Rob Winthrop – Mansploitation

Rob flipped through pages from an online Chinese dictionary, looking for the tattooed symbols that danced along the pool boy’s shoulderblade. It turned out to be more difficult than he thought to identify them by sight. The pool boy had a few tattoos, and Rob thought they were sexy. He had been trying to identify the Chinese symbols for a long time. He suspected they meant nothing at all.
“Yes, Hopley, sell it when it hits twelve no matter what. That’s what I said, isn’t it?” That was Rob’s father, the multibillionaire Eugene Winthrop. His gruff voice filled the air, followed by some tinny suckuppery from whichever employee was on the line. He glanced at Rob and scowled. “Tell them to go fuck themselves.” He hung up his phone. “You’re going to this fundraiser tonight.”
“What kind of fundraiser?”
“It’s a dinner thing. Some kind of cancer. Or maybe teachers? I don’t know. Just bring the checkbook, they’ll have a vegetarian option-“
“I’m not going, and I haven’t been vegetarian for years.”
“You have to go,” he said and they both erupted in shouting, as Rob had known would happen. They almost never interacted without shouting.
“You don’t control me-!”
“I pay for so much-!”
“You fucking asshole!”
“Me?! How am I the asshole? You have to play a role in this business, Robert! You’re not just an inheritance hole!”
The servants scurried away. None of them wanted to be around Mr. Winthrop when he was angry, or he was wont to fire them. Rob didn’t think that was right — he was always nice to his servants. He didn’t even really want to have servants, beyond the security that was necessary for him to be safe — as an heir to a multibillion-dollar company, Rob was always a kidnapping risk. Rob deeply despised his father and used every opportunity at his disposal to humiliate him, so he liked seeing him blush and wince at the sight of his servants pretending not to listen to the argument.
“You ungrateful brat! I built this company so I’d have enough to provide for you.”
Rob scoffed and went to the sliding glass door, beyond which sat the pool. The pool boy was out there. He had brown hair that hung down in a casual, tangled mess around his head. His eyes were bleary and blue, his body lanky, ropy-muscled. He said he played basketball in high school until graduating last year, but he didn’t come across as a jock. Those Chinese characters — or probably-faux-Chinese characters — were visible on his back around the edges of his sleeveless shirt, one of those strappy kinds that barely covered his shoulders at all.
His name was Todd, and Rob had been trying to figure out how get a taste of his dick from the moment he saw him.
“I’m going to stay here and pay that pool boy for his dick,” Rob said. “You can’t make me go to some stupid fundraiser-“
“That’s disgusting, he’s a pool boy, for god’s sake, we don’t even let him in the house! Look at that hair!”
“His hair is glorious. It’s better unwashed and uncombed.”
“I forbid it!”
“Well, stick around and you’ll be able to watch me do it anyway,” Rob said. He stood up and headed for the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. He slid it open. Todd was by the pool, skimming the leaves off the top. His bare shoulders flexed as he dipped and dapped to the beats emanating from the headphones he always wore when working.
“You had better not do anything to embarrass me!” Rob’s father shouted through the door. He banged on the glass.
Rob smiled and waved at him. He went to Todd, who saw him and pulled the headphones down. Todd blushed a little — he was always nervous around upper-class people like Rob and his father. Todd ran his fingers through his confused mess of black hair.
“Hey,” Rob said.
“Hi. I’m just about done,” Todd said.
“Cool, cool…” Rob giggled. “So… Todd… do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.” Then a wry smile appeared on Todd’s face. “Well, there’s this girl, Lisa. She’s… I mean, she’s not a girlfriend. But she’s like…” He blushed. He pantomimed a woman’s hourglass-shape in front of himself. “She’s fucking awesome, man. And she smokes weed.”
“Yeah? There’s nothing better than hot chicks who smoke weed.”
“I know, right!”
“So… Todd… has my dad paid you yet today?”
Todd shook his head. “He direct-deposits it in my account, but not till the end of the day. Actually he never paid me last time, I just asked him about it and he said-“
“I don’t know anything about that,” Rob said. “But maybe I could help. Do you see that cabana over there?”
Todd nodded. He glanced over at the row of cabanas at the far end of the pool.
“Why don’t you go in there and take off your clothes? I’ll meet you inside in just a minute, and I’ll go to town all over your body,” Rob said, smirking at Todd’s blushing face. “In return for that, I’ll give you five hundred dollars. Plus I’ll make my father pay you for last time and this time, because he was probably going to stiff you again.”
“Oh…” Todd’s eyes opened wide. “Oh… wait… Oh…!”
Rob giggled. “Have you ever done anything like that before?”
“No!” Todd took a deep breath. “Wait… I mean… what?”
“Oh Todd… you’re a dumbie. I said I’ll give you five hundred dollars if you cornhole me.”
“But that’s like… illegal?”
Rob nodded. “Yes. That’s correct. This is technically illegal, Todd, I didn’t think I needed to explain that. But yeah, you should say no if you always follow the law strictly. But you’re a stoner, right? Aren’t you stoned all the time?”
“Not all the time.”
“Okay, so you’re not like a law-nerd, right?”
“But I’ll be like a pervert?”
“You could say that. You could call yourself a hustler too, that’s a better word,” Rob said.
“Oh. Yeah, okay! I’ll be a hustler,” Todd said. “Wait, so… you’ll-“
“Oh god, Todd… Smoke less weed, okay? This is a very simple transaction. You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you are dumb,” Rob said with his hands on his hips. “Just go in the cabana and get ready for me to come jack your dick.”
Rob headed for the house, leaving Todd there to ponder what had just happened. Todd looked like he had more questions, but then he just shrugged and went to the cabana. Rob rolled his eyes — the handsome ones were always dumb.
He opened the door. His father had been waiting, watching by the door, but before Rob opened it, he scurried off. He pretended to be cleaning the kitchen — as though he ever cleaned anything himself — and nodded at Rob like he didn’t care.
“So he said no? He’s not into it?”
“Of course he’s not into it. I don’t want him to be into it.”
His father looked at him and furrowed his brow. Then he scowled at Rob. “What? You’re not… ?”
“Dad! I’ve told you so many times, I like rough trade! You asshole!” Rob shouted. His father, of course, didn’t know what rough trade was — even though Rob had explained it before. He thought his father should have paid enough attention to remember that. A part of him thought his father should provide street hustlers for Rob’s amusement — his father had bought a prostitute for Rob’s brother, after all. What was the point of being rich if you didn’t have someone satisfying your every need?
“You act like a fucking teenager sometimes, Robert! You’re a goddamn grown-up!” he shouted. Rob just smile insouciantly and went back outside.
The pool was deserted. Rob strode, shaking his ass for his father’s irate benefit and went to the row of cabanas.
He hadn’t actually intended to point at any specific cabana when he told Todd where to meet him. There were four here, but Rob had rather assumed Todd would go to the first one, the one closest to the pool. But something in his bleary-eyed stoner mind made him think Rob had pointed to the fourth one, the one furthest from the pool.
So at first Rob opened the door and was disappointed to see no one in it. Had he scared Todd off? He hadn’t seem that uncomfortable with it, Rob thought. He’d chosen the word hustler, suggesting he was comfortable with the idea of it, he just wanted a word he could live with.
But then he saw Todd poking his head out of the fourth cabana. “There you are,” Rob said. “Why’d you come to this one?”
“What?”
“No one ever uses this. We only ever use one cabana at a time,” Rob said. “It’s always the first one, just cuz it’s closer to the pool.” He came in and closed the door. It was always warm and humid in the cabanas. No matter the weather outside, it was always a bit warm and very humid in the cabanas, which had a certain smell too — bamboo, Rob assumed, since the inside was lined with it. This cabana had a few old tiki torches too; the servants must have put them here a long time ago (tiki was so gauche Rob would never have allowed a tiki party here while he lived in the house, so it must have been when he was away).
“So why have them?” Todd asked. He sucked in his breath nervously because Rob came closer.
Rob could smell Todd’s intoxicating aroma. It wasn’t a “good” smell in the sense that it was fruity and sweet. It smelled a bit chemical, like chlorine, a bit of bamboo, some cheap almost metallic-scented deodorant and the musky of an early twenties inconsistent-showering slacker. Todd wore a sleeveless shirt, so his biceps flexed as Rob came near and touched his arms. Todd still seemed confused and didn’t react to Rob groping his bicep.
“Huh? Why do you have cabanas if you don’t use them?”
Rob sighed. “What?” He hadn’t really wanted to discuss cabana theory.
“You said you only ever use one of them. So why have four?”
Rob thought for a moment. “I dunno. I guess the builder told my dad that was how many was normal for a pool of this size,” he said.
“It just seems stupid to build more cabanas than you need. Of course the builder is always gonna exaggerate, you shouldn’t just take his word for it-“
“Maybe he suggested ten and my dad talked him down to four,” Rob said. He rolled his eyes. “Why am I defending my father? I agree, it was stupid. We don’t really need any cabanas. They’re just a place for people to change. They could be replaced with one of those Asian folding wall things.”
“Yeah!”
“Are you gonna complain about the cabanas? Or are you gonna make five hundred dollars?”
Todd thought for a moment as though this was a serious debate. Then he shrugged. “I guess I’ll make five hundred dollars. If your dad ever wants to get rid of some of them, tell him he can hire me. I’ll do it for real cheap.”
Rob sunk to his knees. He knew he should just get right to jacking dick. Todd seemed very distractible — he was still talking about cabanas — so Rob thought this would never proceed unless he forced it along. But he also felt a little bad for Todd.
“You know, Todd, you shouldn’t advertise yourself as cheap.”
“What?”
“It makes you seem low-quality. You didn’t demand my father pay you last time you worked, and now you volunteer to work cheap before you even find out how much work the job is? That’s bad salesmanship,” Rob said. He tugged down Todd’s board shorts. “You should try to convince people that this stuff is hard, that they need to hire you and pay you good money to do it. If my dad wants to hire someone cheap, he’ll find an immigrant willing to do it for a half a Twinkie.”
“Really? A half a Twinkie-?!”
“That’s an exaggeration, but yeah, basically. Don’t compete for the bottom, Todd,” Rob said. “And my dad will never pay you once he knows he can get away with stiffing you.”
Todd sighed again, the sound turning into a little growl. He blushed at the realization that his shorts were down, revealing threadbare boxers. He had been so involved in the conversation he had barely noticed Rob pulling his shorts down.
Then Rob got his boxers down too, and Todd’s hefty tan dick popped out. It was thick and juicy, and it twitched even before Rob planted his lips on it. He looked up at Todd, whose face turned bright red as his whole body shook.
“Ah, shit, man… you’re like… serious…” Todd’s eyes opened wide. He leaned back against the wall of the cabana, jutting his hips forward and forcing his still-soft dick deeper into Rob’s mouth.
Since Todd hadn’t even gotten a bit erect yet, Rob had to lick his limp dick. He always thought that was kind of arousing, especially since he loved men so much — they sometimes needed a minute or two to get hard. A lot of them were nervous they’d be unable to get hard without a woman around, but Rob hadn’t yet met one who proved unable to do so.
Todd was no exception. Once he had taken a deep breath and Rob noisily suckled on his dick, Todd let out a little moan. Then his dick twitched again, and again, and it slowly firmed up in Rob’s mouth.
Soon it was as hard as any cock Rob had ever tasted, and Todd jammed it down his throat. He didn’t pound into Rob like aggressive alphas usually did — Todd was more of a gentle slacker than that — but he did ram his dick in, he just did it more obliviously. Rob wondered how often he had been with a female — definitely some, Todd was too handsome to be a virgin, and he had fantastic hair. Surely some ladies had snapped him up.
But he certainly plowed like he had little experience. He was probably just nervous because this was his first encounter like this. His dick awkwardly slipped in and out of Rob’s throat, making him choke and sputter on it. Todd kept stepping back when that happened, like he was used to women who never wanted to gag and would complain if he was impolite.
That wasn’t Rob.
“C’mon, plow my face, it’s okay…” Rob said when Todd pulled away.
Todd’s eyes opened wide and he stammered. “Oh… you’re into that? Oh… Oh…! I see… Oh!” He pushed his dick in again and laughed. “It really feels like a girl, but uh… you swallow dick better than them,” he whispered. He looked around as though people might have been hidden in this tiny cabana.
“I know,” Rob said the best he could as he sucked on the tip of Rob’s dick. “Men always do it better than females, because we have the equipment ourselves. We know what it feels like.” He slammed his own face deep onto Todd’s cock, making himself choke loudly and his throat clench around Todd’s manhood.
Now Todd began to get into it, his inhibitions gradually diminishing because he was hard. Precum flowed down Rob’s throat. It was salty and warm, and it made Rob’s own cock throb painfully in his pants until he took it out. Todd didn’t seem to notice.
“Shit…” Todd’s voice broke, and he chuckled quietly to himself.
Rob smacked his lips as he pulled off Todd’s cock. He thwacked it against his cheeks a few times, making Todd jump each time there was a satisfyingly meaty thwack-thwack sound.
“You ready to stick it in me?” Rob asked, gurgling on the mouth full of precum he hadn’t swallowed yet.
Todd smiled with a flash of excitement first — he didn’t get anal very often — and then nervousness. He had known this was coming, but he was nervous that he wouldn’t do it well. Of course, one of the nice things about being a “hustler” — aside from getting paid — was that he didn’t care how it made Rob feel. It seemed Rob preferred it that way. Todd didn’t need to sweet-talk him like he would a girl, or find a way to be sure this wasn’t painful. He could just bend Rob over and plow into him.
So that was what Todd did, or would have done if he were a more aggressive sort of muchacho. He grimaced a little at the sight of Rob’s ass — it was pale and smooth and perfect like a statue’s. He kind of wished there was something imperfect about it.
But he’d been with women who had hairier asses, and Rob even smelled like a woman (he wore female perfume on his ass precisely to make rough trade of this sort go more smoothly). So Todd grunted and gritted his teeth as he lined himself up with Rob’s backside.
“Oh god!” Rob bit his lip when he felt Todd’s dick slip into him. The pain, as it usually was at first, was intense and mind-blowing. For just a moment Rob considered backing out — Todd’s dick was very girthy — but as usual, that lasted only a moment. He liked his dicks a little “too” thick. He enjoyed the challenge.
Sure enough, with just an inch or two of dickmeat sliding into him, Rob’s pain slowly transformed into pleasure. Todd’s awkwardity made the same transition, as his staccato breathing shifted from sounding like he was on the verge of running away in terror to sounding like he might blow his wad at any moment.
“Shit…” Todd moaned as he began to plow in earnest. He used all of his strength to pound away at Rob’s tight ass, his cock sliding in and out with each thrust of Todd’s hips.
Todd was surprised that this felt so good — he was embarrassed by it too. A part of him worried that this would make him perverted, or at least people would think he was a perv if they knew he did it and really, truly enjoyed it. That was because Rob knew how to use it. He was somehow both loose and tight at once: loose enough for Todd to plow away with all his might, tight enough for there to be a little struggle, and for Rob’s ass to clench around Todd’s cock.
It was incredible. Todd didn’t know anal could be like this. It was enough to, for a moment, make Todd wonder if he could be a hustler as a career — could he find numerous wealthy men like Rob? Probably not, he figured that was likely more difficult than it seemed.
He wondered if he could keep Rob as a consistent lay — this could be a nice little side-income stream, he thought.

