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.
Hark was tall and broad-shouldered, built like a jolly truck, with a hefty frame and a perfect six-pack. He was long-legged and long-armed, and he wore only short black shorts that extended just a few inches onto his thighs. Rob could tell his shorts were so short he had shaved the top of his pubic hair or it would have poked out above the elastic. He was the handsome blond with a bashful tangle of hair and a perfect body. Rob was entranced by the beads of sweat clinging to the pit in the small of his back — there were presumably fine little hairs there collecting the sweat — Rob knew most men had that, but he couldn’t see them because Hark was blond and his skin there was light — and he wanted to suck up every salty droplet. Hark’s shorts had slipped a bit as he walked to the parking lot, so the top of his asscrack was visible. He had big plump cheeks that Rob wanted to put his face between and blow. His asscheeks were pale as porcelain, but his shoulders and his face were browned by the sun.
The sun shone brightly, and it lay a blanket of heat upon the beach. He hoped it wouldn’t dissuade the men from coming out, and indeed, the women soon proved an irresistible siren. This splendorous slice of California beach always attracted more women than men. That’s because there were three university campuses nearby, and all three were mostly women. By eleven o’clock, sun-tanned young men were gathering in dribs and drags, and they made eyes at the girls, who made eyes back at them, and then mostly nothing happened, but it was cute to watch. As the day wore on, San Guapo filled with college kids on spring break, including plenty of hefty, tanned and muscled young men who needed beer money and a ride home. Girls were too drunk to fuck most of the time, so the boys were frustrated and horny. It was prime hunting grounds for Rob. He decided to go back to his hotel a little before noon. This part of the beach was filling up with family-types — women in one-piece bathing suits, carrying babies, and balding gray-haired men with paunchy bellies — so Rob left. Once the evening came he figured he’d be able to go back out, the beach would be crawling with young studs once again. There was a crowd of people near the hotel’s part of the beach. Rob was interested and went closer — he didn’t normally hang out at the hotel’s bit of beach because his experience suggested those were the most scrubbed-clean, unexciting and banal beaches of all. It was impossible to do anything fun with corporate security goons on the lookout everywhere.
Rob isn’t interested in volleyball, until he overhears that one hunky player is in need of a few dollars. That’s something Rob can provide, in exchange for a swing on his alpha male meat!
Can Rob satisfy this volleyball jock’s carnal desires?!
Rob happily munched on a taco, sitting on a bench near the beach. He watched the sorority girls splash each other. The sun shone brightly, and it lay a blanket of heat upon the beach. He hoped it wouldn’t dissuade the men from coming out, and indeed, the women soon proved an irresistible siren. This splendorous slice of California beach always attracted more women than men. That’s because there were three university campuses nearby, and all three were mostly women. By eleven o’clock, sun-tanned young men were gathering in dribs and drags, and they made eyes at the girls, who made eyes back at them, and then mostly nothing happened, but it was cute to watch. Rob was a little old for this stuff. They probably saw him as “the old guy over there”. Luckily, there were a few older guys — like really old — so Rob didn’t come across that old. One of them shot Rob a look like he was a creep. He was a bit young and slim for Rob’s taste, with a face like an overgrown infant, but Rob might have made an offer to him anyway. But Rob soon became entranced by a developing drama. That babyfaced fratboy seemed to have a crush on one girl who wanted nothing to do with him, while a different, somewhat thicker girl was all over him. There was also a handsome dark-skinned man with long messy hair. Was he Brazilian? Rob overheard an accent, but he couldn’t quite place it. The man had a perfect six-pack, which Rob adored. He was a great admirer of the male form. But the Brazilian man — if that was indeed what he was — did not look like a good prospect. He flashed a wad of cash when talking to a girl. A handsome man with cash and a girl already swooning over him was not likely to be willing to let Rob swing on his meat for a few dollars. That’s what he was hoping to find today on San Guapo Beach. Rob was patient. He didn’t mind waiting. He loved beaches. He would gladly spend all day, or even multiple days, hanging out and waiting for a desperate man who might let him take a swing on their meat. As the day wore on, San Guapo filled with college kids on spring break, including plenty of hefty, tanned and muscled young men who needed beer money and a ride home. Girls were too drunk to fuck most of the time, so the boys were frustrated and horny. It was prime hunting grounds for Rob. He decided to go back to his hotel a little before noon. This part of the beach was filling up with family-types — women in one-piece bathing suits, carrying babies, and balding gray-haired men with paunchy bellies — so Rob left. Once the evening came he figured he’d be able to go back out, the beach would be crawling with young studs once again. For now though, he was at a loss for what to do. There was a crowd of people near the hotel’s part of the beach. Rob was interested and went closer — he didn’t normally hang out at the hotel’s bit of beach because his experience suggested those were the most scrubbed-clean, unexciting and banal beaches of all. It was impossible to do anything fun with corporate security goons on the lookout everywhere. The Top Inn Hotel staff was here, Rob could see them scattered about, looking terrified of the crowd they had created. But the onlookers weren’t focused on anything but the match: Volleyball. It was a volleyball game. It was important enough for ESPN2 to be there filming. Now that Rob saw that, he recalled having seen a sign in the hotel to that effect. Was this a pro volleyball match? Was pro volleyball even a thing? He had no idea. Maybe Olympics qualifying or something. Rob pushed into the crowd to watch. There were two teams of six playing. One was clearly the “away-team” — they were either Australian or New Zealander, judging from the flags on their shorts. The other were presumably locals, or at least American. With some graceful shoving and sliding through the crowd, Rob got to the front, close enough that he could see the action and hear the grunts of the players when they struck the ball. But he got to the front of the crowd only moments before the match was over. He had little interest in volleyball itself, so he didn’t much care about missing the game. What he was sorry he missed was the guys — especially one guy in particular. He was on the US team. He was tall and broad-shouldered, built like a jolly truck, with a hefty frame and a perfect six-pack. He was long-legged and long-armed, and he wore only short black shorts that extended just a few inches onto his thighs. Rob could tell his shorts were so short he had shaved the top of his pubic hair or it would have poked out above the elastic. That volleyball player had a physique that Rob ached to admire. He wanted to taste his sweat-dappled shoulders so bad it hurt. He needed him. He wanted to suck the scruff off him. The blonde volleyballer ran his fingers through his confused blond mop of hair and said something frustrated, his words lost in the thrum and clamor of the dissipating crowd — his team had lost, and it seemed he and his teammates were upset with each other. They good-naturedly smiled for the ESPN2 cameras and shook their opponents’s hands, but they didn’t like it. Rob could sense it in them. Rob milled about. He wanted that volleyball player. The man was obviously handsome enough to get a girl if he wanted it, but he seemed depressed. The women flocked to the winning team from down under — not only had they won, they had adorable accents. And Rob had to admit, they also had physiques he could get down with. But they were not for Rob, he had eyes only for his beloved blond buck. He just needed to find a way to get him. Rob bought a bottle of water and drank it as though it was an important activity he couldn’t leave and do, so nobody noticed he was milling around for no reason. He waited for the herd to thin, and the cameras went into a van parked at the hotel. The excitement, such as it was, disappeared. The argument between the blond and his teammates erupted out in the parking lot. Rob had casually walked out that way when they did. He didn’t catch the beginning of the argument, but he saw it end. “I told you that wouldn’t work! Why won’t you listen to me?!” “Now we’re out ten grand-“ “Oh please, he was twenty minutes late, we nearly forfeited-“ “Maybe you ought to show up to practice once in a while!” “Hey fuck you, none of this was my fault!” “I’m the team captain, and I said we should-“ “Then it’s your fault!” As they argued, they climbed into a jeep. At first Rob thought they were all going to squeeze into one soft-top jeep (with the soft-top removed, so there was plenty of room, more or less). It looked that way. But then just four of them slipped into that jeep, leaving two behind to continue arguing as though they didn’t notice the foursome in the keep was leaving without them. “I told you that I had the better strategy-“ “But you never showed up to practice to tell us about it!” “Oh come on, I skipped like two practices!” “Yeah, but they were last week. You were out of practice today. You cost us that match, Hark!” “Don’t you make accusations, you little pisshole, you served the ball like a goddamn cripple that one time-!” “I made one error the whole game!” That blond — Hark was his name, it seemed — threw his hands in the air. He was the handsome blond with a bashful tangle of hair and a perfect body. Rob was entranced by the beads of sweat clinging to the pit in the small of his back — there were presumably fine little hairs there collecting the sweat — Rob knew most men had that, but he couldn’t see them because Hark was blond and his skin there was light — and he wanted to suck up every salty droplet. Hark’s shorts had slipped a bit as he walked to the parking lot, so the top of his asscrack was visible. He had big plump cheeks that Rob wanted to put his face between and blow. His asscheeks were pale as porcelain, but his shoulders and his face were browned by the sun. “Well it cost us ten grand!” the other guy said. He threw his hands in the air. “I’m walking back!” he snapped, as though he had any other choice. The jeep had gone. Hark stood there watching him go. He put his hands on his hips and ran his fingers through his hair. He scowled, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He forced an awkward smile on his face. Then he turned around and nearly ran into a complete stranger: Rob. “Ah! Hey. Hi,” Hark said with a grunt. He was normally charming and outgoing, but it was hard to restart himself after that fight with his friends. It took him a moment to switch gears. He had a naturally jolly face when it wasn’t tense with frustration. “Are you okay?” “Yeah… Yeah, I’m cool,” Hark said. He shrugged. “I just… Things didn’t turn out how they were supposed to.” He added, “Obviously”, because he assumed Rob was a fan and was as disappointed as he was that his team lost. “You poor baby… you wanna tell me about it?” Hark looked at him suspiciously. “Who’re you?” “I’m Rob Winthrop,” he said. “Why don’t you come back to my hotel? I’ve got some weed. I’m not very good at rolling joints, but if you can roll one up for me-“ “Okay,” he said flatly. Then he blushed. “I mean… yeah, cool. I can roll joints. And I haven’t smoked in awhile cuz I was preparing for this match. Some good that did me.” “I saw your match. You were really good,” Rob said. He didn’t mention that he watched about thirty seconds of it. “What was that fight all about?” Rob of course didn’t really care. He was just making conversation. Hark explained to him all about the team’s conflicts as they walked back to the hotel, and Rob listened the best he could manage given the dullness of the subject. He had literally nothing to offer to a conversation on volleyball strategy and training regiments. Once Hark — Keith Harkness was his name, Hark to his friends — once Hark got into talking about it, his natural charm took over, and he forgot that this was a kind of weird experience — running into a random man and going back to his hotel room to smoke weed. The smoking weed part was pretty normal for Hark. The rest of it was odd. This wasn’t the first time Hark had met some fans he didn’t know and gone somewhere with them. It was weird that Rob was just one person and that he brought Hark back to his hotel room. Hark thought that was odd. But not bad, after all, and he really did want to smoke a joint. That would relax him after that disappointing match and the fight with his teammates. Later, after it was all over, he was stoned enough to get paranoid and wonder what would have happened if Rob was an axe murderer. But that did not occur to him until long after it didn’t happen. “Man, volleyball used to be fun,” Hark said as they got to the room and Rob unlocked the door. Hark sighed. “I started playing volleyball when baseball got too serious in high school. People would get in fights about it and shit, Coach Shithead yelling at me. I just wanted to lay back and toss the ball around with my buddies, broh.” “Uh-huh,” Rob said. He shut the door once Hark was inside. “But now volleyball is all about making it to practice every day no matter what, and my girlfriend dumped me because I went to this match instead of her niece’s christening… it was complicated, but she’s got like, eight sisters, y’know, I can’t go to all their stupid shit. That’s like… all the time, y’know? They have so many kids — christenings like every week! I don’t have time for that! I went to her cousin’s friend’s baby shower! I didn’t get any credit for it because she got in a fight with her friend.” “Uh-huh,” Rob said, rolling his eyes. “The weed’s in this box.” “Hell yeah.” Hark’s emotions dwindled once he saw the weed and had a task to complete. He didn’t even just roll one joint. He was stuck on auto-pilot, so once he started, he rolled the entire eighth of an ounce into small joints. He was an expert joint-roller, despite his big sausage-like fingers. Rob could actually roll great joints. He had only asked Hark to do it to get him in the hotel room. In fact, two joints Rob had rolled last night were sitting in the box. Hark didn’t notice them or realize it suggested Rob was lying about being unable to roll joints. As Hark worked on the joints, Rob cleared his throat. “So… were you counting on the money from that match?” Hark nodded. “I kinda need it. I bought this jet-ski last month, and uh… the salesman misled me about the monthly bill.” He blushed. “I mean… It was complicated. There’s fees and like… percents.” “Oh, you poor baby,” Rob said. He patted Hark on the bare meat of his shoulder. It was firm and warm from the sunlight and moist from his sweat. “I could help.” “What?” “If you ram me in the ass and you make me feel good like I know you can,” Rob said, “I’ll give you two grand. I know that’s not as much as you were gonna make-“ “That’s more than I was gonna get it from it. We had six guys and ten grand, I was getting less than two grand out of it,” Hark blurted out. He bit his lip and shifted his weight uncomfortably, like he wished he hadn’t said that so eagerly. “Plus there’s taxes, I mean… you’ll be giving me cash, right?” “Right. No taxes at all. So this is a lot more than you’d be getting if you had won.” Hark laughed again, a nervous quaver in his voice. “That’s weird, broh.” “I know,” Rob