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.
That would not be a problem for Avery. He loved a big cock, and he had never seen an ugly one.
Buck opened the window between the cab and the bed, then he said, “Hey sissy! If you havin’ trouble findin’ it, just look for the pimple. Ain’t a pimple. Doctor says it’s a cock, just a li’l bitty withered one-“ “Shut up, Buck. Nobody gives a shit — we all know you got the biggest dick around. Nobody cares, it’s ugly, and girls don’t even like it cuz it’s too big. You got the ugliest dingdong in the world.” “Shut up, Cody, girls do so like my dick,” Buck said. He sounded chagrined though, like women really had said his dick was too big or too ugly or both. That would not be a problem for Avery. He loved a big cock, and he had never seen an ugly one.
she was not hot, you are so wrong, that was ya ‘fuckin’ oinkers’ phase — don’t gimme that ‘I need fat chicks for mah big dick shit’
“Yeah, he’s hella better than her. She only sucked dick good in ya ‘magination, and she looked like an overinflated clown — she was not hot, you are so wrong, that was ya ‘fuckin’ oinkers’ phase — don’t gimme that ‘I need fat chicks for mah big dick shit’ — oh hell, you hafta bring up ya cock e’ery goddamn time — I don’t believe you fo’ a second about that, no women is that into big dicks — it is so ugly! It looks like a dead barbarian! — shut up, anyway, I’m gettin’ head. I don’t wanna talk to you.”
But it was true, no girl had ever licked his balls for more than a few seconds because they were too big, too heavy, too low-hanging, and too hairy. They were just plain too much.
Those traits were exactly why Avery loved them. Women don’t know how to value a hairy, sweaty ballsac.
But it was true, no girl had ever licked his balls for more than a few seconds because they were too big, too heavy, too low-hanging, and too hairy. They were just plain too much. Those traits were exactly why Avery loved them. Women don’t know how to value a hairy, sweaty ballsac.
He looked military. He definitely wasn’t, judging from the mustache which was surely not regulation, but he had a crew-cut and he was slightly balding, and he wore a green tee shirt like a soldier over workpants splattered with white paint. He was in his mid-forties, older than most of the men here, and he slightly balding, but his tight tee shirt showed off a potent body. He wore his pants high — very unfashionable — and heavy boots on his broad feet. Maybe a cop? He looked like maybe a cop. But there were people smoking weed not far away — Avery had smelled it earlier — so he thought a cop, even an off-duty one, would have either intervened or left. Maybe a former cop. He certainly carried himself like an authority figure, that was for sure. He glowered at the carousing, drunk bikers and rednecks who fell over each other around the campfire. He didn’t say anything. Was he here with someone? Avery didn’t think so.
When Avery has car trouble, he hitches a ride with a pair of rednecks with a pickup truck. They’re eager to get a nut off, a problem Avery is eager to help with, cuz Avery loves nothing more than submitting to alpha male hillbilly manhood.
Can Avery get his truck fixed and satisfy his newfound redneck buddies?
Avery sighed as his car rattled to a stop on the side of the road. He had just gotten the starter replaced, and now something else was wrong with it. He cursed and kicked at the car when he got out. He opened the hood as though there was some chance he could fix it. But he didn’t know anything about cars. Unless there was a sign in the hood describing what was wrong and how to fix it, he wouldn’t have known what to do. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign. Even if there was a sign, he’d probably need help. The engine looked normal. It was hot and dirty and greasy, and it looked just like it always did. He checked the oil because that was one of the few things he knew how to do. The oil level was fine. Well, I successfully ruled out oil, he thought, at least that’s something. He sighed and started walking. There was no point in hanging out here, in the middle of nowhere, Bumfuck, West Virginia. He could have called AAA, but his cell phone only had a little charge left. He turned it off in case he needed it later. He knew there was a garage up the road, so he thought it would end up being quicker to walk there and arrange a repair job. As he crested the next hill, he muttered about his car. His Kia was notoriously crappy, he had learned after owning it for a few months. This was only the latest in a series of setbacks for the car. He should have done more research before he picked it out, he thought. That must be why it was so cheap. He was startled out of his reverie by the sight of a man on the side of the road up ahead. He was a hundred feet or so away from where Avery was overtop the hill, and he faced backwards with a thumb out. When he saw Avery, he waved. “Howdy, brotha!” he called out. Avery waved back. The man was shirtless, a lean and lanky redneck in a red backwards baseball cap and muddy camo pants. He was a hillbilly, Avery thought and shivered as a frisson of desire ran up his spine. Avery appreciated the male form, and this ropy-muscled young man was an ideal example. “Howdy, friend,” said the young man when Avery got closer. He accentuated the word friend as though he called everyone his friend but really meant it this time. He had a charming, dimpled smile. Avery giggled and said hello. “Nice to meet you,” Avery said. The man had a Confederate flag belt buckle, and tattoos dotted his bare torso. “You hitchin’?” the man asked. He spat on the ground. Avery shook his head. “My car broke down right over the hill. I was just going to the garage down the street.” “Old Ray’s? That place shut down. Ol’ Ray was a fat fuck anyway. He dead now,” said the hillbilly. “Name’s Cody.” “Nice to meetcha, Cody,” Avery said. “I’m Avery.” He nodded. “Mah buddy is on his way to come get me. He’ll give you a ride too, reckon.” “Thanks.” “Gonna have to ride in the back though. In the bed of his pickup, I mean. Ain’t got room in the cab for three.” “Okay,” Avery said. “There he is now. His name Buck,” said Cody. His tongue rolled around in his mouth as though it was too big for him, as he sized Avery up, looking him from head to toe. They had only gone a little ways when a beat-up red truck came from behind and pulled to a stop on the side of the road. A beefier hillbilly stuck his head out the window. He was tall enough that he was squashed into the truck cab, and he had a furiously untamed mullet that framed his oversized head. “Need a ride, li’l hoss? You know the rule: cash, grass or ass,” Buck called out and hooted out a series of baritone laughs. Then he saw Avery, and his eyes turned dark and hostile. “Hey this man here had a breakdown up the road. He goin’ to Old Ray’s,” Cody said. “Old Ray dead.” “I told him that,” Cody said. “Hop in, li’l hoss,” said Buck. “You got that Kia on the road a f’ur piece back?” He had a grizzled chin, with a lazy look on his face. He was much thicker than Cody and hairier. He also made Avery feel a flush of hormones and a stiffening in his cock, and Avery wondered if he could nab both of these hunky rednecks. “Yeah, that was me,” Avery said as he got in the back. “The car just died on me.” “Kias’ll do that. Buy ‘merican next time.” There were blankets and pads all over the back of the rickety old pickup truck. It looked like Buck had recently helped someone move. The truck pulled away, and Avery crawled to the passenger side, where he could hear through and speak into the little window that opened into the truck cab. Cody’s arm was out the window, its reddish hue ruddening in the brilliant Alabama sun. Avery’s heart pounded as he gathered up the courage to make a proposition. “Hey, so are you down?” Avery asked, raising his voice so Cody could hear in the truck cab. The wind was loud enough — not to mention the rackety engine — that Avery didn’t think Buck would hear. That was necessary because Cody was gonna offer to jerk him off, and he assumed Cody would want to go somewhere private, not let his buddy know that Cody was messing around on the downlow. Cody hesitated. “Yeah. Down for what? You got pills?” “No! I’ll jerk you off, that’s all. If you-“ “You take it in the ass too?” “Hell yeah,” Avery said. “If you got somewhere private to go.” Cody