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.
The man standing in the threshold was short, broad-shouldered and terrifically ugly. He had a nasty scar across his face, which looked to have been craggy and harsh even before the scar. His nose was crooked, his upper lip askew, multiple teeth missing. His voice was gravelly and rough, like a heavy smoker.
he wouldn’t be the first alpha thug who told Kwan he’d never let a man swing on his dick but then allowed Kwan to easily seduce him time and time again. Sometimes a man just wanted to be talked into something, so he could feel like he didn’t want to do it.
he wouldn’t be the first alpha thug who told Kwan he’d never let a man swing on his dick but then allowed Kwan to easily seduce him time and time again. Sometimes a man just wanted to be talked into something, so he could feel like he didn’t want to do it.
Skelton was taller than Latrell, bigger but not as cut; he didn’t have a six-pack, that much was obvious even through his baggy clothes. He looked like he probably did have a six-pack when he was younger though. He had a bushy, unkempt beard and a crucifix around his chest, which he kissed every time Kwan looked at him. He was a convict. He had earned his cosmetology license in prison, and Johnny Cee had hired him because he got a nice tax break for it. He had a square, jutting jaw and dark eyes, with a thick body. He was not handsome like Latrell, but he was bursting with swagger and sex appeal to women, Kwan assumed.
Latrell was the handsome one, smooth, charming, and he always had a girl on each arm. He played basketball, which was pretty much all he talked about. He still seemed to think he might join the NBA — Kwan didn’t know much about sports, but he was under the impression the NBA mainly hired from college, and Latrell was not a student. He was twenty-four, which seemed too old to begin a career as an athlete. He didn’t even play any organized games.
Kwan is a new barber at a black barbershop, and he’s in for a world of alpha male downlow interracial action! That’s cuz he works with some of the neighborhood’s mightiest, strongest and sexiest alpha male black men.
Can Kwan handle his toughest coworker, the legendary ex-con Ike Skelton?!
Desmond has long heard tales of the cruel cop known as Officer Awful, but Desmond can’t wait to experience the kind of punishment Awful metes out! He likes to make men bend over and take it, which is exactly what Desmond craves.
Can Desmond handle the punishment Officer Awful has in store?!
Desmond staggered down the road, pretending to be drunk. Well, partially pretending. He was drunk, just not extremely drunk. He staggered like he was extremely drunk. He’d had a few drinks to settle his nerves, which didn’t work. His heart raced. He had never done anything quite like this before. The city was quiet but bustling in the early evening. Desmond stood out both because he appeared to be drunk and because he was the only black man here. Sure enough, the first part of his plan worked: Desmond saw the police car pull to a stop, and Officer Auffernan got out. He was tall and strapping, his broad shoulders barely fitting into the uniform shirt he wore. He was both a literal and figurative redneck, his tan skin having a ruddy hue from working outside. He had a military crew-cut, but his hair was a dark blond so it almost looked like he had a bald head. “Young man, come here,” he said. He sounded both bored and aggressive, and Desmond shivered in anticipation. He smiled, dropping the drunken act. “What seems to be the problem, officer?” “You drunk…?” Auffernan asked, eyebrows furrowing as he realized mid-question that Desmond no longer seemed drunk. “No, sir. But you can charge me with public intoxication if you want.” He chewed on his lip. He looked like the kind of man who was not often surprised during the course of his work and didn’t much like it now that it had happened. “What’s yer game, boy?” The way he drawled out the word boy made Desmond shiver again. This time it must have been obvious that it was sexual, and Auffernan bristled. Desmond felt cold and small, and he had to resist the urge to grope Auffernan’s broad chest right now, here in public. “I probably shouldn’t say in front of all these people,” Desmond said. There were a few onlookers on the other side of the street. No one was close enough they could hear, but it certainly wasn’t private. “I feel like you wastin’ my time, boy. So I’m gonna put you in handcuffs for now and take you down to the station. I’ll figure out why later,” he said. He slapped cuffs on Desmond, whose dick burst into life when Auffernan’s hands gripped his wrists. As soon as he was in the back of the cop car, Desmond caught a whiff of leather and sweat and uniformed musk. He took a deep breath before Officer Auffernan got in the front seat and drove off. “Well, boy, out with it. What ain’t ya wanna say in public?” “I’ve heard you… sometimes take young black men and have your way with them, and-“ “You one of them Black Lives Matter folks?” He looked away from the steering wheel, frowning at Desmond. “No, sir.” Desmond’s heart nearly pounded out of his chest. “I was hoping you’d have your way with me.” Auffernan paused, then let out a long, booming laugh. “Well, boy,” he said. “First of all, I do not have my way with black men, or wit’ no one I arrest. That would be a crime.” “Certainly.” “Let’s say if’n I was gonna do somethin’ like that, I wouldn’t be targetin’ black folks. I love black folks. My deputy is as black as night,” Auffernan said. His squad car glided down the moonlit street. “But I don’t like thugs. I don’t like cocky thugs comin’ down here and making a stink in my nice little town.” “Yes, sir.” “You ain’t a thug.” “No, sir.” “So you see my problem, boy?” “You won’t abuse me because I’m not a thug?” “I ain’t say that. I don’t abuse no one.” “Would it help if I acted like a thug?” “Boy, you the queen of all the sissies.” Auffernan said. “I doubt you could pull that off.” Desmond knew Auffernan was right. He could not pull off a thug act. He tried his best though. He leaned back in the backseat and gave off the disaffected air of a real thug. “You, pig, you best jerk ma dick like ya life depends on it, muddahfuckah-“ “That ain’t workin’. You about as thug as Urkel, boy,” Auffernan said. He sniffled and sighed. “You know I gotta charge you, right? I called this in. There gonna be questions if I just let you go.” “That’s fine.” “Gonna be a two hundred dollar fine,” Auffernan said. “I can afford it.” “Well hell, ain’t you the uppity kind? You loaded or what?” Auffernan said with a laugh. He made eye contact with Desmond in the rearview mirror. “Not exactly loaded,” Desmond said. “But I can afford a couple fines.” Auffernan pulled into the parking lot of the police station. It was a tiny building, barely bigger than an efficiency apartment. Auffernan dragged Desmond out of the back seat. Desmond struggled like a thug the best he could. “Yo, pig, get off me!” Auffernan dragged him to his feet. He whistled. “You really like it when it hurts, huh?” He tightly gripped Desmond’s arm with one meaty hand, causing a twinge of pain where Desmond’s wrists were bound. “Yes, officer. Pig. Go fuck a donut.” As he walked him to the front door, Auffernan snorted in derision. “Shit, most thugs get more creative than that, boy.” He slapped his thigh. “I’ll work on that,” Desmond said. He followed Auffernan inside the police station. There was no one inside. It was just an open room with a few desks scattered about, and at one end was an office — Auffernan’s, presumably. The other end had two small jail cells. That was where Auffernan led Desmond. He added a second pair of handcuffs attaching the first pair around Desmond’s wrists to the cell bars, so Desmond was forced to face away from the rest of the station. “You wait there, bitch. Gonna make you show a little respec’.” Desmond shuddered. He felt sure Auffernan was going to do it now, and his dick raged in his pants. He had trouble sounding like a thug when he was so horny and so desperate to be submissive. “Who you calling a bitch, pig?” There was a loud clattering noise, then Auffernan loudly locked the front door. “You shouldn’t be comin’ ‘round to my town and insultin’ me, boy.” “You evolved in a cave, cracker!” That made Auffernan stop walking. His menacing cop routine vanished. “What?” Desmond dropped his thug act as well. “It’s a Five-Percenter thing.” There was another long silence. “What?” “Five-Percenters. They believe white people evolved in a cave… Nevermind,” he said. “It’s just what I thought a thug might insult you with-“ “Ain’t all people evolve in a cave? Like cavemen?” Desmond shrugged. “I dunno. I guess so.” “Every black person I ever arrested was better at insulting me than you is,” Auffernan said with a sigh. “Even this deaf motherfucker I arrested a couple years back.” Auffernan was right behind Desmond now, unbuttoning his shirt. Desmond moaned. Desmond could hear Auffernan taking his clothes off but couldn’t see him. The police station had become dark since Auffernan turned the lights off, leaving only the illumination of the emergency lighting in the jail cell. “Sorry,” Desmond said. “I’ll try to get better.” “You want something to bite on, boy?” Auffernan asked. He was right behind Desmond now, so close his breath condensed on Desmond’s cheek. He wrapped a piece of red vinyl cloth in front of Desmond’s face, like a tether he could bite on. As Desmond opened his mouth to let it in, he realized what it was — a Confederate flag. That made him feel even hornier, and he wished he could take his pants off. “Ain’t nothing racist about me using this flag, boy. ‘S just about culture and heritage, not race,” Auffernan said. “You got that?” “Yes, sir.” “I use this flag e’ry time I got a northerner come down here, need to be reminded he ain’t from ‘round these parts,” Auffernan said. “You fucking honky,” Desmond said. He meant for it to sound threatening, but it came out like a seductive groan as the situation made him aroused and panty. “You gonna jerk me off, boy.” “Yes, oh god yes!” “T’weren’t a question,” Auffernan said. “It was a prediction.” He uncuffed Desmond from the cell bars, leaving his wrists cuffed together. He pushed Desmond to his knees. “You ain’t gonna bite me, right?” “I won’t bite! I promise!” “I’m sure you won’t. And you got nice soft lips, so I think I’m gonna like this,” Auffernan said. He had a wide, strapping body and a furry blond chest. He had unbuttoned his uniform shirt but not taken it off, revealing a Confederate flag wifebeater underneath, torn and stained with sweat around the armpits. Auffernan still wore his black uniform slacks. “Can I lick your armpits, officer?” Auffernan sneered in disgust. “Yes, but you can’t enjoy it. That’s gross,” he said. “Fuck you, pig, you can’t tell me what to do. Muddahfuckah,” Desmond said. He smiled and attacked Auffernan’s left pit. He inhaled deeply and licked the hairs there, tasting the stale salt of past sweats sticking to his skin. He managed to gag in an authentic way — it was musky and disgusting in an objective sense, so it was easy to respond like it was foul, even if Desmond actually loved it. “Oh god yes,” Desmond said as he moved to the other armpit. “Don’t make me suck on your balls next.” Auffernan chuckled. “You like swallowin’ white balls?” “I like the taste of redneck balls.” Auffernan’s eyes flashed darkly. “I don’t like it when people who ain’t rednecks call me a redneck. Seems kinda like a slur,” he said. “Let’s talk punishment, hillbilly,” Desmond said before diving his head between Auffernan’s legs. He still wore his slacks so Desmond’s tongue wettened the fabric, which was salty and sour. “Oh now, I ain’t a hillbilly. I ain’t that rural,” Auffernan said as he undid his belt. His pants fell to his ankles, and he had on a pair of white briefs, dingy and grayed. His cock and balls bulged, thick pubic hair sneaking around the edges of the fabric. Desmond whistled. “You sure you ain’t part black? You got a massive slab of meat there, ‘specially for a redneck.” “You just tryin’-a piss me off now, boy.” “I’ve been trying to piss you off since you arrested me,” Desmond said. He used his teeth to bite the elastic of the briefs, then awkwardly pulled them down — he was still handcuffed, so that was the only way to do it. He had never done this with briefs before — only boxers, but he had ample experience with them — and it was awkward. Auffernan looked down at him with his arms folded over his chest. “There’s a part