said. “I’ll jerk you off so good. I bet I do it better than any woman you’ve been with. I have a nice tight ass too.” “Really?” Hark laughed. “I mean…” He blushed. “I guess… Yeah… That’s cool.” Rob didn’t want to dawdle. He immediately pulled Hark’s shorts down — Hark had to lift his ass to give Rob easy access to his crotch — and bared his dick. He didn’t wear any underwear under those shorts. Rob had guessed as much seeing his cock and balls flop around when he had jumped and run across the volleyball court. But it was nice to see it in person. He had a big meaty dick just like his body, all thick and girthy and strong, pale like his skin. His pubic hair was deep black though. Hark sucked in his breath and held it in. His cheeks blushed a deep ruddy tone that made Rob laugh quietly. Hark held an unlit joint in his hand as he sat on the edge of the hotel bed, shorts down, looking like he expected to get smacked in the balls any moment now. He was ready to wince. “Relax, Hark…” Rob said. He made his voice as feminine as possible to put Hark at ease. Then he lowered his head and kissed the tip of his dick. It tasted like the beach, like flesh after sitting in the sun for hours. It radiated warmth, and the flavor of salty sand hit Rob’s tongue, as did the years of muscle-memory and strategy from Hark’s volleyball career. His hands roamed up Hark’s broad chest, while his mouth opened to swallow the tip of his manhood. “Ah, oh…” Hark grunted like he had thought this would be painful and was surprised it wasn’t. He opened his eyes just in time to see Rob deep-throat him to the root. A gasp escaped from Hark’s lips. He lifted his ass up off the bedspread, supporting himself on the palms of his hands. He was exhilarated suddenly, his anxiety vanishing in the face of the intense pleasure that rocketed through him. He had been hornier than he thought. He was so upset about the match and nervous about being on TV, angry at his teammates and anxious at the situation with Rob that he hadn’t really given much thought to how this would feel. He had thought it was something he would just get over because he needed the money. It would be like mopping a floor — not pleasant by any means, but not the worst way to make a few dollars, and once you got started, you could just put on some Jimmy Buffett and think about something else. That was what he did now. He put Jimmy Buffett on his cell phone, the tinny speakers filling the air and overpowering the sound of the dome. Hark had trouble concentrating after a few seconds because it felt so good. His hands shook with his cell phone hovering above his body before he could gain enough focus to get the music started. The lit joint fell loose on the bed, both Hark and Rob having forgotten about it. His dick rocketed to full erection in Rob’s mouth as Rob slammed his own head down deeply. His nose nuzzled the silky pubic hair of Hark’s crotch, while his hands reached up to tweak both nipples at once. Hark had big hefty pecs — Rob had been mesmerized watching them bounce when he jumped during the game, and now they bounced because they flexed under his fingertips. “Goddamn!” Hark threw his head back and breathed through his gritted teeth. He laughed. “I never had dome like this.” He peered down at Rob, who greedily, moistly suckled on his dick as though trying to remove it. He slurped on it so hard it almost hurt, and Hark laughed harder to cover up his nervousness. The sour and salty taste of precum hit Rob’s tongue. He guzzled it all down, making eye contact with Hark’s surprised face. The moist sounds of Rob gurgling on precum were loud enough to overpower the sound of Jimmy Buffett singing about the last mango in Paris. “Are you ready to stick it in me? I wanna feel you inside me,” Rob said. He grinned and stood. Precum flowed freely down the shaft of Hark’s dick even though Rob wasn’t touching it now. Hark clapped his hands, eyes giddy and heart beating. He’d never actually had anal sex — his dick was too big for any of his girlfriends to do that. He’d always wanted to try it though. Rob rubbed lube into his own ass and bent over. He was going to sit on Hark’s lap, but Hark stood — he thought it seemed more manly to bend Rob over the bed so Hark could be on top. “Ah, man…” Hark laughed again, as he always did when he was nervous. His cock throbbed. Precum dripped down his shaft. He ran his fingers through his tangled blond mop again, then watched Rob spread his cheeks. His tight dark hole winked, beckoning. Hark gulped. Was he really going to do this? Would he tell people about it? If not, he’d have to pretend he was still in need of money to pay for the jet ski. Hark took a deep breath and slipped his dick in, just the tip at first. He felt resistance and stopped. He bit his lip. A bit more slid into Rob’s ass, which was well-lubed enough it felt like a trap, like quicksand and once Hark’s dick touched it, it was slowly sucked in more and more. It was awkward, weird, his asscheeks strangely cold. It didn’t feel good at all at first — it wasn’t painful, it just didn’t feel like anything. Hark wondered if he was going to have to stop this. And then a wave of pleasure hit him. He had been so nervous it didn’t happen right away. Once it did, however, it felt better than he thought possible. It was way better than being with a woman, he realized, because there was less pressure — he was so sure that Rob wanted him badly that it didn’t matter if Hark didn’t do it that good, or did it for too long or too short a time, or if his dick was too big, small, skinny or thick. He could just go with all his might without worrying about any of that. He gripped Rob’s asscheeks and forced his dick in until his balls slapped against Rob’s flesh. A surge of sensations hit Hark, whose smile turned to an intense grimace. He let out a long low howl that was audible outside the hotel room. Rob used one hand to jack himself off, while his other tightened into a claw that dug into the bedspread beneath himself. He panted, the potent feelings that coursed through his veins growing with each thrust of Hark’s dick into him. “Oh god, shit, yeah, broh,” Hark cried out. He realized he was being loud — he had a deep voice so it carried well, it was difficult for him to say anything very quietly — but he couldn’t help it. It felt so good it was like losing his virginity all over again. He sprayed a massive wad into Rob’s ass, great creamy wads of it coating Rob’s insides and seeping into him. Hark’s heavy balls crawled up in his sac, and still more sticky cum flowed into Rob. Rob shot his own wad too, into his palm and on the mattress beneath him. But he stayed there, letting his ass get it hard over and over. Hark didn’t stop even when he was done. He kept moved his dick around as it limpened, turning all the creamy cum in Rob’s ass into a big wad of foamy juices that soaked onto the sheets. “Damn…” Rob howled as loud as he could — which wasn’t very loud. When Hark’s dick finally plopped out, Rob sighed and shuddered. His exquisitely sensitive ass was so potent it hurt and he couldn’t breathe; it was all he could do to experience the climax rocketing around inside him. Then, Rob collapsed in a sweaty heap on the bed. He looked up at Hark’s ruddy body. “You wanna lay with me for awhile? The cash is in my pants pocket.” Hark didn’t respond for a long time. He was too engrossed in his own thoughts, trying to decide what to do — should he leave or stay to cuddle? Should he do it again? If so, should he demand more money? He found the cash in Rob’s pocket, but still wasn’t sure. Then he saw that tender ass, plump and bare and ready for him to go again. “Aw, hell,” Hark said. He climbed into bed and lay next to him. “I guess I could give you your money’s worth.” He placed his arms behind his head, accentuating his chest muscles and baring his armpits. He looked surprised to see Rob smile and suck on his nipples. Rob licked his chest and his neck. Hark sighed. “Thanks, man.” He found the joint he had dropped earlier, which singed the pillow, and he puffed on it. “No, thank you,” Rob said. For now, he thought, he was right where he wanted to be. He had found the kind of man he was hoping to find when he came to California.
When Yoder’s leave from the lumber camp goes wrong, he’s got no choice but to spend the night with Cooter! Cooter’s a filthy, hairy redneck with some curious ideas on what men can do on lonely nights…
Can Yoder handle the kind of sweet release Cooter’s seeking?!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Yoder assumed he would get laid on his night out. He had spent two weeks living in a remote camp in the middle of nowhere, working as a lumberjack on a remote tree farm in West Virginia. It was just him and about two dozen roughnecks like him, no women, for weeks. The work was arduous, and Yoder’s muscles ached so bad they were numb some days. Even today, when he was off all day, he struggled to get out of his bunk. His back and his legs and his shoulders ached like a Monday morning, and he could still feel the vibrations of yesterday’s chainsaw reverberating through his body. Needless to say, the lumberjacks all planned on fucking whores when they finally got a night off in town (the “town” being Laramy, West Virginia). They done been talking about it for weeks even before Yoder showewd up — some them working-harders been living there in the woods for a couple months already. This was Yoder’s first job of this sort, but the others was old hats at it, and some had done been lumberjacking for decades. They steady procured a prostitute on their first night off, they did declare. It was a tradition of sorts. Or maybe “tradition” was overselling it. They was just horny, and they don’t got the patience, stature or stability needed to attract a woman as a partner. Their only outlet — Yoder’s only outlet — was a prostitute. That made Yoder nervous. He ain’t never had been with a prostitute. He was raised a God-fearing lad, and he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. He was afrighted for his very soul. But he don’t admire to be left out, so he shown up to the alley behind the late-night bar in Laramy at the designated time with money in his pocket. There was a pimp there — dressed in a resplendent multicolored suit — and a bevy of women. One by one, the roughnecks did choose a woman. That included this fat-ass Pollack who talked like he had gotten one of his extra chins stuck between his teeth, a half-Mexican who was the most racist son of a bitch Yoder had ever met and a gibbering hillbilly who had Mountain Dew for brains. None them got any trouble hiring a woman for the night, or for a couple hours at least. But Yoder done arrived there last, and by the time it was his turn, there were no women left. The pimp shrugged and said sorry, that was it, he don’t got any more hos. He walked away, leaving Yoder there, dejected and alone. Alone save for Cooter. Jethro “Cooter” Wilde was the tallest lumberjack at the camp and the biggest one too. He was one them with experience, having done work as a lumberjack much of his life, and he had bulging muscles, a powerful body and a hairy chest. He spoke with a hoarse, gravelly voice from his constant smoking, and he was so loud and rambunctious that Yoder considered getting a hotel room just for himself, even without a whore — he didn’t much like the idea of spending the evening in camp with no one but Cooter to keep him company. They could have drank alone in a bar, but that seemed pointless if there was no chance of getting laid (and in this rural area inhabited almost entirely by roughneck men, the chances of getting laid by a non-prostitute approached zero — even meeting a woman was a slim prospect). It was cheaper to drink back in the camp, so that was what they decided to do. But when they got back to the cabins they had done built — first step on the job had been building their own cabins — they had locked up the stash. That wasn’t to keep Yoder and Cooter out, it was because another fracking company crew was working nearby and they had a reputation for stealing beer. Arnie ain’t think anyone would be here tonight. So they ate dinner and then went to bed, both Yoder and Cooter too depressed to do much else. The lack of sex didn’t seem like a big deal to Yoder really, he was ambivalent about prostitution anyway. Well, not ambivalent, opposed. But he would have done it. He thought now he would have done it. He had a girlfriend before coming to work at the lumberjack camp, and he missed her more than he thought possible. Not just her body either, but including her body. She loved to fuck. If nobody ever brung up the prostitute thing, Yoder would have been fine. If nobody ever done invent prostitution, it wouldn’t have even occurred to him that he was missing out on a chance to fuck this weekend. No way to get a girlfriend living as a lumberjack out in the woods, so there was no way to fuck. But there was a way to fuck without a girlfriend, and Yoder had missed out on it. Being so close to getting laid left him horny and unable to think about anything else. He even had the money to pay for it still in his pocket. But now here he was, trying to sleep in the cabin he shared with nineteen other men. It smelled like body hair and like sweat and engine grease and sawdust. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see that old girlfriend again. Just hear her voice. Or maybe hearing her voice would tantalize him all over again. “Hey… Yoder…” came Cooter’s gravely voice from his upper bunk on the other side of the cabin. “What?” He jumped down from his bunk. His massive body jiggled as he stretched his legs and came over to Yoder’s side. “I can’t sleep,” he said. “I’m too horny.” “Me neither.” Yoder paused. “You wanna take a turn in the porn shed?” That was a tool shed near the living quarters. Inside was a trunk filled with old-fashioned porn magazines (it also had tools). The roughnecks took turns jacking off there at night, and sometimes they didn’t even take turns. No room for squeamishness in Lumber Camp D. Yoder thought it was gross — he did it, of course, but in his mind, men should pretend they didn’t masturbate. He didn’t see the attraction of making everyone cum on the same photo in the same magazine until the entire thing was wrinkled and soggy, pages stuck together. Yoder didn’t like to touch it. Some of the others, including Cooter, thought it was hilarious to make it filthy. “I don’t wanna jack off.” Cooter stood there like he was waiting for something. With only two men, the cabin had an eerie liminality to it that made the hair on the back of Yoder’s neck stand on end. He didn’t like being in camp without all the people. It felt like a post-apocalyptic hauntscape. Cooter cleared his throat. “Okay… then I guess go back to bed?” Cooter took a deep breath. “You wanna… do somethin’?” “What?” “I mean… we could share mouth.” Cooter had suggested that before. Back when he was a young man, he claimed, there was no porno shed, or at least there was no porno. The lumberjacks traded mouths to get their nuts off. Seemed gross to Yoder. It was gross. Yoder didn’t even like getting dome that much. Sure, it’d be nice, but it was no ass. Yoder loved ass for sure. After a long pause, Yoder said, “Are you serious?” Cooter nodded. He sat down on the edge of Yoder’s bunk. “Come on… if you swallow my dick, you know, full mouth, I’ll let you stick me up the ass.” “What? Really? Yeah, I mean…” Yoder blurted out without thinking about it. In his mind, he wasn’t agreeing to do that, he was agreeing that it was a good trade, it was beneficial for him — Yoder would be getting more than he gave. He wasn’t saying ‘yes’, per se, even if the thought of getting his dick in some booty was tantalizing. Yoder’s stiffy was still tenting his boxers. Cooter had a well-muscled ass, and Yoder was no stranger to cornholing a man when he got to — Yoder was from Smashwood Trailer Park, where cornholing a hobo was a veritable rite of passage. But Cooter? He was hairy, sweaty, big… Yoder