told his buddy to stop, then said something quiet enough that Avery didn’t hear. Buck laughed a deep belly laugh. His voice boomed audibly out the driver’s side window. “That boy?” The truck shivered to a stop Avery shivered in anticipation. Now that he heard that laugh, he was sure Buck would join in, he thought, if he could get him out from behind the wheel. But before he came up with a plan, Cody hopped into the bed of the truck. “Ain’t never rammed no feller,” Cody said. He smiled, then blushed as the truck pulled into gear and returned to the road. He almost fell over — Buck laughed again as though he had been trying to knock Cody off-balance — then sat down next to Avery. As soon as the truck lurched back into motion on the road again, Avery grabbed for Cody’s dick through his camo pants and stroked it. They had turned onto a rural road, so there were no cars around, but even if one came by, this truck had a very low bed with a high wall, so there was plenty of room to avoid being seen. Once Avery’s head was in Cody’s lap, only Cody’s head could be seen from outside the truck. “Oh fuck, you that kind of freak? Daaaang…” Cody whistled. He played himself off as nonchalant, but Avery could tell he was more nervous than he let on. Avery inhaled deeply of his musky scent, then pulled down Cody’s pants. His dick popped out of his tattered old boxers. It was long and thick, already getting hard just from Avery handling it through the fabric. Cody was young and horny, that was why, Avery thought, he must get hard so easy. After just a few strokes, Avery lowered his head so he could swallow Cody’s cock all the way down to the root, nestling his nose deep in Cody’s pubic hair. Cody chuckled, then gasped as though he never thought it would feel this good. His eyes opened wide. “He doin’ it furreal, yeah!” Cody yelled out to his buddy, Buck, who hooted and reached to the top of the truck, his meaty fist slamming down on the roof. He might have yelled something back, but Avery couldn’t hear it. His dick zoomed to attention, and it throbbed in Avery’s mouth. It smelled of redneck sweat, which Avery loved, and he slurped down every drop he could get to. Cody tasted of dirt and distilled manhood, and the flavor made Avery want to cum as soon as he got a mouthful of Cody’s cock. He could taste the boisterous four-wheeling and the early morning hunting trips, wild ramps, barbecue sauce and chewing tobacco, he could even taste the unbridled patriotism. “I love an enthusiastic mouth,” Cody said with a relaxed sigh. It sounded like he had been nervous about getting dome from a man but now was settling into it. He leaned back, resting his shoulders on the wall of the truck bed. “You better at this than most women even, you know that? You should teach lessons and-” Cody stopped talking as the truck taking a sharp turn caused him to slip all the way to the other edge of the truck bed. Avery had to crawl back over to him. The truck swerved all over the road, so Cody and Avery slid on the pads and blankets covering the bed. Cody’s cock bobbed around, and Avery chased after it. That was fun at first, but it soon became apparent Buck was swerving the truck left and right as a prank — his baritone laughter could be heard emanating from the truck cab — and watching Cody’s naked body sliding around while Avery tried to get ahold of him. “C’mon!” Avery called out, his voice wavering because he didn’t want to upset the giant redneck behind the wheel and because he was starting to get motion-sick from the motion. Cody called out to his buddy, “Hey, quit swervin’, asshole!” “Can’t you control yaself?” Buck shouted from the driver’s seat. He guffawed like a jackal. Avery settled into the messy pickup bed the best he could with the truck sliding left and right beneath him. Underneath the pads and wadded up sheets was bright orange parkas and other gear — hunting equipment. He grabbed ahold of that stuff to keep under him, to avoid jostling too much as the truck barrelled and rattled down the road. It didn’t seem that Buck was making any effort to keep the truck steady. He cackled with laughter every time Cody slid into the side of the truck and groaned. Buck opened the window between the cab and the bed, then he said, “Hey sissy! If you havin’ trouble findin’ it, just look for the pimple. Ain’t a pimple. Doctor says it’s a cock, just a li’l bitty withered one-“ “Shut up, Buck. Nobody gives a shit — we all know you got the biggest dick around. Nobody cares, it’s ugly, and girls don’t even like it cuz it’s too big. You got the ugliest dingdong in the world.” “Shuddup, Cody, girls do so like my dick,” Buck said. He sounded chagrined though, like women really had said his dick was too big or too ugly or both. That would not be a problem for Avery. He loved a big cock, and he had never seen an ugly one. “Gonna fill you up, boy!” Cody cackled. He scooted over to block the window between the cab and the bed — that was also the center, the most stable part of the bed of the truck. He gripped Avery’s ears and held onto his head as he aimed his dick for Avery’s mouth. Once again the wild flavor of stale hillbilly crotch-sweat filled Avery’s senses, and he swallowed as much as he could. Cody was even more into it this time, and he had no reluctance in holding Avery by the head so he could use his mouth like a pussy. He humped his dick down Avery’s throat, ignoring it each time Avery gagged. He opened his gullet wide to let that entire cockshaft in. Avery loved how Cody visibly lost control of his muscles even though he hadn’t orgasmed yet, and his muscles rippled. Cody sucked in his breath. “Damn…” he murmured. Precum began to flow from Cody’s cock, and Avery slurped it down like a delicacy. Cody’s whole body shook, both from the pickup truck moving beneath him and from the pleasure that exploded in his veins. His arms and legs went limp like a rag doll as Avery swallowed his dick down to the root. “Who? That bitch?” Cody said. At first Avery thought he was talking to him and he looked up, confused, then realized Cody was talking to Buck through the window separating the cab and the bed of the truck. Avery couldn’t hear Buck’s part of the conversation. “Yeah, he’s hella better than her. She only sucked dick good in ya ‘magination, and she looked like an overinflated clown — she was not hot, you are so wrong, that was ya ‘fuckin’ oinkers’ phase — don’t gimme that ‘I need fat chicks for mah big dick shit’ — oh hell, you hafta bring up ya cock e’ery goddamn time — I don’t believe you fo’ a second about that, no women is that into big dicks — it is so ugly! It looks like a dead barbarian! — shut up, anyway, I’m gettin’ head. I don’t wanna talk to you.” There was a commotion, and Avery looked up from Cody’s precum-oozing cocktip. Buck kept the truck rolling forward slowly, jerking every few seconds because Buck was riding the brake. He poked his burly, furry head through the window between the cab and the bed, guffawing so hard he slapped his knees as he plastered a sloppy kiss on Cody’s cheek. Cody screamed and pushed him away — he had closed his eyes, so he didn’t see until it was too late. “You fuckin’ prick, you ruined my boner!” Cody said, trying to punch Buck through the window. He couldn’t quite reach though. Avery just kept swallowing his meat — in fact Buck’s kiss hadn’t weakened Cody’s erection in the slightest. “Okay, ya mouth is nice, sissy, but I want some ass. A real man needs ass,” Cody said with a sigh. He pulled out of Avery’s mouth and wiped his dick off on Avery’s cheek. “Girls never wanna take it in the ass. But you do, right?” “Hell yeah,” Avery said. He took a deep breath. “You gonna take the whole thang?!” Cody asked, and Avery nodded as he gathered his breath. Cody arranged himself behind Avery — a difficult feat as the truck continued down the road. He pushed into Avery’s ass, his thick cock sending a twinge of pain up Avery’s back. He remained sitting, so Avery was in control, pushing back onto Cody’s crotch, as they got into something approaching a reverse-cowgirl position, or at least as close as they could come in a moving truck bed. The truck pulled to a sudden stop, and Avery slid across the bed. He and Cody both bumped into the edge of the truck, this time with enough of a bang that Cody cried out in pain. The motion forced Cody’s whole cock all the way into Avery’s ass, more dick and more quickly than