As an orgasm exploded deep within him, Todd finally smiled, the last of his reluctance melting away only now that he was done. This, he thought, was a lot less nervewracking than he had seemed. He ran his fingers through his scruffy hair and let out a loud moan that resonated in the cabana.

“Rob!” Rob’s father’s voice filtered through the air. He had been looking in the first cabana — the one everyone actually used — and when he heard Todd’s moan, he realized they were actually in the fourth cabana instead.
Rob orgasmed too. Waves of pleasure emanated from his prostate. The sexiest thing about getting cornholed by young men was that they didn’t even understand the prostate — they just slammed, hard and passionate and intense, and their dick went wherever it ended up, which was somehow always right there on the prostate, Rob’s little pleasure-button, making him gasp and moan and writhe there on the floor of the cabana.
“Robert! Robert Winthrop!” His father was outside now, pounding on the door. It wasn’t locked, but he wouldn’t open it. “Are you trying to humiliate me?!”
“Aaaaaah….” Rob called out and sighed, attempting to say yes though all that came out was a wordless moan. He tried to giggle too, but the orgasm still flowing through his veins made it hard to concentrate.
A surge of fear hit Todd even before his orgasm was even done. He pulled out, heart pounding — was he in trouble with Mr. Winthrop? He hadn’t really considered what would happen if he got caught. At the very least, he thought, he probably lost this client for his pool-cleaning business.
“Don’t worry,” Rob said with a dry chuckle. He stood and stretched his legs. “My dad won’t do anything. He hates me for getting it in the ass, not you for doing it.”
“Oh…” Todd looked down at his limp dick like it had betrayed him. He wiped it off with a towel that was here in the cabana. His cheeks and chest were ruddy and dappled with sweat, both from the sex and from the humid air of the cabana.
“Robert Winthrop! You had better come out of there! I need you getting ready for the fundraiser!”
“I told you, I’m not going unless it’s Spiceman Catering!” Rob said. He crossed his arms over his chest, then realized his father couldn’t see that because the door was still shut. He just shrugged and pulled his pants up. Todd’s panicked expression continued, so Rob added, “and you have to pay Todd! You shouldn’t have stiffed him last time.”
After a long pause, Rob’s father said, “if I pay him now, will you go to the fundraiser? And behave yourself.” He gulped audibly. “Yes, it is Spiceman Catering. But you have to-“
Rob threw the cabana door open. “Why didn’t you say so?” Spiceman Catering was a Sri Lankan catering company whose employees were the entirety of a local semi-professional cricket team, trying to launch a league in the United States. They were all hunky jocks and they had big dicks and marvelous mustaches, and Rob had jacked most of them off at previous black-tie events. They were his favorite catering company.
“I didn’t want you to embarrass me!”
“I won’t! Unless you’re embarrassed by rough trade,” Rob said with a grin. “Oh, almost forgot.” He looked at Todd. “You should have reminded me to pay you. Don’t let rich folk stiff you.” He counted out the five hundred dollars. “And dad, don’t count this as his payment for cleaning the pool. You still owe him.”
“Yeah, fine. Donate five grand to whatever the fundraiser is for, and make sure Adam Patelli sees you do it.”
“Sure, whatever,” Rob said with a shrug. He didn’t care about that part. He had his own goals for the evening.
Ignoring his father, Rob headed into the house to change into a tuxedo. He didn’t like dressing up, but for some studly Sri Lankan caterers, he’d wear whatever it took. He remembered only at the last moment to go back out there and meet Todd before he left, making sure he got paid for all of his pool-cleaning.
It was funny that that was probably what pissed his father off the most. Getting off the poolboy was embarrassing, and getting plowed by the caterer was too — but most of his wealthy buddies messed with the help too. That was expected.
Actually making sure the help was paid? That was beyond the pale.
But Rob did it anyway before heading out for the fundraiser, hoping that tonight would result in another splendid adventure in rough trade.

