring crowded bar, Lance knew he hadn’t misheard and that Banner hadn’t misspoken. He wanted to get plowed. This biker was ready to bottom, and he wanted Lance on top. “I want you inside me,” Banner said, whispering in that raspy baritone, though there was no chance anyone outside the bathroom would hear unless he yelled as he had before — the bathroom door was thick and muffled all the sounds from outside, except for those men yelling at the wall. His whispers were desperate and plaintive. “Please? Plow me in the ass. I want ya dick, man…” “Really? You wanna bottom?” Lance asked. He still thought maybe he had misheard, maybe Banner was just testing him, though for what purpose Lance couldn’t imagine. He certainly didn’t want to try to make Banner bend over and take it unless he was sure that’s what Banner wanted. Banner nodded. “I gotta put on a show for them out there though, I’m gonna make it sound like I’m ramroddin’ you, and you can’t ever tell anyone I’m bottomin’ for you. If you do, I’ll fuck you up for real,” he said, forming a fist with one hand and punching it hard into the palm of the other. His smile vanished, and his menace was so authentic it dripped off his face. Lance shuddered and nodded. He had no problem keeping it a secret. “Ram ‘im, Banner! Make ‘im squeal like a piggie!” “Oink, oink!” “You seen Banner’s cock, right? He gonna mess that accountant up!” Banner had to get on all fours and drop his jeans because he was so much taller than Lance — if they both stood, Lance’s face was in his torso and his dick in Banner’s thighs. Banner didn’t seem to mind touching the disgusting bathroom floor, which was grimy and stank of feet and homeless men. The smell was intriguing, even desirable to Lance, who did appreciate the physiques of men, especially men like Banner. Alphas. Masculine, dominant men with pecs and neck tats, bullet-wound scars on their bellies. Banner smelled so funky it got Lance’s dick hard before they even got started. Lance knelt down, lining his crotch up with Banner’s ass, and pulled his dick out. It was already throbbing hard, ready to go, and the slightest touch sent a twinge of pleasure up his body. He pushed his dicktip between Banner’s thick, hairy asscheeks, which spread open for him like the Red Sea. He sighed, a part of him worried still that Banner would call it off and start bashing him. His heart raced. “Take it, bitch!” Banner called out. “You gonna take every inch whether you like it or not! I don’t let my bitches take just inches one through eleven, slut! You gonna take all twelve inches, got it? You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of my dick get up in ya!” Lance forced out a pained cry, and men outside the bathroom laughed. Lance laughed too. They hooted and hollered; it sounded like a bunch of them were clustered near the door. Then Banner cried out for real, biting his lip to avoid making too much noise, that was because Lance’s cocktip finally entered his ass. Lance didn’t mean to stick it in so suddenly, he was just hovering the tip at Banner’s butthole when he let out that performative cry, and the motion made his dicktip slide in. So Lance leaned into it, and he forced the whole shaft in — Banner took every inch, strongly suggesting this was not his first time. His ass was tight and warm, and instantly Lance had to bite back a howl of ecstasy. He didn’t want the men outside to know who was on top and who was in pain. He turned his cry of pleasure into a grunt of pain, while Banner’s face turned red and taut beneath him. When he realized that Banner was stroking himself off and having trouble maintaining a rhythm as he submitted to Lance’s plowing back and forth, Lance reached around him, grabbed his cock and began stroking. Banner jerked and spasmed in a combination of pleasure and pain. The sound of him sucking on his clenched teeth seemed plausibly to come from Lance, so the men outside accepted that it was Banner on top. “Hey, you doin’ some nasty-ass shit in there, Banner!” “Wreck him! Wreck him! That accountant won’t be able to walk in a straight line ever again!” “You gonna ramrod him hard enough he’ll forget his numbers!” Slamming his cock in and out with all his might, Lance felt his orgasm coming only moments before it hit him. He moaned and grunted as he filled Banner with his seed. He gulped, wondering if it was obvious to the men outside that Lance’s moan was a top’s orgasm, not a bottom’s prostate climax. But they cheered as though assuming it was Banner filling Lance with his juice. He shot so much it dripped out of Banner’s ass, onto that bathroom floor that was already coated with fluids of various kinds. The smell of funk in here was ripe and thick, and Lance inhaled deeply of it as the climax rolled through his body. A huge flood of jizz seeped into Banner’s body, and Banner let out an intense howl. The men outside must have accepted that it was a howl of pleasure — which it was, in a sense. A whole series of grunts escaped from Banner’s