of my ballsac-” the way he drawled out ballsac to last for what seemed like ten syllables to Desmond — “thass always itchin’ me, boy. I wanna see if yo’ tongue can scratch that itch.” As much as a part of Desmond wanted to go right for the dick, which was plump and already stirring with a trace of erection, he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. He stuck his head between Auffernan’s legs and licked his balls. They were thick and heavy, dripping with sweat — there was air conditioning in the station, but it did not seem to be effective, and the building remained extraordinarily hot, making Auffernan’s balls slippery. The sweat flowed from those hairy balls right down Desmond’s greedily guzzling throat. The musty, salty flavor exploded on Desmond’s tongue, and he gurgled as he savored it. Auffernan pointed to the rear of his balls, having to awkwardly reach behind his own ass to get his finger there. “Right there,” he said. The spot was right where his scrotum met his taint, and it was covered in sweat-stickied hairs. Without taking Auffernan’s overflowing ballsac from his mouth, Desmond stretched his tongue out to that spot. The taste was grimy and dirty, making Desmond moan around the flesh that quivered in his mouth. He had to strain to get his tongue out that far, but when he touched it, Auffernan grunted. “Damn, you one hell of a ballslurper,” Auffernan said as though he was shocked. “Ain’t nevuh had no one suck my balls who really liked it, I guess.” His dick sprang to full erection above Desmond’s face, and it twitched every time Desmond lapped at Auffernan’s sensitive sac. Goober in. Auffernan, you there? What’s up?” Auffernan reached to the uniform shirt that he had placed on a nearby desk. He grabbed the radio mic off it and said to Desmond, “This is that black deputy I was tellin’ you about. He always messin’ wit’ pinkboys. Keep quiet fo’ now,” Then he spoke into the mic. “Hey, Goober. Nothin’ going on right now. I picked up a drunk boy. You might have some interest in him.” A long pause. Crap. My wife’s gonna kill him. Rashaad right? He promised he wouldn’t drink outside the home. Was he on liquor? His mom made him promise only beer- “Nah, stop, Goober, no-” Auffernan said until Goober stopped talking long enough that Auffernan could transmit. “Nah, not one of yer boys like yer son. I just mean he’s black.” Oh, well, whatever. You givin’ him the standard welcome? “Even as we speak,” Auffernan said with a chuckle. “He got a real sour look on his face, and he making these chipmunk sounds.” He held the mic near Desmond’s face so the sound of his moist sputtering could be heard. “You hear that?” Not really. Just sounds like static. I’m sure it’s a pretty sound. You tell him to keep it real for me, Auffernan. I’m-a go serve that warrant now. “Roger that,” Auffernan said. He put the radio mic down. Then he looked down at Desmond’s red face and bugging eyes. “You keep it real, okay?” “Yes, officer,” Desmond said through the balls filling up his mouth. “You ready to swallow that dick?” His dick had gotten rock-hard from Desmond’s attention to his balls, and from his position underneath the massive cop, Auffernan’s cock took up almost all of Desmond’s field of vision. He gurgled his excited agreement around the ballflesh overflowing from his throat, which continued to send trickles of tasty fluids down Desmond’s throat. He pulled away, keeping his mouth open so Auffernan could see the pool of drool and sweat that had collected in the back of his mouth. He stuck his tongue out and licked the entire shaft from root to tip. It twitched. With his tongue, Desmond traced the veins that ran up the side of the shaft. He choked up plenty of spit, which ran down Auffernan’s dick into his bushy forest of crotch hair. Auffernan lost his disaffected pose, and he shuddered, pleasure visibly rippling through him. His arms were crossed over his chest, but as Desmond licked, he clutched at his body and played with his nipples as though uncontrollably aroused. “Shit, yeah!” Auffernan muttered. “You do that good!” Desmond swallowed his precum-leaking cocktip, letting that mess of fluids in his mouth leak out and down Auffernan’s shaft to moisten it up. Auffernan sighed. He leaned against the cell bars. “Shit…” Desmond began deep-throating him in earnest, working his dick all the way down his throat. He was an expert cock-sucker, so he didn’t need to gag on it, but he liked to, both because it was enjoyable on its own terms and because it made Auffernan get cockier, which turned Desmond on. “You can’t handle this much meat, huh?” He didn’t want to stop to answer, so Desmond just said ‘no, it’s too much!’ around the meat in his throat. All that came out was a gurgling sound, but Auffernan seemed to get the gist of what he was saying. “Lemme lube it up some,” Auffernan said. He very slowly spat, letting a thick wad of saliva drip down, plopping onto Desmond’s upper lip as he slid down the shaft. Desmond suckled the spit into his mouth as he stretched his jaw and got all the way down. Then he let that spit roll out down Auffernan’s shaft, as Auffernan grunted. His knees buckled. His balls crawled up in his sac as though about to cum, but then Auffernan removed Desmond’s face from his cock. He lightly slapped it. “You’s tryna’-a make me cum too early,” he said. “I’m cornholin’ you in the ass, boy. Ain’t gonna let you cum neither.” He chuckled throatily. “You ain’t gettin’ outta here with an intact booty. No way. Not on Auffernan’s watch.” “Never, you fuckin’ pig!” Desmond said. He stood up, taking a deep breath now that his throat was clear. He grabbed the cell bars with his cuffed wrists and stuck his ass out a bit to give Auffernan a good angle. “I’ll fuck you up, officer!” “Speaking of pigs,” Auffernan said as he rammed his dick in. A jolt of pain shot up Desmond’s spine, and he howled. Auffernan gripped him by the waist. “Lemme hear you squeal.” Desmond squealed as loud as he could. He wasn’t sure how pig-like it was, but it was an animalistic squeal anyway. The cock in his ass pushed in a little farther, pulsating deep within him. It awakened a chord of intense pleasure that sounded up from his booty, traveling up his spine and hitting him with a wave of exquisite sensations. “That ain’t a pig. You just squealed like a… big, retarded rooster,” Auffernan said. “Try it again. Like this.” Then he made a rough, honking noise — to Desmond, he wanted to say it sounded like an angry goose. But he didn’t argue, the pleasure exploding in his ass was too intense to form any words. He just made the sound the best he could. Auffernan’s dick was all the way in him now, and Desmond’s prostate throbbed with every thrust of his cock. He squealed again, making that angry goose sound. “Hey, here, make that sound again,” Auffernan said, shoving the radio mic in front of Desmond’s face. He pushed the ‘transmit’ button. Desmond squealed as loud as he could to be sure the mic could pick it up. The pain was melting away now as his ass loosened up, and Auffernan’s cock flowed in and out easily. Auffernan slammed with all his mind, ramming Desmond into the cell bars with each thrust of his hips. After a few seconds, there was a click, and then Deputy Goober’s bass laughter came out of the radio. There a pig loose in the station, hoss? Want me to get the assholes at Animal Control? “Nah, I got this piggie under control. He just makin’ noise to let me know he feel strongly ‘bout what’s happenin’ to him,” Auffernan said into the radio. Then he whispered into Desmond’s ear, “Alright, boy, I’m-a give you this flag to bite on again.” The cold vinyl Confederate flag again pushed between Desmond’s lips. He bit down hard, which made the plowing a little easier to take. The fabric was thick enough to have some purchase, so he could relieve the pressure he felt with a strong clamp of his teeth on the flag. As he did so, he bucked his ass backward, forcing it deep onto Auffernan’s cock — he wanted to make this as good as possible for Officer Auffernan, who groaned appreciatively. That groan turned into a shudder like he was holding back his orgasm. “Fuck yeah,” Auffernan said. He looked around as though checking for anyone else in the station, then whispered again. “Look… I learned somethin’ in the military, a sorta rule. I don’t follow it on the force,” he said. “Cuz normally I only cornhole pissheads.” He took a deep breath. His hands reached around Desmond’s body, squeezing first his nipples as though Auffernan hoped to find tits there. Then his hands roamed lower down until they came to Desmond’s rock-hard cock. Auffernan pulled away for a moment like he was scared. Then he resumed touching and even stroking Desmond’s dick with one hand, while his other hand held the flag in place in Desmond’s mouth. Auffernan moaned, sounding a little disgusted. “My drill sergeant said you can ram a man in the ass, but you gotta give a reacharound. It’s against the rules otherwise.” “Really?” Desmond asked through gritted teeth, his voice muffled by the flag that was still in his mouth. Auffernan shrugged. “I’m sure that wasn’t a real Army rule or nothin’. Just what my drill sergeant was into,” he said. “You ever tell anyone, I will get you locked up — not here where you gonna get rammed all the time neither, I’ll get you locked up somewhere terrible where the guards are all fat.” “Won’t. Tell.” Desmond could barely speak. His ass was on fire with orgasmic energy, while his dick pulsated beneath Auffernan’s fingers. He wished he could prolong it, but he was already bucking and shooting his load. All it took was a few strokes from a massively muscled alpha like Officer Auffernan. “Dang, boy, you nut fast!” Auffernan let out a wolf whistle. Semen sprayed across Auffernan’s fingers and into the cell, dripping all over the floor and coating the cell bars in Desmond’s cream. Desmond groaned loudly, and then Auffernan did likewise, but with a more grossed-out tenor, his hand still stroking Desmond’s orgasming cock. He lifted the fingers of his other hand to Desmond’s face, where he wiped cum the cum off his hands onto Desmond’s cheeks. Then he took both ends of the flag in his hands, pulling tight so Desmond’s head was forced upward. As though he needed to reassert his masculinity after touching Desmond’s cock, Officer Auffernan began pounding his dick in and out, all the way with each powerful stroke. That only continued Desmond’s orgasm. “Take it, boy,” Auffernan said, growling through gritted teeth. Just as he was saying boy, his voice broke and the first jet of cum hit Desmond’s ass. He continued longdicking through the shoulder-shaking power of his orgasm. Desmond shuddered and squeezed as though trying to hold on to Auffernan’s cock with his ass. A huge load of cum sprayed into his guts, and a seeping warmth spread to his guts. Desmond moaned along with Auffernan as jet after jet of white-hot cum coated his insides. That orgasm seemed to last forever. Desmond’s had begun when Auffernan jacked him off and continued through Auffernan’s climax, and even now, Auffernan’s cock spurting out the last of his cum, Desmond writhed and gasped as ecstasy coursed through his veins. His prostate thrummed and hummed, and Desmond struggled against the handcuffs binding his wrists together. At last, when his balls were good and drained, Auffernan pulled out and Desmond breathed a sigh of relief. His ass felt cold and empty. He stayed there, bent over and with a Confederate flag in his mouth — Auffernan no longer held on to it, so Desmond could have spat it out anytime. He didn’t want to though. He wondered how many other men had bit this flag while they got rammed. He hoped it was a lot. Maybe that was why Auffernan used it. Maybe he liked the flag soaking up all the ass-pain sweat and drool of the men he ramrodded. Officer Awful. That was what they called him. Desmond had heard about that, and he came running to this tiny town so he could run into him. As Desmond recovered from his orgasm, he turned his head to see Auffernan writing him a ticket. He was still naked, his sweaty body swaying, limp dick moist with cum and assjuice. Auffernan put the ticket in Desmond’s hand. “Here you go, boy. That’ll be two hundred dollars. You can pay at the county courthouse.” Public intoxication was checked, but at the bottom of the list of possible charges, Auffernan had written in, inappropriate squealing, and checked that box as well. “If I don’t pay, do I get to stay here?” Desmond asked with a grin and a gasp. “That is exactly correct,” Officer Awful said.