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

Servicing Alphas: Chapter Six

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

Rob headed down the alley behind the club. He smoked a cigarette to make it look like he was waiting for someone to leave out the back. Every few minutes some drunkard did leave out the back, but Rob ignored everyone. He wasn’t here for any of them.
He was here for the bouncer out front.
He had a plan to get him too, but he needed to wait for the bouncer to enter the alley. The bouncer was named Knuckle, on account of the dense network of scars on his fingers. He said that was from getting angry and punching his fist through glass windows on several occasions. He was a bouncer at Lipsweet, a tough bar on the outskirts of town.
Finally the back door flew open, and a drunk man was shoved out of it. Knuckle followed him, pushing him every few feet and barking out challenges and questions. “Huh? Come at me, brah. Come at me then. You wanna fight? You wanna show off fo’ ya girl? Here’s ya chance, come at me. Lemme see it.” Knuckle had a handsome face with a noble jaw and a crooked nose. He always wore a baby blue baseball cap — no logo, just blue — backwards, and he had perfectly white sneakers on. Given that he worked in a bar like this and was frequently out here around the dumpsters, Rob knew that must mean Knuckle bought new shoes frequently.
Knuckle pushed the drunk man until he tottered in a garbagey puddle near the dumpster. Then he cackled and kicked the man in the side. The man yelped and squirmed. He tried to crawl away.
A drunk girl came out the back. She tried to push Knuckle into the wall — which was ridiculous, because Knuckle was like a mountain compared to her drunk, wavering twig of a body — but he just moved out of the way. She stumbled to her boyfriend.
“You fucking pussy!” she said. She sounded so drunk she was about to pass out.
“You’re a slut!” the drunk man bellowed from the ground.
Knuckle watched with a sneer. The two drunkards argued there in the garbage. Knuckle just lit a cigarette. He flexed his biceps, which were visible beneath the white wifebeater he wore — it looked like it had been brand new at the start of his shift, but now had sweat stains around the shoulders, some spilled beer soaked into it and a few drops of dried blood over his heart..
He saw Rob there and nodded. Knuckle smiled. “No problem, sir, just takin’ out the garbage.”
Rob smiled back. He came forward. “It’s a dirty job but somebody’s gotta do it.”
The drunk couple headed out of the alley, staggering forward as they shouted at each other. Knuckle took a deep drag on his cigarette. “You waitin’ for somebody?”
Rob nodded. “But I don’t think they’re coming. They might have gone home with somebody else.”
Knuckle nodded. Rob made sure to accentuate his feminine side to put Knuckle at ease. Knuckle bristled a little and wrinkled his nose. “Uh-huh.”
“You’re Knuckle, right? I’m Rob.” They had actually “met”, or at least interacted briefly, last weekend; but Knuckle didn’t remember that.
“Nice to meetcha, suh,” he said. It sounded like he wasn’t used to being polite to bargoers. Being a bouncer at a club like this was one of the few professions where being mean to the customers was expected.
“I’ll give you fifty bucks to take your shirt off and put me in a headlock,” Rob said. As soon as he said it, he squealed and blushed. He handed Knuckle the money before Knuckle even responded.
He took the fifty-dollar bill. He stared at it, then sighed and chuckled. He took off his wifebeater. He grimaced at the sight of Rob’s leering eyes. His pecs flexed — not in a deliberate, seductive way, but like he was imagining punching Rob and his muscles were dreaming about it.
But then he put Rob in a headlock. He wrapped his right arm around Rob’s neck, holding him tightly. Rob was squashed between his arm and his chest. His other arm pulled Rob’s body close to Knuckle’s, whose bare muscles writhed like a barrel of snakes against Rob’s skin.
Sweat dripped onto Rob’s lips and coated his face. The scent of Knuckle’s unwashed machismo was alluring, and Rob groaned. He smelled cheap deodorant too, but it had already been overpowered by Knuckle’s sweaty night in the overcrowded nightclub.
“Do you ever make guys jack you off?”
“What?”
“I’ve heard some bouncers sometimes take drunk guys they kick out, and y’know… make ’em jack their dick,” Rob said.
“Nah. I don’t do that.”
“Would you? I mean, if I paid you?” Rob struggled to speak through the headlock. He planted his lips on Knuckle’s rock-hard bicep and kissed loudly.
Knuckle groaned and looked away. He gamely kept Rob in the headlock, though he could have dropped him. He blushed. “What, man? You wanna pay me to make some dude jack my dick?”
“No, me. I want to pay you to make me suck your dick.”
“No way. I don’t-“
“A thousand dollars.”
A long, empty silence filled the alley. Knuckle held his cigarette in his hand. He narrowed his eyebrows to slits.
“You gonna pay me a grand to jack my dick?”
“No. I’m gonna pay you a grand for you to make me jack your dick,” Rob said. He writhed in the headlock, and rubbed his ass against Knuckle’s crotch. “I’ll pay you another grand to cornhole me in the ass.”
“Nope. No way. I ain’t no pervert, man, sir,” Knuckle said. He sighed. He pushed Rob away from him. His serious face erupted in nervous laughter. “I won’t do that. No way.” He took another drag on his cigarette. “Three grand. Three grand, man. Ah shit, no. Nevermind. I can’t.”
“Oh-“
“Okay, yeah. Three grand. I can do it. Thirty five hundred. I’ll do it for thirty five hundred,” he said. He sighed and leaned over the railing. His big plump ass stood up. It was cradled by tight basketball shorts beneath his scruffy jeans. The top of his asscrack was just barely visible. Sweat collected there. “No, I mean… Yeah. I can do it. Four grand. I want four grand.”
“I better get started before the price keeps going up,” Rob said. He dropped to his knees and in one smooth motion planted his tongue in that spot of asscrack visible above Knuckle’s sagging jeans.
“Ah shit, man,” Knuckle squirmed. He looked behind himself at Rob licking his asscrack. “You ain’t say nothin’ ’bout licking my ass. You ain’t say nothin’ ’bout that.”
“I said go to town all over you,” Rob said. “And I’m paying you double what I offered. I think that means I get to suck a little ass. I promise I won’t put anything in there, not even a finger. Okay, my tongue. I’ll put my tongue in there.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. He turned back around and grabbed Rob by the chin. “Boy… if you even think about putting a finger in my ass, I will kill you. You understand me? I will not try to hide the evidence. I will go to prison with my head held high, bitch. You dig me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir.”
“Okay, uh, Knuckle.”
He snorted and laughed nervously. He paused and smoked his cigarette. He blew smoke into Rob’s face. Rob coughed.
“You imaginin’ ya finger in my ass?”
“No, Knuckle. I promise. I swear. I don’t do that,” Rob said.
“Ya dick?”
“No. I only ever bottom,” Rob said. His heart skipped a beat. Like most bouncers, Knuckle was very good at intimidating people. He stared Rob down, then spat on his face. “I just want to suck your asshole, that’s all.”
“Fuckin’ deadbeat.”
Knuckle undid the belt of his jeans and pulled down his shorts to reveal a pale, trembling pair of beautifully plump asscheeks. There was a big nasty twisted scar on one cheek. He only pulled down his pants on his backside, taking care to make sure he didn’t bare his cock and balls.
Rob separated those cheeks and inhaled deeply of the scent. The sound of him sniffing made Knuckle chuckle, his whole body shaking; his laugh turned into a quick retch. Rob leaned his head in and slipped his tongue into Knuckle’s tight hole.
“What’s this scar?” Rob asked as he kissed all up and down the crack of Knuckle’s ass.
“I got shot,” Knuckle said. His voice was pinched, as though it hurt to have his asshole licked. He squirmed and groaned. His hole clenched around Rob’s tongue.
Rob tickled the gunshot wound on his ass. One of his hands roamed between Knuckle’s legs, massaging the taint there. He suckled loudly and moistly on Knuckle’s asshole. He slurped out all the stank, salty sweat he could get to.
“Who shot you?”
“This guy. There was a disagreement,” Knuckle said. ‘Bout who owned this girl.”
Rob giggled into Knuckle’s ass. “I hope you were on the side of ‘nobody owned her’.”
Knuckle bristled and bit his lip. He didn’t answer at first. Then he murmured, “I ain’t a rapist or a pimp or nothin’.”
“Uh-huh-“
“Ah, damn!” Knuckle laughed. “I gots an idea.” He clapped his hands and fished his phone out of his pants pocket. That turned out to be difficult to do in this position, so he wordlessly pushed Rob onto the cold, moist ground on his back. Knuckle lowered his ass, squatting over Rob’s face. That was perfect for Rob, because it forcibly separated Knuckle’s cheeks, giving him perfect access to his hole. It was easier for Knuckle to get into his own pants pocket this way.
Rob flickered his tongue all the way in to Knuckle’s hole, far enough in that Knuckle shuddered and groaned. He nearly dropped his cell phone as he dialed. Finally he got it to ring and held it to his ear.
“Yo, nigga. Guess what? Remember that thing you said only niggas can ever talk someone into? I got this bitch lickin’ at my hole right now-” Knuckle paused and groaned. “Nigga nigga nigga, I say it when I want, man. I ain’t even have to talk this bitch into it. Uh-huh. Got that tongue all up in my guts right now, cleanin’ me out, uh-huh. Gonna rub it like a dog now.” He moved his ass back and forth, squeezing over Rob’s tongue. “Yeah, it’s real nasty.” He paused. “Alright, yeah. I meet you tomorrow at noon. Get up early then, and don’t try and pass off schwag, I will kick yo’ ass again. Bullshit. I beat yo’ ass like a cop behind bars, nigga. I destroyed you. I’m just sayin’ it to piss you off now. That’s my right. That’s my First Amendment right as an American.” He paused and smiled. “Hell yeah. But I am takin’ her ass, man — no! No! You can’t call it like that, that ain’t fair. I fuck her in the ass. Yeah, you take the pussy. If our balls touch, I will punch you. If our balls touch, it will be yo’ fault, I guarantee that.” He squirmed atop Rob’s tongue. “God damn, man, you ain’t say ya tongue gonna feel like that. Okay, nigga. Nigga please. Nigga you don’t even- Uh-huh, my nigga. You my nigga, dawg. I swear-” He put the phone down. He snorted. “Hung up. Fuckin’ asshole.” He stood up and grabbed Rob by the neck. “You ready to swallow some dick, deadbeat?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. The only sound he could make right now was a weak squeak.
Knuckle spat on his face. He laughed and clapped his hands. “Alright, goddamn. This is kinda fun.” He pushed Rob onto his knees. He had a massive cock, already half-hard and throbbing in his hands. He pried Rob’s mouth apart and fed it in. He shuddered a little, then smiled. “My dad was a bouncer — I only met him a few times in person, he been in jail since I was little — and he always say this is what it used to be like. Police used to be on ya side, you know? If some deadbeat raised a fuckin’ stink, you could raise a fuckin’ stink on his face, dig?” He sighed as he slammed his dick all the way into Rob’s throat.
Rob struggled to accept it all. He gagged violently. His hands tightened into claws that grabbed at Knuckle’s plump asscheeks, which were still wet from Rob’s licking.
“Man… My dad used to come home late, and he’d drink with my uncle Tony — he lived wit’ us then — and he’d tell Tony about the shit he did to the boys who raised too much hell in his bar. I ain’t understand half of what he said,” Knuckle said. “Like usin’ a bum as an ashtray.” He made sure Rob’s eyes were open wide, then ground his cigarette out on Rob’s forehead.
The scorching pain on his flesh made Rob squirm. His mouth struggled to avoid biting down, but he didn’t have any leverage anyway, so he probably couldn’t have bit if he wanted to. All he could do was hock up a ball of saliva that dripped down Knuckle’s shaft.
“Alright, deadbeat,” Knuckle said. He sounded a little absent-minded, like he was acting out something he recalled his father saying. “Now here comes the big finale. I’m gonna turn your ass into my woman, a woman I don’t think much of. It’s gonna hurt, and you gonna cry, but eventually it’ll be over. Then you be a flappy-butted loser.” He bent Rob over the railing near the landing by the back door to the club.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Knuckle had his cock in Rob’s ass — he just jammed it in as though the more he thought about it, the more he might be unable to perform. He sighed once the first inch or so was in. Rob squealed and gasped.
“That hurt? It should. You want something to bit on?” Knuckle said. He put his corded-muscle forearm in front of Rob’s mouth. “You can bite my arm, bitch. I won’t be mad.”
Rob didn’t want to bite, though the pressure in his ass was intense. He kissed. He sucked on the firm muscle of Knuckle’s forearm, nibbling a bit only when the sensations in his ass became too incredible to avoid.
“Say ‘I’m a bitch’.”
“I’m a bitch!”
“Say it louder. Be proud of ya bitchitude. Bitch.”
“I’m a bitch! I’m such a bitch! I’m Knuckle’s bitch! I’ll do anything he wants!” Rob screamed into the darkened alley.
“Ha, now I get it, I know why my dad was-” Knuckle chuckled dryly, interrupted when his cell phone rang. “That’s prolly that nigga again, tellin’ me he run out of weed or some shit. I swear to God- Oh, nevermind, it’s my boss. Shush.” He stopped moving with his cock all the way in Rob’s ass.
There was a long silence. It took all of Rob’s concentration to avoid crying out. Knuckle stopped moving, but he stopped with his entire cock throbbing in Rob’s ass.
“Yes, sir. Uh-huh. Uh, yeah, Mr. Gregarian, I’m just, uh, takin’ care of- Right. Yes, sir. I’ll be there in a moment.” He hung up the phone and barked. He punched Rob in the back, then roared and backed away. Blessed relief flooded Rob as his ass was emptied. “I swear to Christ, I will rip this bitch’s throat out.” He pulled his pants up. “You hear me? I will kill- Sorry ’bout punching you, man. I ain’t mean to hurtcha.”
“No worries, I’m not hurt-“
“I will lay down some law like a lawyer, boy. You best believe it,” he said. He went back into the club, still shirtless, his cock and his ass moist. His dick was still as hard as iron, and if the club weren’t so dark, the bulge in his jeans would have been obvious.
Rob pulled his pants up, just in case more people came out the back. He kept the door open too, watching. But the club was crowded and dark and smoky and loud, and Rob got only a vague impression of what was happening in there.
A glass-shattering crash. Gasps. What the fuck?! A crack. More gasping. Some laughter. Angry words spat out too quietly to hear. A moist sound that Rob couldn’t identify. You still feelin’ grabby, my man? A shriek of terror. Shut the fuck up! You gonna walk out like a man or you gonna get yaself thrown out like a bitch?
Then Rob saw a blurry mix of limbs and muscle come his way. He stepped away from the door just in time to see Knuckle dragging a thrashing man out into the alley. The man was drunk, crying, red-faced, blood streaming from his nostrils.
The man staggered to his feet in the puddle of dumpster water he landed in. “Fuck you!” he screamed. He drunkenly, slowly put his fists up. “Come at me, bro. Come at me. Try me, huh?”
Knuckle laughed. “Don’t make me. I would come over there and kick ya ass, bro. I would do it. But you happened to interrupt me when I was punishin’ the last deadbeat who raised up a fuss and I don’t wanna stop.”
“Come at me!” The drunk man kept repeating that, staggering around the alley. He didn’t seem to notice at first when Knuckle dropped his jeans again.