Avery was expecting. A howl of surprise and pain came from Avery’s mouth, and the sound quickly turned into a moan of pleasure as Cody’s cock stimulated his prostate. Buck’s booming laugh echoed in the woods surrounding the road. He got out of the driver’s seat, then jumped into the bed — he was surprisingly limber for a big man. His damn near seven-foot-tall frame effortlessly hefted his bigness up into the truck bed. He stripped his shirt off as he moved, revealing a furry barrel chest and several tattoos: a broken heart with four drops of blood around it, a gray coiled snake on his belly, the Grateful Dead bears on his shoulder and an American flag on the side of his neck. “Go drive for a minute, Cody,” Buck said. He frowned down at Avery’s ass, in which Cody had his cock sliding back and forth. “I ain’t know he was givin’ up the ass — all you said was dome. You best believe I’s takin’ mah turn, and it won’t be sloppy seconds from my little buddy.” “Man-“ Since Avery was facing away, he didn’t see exactly what Buck did. But apparently it intimidated Cody enough that he gave in, and he pushed Avery off his cock. Cody hopped off the bed with his pants around his ankles, landing on the ground on his belly. He groaned in pain. “Fuck you, Buck! He was mine! I’m the one who found him!” “I’s bigguh,” Buck said with a shrug. He dropped his pants. He had a huge cock, as thick as a forearm, and his entire body was hairy. He was well more than a foot taller than his buddy and at least a hundred pounds heavier. He had a thick, crude face, like a caveman, like every part of his head was too big for all the other parts. “Hi, I’m Avery-“ He didn’t even look Avery in the eye. He just grabbed him by the hair, pulled him into position for doggystyle and rammed his cock in. A burst of pain wracked Avery’s body, and he clawed at the truck bed. That pain quickly melted into an oozing pleasure, as Buck’s reawakened Avery’s sensitive prostate. “Don’t talk,” Buck said in his gravelly baritone. “Reminds me you ain’t a chick.” “Okay. I won’t,” Avery gasped. “I said don’t talk,” he said. He worked his dick in deeper, holding Avery still with both hands when he squirmed in pain and tension. Avery desperately wanted to jack himself off, but he couldn’t reach his cock with his face jammed in the corner. Buck called out to his buddy, as he got in the driver’s seat. “Gonna ruin this hole for ya, lil bro.” “Fuck you. Get down, man, someone’s gonna see you.” Buck, it seemed, was not concerned with being seen. He stayed well atop the truck bed, so it was obvious what he was doing. Anybody going by would have seen that he could only be plowing his cock back and forth, so they’d assume he was fucking a woman, probably. This was a deserted country road though, and no cars passed by., Avery was still pretty low, so anyone driving by could see only Buck’s hairy bare ass dimpling and bouncing up and down. “There’s only one way I know how to ram a man. Hope that’s what you is into. I only ram ‘em one way: hard and rough, just like I ram my prison bitch. You-“ “Ha! Don’t let him scare you!” Cody called out, as he was climbing into the driver’s seat. “He was in jail for two weeks. It was local county lockup. The only other person there was a ninety year old man.” “Shut up, Cody!” Buck roared. He reached through the little window between the bed and the cab, and he tussled with Cody, who was navigating the truck back into motion on the road. When he got Cody’s nape in one hand, Cody squealed. The truck swerved, pushing Avery deeper into the corner of the truck. “That ain’t true anyway.” Buck grabbed Avery by the hair with his other hand and pushed his head through that window between the cab and the bed. Avery moaned in ecstasy — he could finally reach his own dick, which was on the verge of ejaculating already — as his head appeared right next to Cody’s. He was so close he could smell the sweat of Cody’s unwashed armpit. “Oh, man, get his face outta here…” Cody murmured, seemingly resigned to his buddy ignoring him. “I don’t wanna watch a man as you sodomize, Buck.” “Yeah but fuck you,” Buck boomed. He banged on the top of the truck cab. “Hey, sissy, kiss him. He won’t hitcha or nothin’. Just kiss him. Use tongue.” Avery placed his head in the crook of Cody’s neck. He kissed the best he could as he himself was orgasming, spraying cum all over the bed of the truck. Buck, it seemed, didn’t notice. A fat puddle of jizz spread over the bed, while Avery stuck his tongue out and slurped up the dried sweat on Cody’s skin. He tasted the dried salt crystals on the nape of Cody’s neck, as a wave of pleasure washed over him. Cody swerved all over the road. It would have been terrifying but he was only going about five miles per hour, and there was no one else anywhere to be seen — they weren’t even on a paved road anymore, it was gravel. It was a two-lane road technically, but it was barely wide enough for the truck. “Oh, man, get the sissy off me,” Cody said. He leaned over a bit but didn’t seriously stop Avery, who craned his neck to reach the corner of Cody’s mouth. He tried kiss Cody on the mouth, but when Cody both resisted and showed off the hardon that never went away, Avery lowered his head to swallow his meat once more instead. Now that Avery wasn’t trying to stroke himself off, he could lean even farther through the window. He could easily get his upper half in, which was enough to put his head in Cody’s crotch. He tasted the familiar funk of Cody’s goopy erection, and Avery moaned around the shaft in his mouth. Cody’s ass-stained cock was still half-hard. Avery picked it up and put it in his mouth before Cody even realized what was happening. “Oh yeah, he doin’ that ass-to-mouth sheeit,” Cody said. “He swallowin’ up mah dick, sheeit!” Buck banged on the roof again. His voice was so deep it sent a chill up Avery’s spine just as the truck went over a rough spot and jostled, which in turn caused a spasm of pain from Buck’s rod ramming into Avery’s ass. Buck laughed. “That hurt, man? Hit some more bumps there, bro.” Cody pulled to a stop as he approached orgasm. His dick pulsated in Avery’s ass, and both rednecks moaned at once. That was when Avery realized they were going to cum simultaneously. But he actually tasted Cody first, his youthfully spicy cum spraying into Avery’s mouth a half-second before Buck went off. Avery liked making a mess, so he didn’t swallow any of the jizz, he just held it in his mouth then let it dribble out to soak into Cody’s pubic hair and the torn upholstery of the seat. He wondered how many other nuts had been spewed in this truck. Then a load of cum sprayed into Avery’s ass. Buck roared and pounded on the roof of the cab, then said, “Like this, bro?” He pulled his cock out at the last second and aimed into into the cab. He had to aim very precisely to get it through the window and onto his buddy’s face, and he didn’t succeed, most of it landing on Avery’s bare ass, the rest on the window frame. Cody was gasping for air after his own orgasm so he didn’t notice right away. Then he screamed, “Oh what the fuck man?!” “Just gettin’ you back, man, you pulled that sheeit last munf-” Buck said. “You done got me back! You beat me up fo’ that!” “Yeah, so? We were even, and now I’s ahead by one, which is right as sunshine, cuz I’m bigguh and stronguh and I got a bigguh cock,” Buck said. He whacked his softening meat against Avery’s asscheek. Avery licked the cum off Cody’s cheek. Cody shuddered in disgust, then called out to Buck — who was still above the cab and couldn’t see in — “You missed me anyway. A couple drops got on my pants, that’s it.” “Yeah right.” “Fuck you anyway,” Buck said. He took his pants all the way off and sat on the edge of the truck bed. Avery pulled out of the window and kneeled next to him, so his head was between those trunk-like thighs. He licked the cum and assjuice off Buck’s massive dangling meat. Buck chuckled in disgust. He lit a cigarette. “You’re a dickhead, Buck.” “Shut up and drive home, Cody.” “Home?” “Yeah. I’ll get my tools. Least I can do is fix the man’s car,” Buck said. “And when I’m done, he’ll take some more cock.”
Avery is hoping to see some admirable male physiques at a notorious campground, so he hangs out cruising the scene. When one alpha male Army vet catches his eye, Avery is off to the races in hopes of landing the outrageous manhood of this military stud.