mighta said no if he got time to think about it, but Cooter took his agreement as a yes and ran with it, and by the time Yoder was brainstorming how to say no, Cooter was dropping his drawers. “Oh thank god,” Cooter said. He flopped his fat cock between his fingers, swaying it left and right. This was all happening very fast. Yoder still lay on his side on his bunk, and now Cooter sat naked right next to him. His broad, plump asscheeks spread out on the mattress. Yoder looked at the hair of his ass with considerable discomfort, both because he could only imagine Cooter farting onto Yoder’s mattress right now and because he was nervous about getting up into that hairy, massive ass. He was not going to be able to pretend he was with a woman. But Yoder didn’t want to back out. He remained on his side but curled up around Cooter’s body so his head was near Cooter’s lap. The smell of cockmeat assaulted his nostrils. Cooter had a big dick, which he whacked across Yoder’s face. Cooter laughed. “Can you not fuckin’ hit me with your cock?” Yoder asked. He flared his nostrils, not that Cooter could see it in the dark. Cooter chuckled like Yoder was an idiot for asking. “Sorry, I was just playin’, hoss,” He sighed at the serious expression on Yoder’s face, dimly illuminated by the dim light at the cabin’s door. “Just get to it, Yoder, don’t blueball me. Make it nice and wet.” Yoder sighed, but he cut his sigh short because his mouth filled with humid air from Cooter’s hairy crotch, as Cooter stood and faced Yoder’s bunk, his barbaric dick dangling free near Yoder’s head. The air tasted like cock already. Cooter was a hairy redneck with a wild bear, and his wild furry crotch was dense and bushy. His dick was even bigger than it seemed from a distance because so much of it was concealed behind his pubic hair. But Yoder didn’t want to put this off any longer, or Cooter was going to get angry, and Yoder’s cock was crying out for ass. Yoder opened his mouth and swallowed his dick down to the root. Instantly a few sensations overwhelmed Yoder — first, there was disgust, as Cooter’s cock tasted like distilled manhood, like Yoder was licking every inch of his body rather than just sucking on the tip of his dick. Second, it didn’t taste anywhere’s near as bad as he had predicted. Maybe it was just because he was horny, Yoder thought, but this really wasn’t too bad. It tasted a lot like dirty pussy. Of course he didn’t want to admit that. His throat opened up as he forced himself to deep-throat Cooter, all the way to the root. He had a big cock so Yoder struggled to get it all down, but when he did, Cooter’s entire body writhed from intense pleasure. His nose nuzzled Cooter’s pubic jungle. That veiny beefy shaft throbbed in Yoder’s mouth. He let his tongue roam up and down the shaft because he knew he liked it when girls did that to him, and apparently Cooter enjoyed it too because he moaned and arched his back as Yoder did it. Yoder blushed — he hadn’t meant for it to look like he was good at this. “Hey… will you gimme a reacharound when you stick it in me?” Cooter asked, his voice quiet as though there was some chance someone might could have done snuck into their camp to hear him. He pulled his dick away from Yoder’s mouth, and Yoder held back a gag as he wiped off spitty tendrils connecting his face to Cooter’s cock. That made him gag again. “A reacharound?” Yoder’s voice was clipped and moist. He drooled because he didn’t want to swallow what was in his mouth, and he didn’t want to spit on the floor of the cabin he lived in. “Yeah. Do I gotta explain what that is?” “Well… I suppose I can guess,” Yoder said. “I thought you wanted mouth?” “I do. I did. I can’t conc’ntrate on it knowin’ what’s ’bout to happen,” he said. “So if’n you j’st gimme a reacharound while you do it, t’won’t be that bad..” “Fine, yeah, I’ll jack you off,” Yoder said, glad to stop tasting his nasty dick. He stood up next to his bunk and quickly dropped his sweatpants, while Cooter got on his knees and bent over. That’s when Yoder realized how awkward this was gonna be. Cooter was quite a bit taller and a lot heavier than Yoder. Even on his knees, the size difference was substantial, and Yoder hadta get him to lower his ass so Yoder could get it in him. Yoder was on his tiptoes to get his dick lined up with Cooter’s ass. He felt small and skinny next to Cooter. In comparison to these other roughnecks, Yoder came across like a skinny prettyboy. That’s how they saw him. He wasn’t, not really, he just wasn’t the kind of raunchy-bearded hard-living freak who spent his whole life wandering between prison cells, work-camps and oil rigs. And there was that hairy ass. Yoder hadn’t really thought about that until he saw it bent over before him, and now the time had come — he was going to put his dick in there. He felt like he was sticking it into a trap, but he was too horny to back out now. Besides that, he had already done his half. Quitting now would be humiliating. He pushed his limp dick between those cheeks, nestled in the thick fur of Cooter’s hillbilly ass. Cooter grunted as though he was already in pain, though Yoder hadn’t even penetrated him yet. His body hair was coarse and unpleasant, distinctly unfeminine, Yoder was unable to pretend it was a woman’s pubic hair. “You have a hairy ass, you fuckin’ redneck, shit…” Yoder gritted his teeth as he rubbed his dick in the hair of Cooter’s crack. Cooter laughed at him — he, like most of the other roughnecks in this camp, wore the redneck badge proudly. Much to Yoder’s surprise, his dick got hard quickly, despite the ass-hair. The tension and anxiety flowing through his veins probably helped, but he hadta admit that Cooter’s muscular ass was arousing. The cheeks were tight, but plump, and the hair was moist with sweat, so when he could stop thinking about what he was doing, he could imagine a woman. Yoder didn’t want to seem like he had trouble getting hard, so he quickly pushed his dick in, just the tip at first. He felt a surge of pleasure as his dick squeezed into Cooter’s tight asshole. He was not expecting it to feel this good. Cooter grunted and buried his face in his meaty forearm. He held his breath, biting his upper lip as he struggled to loosen his ass. His toes curled against the ground. “Open up, hoss,” Yoder said, chuckling as he imitated Cooter’s accent. Cooter grunted again, as though he didn’t appreciate Yoder’s joke, but Yoder didn’t care. He felt powerful, like he wasn’t the green rookie anymore. He felt like he had conquered Cooter, a much bigger and stronger man than he. Yoder’s hands flailed above Cooter’s body. Cooter’s back muscles writhed, his shoulders etched like a statue; there was a confederate tattoo on his spine, and a Bible verse printed in flowing script on his ribs, extending onto his back. With the tattoos and the undulating muscles, Yoder couldn’t imagine he was touching a woman’s back, which was why Yoder kept his hands away. But it was awkward to plow back and forth into his ass without touching Cooter. The more Yoder rammed his lower half at Cooter’s body, the fewer inhibitions he had, so his one hand separated the cheeks, ignoring the dense blanket of fur on Cooter’s ass. Meanwhile his other hand caressed Cooter’s back. His instincts took over, and all he could do was watch as his hand did what it wanted. The muscles beneath his grip writhed firmly like a layer of snakes below the skin. “Don’t forget, hoss, you gotta gimme that reacharound…” Cooter said, his voice pinched and tense from pain. Yoder had sort of forgotten that, or at least tried not to think about it. He sighed. His right hand moved from Cooter’s back muscles to his front. He had a hairy chest too, but Yoder moved down, through the dense thicket of fur there, until he felt coarse pubic hairs. Then he wrapped his hand around that cock, which felt greasy and slick from Yoder’s mouth. The saliva was evaporating from the shaft, but there was still enough there to provide some lubrication. He trembled as he gave it a stroke and felt Cooter’s entire body move. The dickshaft pulsated beneath Yoder’s fingers. Despite his discomfort with the situation, Yoder plowed harder and harder. His dick thrust into Cooter’s ass, each motion making Cooter gasp in a combination of pain and pleasure. Each thrust also sent tingles of desire up Yoder’s spine, making himg runt and groan along with Cooter. “Damn, hoss, you go hard…” Yoder was proud of that. He was smaller, weaker and less confident than Cooter in almost everything, so it felt good to know his dick caused Cooter some pain. He ground his dick in slowly, savoring the waves of pre-orgasmic pleasure that washed over him. “You got a nice ass, Cooter, tight as hell… Wish you’d shave your asshole though,” Yoder said. “Not a chance.” The crippeting of the crickets and spring peepers outside was deafening, but Yoder listened attentively to it so he would hear if the others returned to the site. The more excited Yoder was, the more paranoid he became that the other campmates would be back early. Yoder knew Cooter had more to lose than he did, at least right now, but he remained paranoid as his dick slammed in and out of Cooter’s ruddy ass. Yoder wasn’t sure he wanted to cum first, but he wasn’t able to prevent it. He thought it’d make him look like a wuss who couldn’t last a long time. But Cooter’s ass was tight, and not even the forest of hair that choked his asshole could prevent Yoder from cumming. He moaned and slammed his hips hard against Cooter’s plump blue-collar ass. Cooter’s cheeks jiggled like a stripper’s. Though Yoder would later call it weak to save face, the orgasm that wracked his mind and body was the most intense and potent of his life. His mind melted and his muscles all tensed at once. He felt victorious in a way he never had before, like he was extracting all of the manhood from Cooter, who cringed and writhed beneath Yoder’s much smaller body. “God damn, you hillbilly fuck! Hell yeah!” Yoder was unable to conceal his excitement anymore. His spine arched as his climax roiled through his frame. Cum spurted out and coated Cooter’s insides, his hot and creamy seed spreading within Cooter’s massive body. Yoder wasn’t sure how much he shot, but it felt like a lot, a bigger load than he had ever produced. Jet after jet of it angled into every corner of Cooter’s guts. It dripped out and down Cooter’s legs, getting tangled in the coarse hairs of his thigh. Cooter moaned and shuddered. His fingers gripped the mattress on the bunk, and he took a deep breath as his ass filled up with Yoder’s cum. When Yoder finally fell limp, his dick flopped out of Cooter’s ass. Yoder sighed with the power of his post-orgasmic pleasure, while Cooter sighed from relief that his ass was finally empty again. “Get back to my dick, hoss…” Cooter said. His voice was tight like he was still in pain. He sighed and got on his knees next to the bed, while Cooter rolled over. He winced and tentatively put weight on his ass. Yoder tried to hide how proud he was of the fact that his cock had hurt Cooter — Cooter was so much bigger than Yoder that it seemed reasonable to be proud of being able to hurt him. Yoder would have guessed that Cooter was big enough and tough enough to take any dick easily, if he had wanted to. Cooter struggled to settle on his ass. His dick was rock-hard, throbbing and ready — it felt like it was already near orgasm as Yoder gripped it again. It seemed harder than his own dick ever was. Was that an illusion, he wondered? Or was Cooter really as hard as rock? Regardless, Yoder swallowed it down, just like before. It tasted worse now, like salty cum as though Yoder’s load had come out Cooter’s dick. He tasted it for a few seconds before he realized it was precum. That made him gag, but Yoder didn’t stop. Cooter wrapped his hands around Yoder’s head and held on. He slammed his dick all the way — all his gentility was gone, like he had only been gentle about it before because he wanted Yoder to treat him gently when Yoder got him in the ass, or maybe it was because he now felt he needed to reassert his masculine dominance. Or maybe, Yoder thought, he was just so horny he couldn’t help himself. He throated Yoder hard, chuckling as Yoder gagged when his dick hit the back of his throat. He stopped moving with his cock all the way into Yoder’s throat, his shaft pulsating, the veins of his dick throbbing as Yoder sensed cum flowing towards the tip. That sensation — feeling semen flow through Cooter’s dick in his mouth, his balls crawling up in his sac, giant muscles tensing and relaxing in waves above Yoder’s head — made Yoder gag all over again. “Ah, yeah, makin’ love to yo’ throat, hoss, that’s what that is…” Cooter said with a groan and a laugh. Yoder had thought his own load was thick and plentiful, but that was nothing compared to what came out of Cooter’s cock. It felt like he was chugging it, and it flowed out in a constant stream. It coated Yoder’s tongue and the inside of his cheeks, and it sprayed down his gullet, while more dripped out past his lips. The taste was sour, sweet and salty all at once. It made Yoder’s eyes water the flavor was so potent, and he could sense its heat suffusing from his stomach to every corner of his belly. At last Cooter let go of Yoder’s head. Yoder pulled off and sputtered as cum dripped from his mouth. He held back a gag, then darted to the back door of the cabin to spit it up into the grass. “Thanks,” Cooter called out from the bunk. “You swallow dick good, hoss.” “Fuck you, you got a nice, tight ass. Or you did have a nice, tight ass anyway,” Yoder said with a nervous laugh, as he returned from the back door.. He stayed away from Cooter, whose limp dick still loomed large between his legs. They both tried to catch their breath. Then Yoder’s blood froze when he heard a truck engine rumbling outside the cabin. Raucous laughter emanated from outside, and Yoder jumped to his feet. He bumped into Cooter, who did likewise, and Yoder got a faceful of funk-sweat plastered all over his skin. The salt of Cooter’s chest hair and sweat trickled into Yoder’s mouth, making his lips pucker. Damn, those bitches is already asleep! I’m glad I got my nut off! They were back early. Yoder felt like he was covered in cum and it would be obvious what happened. Should he take the time to wipe his face off? Or just hide under the covers? Cooter strode outside, stark naked, totally confident, stretching his legs as he tried to hide the pain in his ass. He grabbed his shower stuff as he went — he was known for walking to the shower-tent naked, so that was a good idea. Yoder wished he had thought of it. He watched Cooter’s naked hairy ass jiggle as he walked outside. What’s up, boys? You fuck the shit outta those ugly whores?! You’re a damn pussy, Cooter. You could’ve had sloppy seconds, y’know. Did you and Yoder have a circlejerk? What? That’s what we all guessed you was doin’ back here. We ain’t do that. We just took turns in the porno shed. Yoder quickly wiped his face off with his own t-shirt, then darted underneath the sheet on his bunk. The whole mattress stank of Cooter and his hairy ass, but Yoder was terrified of being caught so that didn’t bother him. Would they see cum on his face? Had he wiped it all off? Would they smell the funk? The cabin door opened, and Yoder scrunched his eyes up to pretend to be asleep. He had, however, never been more awake in his life. He sighed and tried to pretend he was ignoring his campmates as they took their own clothes off, bragging about how hard they had fucked their respective whores. If only they knew, Yoder thought with a wry smile as he finally drifted off to sleep. A part of him was glad he hadn’t fucked a prostitute. That would have been immoral and expensive. It was better to swing on the downlow with Cooter. As a matter of fact, Yoder had another leave coming up in two weekends. He wondered if Cooter would be willing to take a second go. This, Yoder thought, just might make his time as a lumberjack a lot more satisfying.