Knuckle’s cock was not totally hard anymore, but he had only lost a bit of his erection. He rammed it into Rob’s ass and sighed as though he was scratching an itch he had been unable to reach for a long time. He slipped his entire cock in, and Rob squealed — he had to make it very loud to get the drunk’s attention.

The drunk stepped closer like he didn’t understand what he was seeing. He screwed up his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “You’re cornholin’ that man’.”
“You earnin’ yo’ identifyin’-nasty-shit merit badge, man?” Knuckle said. “Cuz you got it. You earned that.”
There was a long pause. “That’s nasty.”
“Go home, fuckwit! Ain’t you figure this out yet? When I’m done cornholin’ this deadbeat, I’m gonna come over there and cornhole you, ya dig? I’m gonna cornhole you till yo’ eyes bleed. I’m gonna cornhole you even though my dick gonna be limp cuz I just cornhole him, I’ll just shove it in ya ass anyway and watch porn on my phone till I get hard again. So you had better run the fuck away befo’ I finish.”
The drunk man covered his mouth like he had to suppress a shout. Then he turned tail and fled. He ran down the alley, swaying from side to side so badly he bumped into the wall and knocked over a trash can.
One of Knuckle’s hands grabbed Rob’s hair, holding his head in place. He groaned and moaned. Rob stroked himself off.
But first, before he reached orgasm, Rob pulled out his own cell phone. He handed it to Knuckle and said, “Here. Will you call my dad?”
“Call yo’ daddy?”
“Yeah. Tell him you’re cornholin’ me. I want to humiliate him. He doesn’t like the idea of me being dirty at all, and he would hate it if he knew I let a bouncer in me. No offense,” Rob said. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks. His name is Eugene.”
Knuckle grabbed the phone and muttered. “Fine.” He snorted and cleared his throat as it rang. “Yo. Hey. You, uh, Eugene? That’s right, I got ya boy’s cell phone. He can’t talk right now, on ‘ccount of he’s bein’ bitched out. Uh-huh. I’s a bouncer at Lipsweet, that’s that discount burlesque club, ya boy is here right now jackin’ dudes off for a quarter — yeah, he just drainin’ they balls so they ain’t gotta spend as much on lapdances. If you ever been to Lipsweet, you know they got some nasty-ass females. But only scumbags ever come here, so it works out for them. Anyway, I was callin’ you to give you an update on ya boy and see if you wanna buy this car I got — it ain’t stolen, I swear, but I do gotta get rid of it tonight and it’s got Massachusetts tags you should prolly take off right away. You can pay in money or in meth. Uh-huh. Sorry, I’s havin’ trouble hearin’ ya over the sound of ya boy swallowin’ nutsacks. You teach him to do that? You teach him good.” He stopped and shrugged. “He hung up. Ya daddy sound like a judge. He a judge?”
“No.”
“Good. Cuz I might have kick ya ass for real if yo’ daddy was a judge. He sound like the fuckhead who put my brother away,” Knuckle said. “Now hush up, I’m gonna cum.” He put his cell phone on Rob’s back, and the tinny sound of hetero porn filled the air.
Once he got it started, however, Knuckle didn’t seem to spend much focus looking at the screen. He closed his eyes and moaned, tweaking his own nipples. He groaned in disgust when Rob orgasmed and sprayed his wad over the alley ground, but he didn’t say anything.
“Aw, fuck, aw fuck, aw fuck…” Knuckle grunted. He pushed on Rob’s head and gripped his ass tightly in position.
A wash of hot cum spurted into Rob, followed by a long torrent of semen. It was thick and creamy, and it seeped into his flesh. Knuckle stopped moving while he came. He closed his eyes tightly as though watching a horror movie. His cock spasmed and the cum flowed until it was dripping out of Rob’s ass and onto the trashy ground beneath him.
“God damn, bitch. God damn,” Knuckle said. He smacked Rob’s ass without removing his cock, chuckling when that made Rob yelp and squirm. Knuckle swayed his hips and twitched his dick, causing a bubbly frothy load of cum to slip out. It coated Rob’s ass and dripped in clumps onto the ground.
“Wow, thanks-“
“Pay me, bitch,” Knuckle said with a growl. “You best not cheat me. And clean my cock off wit’ yo’ clothes.”
“Yes, Knuckle,” Rob said. He used his shirt to wipe off Knuckle’s cock, then brought out his own smartphone. They used the app that Rob’s father had invented — PayUp — to transfer four thousand, one hundred and fifty dollars into Knuckle’s account. Rob didn’t tell Knuckle that it was his father’s app.
Knuckle put his sweaty wifebeater back on. He straightened his backwards baseball cap. “Alright, you done.”
Rob didn’t respond right away. He was all cleaned up and dressed, ready to go, but he wanted to watch Knuckle’s muscle-bound body for as long as possible. Knuckle stayed there at the door, scowling at him.
“Okay, man, you get away,” Knuckle said. He spat on the ground. “Or I will kick yo’ ass for real.”
Rob turned and fled. He was a little scared — Knuckle seemed hostile and unstable enough he might do it — but most of all he was relieved to have gotten it. He had watched and planned this encounter for a long time, so he was glad it went off without a hitch.
But it was time to move on, to find someone new. It was time for Rob find a fresh new piece of rough trade.

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

Servicing Alphas: Chapter Five

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

“I really don’t think I can pick him out of a lineup, Officer Jackson,” Rob said. He got in the passenger side of the patrol car.
“Well, we need you to try. We think we got the guy, but we need an ID on him,” Officer Jackson said. He pulled into traffic with a quickness. Unfortunately, traffic didn’t comply with his need for speed, and he was stuck almost immediately — not even turning on the siren would help. The street was jammed bumper-to-bumper with cars.
“Well… shit,” Rob said, sighing at the sight of the traffic jam.
“Yeah, goddamn I hate this city. Traffic sucks,” Jackson said. He let out a long, low sigh. “So what does a dude like you do for fun in this city? Sorry, was that weird to ask? I’m just making conversation.”
“No, that’s a fine question, officer. I am a bit of a music collector, namely funk. I love funk,” Rob said. “Oh, you know, I date a little, fool around… y’know… I love me a bit of rough trade.”
“Rough trade? What’s that?” He sighed and pounded on the steering wheel. He scowled at the car in front of him. The radio flickered into life, but it wasn’t a call aimed at Officer Jackson.
“It’s when a masculine guy lets a weaker guy taste his dick for money or a place to sleep or whatever.”
“So, wait, guys let you jack them off?”
“Oh, yeah, all the time.”
“I know Mexicans do that. My last partner explained about the activos and pasivos. I thought it was weird, but he said there’s a dude he messes with sometimes. His wife makes him get off so she doesn’t have to do it. He said all Mexicans do that, I said that seems like a sweeping generalization and-“
“Oh, that’s darling,” Rob said. “But it’s not just Mexicans, sweetie.” He squeezed Officer Jackson’s bicep beneath his uniform shirt. It was firm and meaty, and it made him giggle because it made Jackson’s chest muscles ripple. “Lots of guys do that, for money… or just… for fun. When there’s no girls around. Like right now.”
“You comin’ on to me?”
“I bet I can get you off and swallow all your cum down before we get off this highway,” Rob said. He moistly sucked on his finger, deep-throating it until he got Officer Jackson’s attention. Rob smiled. “I’m very good.”
“As good as a girl?”
Rob scoffed. “Sweetie, I’m better than any girl. I can throat any cock, and I love to swallow cum. What girl can make that boast?” He reached over and teased the side of Officer Jackson’s thigh.
“Shit… You want me to be ya rough trade?”
“Well, I’d have to offer you something of value, but that would be illegal,” Rob said. “So why don’t we just do something more fun? It’s not illegal to gamble on dick, is it?” He stroked Officer Jackson’s cock through his uniform slacks. “If I can make you blow a nut before we get off the highway, then I get to spend one night worshiping your cock and your ass and every part of your body.” Rob unzipped Jackson’s uniform slacks and pulled his already erect cock out.
Officer Jackson shifted his weight and scooted back to give Rob more room to touch his dick through his slacks. “Look… I dunno ’bout that…” He blushed. “You can stroke it a bit, that’s… y’know…”
“Hmmm… you sure I can’t take it out? Let it see the light of day?”
Officer Jackson made a bunch of grunting noises, some of which sounded like “yes” and others like “no”. But Rob just kept rubbing it through his clothes, until it was as hard as iron and the precum leaking out made a little wet spot on the fabric.
“Oh, god, man… Do you really throat dick that good?”
“Even better.” Rob aimed his voice directly into Officer Jackson’s ear, and he kept his tone low and sultry. Jackson moaned and shuddered.
“Goddamn, boy, look, you can suck on it a bit, okay, just get it wet? Just, uh… Oh god…” It took all his concentration to keep driving. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”
“I promise, it’ll be our little lavender secret,” Rob said. He unzipped Officer Jackson’s slacks and took his dick out. It was big and thick and, Rob was glad to see, uncut. It was meaty and firm. It tasted salty from the moment Rob popped it into his mouth, precum already flowing down his shaft.
“Hmmm… Goddamn…”
“Isn’t this nice? I haven’t even started on it yet,” Rob said with a giggle. He still just played with the tip, letting his spit drip all over it and into the humid forest of Officer Jackson’s crotch within his slacks. “I’m just teasing still.”
Officer Jackson grunted. A surge of terror hit him as he realized he wasn’t paying too much attention to the road, but the traffic was still almost entirely stopped. He crept forward a few feet a minute.
Dispatch to Car 25. Jackson, hey?

Officer Jackson swore. He grabbed for the radio with one hand, while his other guided Rob onto his dick. Rob wanted to make him moan into the radio — he thought that would be funny — so he deep-throated Officer Jackson’s dick the moment he pushed the transmit button on the radio.