Avery leaned back in his camp chair and sipped at his nalgene bottle full of ice-cold water. He had a cooler in the tent. It tasted good. It had taken him hours to get all set up. Putting a tent up seemed to get more arduous every time he did it, he thought, as his joints got older. Campgrounds always made him feel old these days anyway. It seemed like everyone he saw was younger than him. Public campgrounds like this used to be full of older people. That was what Avery thought about them when he was growing up. It was a place full of old people. Now, he was the old people. He was in rural Wyoming. He didn’t know any of the people, but he knew that, sooner or later, he’d make a friend. The people in this kind of place were always nice. That was why Avery liked to hang out in campgrounds. That and the fact that men with excellent physiques were usually there too. Fat and skinny men as well, but not as many. Maybe, Avery thought, the out-of-shape ones were at home eating potato chips and commenting on the internet, leaving the more well-formed men to throng in place like this, the Crambighter Woods campground. “Anybody wanna drum fo’ us? We need some rhythm, boy howdy!” “Who got a percussion?” A band was starting up, an impromptu group around the campfire near Avery’s tent. They had been talking about music and discovered several of them had brought guitars, so they started tuning up. “I can drum,” Avery said when he casually milled in that direction. He was self-conscious because it seemed a lot of these guys knew each other. But he wanted to fit in, and he was a drummer — he had even been in a band as a teenager. Someone produced a bongo drum. Avery had never actually used one, but once he got started, he got the hang of it. It wasn’t any different than the drumsticks he was used to. It was just a jam session — not even any singing. They played popular songs by the Rolling Stones, Beatles, Hank Williams Jr, Dwight Yoakam. Avery just played the rhythm, but he didn’t mind. He liked being part of the group. There were quite a few women at the Crambighter this weekend. That was a well-known campground with lots of ladies, giving the men plenty of opportunities for sex. That was a big part of why so many men came here. Avery was only interested in the men — women bored him — but he appreciated the women because they attracted the men. A lot of the ladies were’t that ladylike anyway — some were outright prostitutes. That would make it difficult for Avery to find a man willing to swing downlow. The handsomest ones had women hanging off them. As Avery started banging out a Funkadelic song — a man with a bass had shown up and requested it — he took stock of his options. There was a blond long-haired stud who looked Nordic, but he had a woman with him and Avery gathered from her body language that they were going to go off and fuck soon. There was a scruffy young biker-type (impossible to tell if he was really a biker or not, but his beard and tattoos made him look bikerish, or at least he was attempting to come across that way) who looked promising but had gotten drunk. He would be too drunk by the time Avery managed to get him alone. All that guy-watch made Avery lose the rhythm for a moment. Luckily no one noticed in the cacophony of guitars. It was hard to stay in sync, because Avery was pretty sure some of the guys were playing “Up for the Downstroke” — technically a Parliament song — instead of “Hit It & Quit It” as they had agreed. A man caught Avery’s eye, and that made him stop drumming for a moment. He looked military. He definitely wasn’t, judging from the mustache which was surely not regulation, but he had a crew-cut and he was slightly balding, and he wore a green tee shirt like a soldier over workpants splattered with white paint. He was in his mid-forties, older than most of the men here, and he slightly balding, but his tight tee shirt showed off a potent body. He wore his pants high — very unfashionable — and heavy boots on his broad feet. Maybe a cop? He looked like maybe a cop. But there were people smoking weed not far away — Avery had smelled it earlier — so he thought a cop, even an off-duty one, would have either intervened or left. Maybe a former cop. He certainly carried himself like an authority figure, that was for sure. He glowered at the carousing, drunk bikers and rednecks who fell over each other around the campfire. He didn’t say anything. Was he here with someone? Avery didn’t think so. As Avery banged on his bongo, he saw the man talk to a woman finally. He looked stiff, nervous like a man half his age, and Avery could tell instantly that she was turned off. She was blatantly the fun-loving youngster-type, Avery thought, she was never going to go for a dowdy daddy like him. But Avery did overhear — in a brief break in the song — that the man’s name was Bernard. That was a great name for a sturdy man, Avery thought, it made him think of big dogs and mountain passes. “Play ‘Free Bird’!” “Who wants to blow this joint?” “Yeah!” A chorus of agreement rang out. It seemed nobody wanted to play “Free Bird”. Avery certainly didn’t. He had his limits. The band disbanded to go smoke weed. Avery wasn’t interested in that either. He milled about and saw Bernard talk to another woman, this one a bit older, plumper, precisely the type who might like Bernard’s thick body and burly middle-aged look. But in the hustle of everyone switching places, Avery was jostled about and he lost track of Bernard. He was pretty sure Bernard had gone into a tent with the thick girl. Oh well… Avery sighed. That little opportunity was busted. He ought to have gone smoking weed with the other guys. Now he both didn’t have Bernard and wasn’t stoned. He was alone again. Hot chicks had hooked up with handsome guys with nice cars; fat chicks had hooked up with handsome guys without cars; couples had retired to their tents, and the night was drawing to a close. It was funny how that happened so fast at campground events like this. Once a few charismatic people realized they were tired — or found someone and somewhere to fuck — the remainder were all introverted weirdos like Avery. The party dwindled. That wasn’t a problem for Avery’s plans. In an hour or two, any man who had failed to land a woman would be ripe for the plucking. Anyone drunk would be passed out cold. Avery could take his pick from the remainder, most of whom would be horny enough and desperate enough to at least let Avery give them a handjob. But he had to wait a bit for that. He decided to go take a shower. Not only were there probably lots of men there, he just plain needed to bathe. The showerhouse was near the entrance to the Crambighter Campground. Avery flopped there in his sandals, carrying a towel and his shower gear. He went to the adult men’s side — it was divided into quarters, for adults and juveniles, both male and female (though this weekend was an adults-only event, which was why drinking was allowed). No one was in there. Avery was disappointed. Maybe he was going to strike out tonight after all. It seemed the women this weekend were determined to use up all the men. The showerhouse was big and empty, cold until he turned the hot water on. At least the lack of people meant there was plenty of hot water. Avery started showering by himself. It felt lonely in that big cavernous space all alone. He wished someone else would be here, even some old loser. The door swung open, and Avery held his breath — it took a few moments for whoever it was to come around the corner. It was him! It was Bernard. Avery was giddy, and his heart skipped a beat. Bernard hadn’t hooked up with that plump girl after all. Her loss. He glanced at Avery and nodded a polite hello, then went to the changing area. Bernard had a furrowed brow, and his muscles were tense from the moment he walked in. Was that a bulge in his workpants? Did he have a hardon? That was when Avery noticed the little cut on his cheek, which was red. He had been slapped. That explained it! He had hooked up with the heavy girl, but he must have come on too strong or something. She slapped him, and judging from the bruising Avery saw, she either did it a couple times or she really packed a wallop. Either option seemed possible. Bernard hesitated. He eyed the slim white man — Avery — with a dim eye. He rather wished he was showering alone, as then he could jack himself off. He needed that. That plump woman had blueballed him. When he dropped his pants — standing behind the barrier that protected the changing area from the showers — he saw that his dick was still hard. Instead he just stood there and sighed. When he realized that made him seem weirder than having a hardon would be, he just shrugged and went into the showering area. Avery stared at his erect cock when it became visible. “Don’t make fun, man,” Bernard said, his voice a low throaty growl, like he didn’t speak often and his vocal cords were unpracticed. He looked at his massive dick, still mostly hard and throbbing, begging for action. “I got hard earlier and couldn’t get it down, I was wit’ this female, man, and she slapped the shit outta me. Got me all worked up and then ain’t wanna put out.” “Oh yeah? That sucks…” Avery clucked his tongue. “You poor baby.” Bernard nodded and stepped under the showerhead furthest from Avery. “Wish I was drunk,” Bernard said. The water sprayed over his broad chest. His body hair was already matted to his skin with sweat — he was palpably hot, Avery could feel his body heat when he walked by, his plump but chunky thick-body ass jiggling as he did. Avery saw that erect cock and had to stop himself from drooling. Avery’s mind raced as he considered what it might take to land a taste of Bernard’s excellent meat. “Man, she invited me into her tent, ‘nd shit, man, swear to god, she was beggin’ for it. Then all of a sudden she say she only doin’ handstuff.” He threw his hands in the air — revealing big bushy armpits — and scowled. “What the fuck? Is we in middle school again? She was like nearly thirty…” He rolled his eyes. “Doin’ handstuff…” Avery chuckled. “Yeah… girls can be teases.” “Yeah.” Bernard grunted. “I can do handstuff mah own goddamn self!” He poured shampoo into his hand and washed his scalp — his hair was so short Avery didn’t see the point, but he didn’t say that out loud. Maybe it was dandruff shampoo. “You still have a hardon.” As he rinsed the shampoo off his scalp, Bernard opened his eyes and glowered darkly at Avery. Obviously Avery wasn’t supposed to mention it after Bernard already apologized for it. Avery smiled at him, and he turned his hips so Bernard could see his pale, smooth ass. Bernard groaned. Avery saw the thoughts flicker over Bernard’s face. Avery didn’t make any offer yet, wanting to give Bernard a chance to ruminate on his options. Avery continued washing his body with a washcloth, making sure his smoothness and petite frame were visible in the dim light of the showerhouse. He turned around to dance his ass towards Bernard. Bernard narrowed his eyes to slits at the sight of