Mefody is a champion gymnast who gets to enjoy a most unusual reward. It’s seven minutes in heaven with a massively muscular brute, a vor with the Bratva who want to congratulate Mefody on his victory!
Can Mefody get the most out of his Russian mafia alpha male gift?!
Mefody refused all media requests in the immediate aftermath of his gold medal win at the Olympics. He wanted to bask in his own glory, and to ponder his success on behalf of Mother Russia and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. He had won the world championship in gymnastics. A lot of people would say it didn’t really count — the United States and sixty-four other countries boycotted this year’s games, but Mefody didn’t feel any less victorious. He was still the world champion in men’s gymnastics, and no one could take that away from him. The only people he called were his parents. Mefody had his own phone in his room at the hotel in Moscow, so he could call them directly and in private. They had paid for his career as a gymnast, and they had supported him the whole way, so he felt he needed to tell them thanks. He thought he’d know what to say, but in the end, he just cried into the phone. When tournament officials started knocking on his door, Mefody sent them away. They pushed though and kept returning until Mefody had no choice but to speak to them. They insisted he give interviews to the world press in which he extolled the virtues of the USSR and the communist regime. That took all evening and promised to consume the next couple days as well. But it was in the “fine print”, as the yankees do say. Mefody spoke English well. That was another reason they wanted him doing interviews. He spoke to the press from fifteen countries, mostly the socialist paradises around the globe: Cuba, North Korea, Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, etc. Then he also met with Americans, British, Japanese, French and even the Indian press. There came a knock in the early night, when the last round of the day’s competitions were finishing up — Mefody watched the women’s gymnastics on the closed-circuit TV. This knock was different than all the knocks Mefody had heard earlier. It was not the uncertain, hesitant knock of a man who hoped Mefody would answer. It was the commanding knock of a man who was used to being obeyed. It was not a request to open the door, it was a statement that he was here and the door, therefore, was to be opened. Mefody opened the door. The man standing in the threshold was short, broad-shouldered and terrifically ugly. He had a nasty scar across his face, which looked to have been craggy and harsh even before the scar. His nose was crooked, his upper lip askew, multiple teeth missing. But he wore a fine suit like an Italian, Mefody thought, it was perfectly tailored and it looked expensive. He was flanked by a trio of men in similar suits. These were tall muscle-bound meatheads, and they were handsome, unlike the ugly man who appeared to be their boss. Their muscles rippled beneath their suits as they glowered at Mefody. These men, Mefody strongly suspected, were vory. That meant they were thugs in one of the clans of the Russian mafia, the Sons of Vasilisa, if rumors could be believed. They controlled this tournament — they had built the venue; they had sourced the athletes; they claimed the actual competition was fair, and no one had asked Mefody to cheat, but Mefody assumed it was not as fair as it appeared. The Russian mafia — or Bratva, meaning brotherhood — would not have put on a tournament like this if they weren’t going to fix the results and make money off the gambling. A flash of fear hit him as Mefody wondered if he was supposed to throw the match and didn’t. Maybe there was a miscommunication, and the vory thought he was told to lose even though he wasn’t. Maybe they’d think he was being disobedient. Or maybe, he thought hopefully, they had forced the other gymnasts to lose deliberately — maybe Mefody was the chosen winner. They’d have no reason to tell him, and if he had known, it might have even made him perform worse because there was no pressure. “Mefody Bragin? Congratulations on your victory,” the ugly man said. His voice was gravelly and rough, like a heavy smoker. He was the same height as Mefody, but he seemed short in comparison to the tall goons standing behind him. “Thank you, sir,” Mefody said, too nervous to think of anything else to say. “Glory belongs to the socialist revolution. I have won this honor for the workers of the Soviet state-“ “Yes, indeed. I have come to offer you a gift, from my clan to you, in recognition of your success. You have brought pride to our entire country,” the man said. He spoke like he didn’t often talk in this manner: articulate, non-threatening, prepared. His muscles twitched beneath his suit. “You will come with me to a hotel that I manage. It is nearby, and it is full of… entertainment you are sure to enjoy. We have a stable of girls for you to choose from. You may have an entire night with any one of them. What kind of girls do you like?” “Oh, uh… thanks, but, uh… I’m not… I would rather not spend the night with any girls,” Mefody said. He blushed. If he wasn’t so scared of the vory, he would have come up with a better excuse. The man flared his nostrils, and he looked Mefody up and down. “You are… not interested in girls.” “No,” Mefody said. The man turned around and looked at his three bodyguards, who stared straight ahead. Their square jaws and tightly-pursed lips betrayed no hint of emotion. The man cleared his throat. “You like these lunkheads?” “Uh…” “Just pick one. I can’t give you the whole night with him, we have further business to attend to this evening. You may have one of them for just a few minutes. Let’s say seven. You can have seven minutes in heaven with any one of them.” “Him.” Mefody said it without a second thought. The tallest one, with a deeply dimpled face, high cheekbones, a good Russian boy, Mefody thought, though the man was well out of boyhood. He was far more than six feet tall, so big that Mefody couldn’t even hazard a guess, but he was probably closer to seven feet than six feet. He was built like a barrel-chested bear complete with a dense mat of black fur on his chest — Mefody couldn’t see it beneath his suit, but he could sense it in the way the fabric shifted over his broad chest as he walked into the room. “He is Ivan,” the man said. “Ivan, you do whatever he wants for seven minutes. We will not tease you for it afterwards, I swear. It will not count. This you do for Mother Russia, and we will think no less of you for it.” He shut the door and called out, “I’ll give you one minute to take your clothes off, then start the seven minute timer.” “Ah, damn, this is happening so fast,” Mefody said as he quickly stripped. He blushed intensely. Ivan did not seem unwilling, but he was clearly not thrilled that Mefody had chosen him. Mefody whispered, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” “I want to show you I appreciate the honor you have brought to our country,” Ivan said. His deep voice resonated in the small room. “I wish to please you, comrade.” He sighed as he stripped off his shirt, revealing that thick hairy chest towering above Mefody’s thin, hairless body. Mefody couldn’t resist plowing his face between Ivan’s massive pectoral muscles and sucking on the thick nest of hairs there. Ivan’s entire upper body rippled, and for the first time, serious emotion flickered on his face — a mixture of awkward embarrassment and intense arousal, with a souciant of shock like he hadn’t known where this was going. He smiled, but only for a moment before he wiped the grin away and resumed his stony-faced stare. Your seven minutes starts now, comrade! A surge of adrenaline made Mefody hurry into action. He undid Ivan’s belt, letting his pants fall to the ground and then pulled down his underwear to reveal a fat cock that dangled between his legs. It was charmingly limp, and it smelled sweetly of manhood, like engine grease and tractors and concrete. Mefody wanted desperately to swallow it, but he saw no reason to do that — if he was going to be feted as a champion, he might as well push his luck and see where Ivan’s personal boundaries were. He would not likely have a similar opportunity ever again. “Get on your knees, Ivan.” Mefody said. He tried not to sound weak and girlish, but he didn’t think he was successful. That was simply the way Mefody was. He was tiny in comparison to the Russian giant, whose broad body exuded heat like a beast. He smelled so intense of masculinity that Mefody could already feel an orgasm brewing within. That was good, because he had only seven minutes to finish. Ivan’s nostrils flared as he sunk to the ground. Mefody grabbed his dick, which was a foot long and thick as a bottle of vodka. It throbbed in his grasp, limp, but with a powerful beat that sent a frisson up Mefody’s spine. He gave Ivan’s fat meat a squeeze as he suckled on each nipple, which made Ivan’s powerful pectoral muscles ripple. His chest was hairy, dappled with both old sweat from the day’s work and a few beads of anxiety as he no doubt wondered what Mefody was going to do to him. That dickshaft was firming up in his hand, despite Ivan’s bristling discomfort. His face remained stoic though, even when Mefody kissed him. Mefody had never felt such a thick cock, like holding onto an extra limb, he thought. His tongue danced along Ivan’s supple pectoral muscles, then tweaked his nipples until they became erect. Either Ivan was ticklish or so nervous his muscles flexed when Mefody touched his tattooed chest. He still remained silent though. Mefody kissed him again, and he plunged his tongue into Ivan’s mouth. He kissed him like that, like a French girl, and Ivan showed no reaction. His own tongue remained still. Mefody kissed him for what felt like hours but undoubtedly wasn’t, and by the time he pulled off Mefody’s cock had spewed out a load precum that coated Ivan’s muscular chest. “Hmmm… Thanks,” Mefody said. Ivan stone-faced. Mefody cleared his throat. It seemed Ivan picked up on what Mefody was about to ask for, because he stooped over before Mefody could tell him to do so. He lowered his head and swallowed Mefody’s dick in one smooth motion. He got almost the entire cock down his throat before he let out a loud grunt, and a big ball of spit choked down Mefody’s shaft. He gagged, his whole chest writhing as he uncomfortably swallowed Mefody’s cock to the root. Mefody grunted too, with a more ladylike demeanor, as pleasure overwhelmed him. His dick spasmed and nearly came right then and there. But Mefody held back his orgasm, so as not to cum too early. He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath. His cock lay at rest in Ivan’s throat. Mefody didn’t move to avoid triggering a cum, as waves of pleasure made his toes curl and his breathing grow jagged. After his initial reluctance faded, Ivan started slurping like an experienced bottom, Mefody thought with a grin. He wondered if he had ever done it before. It sure seemed like he must have. Probably in prison. All kinds of things happened in Russian prisons, or so Mefody had heard. Mefody gripped Ivan’s head to guide his rhythm up and down on Mefody’s shaft, which made Mefody marvel at the man’s size — his head felt like a giant’s beneath Mefody’s dainty grasp, and his shoulders were so broad that Mefody’s arms couldn’t reach the breadth of them. Precum dripped down Ivan’s throat, in a trickle at first. The vor’s eyes watered, either from the taste or from lack of oxygen or both, maybe shame, but whatever it was, it didn’t slow him down any. He nestled his nose deep in Mefody’s pubic hair, his own nostrils flaring again as he forced himself to deep-throat. Mefody kept his hand on Ivan’s head, but he didn’t force his dick down that