One “good” (relatively speaking) part of coming to the state prison was that Ramon got to show off his substantial dick. Everyone assumed that since he was a little man, he had a small cock, and Ramon was glad to prove them wrong. It had been enough to make him into a celebrity on his first day. The Aryans called him the “Mexican wit’ a big prick”.
Ramon is a flamboyant twink behind bars, but his release is coming up soon. That’s when a guard brings him a special visitor… Barrack Zales is a new prison guard caught smuggling in drugs, which means he’s in for a special punishment.
This is a punishment that Ramon is gonna enjoy doling out!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
The night before Ramon’s release date, he couldn’t sleep. He had been dreaming of this day for what felt like a lifetime. He tossed and turned. It was the worst night in the state prison since his very first, when Ramon wept and trembled in fear until dawn. Now he thought he should feel good about his imminent release, and a part of him certainly did. But a part of him also wept and trembled in fear until dawn yet again. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he walked out those doors. He didn’t have a plan, aside from the vague boilerplate “integration plan” he had come up with during his legally-mandated meetings with a parole officer. When the first rays of sunlight came through the tiny window in one corner of his cell, Ramon’s heart skipped a beat. He got up and paced since he couldn’t sleep anyway. He could only walk three feet back and forth in his cell, so it his pacing was subpar, but that was the best that could be managed in his rinky-dink prison cell. Footsteps echoed in the silent corridor of the protective-custody cell block. There were three guards — including Officer Uglymug — escorting another uniformed guard that Ramon didn’t recognize. The other guard appeared to be new, with a clean uniform and an unfaded ID badge, polished black boots and an insecure swagger. Was he under arrest? His hands were behind his back as though handcuffed, but Ramon couldn’t see whether they were. Ramon’s anxiety about his imminent release diminished as he tried to figure out what was happening. Newly-hired guards sometimes thought they could smuggle drugs in and sell it to the inmates easily, since that happened in the movies all the time. But the state prison had ways of preventing that, and it was common for new guards to work a day or two and then be seen leaving the prison in handcuffs (they never served a sentence here). Officer Uglymug opened the door to Ramon’s cell. He smiled broadly. “You are one lucky sissy, Mister Mercado,” he said. “Meet Barrack Zales, a former guard here.” Barrack smiled wanly at Ramon. “Congratulations on your release,” Barrack said. His voice was deep and gruff, and he sounded confident, but it was a faux confidence, like he really was insecure but tried to hide it. “Thanks, Officer Zales,” Ramon said. “Don’t call him that,” murmured Uglymug. “He ain’t an officer.” “Oh… Okay, well, then, Barrack,” Ramon said. He stuck his hand out to shake, but Barrack was handcuffed, so all he could do was nod back. “Barrack here thought he could smuggle heroin into my prison,” Officer Uglymug said. “He wanted to get inmates like you addicted so he could profit off you-“ “That ain’t what I was planning!” “Oh? What was your plan again?” “I was… I mean… I wasn’t gettin’ no one addicted,” he said. “I was just gonna sell…” “You were going to sell drugs at inflated prices to people who would otherwise be in rehab, but aren’t since they get drugs from you,” Officer Uglymug said. “Can you explain the morality of that to me? It sure sounds-“ “Okay, we’ve been over this, man. I’m doing what you want,” Barrack said. He rolled his eyes. Officer Uglymug stared daggers at Barrack until the silence was so thick it could be stabbed with a shiv. Then he turned back to Ramon and smiled again. “But we decided to spare the taxpayers the expense of a trial. We think you can, uh… well, insert the law into Zales through the asshole, and I figured that’d be a good going-away present for you too.” Another long silence filled the cell. Ramon cleared his throat. “So… you want me to cornhole him? Instead of being arrested, he gets it up the ass from me?” Barrack flared his nostrils. “I’ll do whatever you want, man.” He flexed his biceps the best he could with his wrists handcuffed behind his back, and his big bear-like pecs jiggled beneath his uniform shirt. “I don’t care.” Despite his words, it sounded like he did care very much. He looked nervous and vaguely ill. He ignored it as Uglymug undid the buttons of his uniform shirt, which couldn’t come off without removing the handcuffs, but Uglymug let the shirt fall off his shoulders behind his back. Ramon sighed. “Hell yeah, come on in, Barrack. I’ll do you so good you decide to go to prison for fun.” Officer Uglymug laughed, but Barrack bristled and rolled his eyes, staying put until Uglymug shoved him forward. The Uglymug closed the door behind him. He remained outside Ramon’s cell though, watching through the cell bars. “Can I get the handcuffs off?” “No,” Uglymug said. He stood there with his arms folded over his chest once again. Barrack straightened his back, towering over Ramon. He struggled against the handcuffs on his wrists, muscles bulging as though he was seriously trying to tear the handcuffs apart with his raw strength. “Well, I guess… Why don’t we get started?” Ramon said. He pulled down the fly of Barrack’s uniform slacks and removed his throbbing slab of thick dickmeat. One “good” (relatively speaking) part of coming to the state prison was that Ramon got to show off his substantial dick. Everyone assumed that since he was a little man, he had a small cock, and Ramon was glad to prove them wrong. It had been enough to make him into a celebrity on his first day. The Aryans called him the “Mexican wit’ a big prick”. Now Barrack sighed and shook his head when he saw it. He looked away, and he gulped. The tension in the cell remained thick, as Ramon gently picked up Barrack’s meaty member. He swayed it back and forth in his hand. It was thick and juicy, and it made Ramon lick his lips. Then Ramon walloped Barrack’s dick with his own, and they sword-fought there — well, Ramon did, Barrack stayed still like a stone statue, wrinkling his nose, keeping his chin high, like he was pretending not to notice Ramon smashed both limp cocks together. Ramon liked the feel of Barrack’s fat limpness rubbing against his own, leaving a layer of masculine sweat and grime. The tension in the cell diminished, replaced by a comfortable arousal. Ramon’s hands roamed all over Barrack’s body. When he got to Barrack’s nipples, he tweaked one, then the other, then both, and Barrack twitched. His pecs rippled. Barrack bucked, and Uglymug laughed out loud. “You seriously uncomfortable with that shit, huh? You were never gonna like workin’ here,” Officer Uglymug said with a big grin on his face. “Can’t be squeamish if you gonna be a prison guard.” Ramon kept jousting with Barrack, who faced away from him, his body stiff but tense. Ramon’s cock was firming up, so their jousting turned rapidly from dickfat jiggling together to Ramon stabbing his erection into Barrack’s soft cock and trimmed pubes. Barrack wrinkled his nose. “Get on your knees,” Ramon said, then added, “Bitch!” Uglymug reacted with thunderous applause. Barrack sneered and lunged like he was going to punch Ramon, but his arms were still handcuffed, so Ramon held firm. He didn’t flinch. Barrach growled. “Get on your knees,” Ramon said again. Barrack gritted his teeth and sunk to the ground on his knees. His eyes narrowed into slits aimed up at Ramon. He was still much too tall to swallow Ramon’s dick like that. Ramon stood there with his hands on his hips. Even on his knees, Barrack’s face was even with Ramon’s bellybutton. Ramon rubbed his erect dick between Barrack’s massive pectoral muscles. Barrack ignored it. “Ya gettin’ titty-humped, nigga,” Officer Uglymug said. “I think you’re gonna have to go lower than that to swallow his dick.” “Take your time though,” Ramon said with a smirk. He really meant that, he was enjoying humping Barrack’s muscles. He wasn’t gonna cum like that, but Ramon was in no hurry. Anything to distract from the stress of his imminent relase was worth it. His dick rubbed on Barrack’s sternum, which made his pecs ripple, so Ramon switched to thwacked his erection on the meat of Barrack’s muscle. Barrack scowled but did open his mouth. He stooped over and took Ramon’s stiff dick past his lips. He gagged loudly, and spit choked down Ramon’s shaft, which he spat out. There was something defiant in his gag, like he was proving that he couldn’t do this. Little did he know — or maybe he did know — that a gag wasn’t gonna stop Ramon Mercado. Gagging made Barrack’s muscles flex, and it sent a squeezing shiver of pleasure up Ramon’s spine. He smiled. When Barrack had regained his composure, Ramon rammed his dick in, laughing as Barrack sputtered, eyes opening wide. Ramon’s cock throbbed in his throat, and since he was handcuffed, with his arms behind his back, he could do nothing but submit while Ramon drilled into him. “Yeah, make him choke!” “Hmmm…” Ramon gripped Barrack by the head and pushed his dick in, not throating him down like a lot of men in this prison do — Ramon had found his mouth was in strong demand during his time here — but more making love to his throat, humping his tongue, and making sure Barrack tasted Ramon’s cock with every inch of his mouth. “Gag him! Gag him! Gag him!” Uglymug chanted The tightness of Barrack’s throat was exhilarating. Every time he gagged on Ramon’s cock, it sent a wave of pleasure through Ramon’s body. He moaned and blushed at how intense his reactions were. He hadn’t topped anyone since well before coming to this prison, so it was nice to experience a hot mouth on his cock again, even if it was unwilling. Copious spit leaked out his mouth, as Barrack was unable or unwilling to swallow anything. He drooled up on Ramon’s shaft, his whole body buckling when he gagged. Ramon was gentle now that he was getting into it, forcing — gently — oh so gently — his cock down Barrack’s throat. When he did it slow enough, Barrack was unable to spit it out, as he could only retch. Ramon was in charge of his gullet though. He forced his cock down there then held it in place, as he played with Barrack’s face and head. He had handsome features, big ones too, Barrack was a large man with a big head and big everything on it. Ramon’s petite hands played with his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, his ears, and Barrack glowered and simmered, erupting in a furious choke every few seconds. At last, Ramon pulled his cock outta Barrack’s mouth, quickly lest he bust his nut. He did not want to finish this until he had gotten up Barrack’s behind. “Lay down on your back, here on the bunk,” Ramon said. He blushed as he pointed to his bunk. When Barrack hesitated, Ramon frowned. Officer Uglymug pulled out his cattle prod, which made Barrack roll his eyes and shake. He struggled to fit his broad body into the bunk. He was too tall, so his feet had to curl up so that his head could rest over the edge, and it was difficult to balance himself with his hands still cuffed behind his back. “Up like this, so I can really get deep in that throat,” Ramon said. He lightly tapped Barrack’s cheeks, then leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Barrack had nice, full lips and a big tongue, which lay in his mouth like a dead fish. He didn’t kiss Ramon back. He just stayed limp as Ramon explored his mouth. When his burgeoning orgasm had died down, Ramon placed his spit-dripping cock right at the entrance to Barrack’s mouth. Barrack’s lower lip quivered — it was his upper lip at the moment, because his head dangled upside-down over the end of the bed — as Ramon wiped precum off on his handsome face. His chin and cheeks were smoothly shaved. Ramon slid his dick over the man’s face until Barrack’s entire face glistened with pearly white pre-cum. He gagged every few seconds even when Ramon pulled his dick away, as the smell of precum had seeped into his skin. Ramon thwacked his erection on Barrack’s nose. There was a symbol of three claws tattooed onto Barrack’s neck. Ramon rubbed them with one thumb as he played with the precum on Barrack’s face. “What’s the significance of this tattoo?” Barrack bit his lip. “It’s a gangsta thing. You wouldn’t understand.” “You’re a gangsta?!” Officer Uglymug barked angrily. “What? Why did they even hire you? You got a fuckin’ neck tattoo…” “Fuck you, Uglymug.” “Shut up, you don’t get to call me that,” Uglymug said. “You fuckin’ bitch-ass-!” Barrack’s shouts were muffled moments later by Ramon’s balls, which dropped right into Barrack’s mouth. They were sensitive, and his mouth sent tingles of sensation up Ramon’s body, but Ramon did so mainly to shut him up. He didn’t want this to turn into a fight between Barrack and Uglymug. Ramon could end up blueballed. Instantly Barrack gagged on the sweaty ballflesh coating his tongue and slipping into his throat. His mouth quivered and the fluids pooled there, a mixture of Barrack’s and Ramon’s bodily secretions filling up Barrack’s mouth. Barrack’s mouth filled and overflowed with drool and ballsweat, as all his muscles flexed when he struggled not to retch. Ramon’s balls filled his mouth and tickled his throat. “Gargle, motherfucker,” Ramon said. He had to repeat himself as Officer Uglymug turned the cattle prod on again before Barrack did so. He wasn’t able to gargle in any meaningful sense, because as soon as he moved his tongue at all, he gagged profusely. He spat up a giant ball of spit that landed on the uniform pants he still wore. Ramon wiped up all the saliva he could with one hand and smeared it over Barrack’s face. “You are one nasty shit,” Officer Uglymug said, as though he was both impressed and sympathetic to Barrack’s struggle. “Open your mouth wider,” Ramon said. He demonstrated an open mouth. Barrack had a large mouth by nature, but Ramon thought he could do better. “Open that mouth, bitch.” Barrack looked away, then scrunched his eyes shut. “Nah. Look me in the eye like the bitch you are,” Ramon said. He was petite, even effeminate, so he knew he sounded ridiculous calling someone else a bitch. But that was what made it so humiliating for Barrack. “Shut up,” Barrack muttered, his voice weak cuz he was struggling not to gag. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide. “Let’s see how this does,” Ramon said. He pushed his dick in slowly, dragging it out so Barrack tasted every drop of salty precum on his tongue. Barrack held out until his nose nestled into Ramon’s crotch. His throat squeezed around Ramon’s shaft. But Ramon was relentless — he had been a bottom in prison for years, so he knew a lot of tricks to force someone into deep-throating a huge cock. “That was pretty good deep-throating,” Ramon said, as he let his erection slide out so Barrack could take a breath. “You’re learning… Good job.” “You fuckin’ pansy!” Barrack screamed. “That was rude,” Ramon said with a laugh. “I’ll give you a choice for this next part. Do you want to lick my ass? Or would you rather drink some piss?” “Fuck you!” “Both? Really? Officer Uglymug, did he really say he wanted to both lick asshole and drink piss?” “That’s what I heard. He said, ‘I love licking prostates, almost as much as I love drinking urine.’ I heard him say that,” Officer Uglymug said with a chuckle. “Thought it was weird, but you know… I don’t like to judge.” “That was a really good impression, Officer Uglymug. Sounded exactly like him,” Ramon said. He paused. “Maybe you can help with this. My dick is hard, and I’m not sure I can piss.” “I’d be glad to assist, inmate,” Uglymug said. He pulled out his thick cock, and he left it dangling out the fly of his uniform slacks. “Stick your tongue out, bitch,” Ramon said. When Barrack didn’t immediately comply, Ramon grabbed his tongue with his fingers and pulled. He had a notably long tongue, at least two inches sticking well out of his mouth. Ramon shuddered with anticipation. He had never gotten a rimjob like this. “Keep your tongue out. Remember when folks say you gotta lick ass, that isn’t really what they mean. You gotta stick your tongue inside my ass and lick the insides. Not the asscheek. There’s no point to licking an asscheek. Got that?” Barrack wiped away tears from his eyes. “Please! I-“ “That was a yes or no question. Do you understand?” “Yes!” “Good. Keep that tongue out. Move it around,” Ramon said. He faced his pale, smooth ass at Barrack’s face. “Move your tongue around.” He laughed as Barrack wiggled his tongue. Then Ramon planted his ass on Barrack’s face. Barrack bucked and screamed into Ramon’s asshole. His tongue flickered away at first, then gingerly touched Ramon’s hole. He gagged as Ramon’s ass-sweat dripped into his mouth. “Get that tongue in there,” Ramon said. He did not expect a real rimjob, but it was fun to try, and the delay meant he moved further away from the orgasm he could feel gathering deep within. Barrack struggled to make himself do it. His big tongue pushed into the hole, then out, then back in again. Each time he penetrated Ramon’s asshole, a wave of pleasure washed over Ramon’s body. Grinding his hips to get his ass lower, Ramon managed to literally sit on Barrack’s face. With Barrack laying on his back on the bunk, Ramon was supported entirely by his head, by his tongue sliding in and out of his slippery asshole. Ramon’s dick twitched and spasmed. Precum dripped from his shaft. Ramon threw his head back and moaned. He could have cum like this, from the intense pleasure emanating from his prostate. But he didn’t want to. He pulled away just in the nick of time. Barrack hoarsely belched and gasped for air. He sat up and took a deep breath. His reddish face looked away from Ramon until Ramon pulled on his handcuffs to get his attention. “Look me in the eye! Beg me for more ass!” “Please… Please… Uh, Inmate… Please… Let me lick your ass some more.” “What did I say? Are you supposed to be licking my ass?” “I mean… Let me lick your rectum or whatever,” Barrack said. Tears winkled in his eyes. He turned to Officer Uglymug. “Please… You can arrest me. I would rather be on trial. Please!” “Too late now,” Officer Uglymug said. “Besides, you don’t wanna know how they’d treat you when you are convicted. At least this will only last one day, Zales. You ready to drink some piss?” “No!” “Well, here it comes,” Officer Uglymug said. He had his hoggish prick out and aimed towards the bunk. After just a moment’s silence, he began pissing, a long, solid stream of acrid yellow piss arcing all the way to the bunk. It soaked into the mattress. It landed on Barrack’s leg. He squirmed and looked away, then he saw Ramon’s harsh glare. His big, muscled body crept forward and to the ground. He opened his mouth right in the stream of piss, which dripped from his face. “Alright, lemme take a turn on that ass,” Ramon muttered, as Uglymug was finishing up his stream of piss. He pulled away from Barrack’s mouth and got behind him. Barrack didn’t seem to notice since he was focused on the bitter piss filling his mouth and spilling past his lips. He sputtered and spewed, and he twisted around on the now-soaked mattress. Barrack had such a wide, broad back that Ramon could barely wrap his arms around it. With his dick wedged between Barrack’s toned asscheeks, Ramon couldn’t reach Barrack’s nipples — it was like climbing onto a great beast whose muscles rippled beneath Ramon’s tiny body. “What are you doing?!” Barrack screamed as Officer Uglymug finished pissing. Barrack’s face dripped. Since he was in the midst of a furious storm of retches, his asshole wasn’t clenched tight. A loud pained croaking sound ripped out of Barrack’s throat as Ramon forced his dick in. He pushed it in farther and farther while Barrack squirmed and cried out. With his body unprepared for the sensation, Ramon got most of his cock in before Barrack instinctively tightened his asshole That made it feel even better. Ramon loved the sensation of Barrack’s entire musculature tightening as he tried to buck Ramon off him. But Ramon just held on tight, his feet no longer on the floor. Barrack roared and screamed. Ramon had no idea how long that lasted. He held on as Barrack wiggled and squirmed. Ramon couldn’t really ram back and forth at all, he had no leverage with which to move his body. He just gripped Barrack’s muscles and kept his cock all the way in Barrack’s ass, while the writhing of Barrack’s powerful body massaged pleasure into Ramon’s cock. “God damn, man… Get off me!” Barrack screamed. Then he went down, and his asshole clenched even tighter again as Officer Zales zapped Barrack with the cattle prod. The tingling of his skin was palpable, and Ramon even squirmed as the electricity poured through him as well. But it was just a little buzz for Ramon — those cattle prods weren’t set to a strong shock — while Barrack screamed and collapsed into a sweaty, piss-covered heap of limp muscle on the bunk. His entire body tightened and stayed tense. “There you go, good…” Ramon whispered into Barrack’s sweat-covered face. He began pistoning his hips, slamming his cock in over and over. Barrack’s asshole was clenched tight, but Ramon didn’t care, and he had already torn through his ass once. Barrack couldn’t do anything to stop him as Ramon pounded away at his plump behind. The sound of Barrack’s tears were music to Ramon’s ears — he had spent years enduring the jeers and taunting of the other guards. He had been extorted and beaten and even worse, and now he got to hear a guard (or a former guard anyway) going through the same tortures. “At least you get to leave here too,” Ramon said. He hoped his point was getting through to Barrack, but the man was sobbing hard enough that Ramon wasn’t sure he could hear. Every time Ramon’s cock reached the deepest depths of Barrack’s ass, Barrack’s entire well-muscled body flexed and contorted like he was having a seizure. Sprawled out on the bunk he could do little more than writhe as Ramon slammed his ass again and again. Finally Ramon could put it off no longer. An orgasm ripped through his body, so powerful it made him gnaw like a baby on Barrack’s shoulder. He grunted. Barrack roared and Ramon barked. They both tensed as Barrack clenched his ass around Ramon’s dick, which spurted a flood of cum into his tight asshole. It was a huge load, having built up over the last few days — Ramon wasn’t in general population since he was about to be released, so he hadn’t had busted a nut. He hadn’t even masturbated because he hoped to fuck a woman s soon as he was released, and he wanted to have a big buildup of cum. He was glad to have saved it up for something special like this. He twitched as his passion drained away like the last drops of cum that filled Barrack’s ass. Ramon stayed right there in position, giggling at Barrack’s exhausted choking, as his dick slowly limpened inside Barrack’s ass. “Do you regret your actions?” Ramon asked. He crawled forward to wipe his ass-dripping cock off on Barrack’s face and lips. “I do! I’m sorry! I’ll never try anything like it again,” Barrack said. He winced but opened his mouth and even extended his tongue to suck the filth of his own ass off Ramon’s cock. His skin was still so sensitive Ramon shuddered, his knees weakening. Barrack’s tongue sent him to new heights of pleasure, as Ramon experienced the final aftershocks of his climax. “Good,” Ramon said. He leaned back and took a deep breath of the cum-scented air. He sat on Barrack’s muscled chest. “You better get your clothes together, both of you,” Officer Uglymug said. “I”m takin’ you both for showers. You’re both going home today, and hopefully, neither of you are coming back.”
There was a senior linebacker with pale skin and a massive barrel-shaped frame, kneeling because there were no more chairs available. He was big and brutish in a crude, cavemanish way. He was Gravyboat — his real name was Davy. He looked like the kind of beast that Avery wanted. He was exactly the kind of man Avery wanted most: too big and too raunchy for girls, too hairy, too rough, crude, rude and overwhelmingly massive. His hair was thick and greasy, his chin scruffy, his clothes stained and torn. He didn’t have a six-pack at all, but he wasn’t fat either. He had just the right amount of heft over his powerful body. Part of why he had adopted the Gravyboat-persona was that he found it difficult to present himself well — he didn’t have the patience to wash and brush his hair, to shave, to wear deodorant every single day, to always shower after a workout, to do his laundry and wear clean clothes. He found that the best way to overcome the teasing and snickering was to get so big and muscular that people were scared of him and to pretend that his behavior was a deliberate choice, that it came with being The Gravyboat.
Quinn was a freshman linebacker, and he was fat. He was also very strong and athletic and he was very fast for his size, but he was more than four hundred pounds and he had a belly that could fit a dozen Averys. He had come into the massage parlor and gotten a massage. Afterwards, he took out his disgusting fat dick and farted with his disgusting fat ass and told Avery to “lube up”. But Avery did not take watery loads from some nineteen-year-old behemoth who smelled like a load of bread that got left out in the rain, and he did not appreciate his services being assumed.
Avery is offended by the hazing horseplay of the GHU football team, so they come by to say sorry and give him a ride on the player of his choice. Avery is all too happy to forgive them, but then he turns down the six-packed studs everyone thought Avery would pick…
Instead he opts for the stout linebacker they call Gravyboat! Can Avery handle this thick-ass jock’s mountain of manmeat?!