Avery’s plump bubble-butt. Avery was slim, but his ass was thick, plump, smooth. It looked tight too. Bernard could just plow into that. It would feel so good, he thought. But he wasn’t going to do that. He had done it, once, back in boot camp. He and a buddy had had leave together, and when Bernard was unable to find a prostitute — this was back in the 1970s in a remote part of Alaska — he had traded mouth with his buddy. They just jacked each other off first, but when that proved difficult to cum to, they had sixty-nined. Later, Bernard woke up to find himself grinding his cock into his buddy’s asshole and giving a reacharound as he did it. That had been one crazy weekend that he had blocked out of his mind. Bernard didn’t think about that, and when he did think about it, he tried to convince himself it hadn’t happened. But his cock, he soon realized, had gotten harder since he walked in here. It wasn’t going to go down. It throbbed and pulsated like it had a mind of its own, a mind that was demanding a warm, tight place to ram itself into. The more he looked at Avery’s taut ass and his creamy smooth skin like a woman’s, the more Bernard wanted him. He has such soft lips too, Bernard though, be he could do amazing things with those lips. “So do you have a wife?” Avery asked. He already guessed the answer, but he wanted to keep Bernard thinking about women and sex. “No.” Bernard grunted. His mind raced too fast to think of anything to say except touch my dick, which he couldn’t bring himself to say no matter how much he wanted it to happen. “Are you okay? You looked upset,” Avery said. “Or maybe it’s just that hardon that won’t go away. You want me to help?” “Uh…” Bernard closed his eyes. He spread his legs and put his hands behind his back as though he was at parade rest. He jutted his hips forward enough to make his foot-long dick stick out, making it look even bigger. His chest muscles rippled. That was a pretty clear signal, Avery thought. He came closer. Bernard looked so handsome, like an AWOL soldier about to be scolded by his commanding officer. He winced even before Avery got on his knees in front of him. Avery waited a good long time to give him a chance to change his mind — he knew Bernard was ready when he peeked his eyes open to see why Avery hadn’t started yet. Avery plunged deep on his dick then, all in one smooth motion, slamming his head all the way down. He wanted to interrupt that parade-rest position, but Bernard forced himself to stay put. He swayed back and forth but didn’t move his feet or his hands. His chest muscles all flexed like it took all of his effort to avoid moving his hands — he no doubt wanted to hold Avery’s head and ram his throat — alphas always wanted that — but thought that would feel too weird. It was cute to watch. Bernard furiously squeezed his eyes shut and refused to move either his feet or his arms. He was so focused on keeping his limbs still that he made lots of horse-like snorting and whinnying sounds as his hips tossed his upper body around like a bobblehead. His dick tasted like the paint-stained workpants he had been wearing. That was because he had gotten hard wearing them, Avery thought — he’d long noticed that men who concealed hardons in their pants ended up smelling like their pants when they finally got their dick out, like the scent of his fabric had seeped into his dickshaft. He must have been horny enough with that woman to leak some precum from his dick, because Avery could taste the salt of recently dried funk on his shaft as well. Avery’s tongue slathered spit up and down, gathering up all that stale flavor and the desperate sexual frustration in Bernard’s manhood. “Ah, goddamn, man… Shit, I needed that…” Bernard’s tension slowly melted away. His muscles gradually relaxed. He remained at parade-rest, hands firmly locked on his own wrists behind his ass. His whole body tensed and flexed and buckled, as he let out petite groans and grunts. “Can I slurp on your balls, sir?” Avery asked, letting his voice gurgle moistly with the salty precum that coated his lips. “Hmmm… Oh god, yeah… lick my balls, man, c’mon…” Bernard’s deep voice echoed. “I love that…” He was one of those people who didn’t really have the ability to whisper, Avery thought. He was so big that he had a deep, rumbling voice, which melded in with the hum of the fluorescent lights and the excited shouts outside by the campfire, so his voice wasn’t very disruptive even if it was quiet. It sort of melded in with the atmosphere of the campground. Avery produced copious spit that flowed down Bernard’s shaft all the way to his heavy balls, which Avery slurped and licked loudly, his tongue working all over the hairy sac. He made his own saliva drip into puddles on the linoleum floor before running to the drain. Two showers still sprayed warm water, but Bernard had backed up to the wall, so he was out of the spray of both showers. “Hmmm, ah yeah, man… it’s been a long time since, uh… someone licked my balls,” Bernard said. He very nearly said ‘a dude’ but stopped himself because he wasn’t ready to admit he’d messed with a man back in boot camp. But it was true, no girl had ever licked his balls for more than a few seconds because they were too big, too heavy, too low-hanging, and too hairy. They were just plain too much. Those traits were exactly why Avery loved them. Women don’t know how to value a hairy, sweaty ballsac. He slurped down every drop of shower-water that still clung to Bernard’s sac, and he slipped his head between those powerful legs too. Soon, Avery was on the other side, kissing each of his work-weary asscheeks below which his hands had a death-grip on each other. “You ready to ram me?” Avery asked, as he licked the mighty meat of Bernard’s ass. “Hell yeah…” Bernard murmured. Avery slid back in front of Bernard on the smooth linoleum floor, arranging himself on all fours, with his ass high in the air. Bernard’s eyes opened wide. There’s that ass again. It’s so tight. Tell him no. Tell him you only want to do mouth-stuff. But his asshole beckoned, and Bernard didn’t want to back out. It was so warm and smooth, better than that girl’s chunky ass would have been, Bernard thought but would never say out loud. He blushed as though someone might have heard his thought. He was already kneeling behind Avery before he even decided to do it. It was like his body was on autopilot. Even with his buddy in boot camp, Bernard had never done it like this. That had been fumbling in the dark, not an actual hardcore cock-in-ass ramrodding, like they were prisoners on lockdown. “Aaaah…” He finally used his hands on Avery’s body. He gripped each of this thick bubble-butt cheeks and held on tight as he plowed in. Avery’s hole was tight and resisted at first, but with just a little push, Bernard’s cock sank in deeply. “Shit!” Avery yelped. Bernard had a big dick, and there was a potent pinching pressure in Avery’s backside. Avery lifted one foot off the ground and howled. “You okay?” “Yeah, go on, keep going,” Avery said breathlessly as more and more of Bernard’s mature meat slid into him, ignoring his body’s instinctual resistance. Avery moaned, as his prostate came alive and sent waves of sensation through his body. He heard activity outside the showerhouse — he suspected some men had heard what was going on in here and left so they wouldn’t walk in on it. That made Avery laugh to himself even as he grunted in pain. With a final potent push, Bernard’s entire cock was inside him. Avery cried out for more, as Bernard began pumping his hips back and forth. Bernard was shocked — few girls could take his dick in its entirety, especially without a lot of lube and extra time to adjust. Avery had simply taken it with a minimum of whimpering, and now he moaned with pleasure that grew with every thrust of Bernard’s cock in and out of him. “Damn, ah, shit!” Avery cried out again. His hands tightened into claws that dug at the linoleum floor of the showerhouse. He had scooted forward enough that his face was in the warm shower-water, while Bernard stayed mostly dry. Bernard couldn’t ever fuck a woman like this, she would say he was doing it too hard, too rough, not romantic enough. It was nice to be able to just plow without worrying about that. He gripped Avery’s asscheeks and held on tight, using all of his weight and his strength to ram his meat in and out. He was so aroused he even found his hands roaming around to Avery’s cock. He had given a reacharound back in boot camp, and he did it again out of instinct or habit, or maybe just plain repressed desire. He didn’t realize he had done it until his hands gripped Avery’s thick shaft and felt it pulsating beneath his grasp. Cum flowed over his fingers, as his grasp instantly sent Avery over the edge to his climax. It was hot and sticky, and it made Bernard focus his entire attention on that. He was jacking a stranger off in the shower. He couldn’t believe it, but it didn’t slow him down any. He reached his own orgasm moments later, amid the frenzied moans arising from Avery’s throat. Jizz spurted out of both men, Avery’s puddling up near the drain it then flowed into while Bernard filled Avery’s ass with his creamy seed. “Ah, shit, yeah, take it!” Creamy cum sprayed deep into Avery’s ass. Avery had been just as surprised as Bernard about the sudden reacharound, but he certainly wasn’t about to complain. He just used both hands to support himself as he rammed his ass back and forth on Bernard’s studly cock. More and more juices filled Avery up, turning into a frothy mess that dripped onto the floor of the showerhouse. The smell of funk was intense and potent, and it didn’t wash away even with the pair of showers still on. Finally he was done. Bernard leaned back until his cock plopped out. Both men felt a surge of relief and an intense twinge of pleasure that dwindled slowly. He sighed grandly. “Shit, man… I don’t even miss that girl.” “Wanna sleep in my tent?” Avery asked, breathless and sweaty. He needed to take a whole nother shower, he thought with a laugh. Bernard blushed and bit his lip. “I mean… I dunno…” “How about this? It’s the red tent at the corner there by the campfire ring. You know where I mean…? The big one? You can just come in, so no one will know I’m already in there when you come in. You can just slide right in,” Avery said. “I’ll wake up if I’m already asleep.” “Okay…” Bernard gulped. “Don’t worry, it’ll be a ton of fun,” Avery said. He displayed his ass as Bernard backed out towards the changing area again. Avery stuck a finger in, brought some cum out and smeared it over his asscheek. “I’ll just get ready.” Bernard grabbed his clothes and ran out. He didn’t even bother to get dressed first. His cock flopped between his legs as he tumbled out into the darkness. Luckily, nobody noticed. Was he really going to sleep with that man tonight? He told himself no, but he had a feeling the answer was yes. If I can’t find a woman, I’ll go back to him. But I’ll really try. For real. I won’t just wait a few minutes and then go there. Sir, no, sir.