massive gullet. He couldn’t have even if he wanted to; he simply enjoyed caressing the man’s body, from his head to his toes, and his head was the only part Mefody could easily reach right now. But as this went on, Mefody did stretch down and rub Ivan’s shoulders, which were so broad and thickly muscled that it was like a concrete slab made of writhing snakes. His skin was tattooed with strange symbols, which Mefody knew all signified something in his Bratva clan, the Sons of Vasilisa. Mefody, of course, didn’t know and didn’t ask what they meant. Some things it was better not to know. “Oh god, Ivan, yeah, swallow it…” Mefody didn’t usually do dirty-talk, but he couldn’t help it today. The room seemed to be getting smaller he thought, or Ivan was bigger. He was bent over with his giant ass in the air so his head could reach Mefody’s crotch, and the entire room seemed to be filled with his throbbing, fur-covered Mother Russia-loving muscles. Five minutes left! “Okay, I’m going in that ass, alright?” Mefody said, breathless, wanting to pull his cock out of Ivan’s mouth to avoid cumming but unwilling to actually do so. He writhed. It felt too good to stop. “Glory to the Soviet Union!” Ivan said when he suddenly pulled off of his own volition. He cried out as though reminding himself why he was doing this. When Mefody’s cock popped out of his mouth, it left a trail of spit and precum over Ivan’s craggy face. He sniffled and wiped his face off. Then Ivan dropped down to all fours, and he stuck his smooth pale ass high. He had a pair of firmly muscled asscheeks atop trunkish thighs, and he had to bend his knees to get his ass low enough for Mefody to mount him from behind. Mefody’s dainty fingers massaged the meaty muscle of Ivan’s torso. His dick was already nicely lubed with fluids, so Mefody went straight in. He just rubbed the hairy hole of Ivan’s ass for a few seconds, then pried the tip of his cock into that tight opening. Mefody’s heart raced as he wondered what would happen if he didn’t cum in time — would Ivan just leave and blueball him? Mefody didn’t intend to find out. Ivan threw his head back and let out a wordless howl, glancing towards the door — it was clear he didn’t want his comrades outside the room to realize what he was doing in here. He bit his lip and lowered his head. “Glory to Mother Russia and the Soviet Union. Long live the Communist Party!” he said again, this time with a pained waver to his voice. With their vast disparity in size, the positioning was rather awkward. Ivan ended up laying on his belly on the ground, his massive arms outstretched — on all fours, Mefody would have had to climb atop his body to get into his ass. He was willing to do that, but it seemed Ivan preferred to lay on his velly. Ivan buried his face in his own meaty forearm as Mefody worked his dick in bit by bit. His asshole was so tight it gripped at Mefody’s meat, sending waves of intense pleasure through Mefody’s tiny body. It felt like every single scrap of muscle on Ivan’s entire frame clenched down on Mefody’s dick. The sensation was so overwhelming that Mefody didn’t even notice when he finally got his entire cock into Ivan’s ass. He had to use both hands to stretch open those broad, fleshy cheeks, which were slick with smooth hairs — there was so much tight and toned flesh that Mefody just about got lost in it, like his entire body was going to fall into Ivan. But instead he just pistoned his hips, driving his dick into Ivan’s ass as his face nestled in the rippling muscles of his back. He licked and teased the flesh there, grunting with every thrust of his cock into Ivan’s sensitive ass. His hands kneaded the muscle of Ivan’s shoulders, which Mefody had to stretch above his head to reach. “Ah, damn…” Ivan said, wincing. As he went on though, his grunts of pain turned, slowly but surely, into grinding groans of bliss. “Ooooooh!” Ivan’s voice reached a special crescendo. Eventually, Mefody knew he had reached that special secret spot inside each man’s ass, the spot whose every touch caused an unimaginable sensation in his mind. Sure enough, as Mefody’s cock danced along that sensitive spot, Ivan’s entire body twisted and writhed. Sweat covered his muscles and precum dripped out of his own cock, smearing over the ground which he instinctively humped. Finally Ivan could stand it no longer. He stood — Mefody thought he was going to shake like a wet dog and throw Mefody off, but he didn’t — he lifted Mefody with his back and bent over the table, sticking his ass in the air and his head down on the surface. “Oh shit, quit moving!” Mefody exclaimed. He held on to the meaty muscle of Ivan’s back, riding him as he got into a more comfortable position bent over the table. But Ivan was simply much too tall for Mefody to ram him in any normal way like this. It didn’t slow Mefody down any — he just held onto Ivan’s back and humped his hips up and down. It was somewhat awkward but that didn’t make it feel any less incredible in Mefody’s body. It might have actually made the sensation even more intense, and it certainly prolonged Mefody’s orgasm. He wanted to reach around Ivan and stroke him as he plowed, but Mefody couldn’t do that without letting go and falling to the ground, and he didn’t think he could reach Ivan’s cock from here anyway. Ivan just jacked himself off instead. He let out a blood-curdling moan, which he bit back to avoid making too much noise. Mefody could feel it in the rumble of his chest as much as in the sound coming from his throat. He must have been near orgasm from the moment he touched his cock, because Ivan busted his nut just a minute or so later. The smell of cum filled the air as Ivan covered his hand with his creamy seed. A fat long jet of it arced across the room, accompanied by another slow rumbling moan of pleasure from Ivan’s lungs. He groaned and grunted, this time so loud it made the other bodyguards in the hallway snicker, which in turn caused Ivan to blush. Mefody would have laughed as well but he was in the throes of his own climax. His orgasm exploded within him as Ivan’s asshole clenched from his own aftershocks, Ivan now panting and mewling quietly to himself. Mefody moaned like he had never moaned before, and the feeling was so uncontrollable that Mefody gnawed weakly on Ivan’s strapping back muscles. He spasmed like an epileptic atop Ivan’s body. Cum flowed into Ivan’s ass, a great creamy load that spread and seeped into every nook and cranny of his body. It was hot and thick, dripping, flowing from his cock. Ivan was a big man, but somehow Mefody thought he shot enough to fill him up. It was a bigger load than Mefody had ever shot before. Maybe that was from the eroticism of the situation or maybe it was his swelling pride at winning the championship, but Mefody came for eons, it felt like, pouring pump after creamy pump of cum up Ivan’s now frothy guts. With each thrust of Mefody’s hips, his cock slammed in to the root and ejected another burst of jizz, while turning the previous fluids into a cummy soup that ran from the small of Ivan’s back to his taint and even around to his balls on the other side. At last it was all over. Mefody sighed as he slid down, his cock audibly plopping out. A great big ball of cum came with it, dripping into Ivan’s dense mat of black leg hair. Some of it made it all the way to the ground where it landed and spread into a puddle, soon joined by a smattering of droplets making their way out of Ivan’s great ass. Thirty seconds left! Mefody was shocked he had any time left, but he didn’t want to waste it. He darted around to the front of Ivan’s body, where his limp dick dangled, cum dripping beneath it. Mefody dived right in and licked it from tip to root. It must have been exquisitely sensitive because Ivan squealed like a piggie. He collapsed, his weakened body landing on his ass on the ground. He spread his legs wide to give Mefody easy access to his cock. He gripped Mefody’s head and held it in place, as he pumped his sensitive post-nut cock all the way down Mefody’s throat. Mefody suckled and guzzled it down, snarfing every drop of cum he could find. Then he moved down from the shaft to Ivan’s low-hanging balls. Mefody sucked the sweat there, savoring the spicy flavor of fresh sweat. Another knock on the door. Okay, time is up. You can stop, Ivan. Put your clothes on. A blush spread over Ivan’s face. He paused and smiled at Mefody, then the smile turned into a stony frown. He stood and hurriedly grabbed for his clothes. He raced to get dresset against the insistent knocking and tapping of his feet of his boss, the ugly man — Anatoly Troganovich — who waited outside the room with Ivan’s two compatriots. Ivan winced when he stretched his legs, and he rubbed his sore ass. But in seconds he had his pants on and he breathed a sigh of relief. The door opened moments later. The suited man and the two remaining bodyguards looked on with baited breath, as though they had no idea what they might see. They were visibly relieved that both Mefody and Ivan were clothed — Ivan’s massive, bearlike chest was still bare, but there was no signs of sex. Ivan’s ass must still be soaking wet. It might be visible through his pants. Hopefully that underwear would soak it up. It must have smelled like cum in the room though, Mefody thought as he saw all three of them wrinkle their noses. “Congratulations again on your victory,” the suited man, Anatoly Troganovich, said. He held out his hand to shake Mefody’s, then withdrew it. “Sorry,” he said with a blush — it looked like he was a man who rarely blushed and wasn’t sure how to deal with it. “I’d rather not shake your hand. I do not know what kind of fluids are on it.” He cleared his throat and laughed a low grumbling laugh. “Well… I do know what kind of fluids are on it.” Mefody shrugged and put his hands on his hips. “Okay. Thank you, sir. I am glad to have brought glory to Mother Russia.” He smiled flirtatiously at Ivan, who sighed and avoided making eye contact. He buttoned his shirt up quickly. After peeping a subtle wink from Ivan, Mefody closed the door, and the last thing he heard was the suited man with the ugly face say, “I meant what I said: no making fun of Ivan for this. If either of you ever bring it up, I’ll make you do the same thing again. You’ll keep that gymnast so satisfied he never goes out again!” “Yes, sir,” they all said.
He worked on a road crew rebuilding the parking lot at the local hospital. His job involved standing around, sometimes for hours, then working furiously to dig trenches. It wasn’t specialized labor but it was boring and it was physically arduous and it left him covered head to toe in dirt. Clumps of dirt clung to every scrap of skin that was visible, and some had even gotten under his pants somehow — he was shirtless because it was a hot Mississippi night, so his chest was absolutely covered in dirt. It had been mud originally, but it dried into just plain dirt. Once some of the filth had been wiped off, a few tattoos were visible, pale looping lines, soldiers carrying American flags and an iron cross on his neck. Clumps of mud fell off his taut, leanly muscled chest. He was very muscular — not like a bodybuilder, like a worker, with heavily overdeveloped shoulders because he spent a lot of time digging trenches. He also spent most of his money on bills, debt, court fees and child support, with a hefty amount going to booze, weed and some occasional pills. He spent virtually no money on food. That didn’t mean he had a six-pack though. He didn’t go to the gym or work out in an organized enough fashion for an actual six-pack, his abs weren’t that well-developed. His limbs were skinny despite the corded-muscles attached to them. He smiled nervously, revealing his jagged teeth with a gaping hole on the front-bottom. He was missing a few teeth in the back too.