“Car 25 he — heeere…” His voice did break as he spoke, but he just pushed Rob’s head deeper on his dick. He squirmed in his seat and closed his eyes.
Hey, Jackson, you still picking that witness up? Don’t worry about it. We caught him trying to pawn the cash register.
“Thank god,” Officer Jackson said. Then he spoke into the radio, “Okay. Cool. I already picked him up, but I’ll just take him back home.”
Rob lifted his head up, wiping precum off his chin, and giggled. “So the guy robbed a gas station then tried to pawn the cash register that day? Do pawn shops even take cash registers?”
“He was probably a meth-head,” Officer Jackson said. “That’s a total meth move.”
“Hey, so how do you want me to swallow your cum?” Since most women didn’t like sucking dick or swallowing cum, or talking about either, Rob liked to tease straight men by bringing it up. He chased Jackson’s dick with his mouth as he talked. “Cuz I like to have you ejaculate on my tongue, that way I can taste every drop-“
“Yeah, do that.” He gently pushed Rob’s head back to his dick, but Rob just kept stroking.
Rob teased the tip of his dick with his tongue. Jackson was right on the edge of orgasm, and Rob kept him there. “So another option is for me to throat you, so you shoot all your load in my throat, like real deep in my throat. The downside there is that I don’t get to taste as much of it. But if you like being deep-throated, that’s probably the way to go.”
“Yeah. Do that.” The traffic was beginning to clear out. Rob had totally forgotten they were originally betting over how quickly Officer Jackson might cum.
“Let’s see, there’s also the porno option. That’s where you jack yourself off and cum on my face. I’ll have to clean myself up and swallow it all. That makes for a good visual for the camera, but I think it’s the least sexy,” Rob said. He paused for a moment to lick Jackson’s shaft from root to tip, making him shudder and moan again.
“Come on, just swallow it, just swallow it, okay?” He was desperately plaintive now.
“Hmmm… Okay, it’s up to me?”
“Yeah! Just swallow it, man! Come on!” He pounded on the steering wheel. His dick throbbed mightily, like it might cum no matter what.
Rob had always known how he was going to do it — he was going to deep-throat. While he did enjoy having a man cum in his mouth, he knew this would feel better for Jackson, which meant Rob might get to make this a regular occurrence. Besides that, the steering wheel was in the way, which might have made the other methods more difficult.
So he rammed his head all the way down. As his orgasm hit him, just as he pulled the car onto an off-ramp, Officer Jackson parked on the side of the road. He couldn’t control his body anymore. Cars whizzed past as he leaned back and finally blew the biggest load of his lifetime.
Nobody had ever swallowed his cum as deeply as this. Officer Jackson let out a loud howl, his mind whirring as he wondered what he’d say if some other cop saw him parked here. He held Rob’s head all the way down on his cock, until he had shot every drop down Rob’s tight, warm throat.
“Shit! Hell yeah, boy! Goddamn!” Officer Jackson screamed.
His cum was thick and salty, with a certain musty quality that Rob adored. His load sat heavily in Rob’s belly, his heat seeping into Rob’s flesh. Rob kept sucking even as his lungs cried out for oxygen.
“Shit…” Officer Jackson said, his voice now quiet and wavery, exhausted, his forehead dappled with sweat. “Shit, man.”
Rob pulled off. He loudly gulped down the mouth full of cum he still had. It sat hotly in his belly. “So you see, that’s what I do for fun in this city.”
“Uh-huh. Shit, man…” Officer Jackson gulped as he put his moist cock away. “Shit… That was better than any girl. Don’t quote me on that.”
Rob giggled. “You don’t need to worry about that.” His hands pawed at Officer Jackson’s chest. “I practice the utmost discretion.” He paused. “You owe me a night in a motel. I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweetie. You ever had a tossed salad? I’ll make you cum till your balls fall off.”
Officer Jackson cleared his throat and rearranged himself in his slacks. “Man… Shut up, okay? You’re gonna make me horny again. I’ll take you home now.” He paused. “Yeah, I’ll get a motel room. I’ll have to call you and let you know when I can get away from my wife.”
“I can’t wait.”

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

Servicing Alphas: Chapter Three

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

Living in Ann Arbor had been nice, but Rob was beginning to get tired of it. He was already thinking of new places. Maybe Salt Lake City? Mormons were nice, but so boring.
But for now, he was still settling into his apartment near the college. Rob told himself — and more importantly, everyone else — that he lived there because it helped him write — he was trying to write a novel. But it actually distracted him because of all the hot frat guys who haunted the streets. He could sit out on his porch in the evening and spy all the semi-drunk boys scurrying in groups between houses, wearing sleeveless tees and sometimes even less.
He knew he’d lived there long enough, though, when Chad knocked on his door one day.

Chad was not very tall, and he wasn’t really muscular, but he was athletic and wiry, and he had very broad shoulders. His most endearing quality, however, were dimples and a perfectly scruffy chin. Those dimples dimpled marvelously when Rob opened the door, because Chad was very nervous. His shoulders were straight, and he bit his lip.

“Uh, so, hey, man… can I borrow… a… roll of orange duct tape.”
Rob looked at him blankly. He had no idea what that meant. “You want orange duct tape?”
“Yeah, like… orange?”
“Right… I, uh… I don’t have any orange duct tape, young man,” Rob said.
“Oh.”
“Would… black duct tape do?” Rob wasn’t sure he had black duct tape either, but there might have been a roll in the closet.
“No! I mean… No,” Chad said. “Is that… butt stuff?” He glanced down the hall, whence Rob heard emanations of snickering.
“What?!” Rob poked his head out. A handful more frat boys were peering this way, but they scattered when they saw Rob. Their throaty chuckling filled the air in the hallway.
Chad’s cheeks burned bright red. “Is that code?”
“No,” Rob said. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, uh, sorry, oh, uh, uh, I, uh, I was all like, all in the… I had things to be in the… they said it, and I said all that that I was like… And so…”
Rob clucked his tongue. “You have a bad case of fraternity-induced crazymouth, boy. If you want something from me, you better say it.”
“Will you jack my dick?!” He paused and blushed. “With your mouth.”
A silence filled the hall. “Well, yes,” Rob said. “But please don’t shout that.” He opened the door, and Chad came in.
“Shit, yeah, thanks,” Chad said with a sigh.
“So they told you you had to use a code?”
Chad nodded.
“Okay, I do not like to play games like that, Chad. Girls enjoy that kind of shit. If you want me to jack your dick, just ask, using normal words,” Rob said.
“Yes, sir,” Chad said. He sat on the couch. “Thanks, man, I mean, sir-“
“You can call me Rob,” Rob said. “You’re a very polite young man.”
Chad was still blushing, holding his breath. He looked like his head might explode. He had a big goofy grin on his face that he couldn’t remove. “I really need the money. Five grand is a lot.”
Rob looked at him. “What?”
“Five grand, right? That’s what you gave Deshonte Williams.”
“Uh… Is that what he’s saying? You tell him he’s got a ten-dollar dick, and I gave him a big tip. I did not pay him five grand,” Rob said. “I don’t have to pay you jack-shit, Chad. You came in here asking me to get you off, remember that? I know you just wanna get your dick wet and you’ll do it for free.”
“No way! Deshonte said you pay money!”
“Then get five grand out of Deshonte!” Rob said. He grinned. “Okay, I gave Deshonte fifty bucks, which is what I normally pay college boys. But I’ll give you a hundred so you can tell Deshonte to quit talking a bunch of bullshit about me cuz his dick ain’t that good. Tell him I can make sure every girl on campus thinks he’s impotent. So unless he wants that rumor to spread across campus like syphilis, he had better stop bragging about that shit. I paid him fifty bucks.” Rob got on his knees between Chad’s legs.
Chad’s eyes opened wide and he blushed. “I… uh… I don’t know if I can…”
“Are you scared of Deshonte? He won’t hurt you. He won’t get in a fight because he doesn’t want to ruin that lovely face,” Rob said. “But whatever, you don’t have to say that. Just tell him I said to come talk to me. I’ll give him the message.”
“Oh.” Chad still looked scared. He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes. Rob didn’t know if he was actually scared of Deshonte or if he was just nervous about being with a man.
Rob stroked Chad’s dick through his jeans, then unzipped the fly. Chad gasped. Rob reached in and pulled out a nice-sized dick. He planted his lips right on the tip and suckled loudly, moistly.
Then he stroked it and had Chad take his shirt off. “You’re pledging a frat?” One of Rob’s hands played with his nipples, which made Chad’s pecs flex.
Chad nodded and closed his eyes. “Kappa Gamma Pi.”
“Oh… is that the frat that does elephant walks?”
Chad blushed. “I, uh… I’m not allowed to talk about that stuff.”
Rob giggled. He went back to sucking, deep-throating Chad to the root. He could picture Chad doing the elephant walk, maybe with Deshonte himself — wasn’t Deshonte also a Kaggapee? (That was what the Kappa Gamma Pi boys were called on-campus). An elephant walk was when all the pledges formed a line, totally naked, and then gripped the cock of the man behind them (reaching between their own legs) while inserting their other finger into the ass of the man in front of them. That resulted in a line of frat boys manhandling each other.
It was incredibly arousing, Rob thought, even if Chad did deny it.
Rob sucked on his balls loudly enough to make Chad open his eyes and gasp. Rob giggled. He loved servicing frat boy alphas like him, since so many of them were inexperienced. Chad had probably only been sucked off by a few girls as inexperienced as he was, so he’d most likely never had a worthwhile blowjob. Rob enjoyed blowing his mind.
“How is it?” Rob asked. He made eye contact with Chad, who blushed.
“Uh… Oh god… It’s… uh…” Chad’s face was bright-red. “It’s…” He bucked and grunted, his whole body shaking as Rob casually stroked him off.
Rob hadn’t intended to give Chad such an intense orgasm. But he was on the verge of cumming even before Rob pulled off his cock, and Chad was young and virile enough that he couldn’t stop himself even if he had wanted to. So Rob kept stroking as sticky precum flowed over his hand.
“C’mon, swallow it, swallow it…” Chad’s voice was plaintive and desperate. His hands fluttered above Rob’s head.
“Hmm… your dick feels so good in my hand…” Rob moaned, thwacking Chad’s cock against his palm. He could feel the cum coursing up the shaft, and he could sense his orgasm in the roiling muscles of Chad’s body.
He played like he wasn’t going to put it in his mouth anymore, even as Chad’s ruddy face gasped and begged him to do it. Then, at the last second, as a jet of cum sprayed out, Rob rammed his head all the way down. The sour and intensely bright flavor of cum overloaded Rob’s senses.
“Ah, shit, yes!” Chad sighed grandly, his chest rattling, muscles flexing. His cock disappeared all the way down Rob’s throat, his cummy shaft filling Rob’s senses with his salty goodness.
Then cum spurted into Rob’s stomach, great creamy gobs of it that just kept on flowing. Chad had big college-boy balls that were overful with his nut, and now it all flowed out at once. It filled Rob up and then kept going, until Rob couldn’t possibly swallow it all.
It spilled out and made a big frothy mess on Chad’s crotch. Rob pulled off and took a deep breath.
“Goddamn!” Chad’s face was bright red. He looked at his dick as though he had no idea why that happened.
Rob giggled. “You certainly earned your fifty dollars.” He wiped cum off the corner of his mouth.
“Goddamn!” Chad said again. He was breathless and sweaty, stray drops of cum congealing on his flat belly.
“You’re all messy…” Rob said.
“You made a mess.”
“You’re blaming me?” Rob said. He stood up and wiped his face off. “If you want, you can take a shower before you leave.”
“Oh sweet, okay. I don’t really wanna walk out of here smelling of cum.”
Rob smiled. “Well, the bathroom is right down the hall. The one rule is that you have to let me shower with you. Do you share showers with your frat brothers?”
“Yeah…” His voice was thready and uncertain. Then he stood and chuckled, his voice suddenly deeper and more confident. “I guess I can do that. I got my nut off in a man’s mouth. I got paid to blow a wad.” He smiled like he had just realized all that. “So I can handle sharing a shower.”
“Excellent.” Rob grinned as he led Chad into the bathroom. This day, he thought, was turning out better than he had hoped.
But he didn’t think he was going to get any writing done.