lips, despite his best efforts to muzzle it. His dick spasmed in Lance’s fingers, signifying that his orgasm was imminent as well. “Take it all, bitch! You gonna swallow every drop! I know my dick is covered in yo’ ass, but you know you love it! You want that filthy nasty in ya mouth, bitch, I can see it in yo’ slutty bitch eyes!” “Aw, gross!” “He really doin’ ass-to-mouth, Banner?” “Ain’t nevuh got a girl to do that, not countin’ whores.” “Make ‘im gag on his own ass, man!” Then Lance dropped to his knees in the filthy bathroom, just in time to taste Banner’s dick. He had to stretch his neck to reach Banner’s crotch, opening his mouth wide. Banner’s dick was thick, pulsating, dripping precum so copiously it flowed down Lance’s throat. Banner pounded on his chest and did a Tarzan yell, causing everyone in the main room to cheer him on. Banner’s tatted chest undulated as he orgasmed in Lance’s mouth, shooting jet after jet of cream to coat Lance’s gullet. He bucked as though the orgasm was painful, and he shot such a big, sour-tasting load that Lance didn’t need to pretend to gag. It hit the back of his throat, making Lance’s stomach gurgle and roil despite his love for hot cum in his mouth. “Yeah, I can tell, that’s the sound of ass-to-mouth.” “Bet that pervert is regrettin’ goin’ in there!” “Banner can make any bitch regret touchin’ him.” “I can make you regret insultin’ me, man!” Banner called out. “You know I can treat you like a prison bitch. You seen me do it before!” He paused and gasped as he shot another wad right down Lance’s throat. “I don’t even care whose hole I stick it in next — if this sissy ain’t available, I just might take you.” It sounded like Banner wanted to keep shouting through the door, but a wave of orgasmic energy rocketed through him then. His knees buckled and his body writhed. His voice trailed off as he sighed, draining his nuts into Lance’s waiting throat. He chuckled, hollered and banged his fists against the door like he was trying to knock it down. Hot cum overflowed and dripped down Lance’s lips. He swallowed what was in his mouth, then licked up the rest. It had a wonderfully salty-sweet flavor that made him drool, wishing he could swallow even more — Banner’s load somehow tasted like a motorcycle, Lance thought, reminding him of the smell of gasoline and chrome and leather seats; it vibrated in his mouth like an engine. He traced the veins that ran along the side of Banner’s shaft as he jerked up every drop of cum he could find. Much to his surprise, Banner knelt down and kissed Lance on the lips. His tongue penetrated Lance’s mouth, then licked up and down the breadth of Lance’s face. Lance was so shocked he just sat there, submitting to it, not even kissing him back, just focusing on the scratchy sensation of Banner’s scruffy chin rubbing against Lance’s skin. Banner let out a long, slow sigh of relief. He smeared the remaining cum over Lance’s cheeks, and smiled. “Alright…” he said, breathlessly, pulling his pants up. His kind, impassioned face disappeared, replaced by that menacing visage he had briefly flashed before. He know looked more like the biker-thug Lance had expected to meet rather than the easygoing stud he had met earlier. This was the Banner that made Lance’s blood run cold. Banner narrowed his eyebrows and sneered at Lance. “I’m gonna tell them I left you in here covered in cum and crying, wit’ a bloody asshole. I told you to sit there covered in my nut for five minutes, then you could clean yourself off. Alright?” “Okay.” “You should come see me at my garage sometime,” he said. “I got a garage on East Street. Tell Sally at the desk that you’s a friend of mine, and she’ll tell me you’re there. I’ll help you with your bike, and you can plow me senseless.” “… Okay.” “My other mechanics are gonna want dome, and they’re gonna call you a pervert. That okay with you?” “Yeah,” Lance said, too tired to pretend he needed to be talked into it. He loved the idea of jerking off an entire garage of dirty blue-collar mechanics. Leaving his raggedy wifebeater on the piss-covered floor, Banner walked out to the cheers of his friends, who clasped him on his sweaty back. He flexed his biceps and closed the door right behind him, so no one saw Lance, who stayed in a corner — he thought for sure if they saw his face they’d realize he hadn’t been plowed at all. A few men tried to poke their head in but Banner stopped them with a shut door. The last thing he said was, “Lock the door behind me. Five minutes. Pretend ya ass hurts.” “Okay,” Lance said, glad to have a few minutes to collect his thoughts. Thinking of how to pretend his ass hurt made him realize that Banner clearly was not in pain — he must have been plowed before, probably quite often considering how easily he had take it. He sighed as he began counting down his five minutes to wait. He was sure happy he had taken a risk, he thought, and he wished he had become a biker a long time ago. He couldn’t wait to check out Banner’s mechanic shop.