Avery’s surprise encounter with the white trash hunk Calloway leads to a bout of intense rough trade, as he gets to swing on the trashiest redneck this side o’ the holler!
Calloway Hitch stumbled home, exhausted. His boss dropped him off at just past four o’clock in the morning at the entrance to Smashwood Trailer Park. He probably would have driven into the trailer park, right to Calloway’s front door if Calloway had asked him to. But he hadn’t asked. He didn’t want him to do that, it was too awkward. He thought there was a chance his girlfriend had kicked him out. He didn’t want to get dropped off at a trailer with a sign on the door saying Calloway fuck off! It would be awkward. Calloway was used to it. He could just sleep on the grass, and his boss would never have to know what a deadbeat he was. It wasn’t like he wasn’t already dirty. He worked on a road crew rebuilding the parking lot at the local hospital. His job involved standing around, sometimes for hours, then working furiously to dig trenches. It wasn’t specialized labor but it was boring and it was physically arduous and it left him covered head to toe in dirt. Clumps of dirt clung to every scrap of skin that was visible, and some had even gotten under his pants somehow — he was shirtless because it was a hot Mississippi night, so his chest was absolutely covered in dirt. It had been mud originally, but it dried into just plain dirt. The farther he got from his boss’s truck, the more tired he became. The adrenaline flowed out of his veins, and every step he took was wearying. He was increasingly sure his girlfriend would have found a reason to be pissed at him. Sure enough, when he got close to the trailer, he saw a piece of paper on the door to his trailer. He groaned. He felt so tired he didn’t even want to keep going to read it. He could just curl up here on the grass and sleep. But he wanted to read it. What if the note said Daenerys has a fever, we’re at the hospital? He’d look like an absolute piece of shit if he never showed up to see his own daughter at the hospital just because he was too lazy to get close enough to read the note. So he staggered there on tired legs. Sure enough it read fuck off Calloway yr child spprt check bounced again will call cops if u come in go away go away go away. He let out a growl aimed at no one in particular. He didn’t understand why that check had bounced, he had thought there was enough money in there to cover it. “Goddamn fuck!” He shouted at the sky. He knew he ought to be quiet, but he was upset and he needed to express it. Somewhere a dog barked. A light turned on in the trailer. Calloway groaned and spat on the ground. He didn’t want to get in trouble and he couldn’t handle getting arrested again, but if that bitch baby-mama of his was going to come out here, he was going to defend himself. “There you are, Calloway, you piece of shit! Daenerys needs school clothes-“ “So do I, bitch!” Calloway shouted, pointing at his shirtless body and tattered old jeans. His girlfriend wore one of his oversized tee shirts over a pair of shorts. She came out with a baseball bat in her hand. She was red-faced and puffy because she had been asleep — and probably was binge-drinking — until moments ago. “You told me you’d pay up this month-“ “I tried, but you kept borrowin’ money for beer-“ “Don’t try to pawn this off on me, you deadbeat piece-of-shit-“ “If I’m a dead beat, you’re an entire dead rap-“ Not that far away, Avery woke up with a start. He had found an empty trailer in the Smashwood Trailer Park and moved in yesterday. He went outside just in time to see Calloway curse at some of the neighbors who had poked their heads out of their trailers. Nobody called the cops in places like this, not unless it was absolutely necessary, they just shouted at Calloway and “that bitch” to shut up. “Why don’t you go suck that cop’s dick again?!” Calloway shouted at her as she backed into the trailer. “Maybe his cum is beer! You dumbass bitch!” He faced the neighbors in the rest of the trailer park. “She loves sucking off cops! She especially likes that fat motherfucker Heartley!” Some people snickered. It wasn’t clear if they were laughing at Calloway for calling Officer Heartley fat or if they were laughing at Calloway’s girlfriend for sucking off a cop. Calloway smiled victoriously — he had obviously interpreted it as the latter, but the look on his girlfriend’s face as she went inside suggested she thought it was the former. Calloway tried to look like he was confident and proud as he chose a spot on the grass. It was on her property, in front of her trailer, but it was close to the road. The grass was cool and dewy. It actually felt very good — it was moist, the cold wetness sliding over his bare chest and forming clean rivulets that ran down his chest. Once some of the filth had been wiped off, a few tattoos were visible, pale looping lines, soldiers carrying American flags and an iron cross on his neck. Clumps of mud fell off his taut, leanly muscled chest. Avery watched him settle out and lay down. Calloway didn’t last very long though before he got back up and looked around to see who was up. Calloway didn’t go to bed without drinking. He wasn’t an alcoholic, mind you, he just didn’t go to bed without drinking. He often had only a few drinks, it was just a way to relax and get sleepy. But of course he didn’t have any, and his girlfriend wasn’t about to let him in to nab a beer (she had probably drank it all anyway). No one else was even awake.Was he going to have to sleep totally sober? “Psst! Hey,” Avery said, approaching him in the darkness. Calloway nodded at him as though he often chose to sit, covered in dirt and dew, in the grass at four o’clock in the morning. He didn’t recognize Avery. “Sup, man.” “Hi. I’m Avery.” “Sup.” “I just moved in across the way,” Avery said. He pointed to his new trailer. “Cool.” Calloway paused, then said, “Hey, you got any liquor? I need a drink. No biggie, I just need a little-“ “I do in my trailer, yeah,” Avery said. He came closer and sat down in the grass next to him. “I’ll give it to you. I’ve got five bottles — I filled out my bar when I moved in. I got a bottle each of vodka, brandy, rum, gin and tequila.” “Ah, no shit? What? What’d you say your name was?” He looked at Avery as though he really mattered now. “Avery.” “Cool. Hey Avery, I’m Calloway. Lemme get a drink of that rum,” he said. As he said it, he thought there had to be a catch. This trailer park was home to tons of poor white trash like him — not quite as poor or as trashy as him, but still, no one who lived here believed there was such a thing as “extra rum”, and they never had bottles around the trailer without a plan to drink them in the near future. “Sure, sure, but first… Will you cornhole me?” Calloway paused for a long time, his face emotionless. Then he furrowed his eyebrows. The dirt that clung to his skin cracked because he didn’t often move in that direction, and little bits of it dropped over his face and his bare chest. “What?” “Cornhole me,” Avery said. “I wanna taste your dick and feel you in my ass — you gotta cum inside me. You don’t pull out, do you?” “Uh… What?” Avery smiled. He reached for Calloway’s crotch, and Calloway sucked in his breath and scooted back. Calloway licked his lips. Avery moved very slowly so Calloway could get away if he wanted to. But Calloway just watched as Avery’s hand grabbed his cock through those mud-choked jeans. “Is that cool? I’ll give you the best dome of your life, man.” “Right here? I mean…” “Yeah, it’s gotta be here,” Avery said. “It’s not that public.” They were not illuminated by the street lights strung up to the trees along the dirt road through the trailer park, and it was four o’clock in the morning, so no one was around. It was barely “in public” at all. Calloway had a hollow hick laugh, and his heavily tattooed body shook. He was very muscular — not like a bodybuilder, like a worker, with heavily overdeveloped shoulders because he spent a lot of time digging trenches. He also spent most of his money on bills, debt, court fees and child support, with a hefty amount going to booze, weed and some occasional pills. He spent virtually no money on food. So there was no padding anywhere on his body. Avery gently stroked his dick through his pants as Calloway hemmed and hawed, and Avery’s other hand began to touch his ribs. He had a perfectly flat belly, with not an ounce of fat anywhere to be seen. That didn’t mean he had a six-pack though. He didn’t go to the gym or work out in an organized enough fashion for an actual six-pack, his abs weren’t that well-developed. His limbs were skinny despite the corded-muscles attached to them. Avery suspected he smoked meth, which wasn’t true — but only because he had cleaned up when he was last in prison. Calloway had smoked meth for years before getting locked up. Now he didn’t see any of that other stuff as being real drug use: the weed, the pills, none of that mattered as long as he stayed off the meth. “Fine,” Calloway said. He smiled nervously, revealing his jagged teeth with a gaping hole on the front-bottom. He was missing a few teeth in the back too. He leaned over on his back on the grass, raising his arms over his head so he didn’t have to watch it happen. “Have you ever been jerked off by a man before?” Avery asked. He unzipped Calloway’s jeans and pulled his dick out. It was long and not that thick, just like Calloway’s body, but it looked tasty. He flopped it over his face, and chased it with his tongue. When he did finally get a taste of it, Calloway shuddered and shook like he hadn’t thought that would really happen. “Uh…” Calloway blushed. His voice was weak and wavery. “In prison, once. That was… not, uh… like this.” That had been totally different. His father had told him once that it ain’t none of that shit if there ain’t no females around, like in the Army. Calloway had taken that to heart. That had been the one thing he had been excited about in prison — getting jerked off by prison bitches all the time. But it hadn’t really turned out like he had thought. Sissies in prison weren’t treated as bitches, they were treated like queens. They got to do anything they wanted. The one sissy Calloway had wanted to get dome from — because he was very girlish and had excellent, thick lips — refused on account of Calloway being a filthy hick who smelled like ball-sweat. Not only was Calloway not allowed to force anyone into giving him dome, he couldn’t even pay or beg for one — he had only ever gotten that one nut off because he spent all weekend showering, even buying cologne in the Commissary, and then he had had to take “his man” out “on a date” in his prison cell. It had taken weeks to set up. It was more difficult to get jerked off on in the inside than it was on the outside. This, however, had happened so quickly and so suddenly Calloway was still pondering it when it had happened. His pants were virtually ripped down and his