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

Servicing Alphas: Chapter One

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

Rob was bored. He felt like crying as he sat there and endured the world’s most hideous presentation. He considered prying his eyelids open. It was so boring it hurt. He couldn’t even think of anything exciting to do, like this presentation was so boring it made other things less exciting through contagion, like it crowded out the part of Rob’s brain that could experience excitement.
What was an exciting thing? Planes… Explosions… Movies? The only movie Rob could remember was Nanook of the North, which he had watched in film class. And that Andy Warhol movie that was just a twelve-hour video of a skyscraper.
Excitement was a real thing, wasn’t it? Rob felt like prying his eyelids off.
It was a presentation about the relative popularity of the costs of implementing various water purification strategies in certain parts of rural Colorado. The presenter was a dour-faced black woman who was probably chosen as a presenter because she was beautiful.
Rob didn’t care about her. He only came here because he wanted to humiliate his father yet again. But there were no good opportunities. He could just rip all his clothes off in the middle of the meeting — that would certainly add some excitement — but he’d done that before. People just assumed he had a psychotic break or an alcohol problem, something like that. Rob was a billionaire’s son, so everyone found it easy to believe there was something wrong with him.
No, if he was going to humiliate his father today, it would have to be something else. His father periodically set him up with companies to manage, in the hopes of pushing him towards a more responsible future.
But Rob hated his father with a fiery passion, so he always ran those companies into the ground (or just ignored them). Today he was in Colorado, taking control of a county government services company. Rob was supposed to help them expand into state and federal government contracts.
A woman came into the meeting. She meekly apologized for interrupting it. She needed Mr. Jameson, the CEO, to sign something. Mr. Jameson scowled a little like he was annoyed, not at being interrupted, but at the thing he needed to sign.
“Another one? Tell him to keep it in his pants, for Ch-f-sh…” It sounded like he was going to say for Christ’s sake, then for fuck’s sake, then for shit’s shake but didn’t want to curse because Rob was here, so he just stammered and said nothing. “He’s going to be a slave sooner or later.”
Mr. Jameson suddenly blushed intensely. He coughed like he hadn’t meant to say that. He glanced at Mrs. Molene, the presenter, the only black person in the room. She was on the other side of the conference table so it didn’t seem that she heard what he said.
Rob’s eyes opened. This, he thought, was a thing. He didn’t know what, but there was clearly something happening here.
He excused himself and made his way out into the hall after the woman, who hurried towards the door marked Human Resources at the end of the hall. She glanced at Rob. “The bathrooms are down that way, sir-“
“That’s not why I came out,” Rob said. He glanced at the clipboard. “Is that…?”
The human resources lady did not know that Rob was not a businessman. She assumed he was given this company because he wanted to, and knew how to, run it. So she assumed that he asked to see the paperwork because it was relevant to his business, which indeed it was. That simply wasn’t why Rob wanted to see it.
It was a court order, demanding that the company garnish the wages of Jaekwan Malcolm Brown. One hundred and seventy-eight dollars were to be taken from his paychecks and sent to a child-support-payments processing company.
“It’s just a garnishment order, sir,” she said. She blushed. “It’s okay, we know how to do it. Mr. Brown has… other garnishments on his file.”
Rob made a serious face like his father would have. “Well, ma’am,” he said, “I’m going to have to investigate this. Where do I find Mr. Brown?”
“He works in the warehouse,” she said. She watched him walk away like she was nervous, like she was supposed to stop him — which was technically true, since human resources matters were supposed to be confidential. But Rob didn’t care. The more rules he broke, the more embarrassed his father would be, and then Rob wouldn’t have to run any more companies into the ground for a little while.
He went down to the warehouse on the first floor. About twenty guys worked there shipping and receiving supplies. A huge part of the warehouse was filled with blue recycling bins.
The warehouse guys didn’t know who Rob was, and he didn’t really carry himself like an executive, so they didn’t react to him. He asked where Jaekwan was and they said only that he was around here somewhere.
Rob soon found him among the stacks of blue recycling bins. He didn’t know that’s who it was at first. That’s because he didn’t see him right away. He heard him first.
It sounded like someone trying to lift something heavy. There was a girl there too. Rob smiled when he realized it was the sound of sex.
It was him. Jaekwan wore the blue pants and polo shirt of the warehouse workers, but he had pulled the pants down and lifted the shirt over his head. He had a tight grip on a thick woman’s hair as he pounded into her.
She was Debra, and she was the married receptionist at the pool services company next door. She was thick and not especially attractive, Rob thought.
Jaekwan, however, was perfect. He was young and tall and ropy-muscled, not exactly thick but not skinny by any means. He had cornrows and deep, dark skin inked with blueish tattoos. He let out a growl as he filled Debra’s pussy with his seed. Rob watched cum drip down onto the floor.
“Damn, girl, you treat me right,” he said. He grinned, showing off his deep dimples. His massive dick flopped out of her body limply. Debra blushed and whispered something to him. Jaekwan bent over and kissed her on the forehead. “Nah, baby, I can’t kiss you on the lips. You sucked my dick earlier. That’s nasty.”
“Jaekwan! I’m leaving my husband for you!” She looked down at her feet as she pulled her panties up.
“Don’t. I tol’ you not to, baby,” he said. He already had his phone out and was texting someone, his pants still around his ankles, cock bobbing around and dripping a few remnants of cum and pussyjuice onto the warehouse floor.
“Come on…”
“No.” He pulled his pants up and scowled at her. “That ain’t the kinda nigga I am. You best get back to yo’ office, baby.” He walked away with a noticeable pimp lean. He didn’t pull his shirt back down, so his sweat-dappled chest was bare. Rob had a feeling he did that because it would imply to his fellow workers that he had had sex in the stacks of recycling bins.
Sure enough, he heard their deep-throated greetings, slapping hands and macho boasting. It all erupted at once so he couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but the meaning was clear. They must have known he was here fucking a woman.
Rob tried to make his way back to the main part of the warehouse without being seen, but he made slow progress. He heard Jaekwan become upset about something. He shouted curses about lawyers and judges, which Rob took to mean he found out his paycheck had been garnished yet again.
Soon the warehouse guys filtered out. Rob’s cell phone blew up with text messages from the executives upstairs — they didn’t know where he went, and they needed him to make a decision on some issue that bored Rob so much he couldn’t possibly choose. So he turned his cell phone off.
Jaekwan worked later than the others because it was his turn to clean up. That meant he had to sweep and double-check that all of the heavy machinery was turned off and unplugged, so he was to leave some half an hour after the others. He was supposed to verify that the office was empty, lock the warehouse door and close the gate too.
That gave Rob an idea. He went around Jaekwan — who swept with earbuds in, so it was easy to sneak around him — and went upstairs. He wrote Hey Jaekwan, you wanna make a thousand dollars by demolishing some ass? on a whiteboard, with an arrow pointing into the CEO’s office.
Rob went in there and bent over with his bare ass high in the air. He covered himself in lube.
Finally he heard Jaekwan come upstairs. He opened the door from the stairwell and called out, “Hey! Any motherfucker here?” He sounded angry.
Rob paused, waiting for him to come in here. He was supposed to check that no one was in the office. The company’s insurance required him to look in each room.
But he didn’t. Rob hadn’t even considered the possibility that Jaekwan might not actually do it. Rob hurried out into the hall once he heard the doors slam shut.
Am I gonna be locked in?
He made his way to the stairwell. Jaekwan was down on the first floor. “Hey Jaekwan! Hey!” But his earbuds were still in. Jaekwan danced a little as he went down the steps, murmuring along with the song. He had a bitter, angry look because he was still mad about the garnishment order. He was pretty sure that kid wasn’t his anyway.
Rob made it into the warehouse behind Jaekwan. He shouted and even knocked over a recycling bin to try to get his attention. Jaekwan opened the bay doors. He stood there waiting for them to open.
Then he stepped out and pushed the button to close them. He only turned around and saw Rob sprinting through the warehouse towards him as the bay door slid shut in front of him.
“Hey!”
“Yo! Hey! Was someone in there?!”
There was a moment’s silence. Rob kept running even as the lights flicked off. He was plunged into pitch-blackness and rammed face-first into the bay door just as it began raising once again. Pain exploded in his nose. “Ow, fuck!”
“Hello? Mister? Who in there?” Jaekwan sneered when the door opened. He took the earbuds out of his ear.
Rob was out of breath. “Hey. Sorry. Hey. I’m… I’m Rob.”
“Rob? Do you work here?”
“Sorta… I… own… it.”
“You own it? Own what?”
Rob gestured all around him. “This.”
It looked like Jaekwan either didn’t understand or didn’t believe him. He scowled. “What?”
“I own this place. I’m Rob Winthrop.”
“Oh.” His eyes lit up. “Oh! You’re that guy?!”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
He paused, then forced a smile on his face. “Yo. Uh, hey! Hey… Nice to meet’cha, sir.” He shook Rob’s hand.
“Don’t…” Rob wanted to tell him not to be so polite, to not treat him like a boss. But he was still out of breath. It had been exciting, he thought, after a day of boring work, he had had to race or be locked in overnight.
“Don’t what?”
“Sorry, uh…” Rob said. He leaned against the wall. He took a deep breath. “We’re not at work anymore. You don’t have to call me sir. I mean, you can call me Rob even at work, but now you should really call me Rob.” He took a deep breath.
“Oh. Okay, Rob. I’m Jaekwan.” He grinned. “Sorry I was in a bad mood earlier. I, uh… I’m kinda upset-“
“I know. I heard. You got your wages garnished.”
He nodded. “Man, I can’t get ahead. It ain’t fair. Court fees got me down. Costs so damn much…” He paused and spat on the ground. “You alright? Did you fall asleep in there or what?”
“No, not that,” Rob said. He took a deep breath. “I wrote something upstairs — we should…” He chuckled. “Nevermind. It’ll be a surprise tomorrow.” He paused. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
“Me?”
“I would be willing to help you with your court fees and child support,” Rob said. “But you gotta do something for me.”
“Hmm?”
“Cornhole me.”
His eyes opened wide. “What?”
“I want you to cornhole me. I’ll get you hard-“
“Okay.” He paused. Then he paused and bristled a little. He looked around, shutting the bay door behind himself. “I mean… how much? I don’t do that pervert shit. You gotta pay-“
“Jaekwan, it would be more effective if you negotiated before you said okay.”
“I ain’t mean to say okay. I was…” He smiled like he had been caught in a lie. “You gotta pay a lot. I don’t do this. It’s, y’know… You gotta pay me a lotta money. Twenty grand.”
Rob choked. “Shit, are you serious?”
“Twenty grand.”
“Jaekwan…”
“What, man?!”
“I’m not paying you twenty grand.”
“Why not? I got good nigga dick!” He grabbed his cock through his crotch and snorted. “Bam!”
“That’s not happening, Jaekwan. I’m not paying twenty grand,” Rob said. “I was gonna offer two hundred dollars.”
“Man…” He sucked on his teeth. “Five hundred dollars.”
“Fine.” Rob shook his hand and giggled. “Did you really think I was gonna pay twenty grand?”
He opened the door to the warehouse and led Rob in. “Man, you should pay that. I’m good, man. I swear. I can stick you so good-“
“There is no way you do it twenty-grand good. Unless your jizz is Apple stock, it can’t be that valuable.”
He sniffled. He stepped into the warehouse, leaned against a wall and lifted his shirt over his head again. “I’m worth twenty grand, man.”
“Well, prove it,” Rob said as he dropped to his knees.