When the waiting room to the massage parlor erupted in noise, Avery assumed it was a mistake. There was a bar next door, so maybe this group of rambunctious dudes had intended to go there and entered the wrong door. That seemed probable. They were whooping like this was the last stop on a pub crawl. Avery hurried out to the waiting room, where he stopped short. The entire football team from the GHU campus had come, more than fifty men filling into the cramped space, which had twelve chairs. Avery was flummoxed by the conglomeration of young bucks in loose-fitting sweatpants and ripped t-shirts. “Youths…” Avery furrowed his brow. There was a time when he sought the vitality of young men. And he still did, in his own way. But Avery was more mature now. He had more to lose. He did not like the way they leaned on his chairs and the counter and the bamboo mats on the wall, and he could smell their feet from here, or maybe that was them, not just their feet, but Avery didn’t like it. He wrinkled his nose. They all spoke at once, the air filling with bravado, threats and challenges. At least three spoke to Avery, who couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. Two of the young men began arm-wrestling, which required them to get down on the floor on their bellies. The armwrestling, Avery later determined, was to decide which of the two “called dibs on upstairs for the party tonight, broh”. Six of them explained simultaneously why that was important. It involved girls. They wanted to fuck, presumably. Avery could sympathize with that. He didn’t feel the same way, but he understood the impulse. “Hey, hey, shut up, y’all, e’ryone shut up!” shouted the square-jawed quarterback, Jimmy, who looked like a Disney prince with a powerful shock of blond hair and broad shoulders like a plow. His brilliant eyes flashed handsomely. He made Avery’s heart flutter. His muscles rippled under the jersey he wore, not a jersey for his team, it was a 49ers jersey. That was when Avery spotted Quinn Webblehutt, the quiet one in the corner, looking like he didn’t want to be noticed. He sat in a chair properly, and he blushed when he laughed. He avoided eye contact with Avery. That’s because Avery knew Quinn. He came in last weekend. Quinn was a freshman linebacker, and he was fat. He was also very strong and athletic and he was very fast for his size, but he was more than four hundred pounds and he had a belly that could fit a dozen Averys. He had come into the massage parlor and gotten a massage. Afterwards, he took out his disgusting fat dick and farted with his disgusting fat ass and told Avery to “lube up”. That fucking asshole had come in here thinking Avery was some kind of cum receptacle of last resort for peanut-dicked hairy lardasses. Quinn said that he was being hazed, that he was told he had to come here and ram the fuck out of Avery and that Avery was to bend over and take it in whatever position Davy chose. Anyway, Avery might choose to service a man he liked, someone with a physique worth admiring. But he did not take watery loads from some nineteen-year-old behemoth who smelled like a load of bread that got left out in the rain, and he did not appreciate his services being assumed. He said that first to Quinn and second on the phone to the head coach at the GHU athletic department. Coach Marshall Shapiro. Now Quinn was over there in the corner looking chagrined as a toddler, eyes aimed at his feet. He didn’t talk to anyone. “Hey, y’all, shut up!” Jimmy shouted again and again until they finally fell more or less quiet. Jimmy cleared his throat and spoke to Avery. “Uh, look… So, we heard, like… You were pretty mad ’bout the, you know… hazing.” Jimmy smiled, showing off his dimples. A girl could drown in those dimples, Avery thought. Jimmy flashed his grin like he thought it would get him out of any problem. “We didn’t mean that you had to, y’know… do anything. It wasn’t like… it was just a little thing that got out of control. You know, hazing. Nobody was like… it wasn’t required.” A few of the other players laughed. Avery crossed his arms over his chest. He felt very small right now, but powerful. “So, uh… We… I — I, very much, but also we, we need you to call Coach Marshall, and, uh, tell him that we’re okay now. You gotta tell him we apologized and everything’s alright, broh. It’s all good. He won’t stop being, like… he’s been like very shouty, it’s been, you know… Like…” Jimmy blushed like Quinn, as an underhushing arose from the assembled jocks, some of whom played out like they were grabbing each other’s balls and squeezing, which made them silently laugh. That made Avery suspect Coach Marshall had squeezed the shit out of Jimmy’s balls. “Coach Marshall was like… mega-pissed. I mean, you just gotta tell him that, alright? Tell him you accepted our apology.” “You haven’t apologized,” Avery said. “Oh, yeah.” Jimmy stripped off his shirt and flexed his muscles in front of Avery’s face. His chest was broad and clean, brightly pale, his six-pack etched, his pecs rippling like a sea in a storm. He got down on his knees as though he was going to propose marriage. “I’m sorry. I apologize for not respecting you and having the… not respect to, uh… I’m an in-grate. I was in-grating. I was ingrated. Ingrating to you. Disrespectfully,” he said. So… I apologize.” Then his eyes lit up. “And Quinn’s a fucking dumbass, I made him run a buncha laps and do this thing… It’s gross, but it’s like… He sucked on my jockstraps for a whole practice-” The players all tittered. “It was in his helmet. It’s cool, he’s cool You’re cool, man. We’re cool. All cool now.” He raised his eyebrows in Avery’s direction. “Hmm.” “And, to make up for it,” Jimmy said with a wry grin and a smile. “You can — you don’t got to — but you can, if you want… You can pick one of us, and uh… y’know…” He blushed. “You can do, like… If you want ‘em in ya ass, y’know… Whoever you pick gonna do it. Anyone you want.” He again made his pecs ripple and flexed his six-pack in Avery’s direction. A few guys snorted and snickered at him. Jimmy smiled again. He seemed to think Avery would pick him, presumably because he was the one girls threw themselves at. His body language suggested the picking was just a formality, and it was already a given that Jimmy would be the choice. Avery smiled. “So you’re going to apologize for assuming I wanted to get it up the ass from a stranger by allowing me to pick the stranger?” Jimmy shrugged. “Well, yeah. Kinda.” He paused. “Yes. That exactly, that’s what we’re doing. Sorry, is that-?” “That’s fine,” Avery said, but he rolled his eyes. That seemed like a bad lesson for Coach Marshall to be teaching. But Avery really did want to take it up the ass from someone in this room. A linebacker, in fact, not the quarterback Jimmy. Not the freshman linebacker Quinn. The entire room was silent. Avery’s heart thumped. These men all looked at him. Avery already knew who he was going to choose. There was a senior linebacker with pale skin and a massive barrel-shaped frame, kneeling because there were no more chairs available. He was big and brutish in a crude, cavemanish way. He was Gravyboat — his real name was Davy. He looked like the kind of beast that Avery wanted. He was exactly the kind of man Avery wanted most: too big and too raunchy for girls, too hairy, too rough, crude, rude and overwhelmingly massive. His hair was thick and greasy, his chin scruffy, his clothes stained and torn. He didn’t have a six-pack at all, but he wasn’t fat either. He had just the right amount of heft over his powerful body. “Who you want, huh?” “He’ll pick Jimmy. Or Raython if he likes black dick, like Kelly-“ “Shut up, broh-“ “Don’t give him ideas, nigga!” “-jacked me off in the exam room-“ “Fuck you-“ Avery just ignored their arguments. He walked slowly through the crowd, tickling each one. He grabbed their asses and even kissed their biceps as though carefully inspecting each player to see who fit his needs. When a pair of cocky black guys pulled their dicks out together to show off how big they were, Avery gave each one a stroke and nodded. “Nice ones, sure,” Avery said. He was about to move on, but then he had an idea. “Sword-fight.” They must not have heard that term, cuz they both looked confused for a moment, then their eyes lit up at the same time. They flopped their limp dicks at each other, laughing and jumping away, then they came closer and did it again as the rest of the team erupted in laughter. A few others did the same — sword-fighting right there in the waiting room — but Avery just moved on. “Sorry guys, stop by and see me sometime. Come together.” He winked at them, and they both erupted in furious laughter, which made their dicks jiggle like fat baseball bats in an earthquake. Avery moved on down the line. “Don’t stop swordfighting.” The two black guys — Raython and Easy — laughed and chortled, and they kept their dicks touching. They avoided looking at each other or at Avery after that, they just kept their heads cocked to the side as their fronts jutted towards each other so their limp cocks smushed against each other. Easy and Raython more or less stopped sword-fighting, they watched Avery instead, but they did keep their dicks touching, which Avery appreciated. But he kept on going, tracing the outline of one handsome stud’s pectoral muscles and even kissing his bare nipple, prompting another outpouring of chatter and laughter from the others. But Avery at last stopped when he reached the one they called Gravyboat, who kneeled in a ratty old t-shirt without sleeves. “Lift your arm,” Avery said. Gravyboat furrowed his brow, but did so, emitting a baritone laugh to conceal his anxiety as his teammates chuckled. Avery hadn’t gone for anyone else’s armpit. But Gravyboat was sweaty and unwashed, and Avery could tell that he was going to be fragrant. Avery sniffed his armpit, which was rank and made Avery’s cock throb in his pants. The team erupted in applause, and Gravyboat blushed — it took a lot for him to be embarrassed, but that was enough. “Gravyboat! Gravyboat! Gravyboat!” “Do the Gravyboat!” The “Grayboat” was a dance and an intimidation tactic on the field. Gravyboat had a deep voice befitting his massive size, and when he let out a warcry, it could be heard over the cheering fans in the stadium, at least on the sidelines. He did a shaking-ass dance at the same time. The crowd went wild, always did. He had spent hours practicing it back in high school. But it felt awkward to do it now, off the field, outside of practice and in front of this tiny flamboyant weirdo. Gravyboat did it because his friends demanded it. He roared and flexed his muscles all at once, cringing because he felt Avery’s feminine fingers stroking him as he did. It was a joke because Gravyboat did not have a perfect body. Not fat like Quinn, Gravyboat — Davy Mitchell — was just thick. He was perfectly thick, in Avery’s view. The other football players mostly competed on their six-packs. It was only Gravyboat, Quinn and a handful of others who had any meat on their bones. Gravyboat blushed so red Avery wondered if he was going to pass out, while Avery’s hands explored his chest and the firmness underneath the padding atop his torso. He even licked a trail from Gravyboat’s neck — which Avery had to practically jump up to reach — down to his pecs, feeling his lungs expel that awesome cloud from his cavernous lungs. His anxiety made his pecs and stomach and shoulders and arms all ripple in turn. “I choose you,” Avery said, just in case it wasn’t obvious. “Will you carry me into the room?” Gravyboat blushed. Part of why he had adopted the Gravyboat-persona was that he found it difficult to present himself well — he didn’t have the patience to wash and brush his hair, to shave, to wear deodorant every single day, to always shower after a workout, to do his laundry and wear clean clothes. He found that the best way to overcome the teasing and snickering was to get so big and muscular that people were scared of him and to pretend that his behavior was a deliberate choice, that it came with being The Gravyboat. But he had never been sexy as far as he was concerned. He got girls sometimes, but they never seemed satisfied with him. They told him when to shower (seemingly all the time), they tried to get him to cut his hair, shave his chest, wear beard-oil, which he thought was preposterous, and even cologne, which he hated. So he blushed beet-red as he scooped Avery up in his arms and carried him into the back of the massage parlor. His friends laughed, clapped and slapped Gravyboat’s plump asscheeks as he walked past them. Avery laughed too, and one of his arms wrapped around Gravyboat’s barrel-shaped body to hug his thickness close. In the massage room, Gravyboat put Avery down. It was impossibly quiet back here, once the door slammed shut, the carrying-on in the waiting room now sounding distant and faded. Gravyboat’s smile disappeared. Gravyboat wondered if he smelled bad, or if he looked dumb and unfashionable. Why didn’t Avery choose someone who knew how to pick out clothes? He was surprised that Avery had gone for him instead of Jimmy, whom the girls loved and who always wore impeccable clothing, or one of those black tight ends who danced well and smelled like coconut lotion. One of them had an old dude who jerked him off for money all the time. He says — the old dude says — the cum of a young black athlete will make his own dick bigger and his erections last longer. Maybe that was true. Gravyboat was still not gonna drink a black dude’s cum. He blushed and looked down at his ugly boxish shoes, which he had to buy at a fat dude’s store. “Are you okay?” Avery asked. “You look nervous. It won’t hurt, I promise. You’ll like it.” Gravyboat shrugged. “I ain’t never done this.” He blushed again and bit his lip. “I mean… I’ll do it, I don’t care. Ass is ass, right?” He pounded on his chest and made that warcry again — no dance this time, cuz the massage room was small — the sound prompted whooping and cheers from out in the hall, where some of his teammates listened at the door — but now it sounded forced and weak, at least to Gravyboat himself. They weren’t into it. If you do it too much, the crowd loses interest, Gravyboat had learned that. Always leave ’em wanting more. Avery giggled. He liked Gravyboat’s machismo being inhibited by his anxiety. It was cute. Gravyboat’s hairy body trembled as Avery pulled his shorts down. His crotch smelled strongly, not bad, but it smelled of fresh sweat and old cum. It smelled like the crotch of a man who jacked off a lot. That was exactly true. Gravyboat did jack himself off a lot. The women threw themselves at Jimmy and Raython, not Gravyboat and Quinn. He bristled and firmed up as soon as Avery touched his cock. He jiggled and grunted. Not knowing how to react, he stood motionless, like he was at a doctor’s appointment. He opened his eyes wide, arms forming fists that dangled stiffly at his side. He murmured to himself as his dick got rock-hard right away. “You sure get hard quick. You must be real horny,” Avery said. He smiled. His cock throbbed in Avery’s grasp. Gravyboat stared at it like it was disobeying him. He gulped and looked at Avery. “I get