cock plopped right into Avery’s mouth. At last, he felt a twinge of pleasure. This dome was a little weird and awkward and he prayed that no one was awake to look out their window — even in the darkness, they could probably see what was happening — it was a full moon tonight, after all. His dick soon firmed up in Avery’s mouth, long and throbbing against his tongue. Avery deep-throated him until his nose was buried in Calloway’s bushy pubic hair. The taste was raunchy and sour, and it made Avery gag most deliciously. Calloway’s dick had the flavor of dirt and mud from the day’s work, and even more intensely, an underscent of old, stale dirt, the scent of dried mud and of dusty rooms, all clinging to his dick. There were even clumps of what Avery could only assume was actual dirt, or maybe some sort of grease or oil, since it had a rather chemical, astringent flavor to it. It was actually engine oil, from when Calloway had given his boss an oil change for a few extra dollars. That had been three days ago, and Calloway hadn’t showered since then. So that extra-ripe funk emanating from his ballsac was all the stale sweat that had collected in the humid area between his legs. It felt good to have his pants down and his cock out. Calloway didn’t get to wash that often, so his crotch didn’t get bared that often either. He sighed and tried to concentrate on how good this dome felt — he had to admit it was the best dome he’d had in awhile. “Goddamn,” he said as he lit a cigarette. He hadn’t intended to smoke any more before he went to sleep tonight — he was trying to conserve his cigarettes — but this seemed like a fortuitous enough even to justify it. Besides, he always smoked when he got dome. He was saving enough in getting this free rum that it didn’t seem that important — he could use the money he saved by not needing to buy alcohol for a few days to buy more cigarettes instead. He could even buy a carton, he thought, which would save him even more money. His cock leaked precum that coated Avery’s throat and tongue. Avery guzzled it down greedily, slathering spit all up and down that greasy dick. He didn’t use his hands, preferring to sneak up and over his raunchy body. His muscles rippled beneath Avery’s touch. Then Avery pulled off and slurped on his balls, which were so sour with funk that he gagged violently. The taste brought tears to his eyes. There was so much sweat there it tasted like he had splashed his tongue into a puddle of muddy taint-juice. “Ha!” Calloway pumped his bicep as though he had been hoping to make Avery gag like that. He blushed a little too, though that wasn’t visible beneath the layer of mud that still dappled his cheeks. His taint-hairs tickled Avery’s tongue as he licked the spot beneath Calloway’s ballsac. “You are a fuckin’ nasty freak… — Avery, I mean,” he said when he remembered Avery’s name. He flopped his dick over Avery’s face. This, Calloway thought, was what he had been expecting out of prison bitches. He thought there’d be lots of gagging and he’d get to mollywop his prison bitch on the cheek. He did that now as Avery slurped on his balls and retched. He slapped his cock over Avery’s face, again and again. He chuckled to himself. Now that he had done it this way, all nasty and humiliating and raunchy, he was glad he had done it romantically and sweetly in prison — this was a funnier idea than an actuality. “Are you ready to get in my ass?” Avery asked. He blushed because of the disgusted look on Calloway’s face. Calloway shrugged and sighed. “I guess so.” He had refused to do anal in prison. It just seemed too gross, he thought. Those prison-sissies probably had old cumwads drying in their ass. Every time he watched his cellmate do it — Calloway tried to look away when it happened, but like a car accident, he couldn’t always look away — he thought he saw little dried flecks of cum on the man’s cock. It wasn’t easy to see if that’s really what it was, not without getting on his knees and peering closely — which he wasn’t going to do — it could have been bits of fuzz from the prison-issued underwear, for example. But it seemed like it could have been dried up, old cum, and he wasn’t going to let himself touch that. No way. That was nasty. Avery, he could be somewhat confident, wouldn’t have cumwad still soaking into his ass. Avery bent over the grass, with his ass high in the air, swaying back and forth. Avery used one hand to spread his asscheeks, revealing a tight brown hole that beckoned. Calloway whistled. “Damn, that looks tight. I know it ain’t, it can’t be — you must be nasty-loose on account of you wanderin’ ‘round trailer parks gettin’ it up the ass…” Avery giggled and shook his ass. “Yeah. You got a good point. I’m good at keeping it tight though. Go ahead and just ram it in.” Calloway grimaced. He normally would hold his dick in his hand and guide it in, but he didn’t want to do that because it would mean he had to touch Avery’s ass with his hands. He instead closed his eyes and tried to jab it in with no hands — but of course he just missed. He rammed it into Avery’s asscheek, leaving a moist spot of precum. “You missed, dude,” Avery said with a giggle. A blush bloomed on Calloway’s face again. He was glad no one could see. He looked like he was fumbling through his first time. He grimaced and tried again, this time getting it close into Avery’s cheeks. He found the hole but had trouble getting his dick in without touching Avery’s ass. More than once, his hands instinctively grabbed those cheeks and his shaft, and tried to help his dick in, but then he pulled back when he realized he was touching Avery too much. He took a deep breath. Touching a man’s ass wasn’t that bad, he thought, it looked better than fumbling like a squeamish virgin. He bit his lip and separated those cheeks with one hand, while his other slid his dick in. “Damn…” Much to his surprise, it fit in very easily. Avery’s ass slid apart to almost suck his cock in. He had only intended to stick the tip in at first, to go slowly and see how much pain Avery was going to be in. But instead Calloway watched with wide open eyes as his cock was slurped up by Avery’s ass. It clenched tightly around his shaft, and Calloway began to piston his hips. He had been so focused on his surprise and his discomfort that Calloway gasped when a shudder of pleasure flowed through him. He bit his lip. He gripped Avery’s ass even more tightly with his fingers, so he could easily ram his dick in and out. “Shit, boy, goddamn,” Calloway said, with a groan as pleasure flowed through his veins. He had to admit this was better than fucking most women. It had its drawbacks, sure — no tits to grab on to, no pussy to play with, and he couldn’t kiss Avery — or wouldn’t, anyway — but Avery fit in that sweet spot between ‘tight and intact’ and ‘nasty and loose’. He was loose yet tight because he clenched hard on Calloway’s dick, as though trying to prevent him from ever pulling out. No girl did that. Avery winced and writhed beneath Calloway, clawing at the dewy grass beneath him. He had thought they only just started plowing, but when he saw the first brilliant fingers of dawn sliding over the horizon, Avery realized he had lost track of time. It must be getting late, he thought. It was well past five o’clock. Avery had been worshiping every inch of Calloway’s body for more than an hour, and now his prostate sang with every thrust of Calloway’s cock into him. Calloway’s lean and ropy body wrapped around Avery as he neared his orgasm, pounding away, his inhibitions finally gone at last. He didn’t even stop himself when he fondled Avery’s nipples out of pure instinct — Calloway had forgotten he wouldn’t find any tits there, and he was glad no one was around to see him do that. An orgasm ripped through Avery’s body first. Calloway, again, was surprised — he didn’t know it was possible to orgasm while getting rammed in the ass. Girls never did that when getting fucked. Avery shot cum all over the grass and his own hands, while Calloway felt his body ripple and massage his dick; he could sense the orgasm flowing through Avery’s body, and it was enough to bring him to the edge of his own climax. “Damn, nasty-ass pig, you are gross!” Calloway barked right into Avery’s ear. Then he pushed Avery’s still-orgasming face into the mud. Avery got a mouthful of dirt as the raunchiest cock he’d ever taken shot its creamy wad into his guts. “Gonna fill you up wit’ my babies, bitch…” Creamy hot cum sprayed into Avery, who moaned, his own climax still emanating through his body. The sticky, milky texture of cum was palpable inside him, and still more shot in, jet after jet of the most incredible load Avery had ever taken. It coated his insides and spilled out in a big cummy mess that coated Calloway’s crotch. Exquisite waves of pleasure wracked both men. Avery howled out loud, uncaring of whether or not he attracted attention from the neighbors. Calloway did the same for a moment, then clenched his teeth shut and looked around to be sure no one was watching. He was unable to resist letting out a long, low and lingering moan though, as his hands gripped Avery’s smooth flesh. Shudders flowed up Avery’s body, and his fingers tightened into claws that dug up clods of dirt underneath. Avery threw his head back, unable to howl anymore because the pressure and the pleasure were too intense. He could only gasp and cry out and beg for more from Calloway, who was still grunting with each thrust of his hips, sending spurt after spurt of creamy hot jizz up Avery’s body. Calloway’s sweat-soaked body gained a whole new layer of salty sweat that clung to his muscular frame. Clumps of cum slipped out and onto the grass. “Ewgh, oh shit, I can see it, damn…” Calloway pulled out slowly, watching his creamy white semen plop out with his dick, until Avery’s entire ass was covered in glistening cum. Calloway’s dick rested on the surface, marinating in the santorum that dried there. “How was that?” Avery said. His body was weak and tender, but he managed to stand on wobbling knees. He grabbed Calloway’s dick with one hand and gave it a stroke. A post-orgasmic shudder of exquisite pleasure shot through Calloway, who’s long limbs all tensed. “Cool…” Calloway’s voice was breathy and tired, even more exhausted now than when he had gotten home from work. “Come on,” Avery said. He held onto Calloway’s dick as he led him inside. “Lemme get you that rum.” “Hell yeah,” Calloway said. “I gotta get drunk quick before the sun goes up, or I won’t be able to sleep.” Avery nodded. He didn’t care. Once Calloway passed out drunk it would be morning, and he had heard a rumor there was a garbage man who sometimes wagged his massive knob at women who were up that early. Avery fully intended to be there.
When Avery is rescued by a heroic space marine, he didn’t realize he was in for a taste of sweat-nasty alpha male military meat! This is his most incredible adventure in down and dirty man-on-man action yet!