He unzipped his jeans and let a thick black cock flop out over Rob’s face. He laughed and slapped Rob on the cheek with it. “You like nigga dick, huh?”
Rob giggled, blushed and nodded. That wasn’t exactly true — Rob loved all kinds of men. One funny thing about them was that they always assumed he had a fetish for their type. He didn’t have a special love for black guys, but whenever he jerked one off, they assumed he had a black-men fetish. Whenever he jerked off a Texan, they thought he had a fetish for Texans. When he jerked off plumbers or Mexicans or stuntmen or bus drivers or Native Americans, they always assumed he had sought them out for their identity. He didn’t bother to explain that because he knew from personal experience that Jaekwan would just think he was lying anyway.

“Uh-huh…” Rob licked his dick from tip to root. It twitched and got hard in his hand. He kept licking, not sucking until it was fully hard and throbbing where it lay against his face.
“Why ain’t white boys offer money more? Huh?”
Rob went right to throating it. He didn’t really understand what Jaekwan was asking, and Rob was too focused on his cock to consider it. He slurped up all the day’s sweat off Jaekwan’s dick, while his hands roamed up to Jaekwan’s perfectly flat belly.
“Huh? Man?” He grabbed Rob by the ears and pulled him off his dick. “What’choo think? My daddy always said-“
“Lemme get-” Rob stuck his tongue out. He managed to tease the tip of Jaekwan’s dick, but Jaekwan wouldn’t let him go back to it. Rob pushed against his hand with his tongue out. Jaekwan’s dick, which still stank of that fat girl’s pussy, throbbed half-hard, tantalizingly close to Rob’s face.
“My daddy used to say that you could get white boys to pay you for dick, to make they dick better. Like if’n you swallow some big nigga dick, it make yo’ dick bigger. He say he got this white man who pay a thousand dollars to jack ‘im off. He got all these rules-“
“C’mon…” Rob managed to break free and taste his dick for a few seconds, his mouth plunging deep on Jaekwan’s shaft, but Jaekwan pulled him off without missing a beat.
“He got rules, like you can go behind a swanky nightclub and they’s always gonna be there, givin’ cats dome. But I done that and ain’t no one there but some swishy sissy passed out cold. Ain’t even have no money in his wallet.” He paused. “Well, answer it, man.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “You didn’t ask a question.” He really wanted to get back to Jaekwan’s dick. He had one hand on the base, stroking it slowly, hoping to get Jaekwan hard enough he’d get on with it.
He furrowed his brow. “What up with that?”
“That’s… I don’t know, uh… I mean… Your dad, uh… sounds like he’s full of shit.”
He threw his hands in the air. “I know, right?!”
“Maybe it used to be true. Maybe when he was growing up, there were guys offering money behind a nightclub. That’s not, like, a tradition though,” Rob said. “Can I get back to your dick now?”
“Yeah, man, go for it.” He wrinkled his nose like he hadn’t made Rob stop. He moaned as Rob immediately throated him deeply. He leaned against the wall. “Shit, man…” He paused. “We should set up some regular thing, man. Like… I can come over, and you can pay me-“
“No.” Rob smiled. “Sorry. I don’t do that.”
“Man-“
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“What?”
“Do you have a serious girlfriend?” Rob stroked his dick and teased it, tracing the veins that ran up and down the shaft with his tongue.
Jaekwan scoffed. “Nah. I don’t do that. I got bitches I fuck wit’.”
“Well, I only got dudes I mess with,” Rob said. “I’m not going to be sticking around here. I’ll call you up when I’m in the area.”
“Like a bootycall?”
“If you like.”
He frowned. He watched his dick disappear down Rob’s throat. “Yo, man, you prolly know lots of pervs, right?” Rob nodded without taking his dick out of his throat. “You should give ’em my number. Tell ’em I got good nigga dick. Tell ’em five hundred dollars but I can negotiate. No, wait, tell ’em I don’t negotiate, but like… hint that I might. But don’t hint toward any rich ones. You know rich folk? Don’t give ’em an amount. I’ll say-“
“Jaekwan, shush,” Rob said. He slurped up the precum starting to leak out of Jaekwan’s piss-slit, despite the fact that Jaekwan was seemingly not paying attention to what Rob was doing.
“Man…” Jaekwan sucked on his teeth.
“I don’t know any one who would pay you-“
“You know girls who pay for sex? I’ll be a gigolo. I’ll fuck fat chicks, no problem. Old chicks too, I don’t care. I’ll do it. Hundred bucks. Plus expenses, if they want me to take ’em out to dinner or somethin’.” He beamed like this was an act of charity he should be commended for. “I eat pussy real good too. See?”
Rob sighed. He kept stroking Jaekwan’s dick with one hand, while Jaekwan pulled out his cell phone. He played a video for Rob, showing Jaekwan eating some woman’s pussy. Jaekwan was holding the camera as it recorded and as he licked her vagina, so it was a blurry, poorly-shot video. It was held so close it looked like some alien creature giving birth to a man but his tongue got stuck.
“See? Look, man, I eat pussy so good.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “Jaekwan, quit it. I don’t know any girls who will pay you for sex.”
“I’ll give ’em the first time for free,” he said. Rob just ignored him though. Rob decided to move on. He turned around, dropped his pants and bent over. He stuck his ass high in the air. Jaekwan’s voice trailed off as he looked at Rob’s tight bottom. “Shit…”
“You ready?”
He wedged his thick dick between Rob’s cheeks. There was a moment of merciful silence, which seemed spookily sepulchral in the high-ceilinged warehouse. The tip of his dick slid in, and Rob grunted.
“Oh!” Jaekwan slapped Rob’s asscheek. “I got an idea. You like nigga dick, right? I know all kinda niggas. You gimme a hundred bucks per nigga, I can send you like a million of ’em. You gonna be drownin’ in nut-“
“Jaekwan, stop-“
“I could send you like twenty of ’em tonight. Like all them warehouse dudes-“
“I don’t have a black-guy fetish.”
“What?”
“I won’t just mess with any black guy,” Rob said. “I think you are desirable. You, personally. None of the other warehouse guys.”
He looked taken aback, like he hadn’t thought Rob was capable of showing discretion. He stood there with just the first half-an-inch of his dick in Rob’s ass. “Oh. Well, what kinda black guys you like? I can send you ’em. You want big dicks? I’ll measure dicks, I don’t care. I can do that. Shit, us warehouse niggas all gangbanged this chick last year. I saw most of they dicks then, and Jerome Nicklebee accidentally shot most of his nut on my shoulder-“
“I don’t like them!” Rob shouted. “C’mon, Jaekwan, you gotta cornhole me. I don’t like the other warehouse guys.”
“Not even Malik Jumper? He got a six-pack, swear to God-“
“No!” Rob had no idea if he had seen Malik before, but he didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
Jaekwan grumbled. “Man… you ain’t nice. I know all kinda niggas.” He drilled his dick in a little deeper. “I can hook you up wit’ any nigga you want. We can go drivin’, you pick someone out, on Center Street, there’s always tons of niggas there, most of ’em shirtless in summertime. I don’t know ’em all, but you gimme two hundred bucks, I’ll find ’em. Don’t tell them how much you payin’ me, cuz I’ll only give them fifty bucks-“
“Jaekwan, stop it. I’m not giving you any money for anything besides cornholing me right now. That means you gotta stop talking about other stuff. You gotta focus on cornholing me. You gotta earn your money.”
Jaekwan let out an annoyed growl. “Fine.” He pumped his hips, gradually shoving more of his dick in. At first it hurt — he was in a bad mood and didn’t try to make it feel good, then he remembered he was being paid and he made long, slow, smooth motions with his hips. “That feel good, baby?” His voice was seductive, like he was talking to a girl.
“Hmm… Yeah…” Rob backed his ass up until he felt Jaekwan’s pubic hair and crotch on his ass. He moaned, which made Jaekwan laugh like a cocky bastard.
Jaekwan wrapped one arm around Rob’s face. His father had told him that you should put men in a chokehold when you cornhole them, so that was what he did. It was a little gross because he was so sweaty — the air conditioning was off, so it was getting hot in the warehouse — but Jaekwan didn’t mind the sweat.
He went down to the ground with Rob. His shirt was over his head, his pants around his ankles. Jaekwan pounded away at Rob’s ass, his bare chest pressing down on Rob’s back.
He stopped moving with his cock all the way in Rob. “Hey. Do you smoke weed? You want weed? I can get you great weed. Or coke. Or Ecstasy, man, I do it all. You want pills? I can get oxies, or-“
“No,” Rob said through gritted teeth.
“Damn it… I thought rich guys did lots of drugs.”
“Jaekwan. If you’re going to cornhole me, please focus on cornholing me,” Rob said. He grunted. The pressure in his ass was intense. It felt good too, but it was hard to have a conversation right now. He was ensconced in Jaekwan’s powerful arms.
“Oh. Yeah.” He sounded like he had forgotten his dick was in Rob’s ass. He slammed all the way in and out, grinding his cock deeply into Rob’s tight hole. “Shit, you got a nice ass…”
“You have an amazing cock…” Rob said.
“I know! You should pay me more, man, that’s what-“
“Shut up,” Rob said through gritted teeth.
Jaekwan sighed and kept plowing. He grumbled a little too himself as he went, and he tightened his grip on Rob’s arm. The one nice thing about sticking men, he thought, was that they didn’t complain about going at them too hard. A girl would have made him slow down by now.
He was about to ask if Rob needed any work done on his car — Jaekwan was a pretty good mechanic — when an orgasm erupted deep within him. Jaekwan slapped Rob’s ass and pounded him into the ground. He didn’t even notice Rob shoot his own load all over the concrete floor.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass. Jaekwan, even though he had just fucked a couple hours ago, shot a massive wad of cum. It just kept flowing, filling Rob’s ass up, until hot, creamy cum had seeped into every corner of his flesh.
“Goddamn…” Jaekwan said. He took a deep breath. Aftershocks of his orgasm ran through him. “Yo, man… You got a car?”
Rob heard his question but was too overwhelmed by his own climax to answer. He just shuddered and moaned. Gradually Jaekwan pulled out of his ass, asking the same question again and again.
“You got a car, man? Huh? I can fix it. I can do anything, man, swear to God. I’m good with cars,” he said. He pulled out and Rob sighed. Jaekwan stayed on top of him, his dick leaking a few more drops of cum onto Rob’s asscheeks. He whispered into Rob’s ear. “Huh? How’s your car?”
“It’s fine. I don’t need any work,” Rob said. Then he smiled. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks if you kiss me. With tongue.”
Jaekwan made a face like he would never do that. But then, without another word, he turned his head to the side and kissed Rob right on the lips. His tongue plunged in. It was rather awkward and unpracticed; Jaekwan felt a few stray mustache hairs on Rob’s mostly smooth face, and that made it difficult for Jaekwan to forget he was with a man.
Finally he was done. Jaekwan sniffled like it was no big deal. He got up and wiped his dick off. “You best pay me, man.”
Rob nodded. He got out his smart phone and arranged a direct transfer into Jaekwan’s bank account.
“Hey, you like Mexicans? I can hook you up with this cholo I know. He’ll rob you, so don’t bring no cash. But he’ll cornhole you first,” Jaekwan said as Rob got dressed. “I’ll tell him not to beat you up. I know buncha Mexicans. Most of ’em got tiny dicks though.”
Rob ignored him. He just went to his car. There were only two cars in the parking lot, so it was obvious which one was Jaekwan’s. Jaekwan frowned at him.
“Come on, man. He’s great, you’ll like him,” Jaekwan said. “Hey. You think about it. Call me, man.”
“See you later, Jaekwan.” Rob got in his car.
“Yeah! You can lick my asshole!” Jaekwan called out as Rob pulled away. “Uh… Six hundred dollars.” He saw Rob laughing through the driver’s side window, so Jaekwan thought he had guessed wrong. “Twenty bucks!” The last thing he did was pull his sagging jeans down and display his bare brown ass for Rob in the rear-view mirror.
Rob watched his ass get smaller as he drove away. He giggled. He didn’t normally mess around with guys more than once, but Jaekwan was very handsome. He thought he couldn’t resist.
He might wait to run this company into the ground until he had gotten everything he could out of it.