girls. I had a girlfriend.” “I wasn’t implying anything,” Avery said. “You have such a big dick. You must have hurt your girlfriend, huh?” Flattery seemed to help Gravyboat relax. He grunted his acknowledgment as his dick throbbed. It was thick as a coke can, smooth aside from one clear vein running up the undershaft. Avery liked how it pulsated in his grip. When it was fully hard, Avery put the tip in his mouth. Gravyboat sucked in his breath, which Avery both heard and felt in his cock twinging. Avery giggled around the meat in his mouth, which he licked and slathered spit on. He ran his tongue up and down the shaft. “Wait, wait,” Gravyboat covered his eyes with one arm. He shifted his weight on his feet. Avery did not wait right away. He wanted to make sure Gravyboat felt the pleasure of Avery’s cock on his shaft, as Avery slurped and spat up all up over it. Both of Avery’s hands worked it too. When Gravyboat stilled looked too tense, Avery pulled his mouth off it. He kissed it on the piss-slit. “You have a nice cock.” He thwacked it on his own face. It was so thick and heavy it was like a club, but Avery enjoyed the meatiness of it when it slapped against his flesh. “This is so weird. Raython does it all the time. He has an old guy. White guy. I think he hasn’t said, oh shit, my god, shit, so like, his name is Raython, he’s the one out there with… I don’t know, what, a shirt probably it’s cool but anyway he’s okay, he’s okay, Raython is, what was I saying. Raython Lake. That’s his name. The black guy, I don’t know the white guy’s name. I guess maybe he’s not white, I don’t know. Raython just says he’s ‘my old guy’. He buys him beer and stuff. Shirts.” Gravyboat sounded like a man on the verge of exploding. “Uh-uh. So that’s cool. I’m not asking you to buy me anything! I mean, just, I was sayin’, Raython does it all the time.” Avery wasn’t listening. He stuck his tongue out and ran it down Grayboat’s shaft, then slurped up some of the spit he left behind. Gravyboat’s voice wavered and broke. He gasped. Once the taste of salty precum hit Avery’s tongue, he knew Gravyboat was ready for the next step. Avery turned around and bent over. Gravyboat stood perfectly upright, chest as he pretended he wasn’t nervous. He was glad Avery’s ass was smooth and hairless, like a girl’s. “Oh…” Gravyboat grunted in surprised as his manhood slipped into Avery’s ass. He was expecting it to be uncomfortable — the girls he had fucked in the ass had been small and delicate and unsure about Gravyboat’s size and his willingness to go slow, so those experiences had not been entirely successful. He had never had someone take charge of forcing his uncut cock into their tight asshole before. He just stood there like an idiot, arms flailing in mid-air. Then he slapped Avery’s asscheek and groaned. He blushed, thinking it was too weird to touch Avery’s ass. But he couldn’t stop himself. It felt so good to spread those cheeks and give himself better access to Avery’s tight hole, which he drilled into inexorably. Avery’s cheeks even jiggled kinda, not exactly like a girl’s but not entirely unlike a girl’s. Gravyboat was glad to not have a girl telling him to slow down every few seconds. He was glad that Avery didn’t even consider backing out because his dick was too big or because his breath smelled like garlic fries. He had intended to remain like that, standing upright, so he didn’t have to touch Avery. But as his orgasm approached, Gravyboat found himself losing his inhibitions. “Open that ass up, damn…” His voice was hoarse and monstrous, he thought, and it caused Avery to shudder. That wasn’t actually his voice that made Avery shudder, it was his cock, sending sparks of sensation up Avery’s spine. He was adept at taking big cocks, but Gravyboat’s was exceptionally thick, and it filled him up in a most delightful way. Avery intended to make loud orgasm sounds to embarrass Gravyboat in front of his friends, but it turned out to feel so good he didn’t have a choice. He made those sounds by instinct, and he cried out for more. Finally he wrapped one of his broad arms around Avery’s face, and they both went down to the ground. Gravyboat didn’t mind. The idea of rutting on the floor was nasty and raunchy and perfect. Avery was too enthralled by the intense pressure in his ass to even consider the location important. Gravyboat’s chest rubbed against Avery’s smooth back as he slammed his cock in and out. He was aware of his teammates peering in through the door, shushing each other and running away when they caught a glimpse. Someone even threw something at him, maybe a paper airplane? He was too engrossed in Avery’s ass to go look. “Ah, fuck!” Gravyboat roared. He pounded away at Avery’s ass, using his entire body to drill Avery into the massage room floor. Avery was only dimly aware of the discomfort and pain that resulted, because his prostate exploded in intense pleasure. Avery barely even touched his cock before an orgasm erupted within him. He moaned, the sound drowned out by Gravyboat’s baritone bellow. He writhed, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. Cum flew into his ass, while Avery shot his own jizz too, onto the floor. So much cum filled him up that Avery could do little more than lay there and bask in the glory of creamy heat seeping into him. The puddle of cum on the floor from his own load coated his belly. As he shot his wad, Gravyboat didn’t stop fucking. He kept grunting, the sound breaking, interrupted with moist exhalations as he slathered spit over the back of Avery’s head. He gripped Avery in a tight chokehold, making it hard to breathe. “Fuck, broh, take it, don’t move, don’t move.” Gravyboat’s voice was plaintive and desperate. His hot breath condensed on Avery’s cheek. “Shit.” They were both motionless for a moment. Gravyboat’s cock shot another wad of cum, a final jet of heat seeping into Avery’s guts, and Avery felt it trickle out of his ass. It puddled up on the floor of Avery’s massage room. Then all at once, they both fell limp. Gravyboat landed on top of Avery, plopping there, his dick limpening inside him. Avery was utterly unable to breathe, or tell Gravyboat to get of. He couldn’t even squirm. He wasn’t upset though.He exulted in the feel of Gravyboat’s muscles enveloping him, the musk of his unwashed body potent now that he was covered in fresh sweat. “Shit, man.” Gravyboat coughed. He got up, his dick plopping out of Avery’s ass. “Shit… Shit, man.” He took a deep breath. Avery sat up, heaving for air. He was exhausted. He had never been taken a dick that felt that good. He stood on uneasy legs. “Thanks,” he said weakly. Gravyboat nodded. His swarthy face was crimson from both embarrassment and exhaustion. He thought if he said anything, his voice might break, so he was quiet. He put his tattered jockstrap on without bothering to clean his cock off. Jimmy stuck his head in the door, but kept his eyes aimed upward so he didn’t see anything. “Did you bite his head off, Gravyboat?” “No. He was a perfect gentleman,” Avery said. He smiled at Gravyboat, who walked out carrying his clothes. He wore nothing but that jockstrap, which was soaked to transparency with the fluids that clung to Gravyboat’s cock. Gravyboat sniffled like he didn’t care as his teammates howled and slapped his hairy asscheeks, which were bare, cradled by that jockstrap. Those two black guys, Raython and Easy, were still dick-to-dick because Avery never said they could stop sword-fighting, and they still avoided looking at each other. Jimmy furrowed his handsomeness in Avery’s direction. “Really? A gentleman?” Avery nodded. “He was perfect. You can send me men like him anytime. I’ve got plenty of happy endings to give out.”
Avery is a masseuer who occasionally lands a taste of a roughneck from an oil rig, but when Dog Barren comes in, he didn’t think Dog was interested. Dog even says he’d never let a man get with him on the downlow…
But then all rules are off when Dog turns out to really need the sweet, sweet release of Avery’s twink body!
Avery swept up his massage room — or his “office”, as he and the other masseurs called it — with an old splintery broom. It had been a slow day, a bunch of old men who wanted handjobs, which Avery was not willing to give, and one lady who needed a genuine massage for medical reasons. That was Avery’s job. As a certified massage therapist, he dealt with both people hoping he was a prostitute as well as people who needed massages to help with muscle soreness, stiffness or joint pain. It wasn’t a great career, but Avery loved it. He enjoyed the people, the independence — he made his own hours — and perhaps most of all, he loved the men. Not the old men who wanted handjobs, the more rare but rewarded stately, elegant and handsome types. They sometimes asked for handjobs and even more, and as a great admirer of the male form, Avery tried to oblige. No oldies, fatties, losers or stinkwads. “Hey,” came a deep, solid voice like a taut length of sissel rope. Avery turned around and was flustered to see a white man with dark skin, tattoos creeping up his neck, his weathered face craggy and worn. He had ropy muscles and long limbs. He was alluring, in a dangerous-drifter kind of way. He had the presence of a silent thundercloud, and he smelled like leather oil. But he didn’t — this man seemed to be a roughneck. He probably worked at one of the oil rigs outside of town. Those men were rough-and-tumble, crude, rude, mean, often violent. They sometimes came in for massages because they were required to try that first before worker’s compensation would pay them anything for pain relief after an on-the-job accident. But they rarely came in for a second massage. Mostly they were just trying to get worker’s comp or were working a pain doctor for opiate prescriptions and needed to prove they gave massage a try. “Oh hello, my name is Avery, welcome to Thackenswitch Massage Parlor. What kind of services are you looking for today?” “Uh… What? I ain’t nevuh done this before.” The dowdy roughneck blushed, which was barely visible because he was so tan. Avery nodded and waited for the roughneck to say something else. When nothing else proved forthcoming, Avery added, “Are you here for a worker’s comp claim?” “Nah.” “Okay,” Avery said. This roughneck seemed like the kind who normally brimmed with confidence and bravado but now came across as nervous. He had that walking-callus thickness that roughnecks get — from the vibrations — everything on oil rigs vibrate — like you could just tell his hands were gonna be leathery. Avery could tell without looking he’d have thick sausagey fingers. “What, uh…? Well, do you have pain? Is that why you came here? You want me to help you with some back pain or something like that?” “No. I just… I been tense, man. That’s all.” Avery smiled. “I see. Alright.” He sensed there was more to the roughneck’s motivations, but Avery didn’t know what question to ask. “Why don’t you take off your clothes? Just hop up on the table, and we’ll get started.” He lifted his t-shirt off over his head. His chest was not exactly muscular, it was toned, worked, wiry, plenty of strength but not a lot of bulk, like he would have been a lot bigger and more chiseled, but he didn’t eat enough protein, so the muscles he had strained to fit within his sun-burnished skin. He chewed on his lower lip. “What’s your name, sir?” Avery asked as the roughneck took off his heavy boots, which were caked with dust and mud. “Dog.” “Dog?” He nodded like that was totally normal. He hesitated before undoing the belt on his jeans, which were filthy and stained. “Dog Barren.” He undid the belt, but he didn’t lower his jeans. “It’s okay. If you want me to help you, I need to be able to massage your thighs, even your butt,” Avery said. He gulped. This man looked potentially violent. Maybe he should have just started with a backrub. It looked like Dog didn’t really trust Avery either. He stood there, belt undone so he held his overly baggy jeans up with one mitteny hand. “Nah. I ain’t worried ‘bout that,” he said. “I work at the oil rig. I shower wit’ men e’ry day. Ain’t concerned ‘bout no man seein’ me in my all-togethuh. Just… I ain’t sure, y’know…” He took a deep breath and dropped his jeans. He pulled down his boxer shorts and hopped up onto the table. His hoggish fat prick swung between his legs. Avery suspected Dog would relax once the massage began. Men like him weren’t used to being touched in a gentle, non-sexual way. He wasn’t the kind of man you want to hug. So Avery got some oil on his hands and got to work. Dog’s shoulders were meaty and dully tattooed — his tattoos were hard to see because his skin was so tan — his shoulder-meat broad, rippling beneath Avery’s fingertips. He laid on his belly, moving with the grace of an oafier man, like he was not used to being noticed. “So, Dog, how long have you been working at the oil rig?” “Thirteen years. Reckon.” “Wow, you like it?” “Nah. Just a job, y’know. I ain’t cut out for other kind of jobs.” Avery’s hands moved down to Dog’s wiry thighs, which had barely any fat on them at all. He could see Dog’s hairy ballsac and his heavy balls between his legs, but Avery’s eyes were drawn to his asscheeks instead. Dog had nice plump cheeks, just a bit hairy and the face of an angry woman tattooed on one side. “Is this tattoo…?” “She my ex-wide. She’s a total cunt. I hate that bitch,” Dog said, his voice still flat and flinty, like his throat was made of charcoal. “I see.” “She tol’ the police I hit her, but I ain’t hit her ‘cept this one time, that weren’t the time she called the cops. So that was a lie, yeah? Judge say I gotta pay that bitch alley-money, I ain’t pay her nothing, I don’t even care,” he said with a snort that made his asscheeks jiggle.. Avery worked his hands down Dog’s wiry-muscled legs. “Don’t you get in trouble for not paying it?” Dog shrugged. “Just gotta go to jail for a little bit. Ain’t so bad.” “Roll over,” Avery said. Dog hesitated before doing so. He sucked in his breath and rolled over. Avery saw why he was reluctant to do so — Dog had a hard-on. It wasn’t fully erect, but his fat cock was firm and it stuck up. It looked like he had extra dickskin, Avery thought and had to suppress a giggle, like when you rubbed his cock, even fully hard, it would feel like a lot of dickskin under his hand. Avery liked that. He really wanted to touch it. “Sorry ’bout the stiffy, man, I ain’t no kinda pervert or nothin’, sometimes I don’t got control over it,” Dog said. “I ain’t had no female for a minute. That’s all.” “No worries,” Avery said. He bit his lip and cleared his throat. “You seem stressed and anxious.” “Uh-huh.” “I can help with that,” Avery said. He wrapped one hand around Dog’s dick, which twitched and throbbed its way to full erection in his hand. Avery smiled. Dog gasped. He lifted his head up. but kept the rest of his body laying flat on the massage table. Dog looked down at his own cock like he didn’t recognize it. His eyes narrowed to slits. He bit his lip. He closed his eyes, then opened them, then covered them with one dusky forearm, which had the word J-E-S-U-S-C-H-R-I-S-T tattooed in Gothic letters down the underside of it. With just a few seconds of stroking, Dog’s dick