Avery knew that the Space Marine Corps would come rescue him, but that didn’t make it any less scary. Or at least, not all that much less scary. His ship had been overrun by the Beta-Rezzedian bug-people, who were a sort of gooey beetle-like species of human-genociding monster. When the Beta-Rezzedian people swarmed into Avery’s mostly empty ship, he activated the switch that released a poison gas. They quickly died, while Avery waited it out in space. It was pretty grody, the beetle-people’s bodies leaking fluids onto the floor of the ship, their carapace disintegrated and their innards flowing like spilled spaghetti onto the floor. Avery didn’t much care about the ship though, so he wasn’t worried about the mess. He was going to abandon it. He was the only person on board, and he had already sent out the rescue signal. He waited with a spacesuit on, sitting on top of the ship while the beetles died inside. The stars shone in the inky blackness of space, which was suffocatingly silent, the only sound Avery could hear being the pump of his own oxygen tank. Inside the Beta-Rezzedians melted from the inside out, but Avery didn’t hear that. He just waited. Space was not beautiful here, Avery thought. It was just an inky black vastness. Even with the spacesuit on, Avery could feel the sheer nothingness all around him, nothingness so profound it would turn him to nothing too. In some parts of space, it had a calm, sepulchral beauty to it. But not here, he thought, or maybe it was just the knowledge that the ship beneath him was filled with liquified bug-people. Maybe knowing that put him in a foul mood and tainted everything he saw. Finally, just when he was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t going to happen, there was the UFW Joseph Conrad, a ship from the United Federation of Worlds. They were simply a beam of light at first, a mote in the infinite blackness of space. Avery hurried back into the ship even though he had hours to spare before the Joseph Conrad made it here. The bugs were gone, the ship covered in goo. The poison gas smell lingered (it wasn’t toxic to humans, though it would be nauseating in large doses). Avery quickly grew bored waiting. He practiced his distressed wail. UFW Joseph Conrad to Private Ship XKIL233234, do you read me? “Yes, sir… I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know how to work this radio. Are you getting this?” Avery tried to sound helpless. Yes, we heard you, sir. We have received your distress signal and are en route. Avery went to the pilot’s pod, the only part of the ship not covered in Beta-Rezzedian innards. He waited there. “There he is, we got you, sir-“ “You have nothing to fear, all the buggers are gone!” Avery was disappointed that some shirtless hunk didn’t carry him to the rescue ship. But their sensors still read poison gas, and they beamed aboard well before they could determine that the air was safe. They wore biohazard suits — distinctly unsexy. Avery wasn’t even positive that the person who carried him was human until they got aboard the Joseph Conrad. “Everything’s gonna be alright, sir, we gotcha!” said the scruffy-bearded space marine when his helmet was finally off. “Oh, I… I… I don’t think I’ll ever feel right again!” Avery said, pretending to feel faint so the space marine would hold him in his arms. He was Private Wojohowitz, but everyone called him Wojo. Once he took the protective suit off, he was down to his skivvies and a tee shirt that was so stained it was black. He didn’t have time to put more clothes on because he wanted to get Avery to sickbay right away. Besides that, it was ungodly hot on the Joseph Conrad, and there were no women. So more than one space marine went around fully naked all the time. Avery spied one such man just before being whisked into the sickbay. “Oh, I’m feeling much better-“ “Well, I’ll need to monitor you for awhile. You had a traumatic experience, after all,” the doctor said. He was handsome and steely-eyed, but he was a little old for Avery’s taste, and he was no space marine. Avery wanted Wojo. But he waited until the doctor was done, or at least had walked away. Then Avery got up, detached the needles and monitors from his body and headed out. He went off to find the man who had rescued him, that square-jawed steely-eyed man, Wojo. He found him in the gym, playing a game with another studly young man. It was something rather like squash or racquetball, Avery gathered, but with flashing multicolored lights that appeared to mean something. By the time he thought he was starting to understand it, it was over, and Wojo had won. He came out of the room shirtless and sweaty, bucking his hips and chanting. “I’m the champion once again!” He pounded on his chest and bumped the man he had just beaten, who scowled, hair matted to his head. Then Wojo saw Avery standing there, fully-clothed and not at all looking like a space marine. “Oh, hey, you’re looking better.” “Hmmm…” Avery grinned and looked Wojo up and down, blushing as he was overwhelmed by the body heat and the intense macho aura emanating from Wojo’s body. “I wanted to say thank you for rescuing me.” “You ain’t gotta do that.” Wojo was visibly jazzed up. His pecs bounced a few times, seemingly without his awareness, and he shifted his weight on his feet. He would always deny it, but Wojo got a thrill when he realized Avery was checking out his body. “It’s our duty, you ain’t gotta say thanks.” “Well… not say it. I wanted to demonstrate it,” Avery said. He sucked on one finger while his other hand grasped Wojo’s sweat-soaked shirt. He pulled gently on the fabric. Wojo’s eyes opened wide and he nodded. He licked his lips as he looked Avery up and down. He shifted his weight between his feet, then moved to pull his workout shorts down but stopped short — he had forgotten they weren’t somewhere private. He checked that no one was watching — there were others preparing to work out, or to play this squash-like game next, but no one facing this way right now. He gripped Avery by the lip and spread his mouth. He examined it briefly — whether checking for disease or whether it would be big enough to deep-throat him, Avery couldn’t tell — then grabbed his ass through his clothes. He slipped one hand into Avery’s pants, fingered his asshole very lightly and then nodded. He wiped his finger off on Avery’s shoulder. He looked dubiously into Avery’s eyes. “You’re into that?” “I am… Do you have any women on this ship?” Wojo scoffed. “No. It’s not allowed, no women aboard a Corps vessel. The presence of women saps men of their power.” “Hmm… I can do that too. I love sapping all kinds of things out of men,” Avery said with a giggle. “Come then.” He grabbed Avery by the wrist and dragged him off. He walked awkwardly like he had a hardon already, and it kept getting worse in his pants. Avery teased him by breathing heavily so he could hear it, and moaning softly into his ear from behind. “You’re going to ram me, right? Do I get to eat your ass too?” Avery stuck his tongue out and licked his lips. Wojo faced the other way so he couldn’t see, but he could hear it and his ears pricked up. Avery smiled — he knew he had him. Wojo stopped short. “You serious?” His face turned from serious to giddy, then serious again. He took a deep breath. “Hell yeah, that’s nasty. No one can find out though, they’ll make fun of me for rammin’ a man.” “Sure. Is it against the rules?” “Sorta. It’s not a big deal, but, like… I don’t wanna get caught anyway.” He licked his lips and grabbed his cock through his satiny shorts. Avery tried to touch them too, but Wojo stopped him and continued. Wojo led him out of the gym and into the locker room. Beyond that was a long row of showering stalls. Avery was annoyed to see that they were all individual stalls. Usually space marines had big shared showers, and that, he thought, was always sexier. As he walked through the showering area, Wojo dropped his shorts, not even willing to take the time to stop walking first. Avery tried to get a grope of his ass, but Wojo walked more quickly than him and he couldn’t really get a touch. Finally Wojo stopped and Avery bumped into his sweaty back. His asscheeks jiggled as Avery had to clutch them for support. “You really gonna eat my ass? And jerk me off, aw, fuck yeah,” Wojo said, his voice increasing in volume now that they were alone in the shower. He had a big grin on his face. He loved to ram, and he didn’t get to do it very often. Avery’s hand stroked those hairy asscheeks so plump and full of power. There was a tattoo there on Wojo’s lower back, an outline of a spaceship and a phrase in an ancient script: Honor Is the Only Virtue. “Some of the nice-lookin’ guys get their ass eat up by girls, like whores.” He blushed, licking his lips like he couldn’t wait to start. “I’m too hairy, they won’t do that to me.” “You poor baby…” They went to one of the shower stalls in the middle — since there were two entrances, one at either end, those were the remotest showers. The stalls were not completely enclosed, however, and the walls only went up to chest height (on Wojo; it extended up almost to Avery’s shoulders). “Goddamn, man, I really need this. Get on your knees, okay? C’mon, get on your knees. Let’s go it, let’s go,” Wojo said, excited like a little boy on Christmas. No one else was showering at the moment, and since the room wasn’t hot or humid, and Wojo didn’t seem concerned, Avery guessed this was not a designated showering time. That was good because Avery didn’t want to get interrupted and caught. Once they were safely behind the little curtain — which only covered about a foot of vertical space, just barely enough to conceal most men’s groin and butt regions — Avery dropped to his knees as Wojo turned the water on. It was scorching hot at first, and Avery yelped. He crawled away, and Wojo fell, nearly on top of him. It was a good thing that Wojo was already slick with sweat or he would have toppled right onto Avery’s leg and probably broken it because he was so heavy. His muscles were dense and leaden, and he fell on the threshold between the tile flower and the shower tub. Instead he just slid over Avery’s ankle and then his heavy, fur-covered thigh landed on Avery’s chest. Intertangled as they were on the ground — which was freezing cold linoleum right up to where the water spray made it burning hot — Avery finally got a really good grope of Wojo’s ass and trunk-like thighs. Wojo reached up to turn the cold water up as he struggled to his feet in the slippery shower. He furrowed his brow at Avery, who blushed, his hands caressing Wojo’s tattooed muscles. There was a flower, something similar to a tulip, on Wojo’s thigh. It was a brilliant flash of green leaves and rich violent petals, just fingernail-sized and right on his inner thigh. “What’s that? Why’d you get a flower tattoo?” He blushed. “It’s nothing. It’s… just part of being in this unit,” he said. He was in the shower spray now that the water had cooled down enough that it was merely hot, not scorching. Avery pretended to have difficulty standing and used Wojo’s sturdy body for support. Clean water flowed over them both, and Avery licked some of the sweat off Wojo’s chest before it was washed away. Wojo didn’t need to explain. The space marine corps had an informal rule that any man who was caught having sex with a very fat woman — like, very, very fat, probably morbidly obese — had to get this very tattoo somewhere on his body. Wojo had presumably chosen the inner thigh because it was unobtrusive and not very sensitive to pain. There were other colored tulips that members got tattooed to signify that they were caught in flagrante delicto with a nonhuman alien, a man, an old woman and even an animal, as well as variously embarrassing acts like touching another man’s balls when gangbanging a woman or cumming in one’s pants when getting a lapdance. That thought made Avery giggle — he loved military men and their sophomoric machismo. He wondered if Wojo’s solitary tattoo signified that he was sexually inexperienced, or if he just never got caught doing any of the things that would warrant another colored tulip. If he were caught ramming Avery, he’d have to get a pink tattoo of a tulip, which was called a “Pinkslit Tulip”. “Oh, come on… tell me what it means,” Avery said with a laugh. “Shush.” Wojo frowned. He looked very serious now. Reminding him about the tattoo had made him realize how much he didn’t want to get caught doing this. He didn’t think about not doing it — having not seen a woman for weeks, and having no chance of seeing one for weeks more, he was desperate to get his dick wet. “I ain’t allowed to explain it,” he said, his voice flat and unwavering. “It’s just a tattoo, it’s not important.” Wojo gently but firmly pushed Avery to his knees, while he kept an eye out for anyone coming into the shower. A few voices could be heard out in the locker room, but Wojo wasn’t concerned. Avery shrugged. He thought it would have been hot for Wojo to admit he fucked an extremely fat woman and had been caught by his friends. He’d liked to know what led to it happening — probably a prostitute, Avery guessed — but it seemed clear Wojo wasn’t going to be forthcoming with that. So he finally got on his knees and popped Wojo’s dick in his mouth. Wojo didn’t look down, he just closed his eyes for a moment and grunted. Shower water streamed over his head, washing his sweat down over Avery’s face. “Goddamn, yeah, get your tongue on it… Shit…” Wojo closed his eyes. The hot water felt so good in his greasy hair, and his cock throbbed as it came to life. He had to fight back an urge to shout and pound on his chest — he always wanted to be loud during sex — but he knew that would attract attention from the others. That was how he had gotten caught with the fat whore, whom Wojo adored and missed and looked forward to seeing again; he