Rob stumbles across an alpha male biker in need of cash, a place to stay and a chance to get a nut off, which are all problems Rob is eager to help solve. That means Rob is in for a night of raunchy action, dominance and a mind-blowing orgasm.
Rob sat in his coffeeshop, looking at the novel he had just finished writing. He had finished it too recently to edit it now. It was tough to edit something right after you wrote it. But his deadline was tomorrow, so Rob was trying to gin up the energy to do it anyway. He didn’t really have to meet the deadline. Most freelance writers were so flaky, he was seen as “on-time and ultra-efficient” if he was less than a week late. That would give Rob a few days to decompress, then look over the novel with a fresh pair of eyes. He just didn’t want to have this Mafia romance hanging over his head any longer. He idly googled the Mafia. There needed to be some fact specific to the Mafia that worked into the plot. Right now, it was just a story with criminals in it — that they were Mafia was mentioned in the prose, but not demonstrated through an action. They were just generic criminals so far. Rob needed to add a tidbit that directly related to some Mafia word like omertà or consigliere. But not as hokey or well-known as those, it needed to be something else. A goombah was a man’s mistress. That could be something, Rob thought, but women might find it offensive, even if it was only a villainous kidnapper’s woman. He kept scrolling through lists of Mafia slang. Most of them had the same twenty or so words. Who’s that? Someone caught Rob’s gaze. There was a man outside, hanging out near the motorcycle shop on the street. He caught Rob’s eye. He looked vaguely bikerish, but Rob didn’t get the impression he had any intention of going into the motorcycle shop next-door. He just milled about near the practice-lot for new motorcyclists and smoked a cigarette. The man was medium-height but well-muscled, his broad shoulders showed off by a sleeveless shirt. He had a scruffy mustache and a scruffier beard, and dark eyes, with long black hair that was tangled and greasy. He threw his cigarette on the ground. Then he curled his lip at a young black man walking by. They both nodded at each other as though they knew each other — there was hostility though, like they had fought once. When the black guy went past, the biker licked his teeth and watched him go. He exhaled a long plume of smoke. As soon as he snubbed out his cigarette, the white man with the black hair lit another one. Was he waiting for someone? Rob sensed an opportunity for rough trade. He paid for his coffee and put his laptop away before heading out to his car. He knew from personal experience that the best way to get a hustler off the street was with a car. That would signal that Rob had some money, and it would get the hustler somewhere more private. He pulled to a stop in front of the bike shop. “Hey, man, what’s up?” The hustler scowled and looked in the passenger side window. Cars streamed past Rob on the street. “What?” he barked into the window. “Hey, how you doin’? You know cars? I could use someone who knows cars. My car’s making this noise, it’s sort of a thwump-thwump-“ “You lookin’ for a mechanic?” “Bah, you know, they’re all crooks. They’ll cheat me, I know it. They always do. I usually just look around for someone who might know what they’re talking about. You’re into motorcycles, right? You must know about cars.” Rob gestured towards the motorcycle shop. “You payin’?” “Yeah. Of course. I’ll treat you right, I swear.” The hustler shrugged and nodded. He got in the passenger seat. “Yeah. I know cars. I mean, sort of.” “Cool, sweet.” Rob cleared his throat. “I’m Rob.” “Glasser.” “Cool, Glasser, sweet,” Rob said. “So-“ “What sound is ya car makin’? I don’t hear nothin’.” “Oh, not this car,” Rob said. “It’s my other car, back at my place. I’ll take you there. Where do you live, Glasser?” He shrugged. “Around.” He let out a shiver. Now that he was out of the cold air and the light drizzle, he found it more difficult to keep himself from shivering. “You got a girlfriend?” Glasser scoffed like that was absurd. “I got females I mess wit’.” “Uh-huh. Sweet. Cool.” Rob smiled at him as he got on the highway. “So, uh… you horny?” “Always.” Glasser crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window. That position accentuated his pecs, which pressed against his too small tee shirt. His biceps gleamed with either sweat or rain or both. “You wanna… y’know… do somethin’ ‘bout that?” Rob asked. Glasser ignored him, just staring out the window. Rob gingerly touched Glasser’s left bicep. Glasser still ignored him. Rob squeezed his arm and caressed it, his fingers slipping under Glasser’s sleeveless shirt to his shoulder. That made Glasser’s muscles all twitch at once. With one hand still on the steering wheel, Rob massaged Glasser’s back with his other hand. “Can you take your dick out?” Glasser sighed like that was a huge imposition. His mustache quivered. He unzipped his dirty camo pants and took his dick out — again, he looked back out the window, avoiding Rob’s gaze. He had a hefty dick, plenty thick and tanned a dark brown, just a shade darker than his skin. He just took it out and let it flop against the fabric of his rain-soaked pants. He didn’t play with it or anything. It just lay there like an abandoned sausage. “You have a nice cock. I really do have a car at home that makes a thwump-thwump sound. I think something’s loose in the undercarriage,” he said. “I’ll give you fifty bucks if you can fix it tonight.” After a long, pregnant pause, Glasser said, “I might need tools.” His dickfat jiggled when he spoke. He exhaled another plume from that ever-present cigarette. “I’ve got some tools. If there’s something you can’t do tonight, then we’ll work something else out,” Rob said. He grabbed Glasser’s limp cock with one hand. He didn’t sroke it, he just held on like a handle, gauging Glasser’s reaction. Rob faced the road, so he couldn’t see his face, but he sensed only a blankness from him. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window intently like he might see something interesting if he looked hard enough. It was dark out though. There was nothing to see but the streetlights and the other cars whizzing by on the highway. His dick throbbed and jostled in Rob’s grip. “Okay, cool, thanks,” Rob said. He gave Glasser’s cock a squeeze and a stroke, and still Glasser ignored it. Glasser ignored Rob’s finger as it moved in a little circle over the spot on the underside of his cock, right where the glans met the shaft. His dick was heavy and thick. Rob stroked it with just one finger at first. He rubbed that finger from tip to root and back, while Glasser sighed. At last, Glasser looked away from the window and watched Rob stroke his dick. He didn’t say anything. “You let guys jack you off a lot?” “No.” ” I’ll pay you. Hundred bucks, if you let me swallow your cum. Plus fifty to fix my car,” Rob said. “You need a place to stay?” Glasser didn’t answer, but he grunted in a way that made the answer clear — yes. He watched his cockshaft as it flopped limply in Rob’s hand. Rob stroked slowly. He made no effort to get it hard, he was just playing with it the best he could while still driving the car with the other hand. “You want a drink?” Glasser glowered for a moment, then said, “Can’t. Gots a parole officer who gonna test my piss tomorrow.” “Oh, that sucks,” Rob said. He kept stroking. Glasser’s limp dick was hot and moist with sweat. Rob was pretty sure he was trying hard not to get an erection yet. Was that to hold out for more money? Just plain anxiety? Did he drink enough he actually had trouble getting an erection? Or did he just want to prove he couldn’t get hard for a man too easily? Pulling off the highway, Rob slowed down the car but sped up his stroking. He squeezed a bit too. That made Glasser grunt. His cock pulsated and twitched. It began to firm up in Rob’s mind. Glasser returned to looking intently out the window. At least now there were things out there — a gas station, a dog running along the side of the road, a woman parking. “I wanna swallow your cum.” Glasser chuckled throatily — it was a dim, minimal chuckle, but still, it was the strongest emotion he had shown yet. “That’s nasty.” He paused. “Don’t