was rock-hard. Its veiny shaft pulsated beneath Avery’s grasp. Avery slid his hand up and down it slowly at first as he checked whether Dog was willing to do this. He did indeed have a lot of dickskin. Avery again had to suppress a giggle at that. “I ain’t into no kinda pervert or nothin’,” Dog said again. He kept his head up, but as he watched, he also lifted up his shoulders and upper body, which he supported on his elbows. He growled at Avery and ran his fingers through his dense wad of hair. His face remained stoic, like he was still apologetic about the stiffy but was stonefacing about Avery giving him a handjob. He licked his teeth. “Okay.” Avery didn’t stop jacking him off, and Dog didn’t complain. “You look like a girl.” His voice was gravelly and rough, abrasive like sandpaper in Avery’s ear. It was deeper than seemed reasonable too, considering that Dog was not a big person. He snorted and closed his eyes again, but just like before, it lasted only a few seconds, like he was too nervous to be without sight for long. “That’s, uh… Yeah.” He still looked down at his cock in Avery’s hand as though he had nothing to do with it and didn’t know what was happening to it. “Gimme ya hand.” He took Avery’s hand off his cock, then hocked up a big mouthful of spit and spat it into the palm of Avery’s hand. Then he brought it back to his dick. The newly moist texture of Avery’s skin was apparently enough for Dog, who groaned and leaned his head back. “Can I put my mouth on it?” Avery asked, not sure if Dog would tolerate that. “Nah. That’s that nasty shit. I said I wasn’t into that. I ain’t in prison,” Dog said, his eyes narrowing to slits. His face turned from shock and shame to menace and danger. His dick pulsated in Avery’s grasp. A few drops of precum leaked out the piss-slit, and Avery eyed them hungrily. Was he really going to stick to just a handjob? Some roughnecks were like that. There was a whole gaggle of Muslims last year who insisted on handjobs and only handjobs. Their imam brought them every week. But Avery had never met a white American like that. Wonder what happened in prison to make him not want to do it… “Okay, no problem.” Avery was disappointed. He didn’t love the idea of just giving a handjob, and that precum looked salty and fresh and delicious as his hand stroked it into a creamy smear coating the upper third of his dickshaft. But it seemed that was all Dog was willing to allow. So he just kept stroking, both hands now. Dog’s warm spit sliding between his fingers and coating his hand. Avery spat on his own hand. Maybe it was coincidence, but the moment after he spat, Dog’s cock throbbed in his hand, and Dog’s pecs rippled. It was the body language of a gasp, but Avery didn’t hear a gasp. “You can kiss it.” Dog threw his head back and maybe gasped at last, or maybe he just grunted or licked his teeth, Avery couldn’t tell because he threw his head back. Avery smiled. He thought he knew where this was going. He kissed Dog’s cock on the tip, right on the piss-slit, and he made sure to generate a mouthful of saliva that ran down the shaft. The musk and zest of Dog’s precum and his dickmeat and both his and Avery’s spit flooded Avery’s senses, and he noisily slurped up all the fluids that remained. Then he gently spat them back out to coat his fat cock. The contact, or maybe the noise, made Dog squirm. The veins in his dick nearly jumped right out of his body and into Avery’s hand, which still moved slowly up and down. Dog began moving his hips, humping Avery’s hand with his cock, though his face remained stony like he was unaware he was doing it. “Thanks for letting me kiss it,” Avery said. “I’ll just finish the handjob-“ “That weren’t no kiss. A cock-kiss got tongue, man. Use a little tongue. Do not jerk me off wit’cha mouth, I ain’t that kinda ex-con..” Avery nodded. He lowered his head again, planted his lips right on the tip of Dog’s cock and kissed it. This time he did it loudly, flickering his tongue out and smearing more spit all over it. That taste assaulted his tongue again, and Avery kissed a trail down the shaft to Dog’s cockroot. He hefted Dog’s hairy ballsac in one, looking up at him to see if he’d object. He did not. Dog shuddered and grunted, the sound turning from aroused to angry as he jabbed his fists into the air. He roared. He nearly hyperventilated, as another burst of precum flowed from his knob. Avery slurped it up — his lips still pursed like a kiss, so he was, as far as Avery was concerned, still abiding by Dog’s limits. “Dog? I want to swallow your cum,” Avery said. He figured it was time to end the charade and just say what he meant. He smiled sweetly up at Dog, who bristled, his upper lip twitching like Elvis — he liked to be flattered, Avery suspected. “You have a perfect cock. It’s so big, and you’re so strong. I want you so bad. Please let me swallow your cum.” “Fine, but only cuz you beggin’ so bad, man,” he said. He scoffed. “You pitiful.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “No way I’m puttin’ it in your ass though. Don’t even ask ‘bout that.” There was something in the way he said that that made Avery think he meant the opposite. He sounded like he could and perhaps wanted to be talked into ramming Avery in the ass, almost as easily as he had been talked into letting Avery swallow his cum. “Will you ram my face, please? You can pretend my throat is a pussy,” Avery asked. He blushed and deep-throated Dog’s dick without waiting for a response. “I’m good at that.” He smacked his lips. “Real good, I can swallow-“ Dog grunted and wrapped his hands around Avery’s head and started to grind, shoving his cock deep into Avery’s throat. He moved like he didn’t notice he was interrupting Avery. That musty taste, like his cock had been cooped up in those workjeans for weeks, made Avery croon around the meat in his throat. It tasted so good his hands reached all the way up Dog’s body and to tweak the nipples atop his rippling taut pecs. Dog groaned as though this was scratching an itch he had been unable to reach for a long time. All of his muscles flexed as he throated down Avery, who was indeed an expert at swallowing huge cocks — he was fine with it, loving the struggle as his throat cried out for oxygen. He loved it even more when Dog’s legs rested atop Avery’s shoulders, as though putting him in some kind of cock-handling chokehold. He used those wiry legs to pin Avery’s head in place, while Dog’s hands pushed his head down to the root of his fat cock. A burst of precum or maybe an initial foray of jizz flowed down Avery’s throat. The taste was salty and creamy, and it tasted so good Avery gurgled even as it made him choke and gag some more. A big ball of spit and fluids slipped out past his lips and soaked Dog’s pubic hair. “Ah, shit, yeah,” Dog murmured. His hands stroked Avery’s scalp through his hair. His muscles tensed and flexed. Avery’s hands moved up to Dog’s chest, caressing his pectorals and rubbing his shoulders. Dog grumbled. “I ain’t gonna ram you, man.” Avery just smiled and nodded without taking Dog’s cock out of his throat. He let it squeeze down his neck, and he sputtered as it sprayed its seed down his gullet. Avery still couldn’t decide if it was precum or real jizz. Dog’s moaning voice broke like it was cum, but then he took his dick out and it was still hard. More precum flowed from the piss-slit in pulses though, Dog groaning each time like he was holding back an orgasm. “Get up,” Dog said, his deep voice echoing in the massage room. “Lay on your back.” It was clear he was about to ram Avery in the ass, no matter what he said just a few seconds ago. Avery smiled and wiped spit off his face. “Okay. Will you be gentle? You’re such a big man, you could hurt me. Please don’t hurt me too bad?” Dog glowered. “I ain’t say I was gonna ram you. I don’t do that.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t hurtcha too bad. You ain’t as bad a bitch as my ex-wife and I ain’t nevuh hurt her, so you be okay, man. Just get on yer back.” Avery loved getting it up the ass as roughly as possible. So he wasn’t worried about that situation. He actually liked the idea of making Dog work for it, especially now with his dick raging, demanding attention. “Have you ever done a man up the ass?” “Nah,” Dog said. “I rammed this fellah in the ass in the shower once, but don’t ask me ‘bout that. It was an accident. It don’t proper count. I ain’t never booty bandit no bitch though. Don’t say I did, I ain’t like that. Couple times I did. Only when I had to. It don’t count, you can’t count it.” “Okay,” Avery said with a grin. He laid on his back on the massage table, lifting his feet in the air. Dog placed Avery’s feet on his shoulder muscles, so Avery could grip his flesh with his toes — and, Avery thought, so he couldn’t run away. A frown appeared on Dog’s face as he lowered his knees a little to line his cock up with Avery’s ass. He looked away but guided his dick in with one hand. A burst of intense pressure hit Avery’s senses. He moaned. The pain was overwhelming at first, but it lasted only a moment before he felt a wave of pleasure, dim and dismal at first. It grew, however, with each thrust of Dog’s dick inside him. Dog grunted as though each thrust hurt, but then he grunted again on the outswing of his thrust as though it felt so good he was melting. Dog kept his head to the side, looking at the wall. He held his breath when he encountered resistance in Avery. Avery’s fingers tightened into claws that dug into the cushion of the massage table, while Dog inexorably pushed his dick in deeper, inch by inch. “You got nice, pretty toes like a little girl.” Dog said with a long, low groan. Avery’s feet were still propped up on Dog’s shoulders, Avery’s toes curling up and gripping his flesh. Dog picked up one of Avery’s feet and sucked on the big toe, the taste of which made him shudder. His muscles flexed and his dick throbbed within Avery’s ass. As Avery’s hand finally reached his own cock to start jacking off, he felt a surge of pleasure emanating up his spine from his sensitive prostate. It tingled, growing more alive and awake with every touch from Dog’s dicktip exploring his insides. Dog moved his hips in a slow circle like he needed to tickle Avery in some hard-to-reach cranny of his body. Dog groaned, licking Avery’s foot and sucking on his toes, which made Avery giggle like a schoolgirl. Avery’s free hand roamed up to Dog’s chest, where he teased those powerful pecs — they weren’t big, but Avery could tell how strong Dog’s work-toned body really was. Dog reacted like it hurt when Avery touched his nipples, and he howled like his namesake. Avery’s orgasm came on slowly, bit by bit, but he could feel it growing as Dog continued to hump. He could feel it coming from Dog too, in his breathing speeding up, his face turning slightly reddish and then, at last, his balls crawling up in his sac. In the end Avery shot his load just a few seconds before Dog, the intense pleasure that rocketed through his body being enough for Avery to clench down on Dog’s dick. That caused Dog to shake and grunt so loud it made the framed pictures on the wall rattle. “Gonna shoot my babies up in you now, girl… You best not get pregnant…” Dog closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. A burst of hot, creamy cum sprayed within Avery, whose entire body tensed around Dog’s dick. The most mind-numbing pleasure of his life assaulted Avery, making him squirm and wiggle on the dick his ass was impaled on. He squealed like a piglet and roared like a jaguar, all while slithering down on Dog’s dick like a snake. Dog didn’t slow down. He wrapped both of Avery’s legs in his arms, holding them tight so Avery couldn’t do anything more than submit. He kept slamming his dick in slowly but deeply, wiggling it around as he took a deep breath and watched Avery writhe. He kept on going, moving slower and slower but still jamming his dick in, even as it finally grew limp. Dog rattled and shook. His cock made a big frothy mess of bubbly cum inside Avery, spilling out down his thighs. “Yer ass is nasty,” Dog said with a leering smile, like he was proud of having made it so “nasty”. Avery crooned and groaned. He bucked as a wave of sensitive prostate-stimulation hit him. He squirmed, his ass now exquisite and tingling, sensations too potent for him to cope with as Dog moved around inside him. “I won’t nevuh kiss a man,” Dog said, his entire body suddenly still. “Nuh-uh. No way.” “Okay…” Avery’s voice was tight and clipped. Dog’s dick was still in his ass, his feet were still bundled up and squeezed between Dog’s arms. He could have squirmed away if he’d really wanted to, but the intensity of Dog’s manhood in his ass made Avery want to stay, and besides that, every movement he took caused uncontrollable waves of painful ecstasy to erupt in his ass. “You gonna seduce me?” Dog asked. “Uh…” Avery’s mind was too overwhelmed to think of a real response. All he could do was gasp and croon as though on the edge of tears. Then without a second though, Dog dived his head down and kissed Avery passionately, sloppily, moistly, right on the lips. Their tongues collided in Avery’s mouth. With his dick finally flopping out of Avery’s ass, tremendous relief flooded him. It was like a second little post-orgasm orgasm, which a burst of pleasure hitting him all over again. He groaned into Dog’s mouth. He flopped limply, submitting to Dog’s kiss and his rough, callused fingers caressing Avery’s body. Then at last, and all at once, Dog backed off. He frowned at Avery. He flopped his dick between his fingers and wiped it off with a tissue. “You seduced me,” he said, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Uh… Not really. I-“ “Shush,” Dog said. “I don’t nevuh ram men, you best believe that. You believe that?!” He paused. “Huh?!” “Well… Yeah. I believe it,” Avery said. Avery sat up, dizzy now that that was over. He hadn’t been rammed that good in a long time. He was still scared, not sure where Dog was taking this. Dog paused. He bristled and slowly put his clothes on. He ignored Avery the entire time. Only after he had put his shirt back on and tied his heavy boots did he glance in Avery’s direction. “You gonna be around in a couple days?” “Uh… Well, I work here most days-“ “No. I mean, like, midnight or so. Well, two in the morning, more like, after the bars close.” “We’re closed then.” “What’s your address?” Avery’s rational mind said not to tell him, but Avery’s body and his cock and his prostate all demanded he do it. So even as he told himself not to, he gave Dog his address and phone number. “If I come by to see you at night when I’m drunk,” Dog said as he headed towards the door. “You best let me in and lemme sleep on yer couch, boy. I won’t steal nothin’, I’s a God-fearin’ man. You better not molest me neither. I ain’t gonna let you jerk me off, and I definitely won’t be sticking you up the ass neither.” He paused in the doorway and took a deep breath. “I ain’t mean to act unchristian towards ya. I’ll come pass out on yer couch, just don’t you dare take advantage of me.” “Okay, I won’t,” Avery said with a deep sigh. He was glad to see Dog walk away, but Avery already looked forward to seeing him again.