had yelled fuck yeah as he came so loudly that one of his squadmates, having just finished fucking a different prostitute, came to see what was happening. He had been dragged to the tattooist moments after blowing his wad inside her. None of that was technically allowed. Neither pre-marital sex nor any kind of interaction with a prostitute nor any tattoo that communicated a message “incompatible with the mission of the Space Marine Corps” were allowed. Most of those rules, however, were enforced roughly never, certainly not on a bucket of bolts like this drifting through outer space. The brig on this ship had been turned into overflow shortage for canned food since the replicators had stopped working after about a week. But aside from the tattoo, the only punishment for getting caught would maybe be a few weeks cleaning the shower — which Wojo would only do half-assedly anyway. It was mainly the teasing he wanted to avoid. “Hell yeah, swallow that shit deep, man,” Wojo said, trying to keep his voice low despite being a big man with a chest-rattlingly deep voice. It resonated in the shower room. Luckily no one was around to hear it, though Avery heard voices talking and laughing not too far away. Soon, Wojo’s manhood was rock-hard. He grunted and flexed his hips to ram Avery’s throat as hard as he could without making any noise or moving his head too much, since he wanted to keep an eye out. Avery reached up to massage his plump nipples; his pecs rippled, but then he swatted Avery’s hands away because they could be seen. Creamy precum stuck to Avery’s lips and flowed down Wojo’s shaft. Every time Avery suckled a few drops off his veiny manhood, Wojo grunted again and his spine shimmied. He moved a lot because he thought it helped him avoid making noise — it didn’t really, it just felt quieter in Wojo’s mind because he was focused on his body instead. Salty precum coated Avery’s tongue. He played with it, smearing it over his face and making a big mess with it, so when Wojo finally glanced down he beamed giddily and opened his eyes wide. “Shit, you love that nut, huh?” He chuckled dryly. “I do… I love it so much…” Avery giggled every time he saw Wojo’s body trembling with desire and arousal. He was so horny Avery was pretty sure he could have brought him to orgasm with just seductive dirty-talk. Every time Avery moaned or begged for more, Wojo’s whole body shook. “Can I lick your balls, please? Please? Please?” Avery teased him by begging as Wojo frantically nodded yes. “Do it, do it!” Avery moved down to slurp on his balls, again making him shake. His dick throbbed and precum flowed like water from a hose. He gargled loudly on the precum that had coated his hairy sac, giggling and making Wojo scowl. “Shush!” Wojo scolded him even though Wojo was much louder than Avery was, and since Wojo had a deep baritone voice, it carried much more and echoed more resonantly in the showering area. Avery backed up betweens Wojo’s legs, licking all the way, his tongue slathering spit over Wojo’s muscled thighs and slurping on his balls the whole way. He kept going, licking a trail to Wojo’s ass By this point, clean water had rinsed away all of the sweat but there was still just enough funk to keep the flavor spicy enough for Avery. He plunged into Wojo’s hairy crack and slurped a trail up to his back. He was pinned behind and beneath Wojo’s massive body. “Goddamn, boy, you really get in there! Not a single one of the whores’ll do that, I can barely get ‘em to touch me at all,” he said. “They say I’m too hairy and rough.” As if to prove the point, he belched, which made his whole hairy torso shake beneath Avery’s body. He laughed. “What’re you laughing at, Wojo? Ya nasty-ass balls?” Wojo hadn’t noticed Cowlick Squad coming in to shower. He had forgotten Cowlick Squad had a showering time now They had no reason to go past this shower stall, so he thought he was still safe. It was hard to be sure though. He wanted to be quick and get this over with, but he couldn’t tell Avery that now that more people were here. Besides that, his mind wanted to finish up quickly, but his cock wanted to bang for hours. “He’s goin’ space-crazy-“ “He’s goin’ girl-crazy, ever since Lysette wouldn’t fuck him because his chest was too hairy-“ Wojo roared in anger. “Fuck you! I get ingrown hairs, okay? I’m not even allowed to shave my chest cuz they don’t wanna have to give me antibiotics-” He bit his lip because they were all just laughing at him, not listening. Wojo’s whole body shook around Avery’s delicate fingers stroking his thighs and his ass. He reached up to rub his lower back too, which meant his hands were technically visible — just the fingertips, and with the shower room filling with steam, there wasn’t much risk — to the other space marines that swaggered through. They slapped each other’s asses and made jokes about dropping soap in the tiny showers they shared with each other. “Get ya dick off my ass, boy!” “Quit tryin’ to back ya ass up onto my cock!” A fight broke out in one of the other stalls. Two hairy men grappled naked with each other, exchanging punches and making the back-wall, which connected all the shower stalls, shake. The noise of that fight drowned out the sound of Wojo trying not to cum right now. He didn’t want to cum before he got to ram Avery in the ass, and anyway, he didn’t want to get caught. He rumbled and rubbed his ass over Avery’s face. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to have someone’s tongue in his ass. He’d thought it would tickle or maybe barely feel like anything at all, but instead the most intense pleasure of his life wracked his body. All he could do was stand there in the shower spray and hope he didn’t look weird as his whole body struggled to remain still, pleasure coursing through his veins. Avery slurped at his ass and covered it with spit. The Cowlick Squad only used the first couple shower stalls. Surprisingly enough, they shared showers — that was another tradition among the Space Marine Corps, even though there were plenty of stalls open, they were supposed to share with their immediate squadmates as a sign of brotherhood and intimacy. Don;’t bend over in the shower — that was a “motto” of sorts of Wojo’s class of cadets, just eighteen year-olds who had never showered with other men before. The first time Wojo accidentally touched another man’s dick, he had gasped, and that other older man, a long-time drill sergeant, had laughed and called him a pansy. To prove it, right there in the crowded locker room — that hadn’t been this ship’s relatively spacious accommodations, that had been the boot camp’s cheap shared showering area — Wojo’s drill sergeant had bent over and taken one of his fellow officer’s dicks in his mouth. It was just for a moment, a chaste, dry thing, not even sexy, just to demonstrate that he could do it and not be embarrassed. That had been the older generation though. The shower room filled with steam as Avery moved his tongue back to Wojo’s dick, trying several times to touch his mountainous pecs. Each time Wojo swatted his hands away so they wouldn’t be seen. Wojo licked his lips. He realized he couldn’t wait for the other guys to leave because it would be obvious he was still in the shower; he’d have to cum right now. So Wojo grabbed Avery by the shoulders, and tried to get him to change positions — so he could ram him in the ass — without saying anything or moving his head or shoulders. “Hey, Wojo, did you see the orders about Garlaxon 9?” “Yeah,” Wojo said. He bit his lip. He couldn’t concentrate as he tried to get Avery to move. His hand shook as he poured shampoo onto his palm. He washed his hair yet again. Finally Avery realized what he wanted. He had to rather awkwardly bend over in the shower so he couldn’t be seen above the little half-wall. He gripped the slippery linoleum and jutted his ass up to meet Wojo’s crotch. Getting rammed by big men was always awkward, even when they were experienced at it. Wojo was not, and he was stuck in a small space trying not to move anything above the shoulder. So that made it extra difficult for Avery, who had to handle all the movement, forcing himself onto Wojo’s cock. He struggled, his ass straining to accept every inch of Wojo’s throbbing manhood. He practiced deep breathing as pain and pleasure enveloped him in equal amounts. Avery grunted, but Wojo shushed him. Wojo shuddered too, barely managing to keep his head still, as a bolt of pleasure shot through his body. His dick slipped deeper into Avery’s ass. “Wojo! Hey, Wojo! Wojo, man! Yo! Hey!” one of the other space marines shouted from another shower. He was very tall, so the half-wall barely extended past his hairy navel, and his pubic hair was plainly visible despite the wall. He had been yelling for Wojo for some time. Finally Wojo looked at him, steam filling the air between them, which concealed Wojo’s rolling eyes. The other space marine frowned. “What do you think of the Garlaxon rules of engagement?” “Fine.” Wojo took a deep breath. “I mean… it sucks. It’s… it… Uh…” He felt his orgasm approaching, and even though people were looking at him right now, he couldn’t slow it down. “Yeah, we gotta get permission from our squad leader just to go in a village-“ “We don’t even need a translator, it’s fucking ridiculous!” “They said we can’t smoke anywhere on the planet either-“ “And we’re the ones saving them from the Beta-Rezzedians!” “Uh-huh.” Wojo tried to sound like he was involved in the conversation even though he wasn’t paying any attention. He gripped Avery’s hips and drilled his dick in deeper and deeper. Avery’s own orgasm began, heightened by the anxiety of the situation. He didn’t want to be responsible for getting Wojo in trouble or embarrassing him, but it was obvious Wojo was about to get caught no matter what, and it was even more obvious that Wojo didn’t want to stop. Wojo didn’t notice himself slowly losing control or making it obvious he was doing something secretive. He pounded away, and leaned his head back. He let out a moan, which wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the shower water, but the nearest couple of space marines could see him moving. “What are you doing, Wojo?” “Are you beating your meat?” They rushed forward to see — masturbating in the ship shower was a Fairlight Tulip, which was yellow, and was a tattoo that almost all of them proudly had over their heart (Wojo was an exception because he had always been relatively discrete). They laughed and cheered. Even though nearly every one of them had been “caught” previously, they still loved doing it and carrying a compatriot’s naked body to the tattoist. Wojo realized he was about to be caught. That was going to be annoying, but he wasn’t going to blue-ball himself — there was nothing to be done about it now. So he plowed deeply into Avery, slamming into him and even hitting him against the wall of the shower. The other marines were quiet for a moment, trying to figure out who he was, then they began to laugh. “Ah, fuck! Wojo’s a booty bandit’!” “He gonna get a pink tulip!” The others laughed and tried to think of any other tulips that might apply to the situation. Wojo blushed, but he was beyond trying to stop it right now. He was just glad he didn’t have to subdue himself; he could plow back and forth with all his might and with all the passion that flowed through him. He rammed his dick all the way into Avery and held on as his orgasm overwhelmed him. Avery came too, and his ass clenched on Wojo’s dick. Thick, creamy cum coated Avery’s ass and dripped down to his legs. It filled him up, great jet after jet of warmth seeping into his flesh and flowing through every corner of his body. Avery shot his own wad onto the shower floor. Avery moaned, but the sound was weak and thready compared to Wojo’s baritone roar — he figured that the least he could do at this point was sound like a real hardcore alpha when he came. The other space marines cheered and clapped, though they teased him at the same time. “Oh shit, Wojo’s gone to the pink side!” “What would Commander Darius say?” One of them imitated Commander Darius’ stuffed-shirt voice. “Now see here, Mr. Wojohowitz, you represent the Space Marine Corps out there-” They howled with laughter. “And you had better have the common courtesy to give that man a reacharound.” “Of course!” Wojo said, his voice breaking. He pounded on his chest with one fist, while his other hand reached around. He gulped — he never thought he’d be touching another man’s cock, but he knew this would be funny — and touched Avery’s dick. He gagged at the feel of snotty cum on his fingers, since Avery was mid-orgasm at the moment. “Goddamn…” Avery’s whole body bucked. He was breathless and exhausted, his whole face turning ruddy. Wojo’s squadmates laughed so hard they fell over each other’s naked, soaped up bodies. Wojo kept ramming though, and he even touched Avery’s dick again. It spasmed in his touch. Avery could do little more than twist and writhe. Wojo’s dick was right on his prostate, and Avery’s orgasm continued at full intensity until he at least slid off Wojo and landed in the pool of shower water on the ground. Wojo stood there, making sure his laughing compatriots could see that he wasn’t embarrassed — and that he had a huge cock, he always made sure they could see that. Of course, he was embarrassed, but he thought he had hidden it pretty well. He looked down at Avery. “Thanks,” he said. “Sorry you got caught,” Avery said. He struggled onto his knees, kneeling next to Wojo so he could wrap his arms around his body and lean his face against his thigh. Wojo shrugged. “Whatever. It was worth it. Are you gonna stick around?” “No,” Avery said. He stood and stretched his legs. He kissed each of Wojo’s nipples. He would have kissed him on the neck too, but he couldn’t reach. Avery smiled. “It’s time for me to move on, I think.”