show me ya mouth. Some perverts do that, they jerk a man off and swallow and then open up so I can see — that’s fuckin’ disgusting. Don’t do — I mean, I ain’t sayin’ I let fellers jerk me off. I don’t do that, no sir, not on the regular. I just…” “You don’t have to explain yourself.” “I used to, alright? When I was doin’ drugs, I mean, I used to let all kinda boys handle my meat,” Glasser said. “That’s all. I ain’t doin’ it no more.” He sniffled. “After tonight.” “Okay. Cool. I get to be your last, huh?” Rob said with a laugh. He pulled into his driveway and put the car in park in front of his garage. Then he lowered his head to Glasser’s crotch and deep-throated him to the root, all in one smooth motion. “Shit…” Glasser said. His eyes opened wide — not that Rob could see it — and he had to hold back a gasp. He didn’t know it would feel this good right away. He sucked in on his cigarette then coughed, which rammed his cock deep into Rob’s throat. Rob grinned as he choked. Even though he couldn’t see Glasser’s face, he knew what was happening. Glasser was shocked at how good this felt but he was trying to hide it. He could sense it in Glasser’s feet curling and lifting off the car floor, in the tensing of his thigh muscles and the sudden explosive erection — his dick got noticeably more erect just in the moments it took Rob to go from playing with it to swallowing the whole foot-long shaft. Betcha no women swallow him that deep, Rob thought… He would have said it out loud if his mouth weren’t full. Glasser growled, a low rumbling sound that bounced out of his mouth through his gritted teeth. He lifted his ass off the seat and grabbed Rob’s head with both hands. “Take it, man, swallow it, swallow that shit, sissy, c’mon…” Glasser said. His swarthy face turned reddish. He grunted loudly, like an angry hog, and he gripped Rob’s scalp tightly. “Don’t stop, man, I’m gonna nut.” Rob wasn’t expecting him to cum so quickly, especially since it had taken Glasser awhile to get hard. But Rob didn’t mind — he thought he could get another load out of Glasser tonight. Hot streams of jizz poured down Rob’s throat, and he choked loudly even as he managed to get every drop down his gullet. His lungs cried out for oxygen, but Rob managed to avoid spitting out the cum that flowed deep into his throat. Glasser held him tightly, all the way down on that massive dick, which tasted of rain and dirty clothes. His cum, on the other hand, was bright and warm and sunny, creamy like… well, cream, and salty in a good way. Rob savored the taste as it pumped down his gullet. “You’s makin’ a sloppy mess, sissy,” Glasser said, heaving for air as he orgasmed in Rob’s mouth. He frowned, gripping Rob’s hair even more tightly. He bucked his hips, forcing his dick all the way in once more for the last few wads of cum. It coated Rob’s throat and sat hotly in his belly. “Goddamn…” When he could resist no longer, Rob sputtered, unable to avoid making a big mess of cum that spewed out and soaked into Glasser’s pubic hair. It coated the surface of his jeans too. Even when he thought ht was done spitting up, Rob moved his head just an inch, which triggered both another explosion of pleasure in Glasser and a gag that roiled Rob’s body. Rob retched up a mouthload, while Glasser let out an involuntary moan that turned into a stonefacing grunt. He kept Rob’s dick in place, forcing him to choke up again and against, the sensation massaging Glasser’s sensitive shaft. At last, Rob pulled off completely, forcing his head away from Glasser’s cock cuz Glasser held on tight like he was never gonna let him take a breath. Rob grabbed a coarse lungful of air, while Glasser sighed. Then Rob moved to kiss him on the lips, an instinctual move he didn’t think Glasser would accept. Glasser gently pushed and then rudely slapped his cum-dripping face. “Don’chu dare kiss me.” He coughed, making his dickfat jiggle once more as it rapidly limpened up. “You nothin’ special, pansy.” Glasser wasn’t about to admit that that was an especially good dome — he would never admit that because it sounded too queer to say out loud. But it was obvious from his breathless reaction and the way his whole body went limp at once as he let go of Rob’s head. Rob at last pulled off and took a big, deep breath, which made a hoarse sound that filled the tiny cabin of the car. “Hmmm… Damn, you… got dick… for days,” Rob said. He gave Glasser’s cock another stroke, which made Glasser gasp and his whole body squirm. Glasser smacked Rob — not as hard as he could but hard enough to hurt. Glasser hadn’t wanted to squirm like that, it made him feel weak. “I ain’t say you could swallow it.” “Oh, sorry, okay,” Rob said. He wiped his face off. “You wanna come in-?” “Pay me, bitch.” “Oh, yeah, sure.” Rob pulled out the hundred dollars he had promised and handed it over. He pointed to the garage. “Did you want to work on the car tonight? You could sleep tonight instead and do it tomorrow-“ “You got electricity in ya garage?” “Yeah.” “Then I’ll work tonight.” Glasser got out of the car — only then putting his dick away and realizing how much cum had gotten on his pants. He went out to stand in the rain to “wash” the stain off some. “Just go to bed, sissy. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight and finish the car tomorrow.” “Oh. I…” Rob wanted to ask if Glasser was going to ram him in the ass. He had hoped to do more than just play with his dick for about three minutes. But he sensed that the more he pushed right now, the less cooperative Glasser would be. “Okay.” Rob went inside. He first made himself some food — just pasta with a bunch of leftovers mixed in, but he made sure to pan-fry some onions and garlic in butter — no one, he thought, could resist that smell. He knew it was smellable out in the garage too. But Glasser still didn’t come in. When Rob went out there to check on him, he was pretty sure Glasser hadn’t been doing any work until Rob came to the garage door. Then he slid under the car and pretended to be doing something. It soon became obvious that the car was fixed. Glasser wasn’t going to come in the house until Rob was in bed. Rob just shrugged — a lot of men will do what they have to for money, but not sleep with men, or kiss them, or even hug them in some cases. Obviously Glasser was one of those kind of guys. Rob put a pillow and blanket out by the couch, plus a bowl of food in the kitchen. He thought he’d get Glasser later tonight or very early tomorrow morning — he’d be horny again then, and he’d probably want money to go out drinking after meeting with his parole officer. Then Rob turned out the lights and went to bed. Sure enough, he heard Glasser come in about twenty minutes later. Rob didn’t go out. If Glasser was homeless — which now seemed like a real possibility — he probably wanted a chance to be in a home, by himself, to relax. He heard Glasser turn the TV on — that took some fumbling with the remote, but Rob didn’t go out there to help. He let Glasser figure it out on his own. Rob was just about asleep when the door to his bedroom opened up. His ears twitched. Glasser’s baritone burp filled the air (it smelled like the leftover pasta Rob had left out for him). “Hey. I’m gonna ram you. Don’t say nothin’,” Glasser said. He pulled the covers off Rob and dragged his shorts down. Glasser was already naked, his dick already hard because he had found some hip-hop videos on the TV, which were thinly disguised softcore pornography. He slid his dick between Rob’s cheeks and climbed into the bed with him. Rob wanted to ask a bunch of questions — did Glasser want a ride to his parole officer tomorrow? Did he want to use a condom? Did he want the lights on? Did he want Rob to get on all fours? That was the position men seemed to want the most often — because it didn’t require them to look at Rob’s face, his breastless chest or his cock and balls. From behind, Rob looked very feminine except for the short haircut. But then, it was dark in here anyway, so Glasser could have easily pretended Rob was female in any position. In any case, Glasser didn’t seem too concerned about that. His hairy chest scratched at Rob’s smooth back, as Glasser humped his dick between Rob’s cheeks. “Shush…” Glasser said after he let out a groan. He kept on shushing Rob, even though Rob barely peeped. It was Glasser who kept grunting and clucking his tongue against his teeth whenever Rob didn’t move in the direction he wanted. Glasser brought the covers back up as though he wanted to cover this up, so no one could see what was happening. He lifted his hips up to give himself some leverage, then aimed his dick for Rob’s asshole. “Open that ass, punk, lemme in,” Glasser said, whispering breathlessly into Rob’s ear. He slapped one of Rob’s cheeks just as his dick pushed in. Rob grunted. At last, he finally made a sound, and Glasser erupted in a torrent of hushing. Rob squirmed as pressure hit his ass, an intense pushing sensation that was hard to take at first — this was all going so fast. After waiting for hours, Rob was finally getting rammed by his favorite hustler yet, he just needed a moment to adjust. But Glasser wasn’t waiting a moment. He gritted his teeth and pumped his hips once more, forcing more of his dick down and into Rob’s ass. He was relentless. He pushed Rob’s face into the mattress. “Lift ya asshole up.” He lifted his own body up as he rammed all the way in and out now. Rob had to raise his hips to meet Glasser’s cock, and soon Rob was knelt over instead of on all fours. He cried out and groaned, but Glasser again shushed him. “Quiet, keep it real quiet…” Glasser had gotten into the habit of plowing men on the downlow, in the darkness and quiet, during his first stay in jail. Back then, he had been in a small local jail with a sheriff who strictly forbade premarital sex and even circlejerking — that was what Glasser’s biker gang traditionally did when they got arrested, to “christen” their new cell. So Glasser had started ramrodding his cellmate with the lights off, as quietly as possible, and with blankets covering him. That was why now, even though the positioning made it awkward, Glasser tried to keep the blankets covering up his crotch and Rob’s ass. He had to use one hand on that so he could only use one hand to hold Rob in position. He pressed down on Rob’s head, which meant he couldn’t hold onto Rob’s ass — instead, every time Rob moved too much, Glasser growled to signal he should keep his ass high. And when Rob’s motion made the blanket fall away, Glasser smacked his asscheek. “Shush, I’m gonna nut now, I’m gonna nut…” As Glasser felt his orgasm approach, he collapsed onto the bed. This felt good. It was like making love to a woman. He pulled the covers over Rob all the way up to the neck. That made it easy, especially in the dark, to pretend Rob was a woman — Glasser wasn’t pretending that, but he felt he needed to leave the option open, so he could, and so he could tell others later (not that he would tell anyone about this) that he had had to pretend Rob was a woman in order to ram him. But actually, Glasser didn’t pretend that at all. He just wanted to bust a nut. He slid onto his side, and wrapped both hands all the way around Rob’s chest. He even kissed Rob’s cheek and nuzzled his neck as he orgasmed. “Ah, goddamn, yeah, keep ya asshole open, keep it open…” Glasser moaned right into Rob’s ear. His breath condensed on his cheek. “Keep it open, pansy, lemme fill you up…” Rob sprayed his own wad onto his belly and into his hands, just as he felt Glasser’s muscles spasm against his back. The petrichorian smell that clung to his unwashed body was overpowering now that it was trapped by the sheet, and since Rob was smaller than Glasser, he was buried in the scent of Glasser’s chest hair and armpit sweat. Cum flew into Rob’s ass. Glasser was one of those who stayed still as he came, his dick all the way in, spurting wad after wad of white-hot cum. It was creamy and thick, sticky, seeping into Rob’s flesh. He felt it flowing within him. Glasser was motionless for what felt like forever, as liquid orgasm coursed through his veins. He hadn’t blown a nut this good since prison. He attributed that to Rob having a nicer ass than most of the common prostitutes he hooked up with on the street. Being able to mess around in a bed instead of behind a dumpster helped a lot too. And Rob was clean enough to kiss, not that he intended to do any kissing. After one final spurt of jizz up Rob’s guts, Glasser began humping again, very slowly, just grinding, sliding his half-hard dick around within Rob’s ass. He grunted along with Rob when the pain grew more intense, and Rob clenched, sending a wave of pleasure through Glasser’s post-orgasmic body. “Shit…” Glasser said. He sighed, and for just a moment, he stayed there, breathing heavily, dick sliding moistly out of Rob’s ass. He kissed Rob’s cheek. It was affectionate and intimate, and Glasser loved it. But he couldn’t let himself continue that. He rolled over and off Rob’s back. Rob took a deep breath. “Thanks,” Rob said. Glasser stood and lit a cigarette — mainly because he knew Rob didn’t allow smoking in the house and he wanted to show he did whatever he wanted, that he wasn’t letting some man be the boss of him. The smell of tobacco filled the air. Glasser smoked quietly, standing near enough to the bed that Rob could hug his hairy thighs and clean his dick off with a tissue. Then Glasser grunted and walked out of the bedroom. “I’ll sleep on the couch, asshole,” he said. “You owe me fifty bucks for the car and two hundred for plowing you in the ass.” He paused. “Get me up at nine o’clock and drive me to the parole office. You better buy me breakfast too. Not Burger King.” “Okay.” Glasser went back into the other room to sleep on the couch. Last thing he did before going to sleep was sliding Rob’s ipad into the backpack he brought over here. No punk, he thought, deserves to go without being robbed.
“I already had some leave, two weeks ago. And I met this girl. She was beautiful, you wouldn’t even believe it, she looked like, bam!”
Cadet Pucci shook his head. His face was worried, his dimples deep. He licked his lips. “Name’s Cadet Pucci, sir. I was askin’ Sarge here, man, I was-” He stopped talking and winced as Sergeant Powers cleared his throat. Cadet Pucci started again, his voice stilted and awkward. “Good morning, sir. I was hoping I could get your assistance this morning. I am a cadet at Camp Pendleton, and I need a day off-“ “The fuck you do!” Sergeant Powers barked. Cadet Pucci again blanched and looked down at his feet. “I don’t need a day off. I want one. I’m a lazy guido bastard,” he said, looking to Powers as though expecting him to confirm it — he nodded his assent to Pucci’s words. Then Cadet Pucci continued. “I already had some leave, two weeks ago. And I met this girl. She was beautiful, you wouldn’t even believe it, she looked like, bam! She-” Cadet Pucci stopped himself, his hands fluttered by his sides like he wanted to mime out the silhouette of her body. He cleared his throat. “Well, she was hot as a frying pan, shit! And she’s moving to Georgia, so tonight is the last time I might see her. And I asked my sergeant if I could move a day of leave up. I wouldn’t even have to miss any training, I could leave at night-“ “Tell him why I said no,” Sergeant Powers said gruffly. He placed one hand on Cadet Pucci’s shoulder and squeezed. “I… I have not always been followin’ the rules,” Cadet Pucci said. “I snuck out before. That was just to get laid though. I didn’t love that girl.”
The younger man was just as alluring as Powers and arguably even more sexy in a classic sense. The cadet had a Hollywood-handsome dimpled face, kind eyes and it was apparent he sported a six-pack under his t-shirt. The younger cadet was smooth, pert and taut, with dark hair and skin, an olive complexion and deep, dark eyes. He wore a crew-cut, and a faded green t-shirt with short shorts, both of which appeared to be Marine Corps-issued. They were wrinkled as though he had been roused from bed early in the morning to come here.
He was black as twilight, and the clothes were fine, tailored, brightly-colored, and seemingly real, not a costume. How many Republican political volunteers were black men with actual pimp clothes? Probably very few. This could only be a real pimp. He was tall, kind of lean but powerfully built, with a harsh face and a long scar from his chin to his cheek. He looked like he thought he was more handsome than he was, and he probably was very handsome as a younger man. Now he was craggy and scarred, with the despirate cast-iron look of an ex-con.