Read it now for free as an ebook!

Servicing Alphas

Chapter One: Court Fees Got Me Down

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

Chapter Three: Fraternity Hazing

Chapter Four: The Black Thug

Chapter Five: The Cop Car

Chapter Six: The Bouncer’s Bottom

Chapter Seven: The Hunky Pool Boy

Rob’s World of Men: Chapter Ten

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

His name was Giuseppe. He leaned against his Vespa, his shaggy black hair, slicked back but still a tangled mess, running almost to his shoulder. He sipped from an espresso, then tossed it into a nearby trash can. Rob watched from across the street, waiting for the perfect opportunity.
But it was obvious now that Giuseppe waited for someone. Rob knew he’d say no if he asked now, especially since that someone was almost certainly a female. So he watched.
Sure enough, she showed up moments later. She was stunningly gorgeous, dark-skinned, dark-haired, tough-eyed and thick-lipped. She came striding down the street in heels and a slinky dress that was entirely too fancy for an ordinary day out. She looked like a mafioso’s wife, Rob thought, and she attracted the eye of the other men on the street. It looked like some would have hooted at her if not for Giuseppe, whose come-hither eyes simmered darkly
Giuseppe nodded and puffed on a cigarette. The woman straightened her back as though to dare onlookers to catcall at her. But Giuseppe just nodded at her, and he glowered.
The silenzio between them was gravida and crescente.
Then she kissed him, and he swooned, bending her over in his arms. She clutched at his powerful shoulders and pulled on his shirt, revealing some of his coarse black chest hair. Giuseppe showed her something in the satchel he had slung around his scooter — Rob saw a bottle of wine and a block of cheese: makings of a picnic.
They spoke then, passionately, words of love or ire or both, Rob suspected, words dripping with intensity — arguing their love or loving their discord, he could not tell. He did not hear their parola, however, because of the Italian folk band coming down the avenue. They were lean men in white shirts with the sleeves rolled up and navy blue trousers, dancing in sync to an upbeat tarantella they played on tambourines. Three older men, more distinguished, with flecks of gray in their dense heads of hair, accompanied them on mandolin, guitar and accordion.
The music was loud, and, to Rob, pleasing. He was distracted by Giuseppe and his woman, however, who scowled at first as they were interrupted by the musicians. Then Giuseppe took her hand in his. He placed his things on the back of the motorcycle, and she coquettishly took his hand.
Her shyness vanished as soon as the dance began. It was rhythmic and fluid and more than a bit sexy — Rob had eyes only for Giuseppe, but the girl attracted a crowd of her own. They kissed and stroked, reaching between each other’s legs, clutching each other’s asses and even, Rob was fairly certain, some light fingering when Giuseppe slipped a hand underneath her dress and she audibly moaned.
A couple of the buttons of Giuseppe’s shirt ripped off too, and that fur-dappled caramel chest made Rob moan along with Giuseppe’s girlfriend. Giuseppe sang then, in florid Italian, his booming voice echoing among the ancient, crumbling plaster of the Roman cityscape.
All of the cittadini who watched burst into laughter, clapping along with the band. They danced too, in singles and pairs, even trios. Men danced with women; women danced with women; men danced with men. Rob blushed when he realized he stood out, the only one in the square not dancing.
The only words of Giuseppe’s song that Rob was able to discern was the repeated line: la ragazza con gli occhi come l’alba. He didn’t know what it meant (ragazza was girl, he knew that much), but he suspected it was a popular song, or adapted from it — the others sang along.
Then a man offered his hand to Rob, blushing, as some other men laughed and cheered him on. The man said, “Vuoi ballare con me, mio caro ragazzo?” It was apparent his friends had got him to ask Rob to dance as a dare or a bet.
But Rob batted his eyes and nodded as girlishly as he could. He loved making arousing men. This particular one wasn’t that sexy — he wasn’t ugly, he was a chef, with bits of uncooked pasta stuck in his beard hairs, in a sleeveless apron with a sleeveless shirt underneath, his big meaty arms tufted in fur.
He twirled Rob, swooned him in his arms and then even kissed him on the lips as the other dancers stopped to watch. When he was done, both the pasta chef and Rob blushed as red as a pomodoro imbarazzato. Rob hugged his thick, firm back as the music died down.
The tarantella band continued on. Rob was still excited. He had thought this was going to continue. He hoped to dance with Giuseppe and run his fingers through his hair.
But no, it was finito, and Giuseppe had his girl over his Vespa, locking lips, like they wanted to drive away but couldn’t stop kissing. Finally he pulled off her lips.
They looked into her eyes, and he spoke, his smooth voice like cigar smoke. Rob was close enough to hear now. He said, “Ho bisogno di te” and her whole back undulated as though she was about to orgasm right there on the sidewalk.
She hopped onto the scooter behind him, holding onto his denim jacket. Rob didn’t think they made denim jackets like that anymore. It made him giggle. The shirt he wore underneath it was incongruously fashionable, he thought, and looked expensive — made out of silk, it was a rich violet that seeped into the dark blue of his jacket. A gold chain glimmered around his neck, the crucifix on his chest ensconced in the kinky black hairs that escaped from under the shirt.
But he sighed too. He was here to jack off Giuseppe — Rob was prepared to pay for a taste of his dick. He might even get it up the backside, he thought, he was pretty sure Italians were usually okay with that.
He was positive, however, that he wouldn’t get Giuseppe as long as a female was on the scene. Rob had been watching because Giuseppe seemed to be sleeping around with multiple women, many of them married — including, Rob was fairly certain, this one — so he figured sooner or later, Giuseppe would get dumped by all of them when his lies caught up to him.
The scooter had barely moved an inch when it stopped short. A different, older Italian man stood in front of it.
“Sei con mia moglie, stronzo!”
All of a sudden, bedlam erupted. Rob eventually deduced that that second man — who was kind of a warm daddy-type, with a mustache and a bit of a belly — was the woman’s husband. Giuseppe and the woman argued with each other as well as the man, and Rob wasn’t sure why. Perhaps the woman had said she had separated from the man, so Giuseppe felt this was not his fault?
Rob spoke a little Italian, but they talked all together and way too fast for Rob to understand very much of it. It was booming and loud, hands flying to make florid gestures. It didn’t seem they could possibly be understanding each other because they spoke over each other, bellowing, and even the woman’s voice somehow outshone the mens’.
The men started shoving each other. The woman slapped her husband, then Giuseppe. The husband seemed about to smack her back, but Giuseppe stopped him. The men came to blows. They nearly knocked over an espresso machine attached to a nearby street vendor’s cart, but the vendor pulled his cart away at the last moment.
And then, somehow, it was all over. Giuseppe’s jacket was in the street, his hair a mess, a trickle of blood down his chin, a tear in his silk shirt revealing a toned, hairy chest. Giuseppe shouted something in Italian as the man left, screaming his own list of obscenities that Rob couldn’t hope to follow. The woman was in tow. She and Giuseppe exchanged florid words, which Rob gathered were just a string of insults on either end.
Giuseppe was left alone, his jacket in ruins and his shirt not much better. He scowled and took it off. His bronzed body made Rob’s dick stir.
It had all taken only a few moments, and the folks who had just minutes ago spontaneously danced the tarantella together now all ignored the exchange, as though non era successo niente. Rob was the only one who seemed shocked.
This, he thought, was the perfect opportunity. He walked right up to Giuseppe and spoke in English. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Rob.”
Giuseppe nodded and furrowed his brow. “What do you-uh want-uh?” His hands gestured in the direction he was about to go in. His English was not very good, but it was better than Rob’s rudimentary Italian.
“I wanted to offer you money. I’m sorry your woman left you-“
“It is, uh, none-uh of your business-uh,” he said. “She is a… A… how do you say?… Hor-ay? La prostituta?”
“Whore.”
“Whore-uh, si. She is a whore-uh.” Giuseppe spat on the ground and motioned away from himself. “It is good-uh to be away with her, yes? For her is now-uh gone?”
“Yeah, yeah, I guess so,” Rob said.
Giuseppe grabbed his dick through his jeans, which Rob guessed was — like the now-ruined shirt — worth a lot of money. A few beads of sweat shimmered on Giuseppe’s chest. “You-uh will offer-uh money-uh?”
Rob blushed. He had forgotten to actually ask because he was imagining the taste of Giuseppe’s chest hair.
“Do you want to cornhole me? I’ll give you five hundred euros and all you have to do is lie there, I’ll do-“
“You will have me-uh become-uh a prostituta like her? A whore-uh? I will not do this for any five-uh hundred-uh of euros, I want not your filthy whore-uh money-uh!” He shouted and waved his hands about above Rob’s head. Since he was shirtless, Rob was too entranced by his broad chest and thick black hair to be scared he would be violent. He licked his lips. He knew Giuseppe would do this for the right price, it was just a matter of finding it.
Rob giggled. “A thousand euros.”
Giuseppe was silent for a moment. “Si.” His anger was gone. He clasped Rob on the shoulder, then let go when he realized Rob was aroused, then put his arm back more gingerly. Rob smiled and kissed his bare shoulder. Giuseppe blushed. “Come on then-uh. I know a place, it is good for the making-uh of love, yes-uh. We can do also the dick-uh, si.”
Rob got on the back of his scooter, smiling because he got to ride up behind Giuseppe, gripping his chest and belly and even laying his face against the sweat-dappled muscle of his bare shoulder blades. Giuseppe drove off, weaving in and out of traffic as he headed out of Rome.
At first Rob was so engrossed in the firm meat of Giuseppe’s back and the hair on his chest where Rob’s hands snaked around that he didn’t notice how Giuseppe careened blindly through the streets of Rome. He went through parking lots and on sidewalks, weaving across lanes and even ignored a uniformed police officer who attempted to wave him down.
Relief flooded Rob when they finally left Rome, and the urban streets gave way to suburbs and then dense wooded glens and ponds among the septet of rolling hills around the city. He slowed down a little finally then, even though the roads were empty and he could have sped up.
When Rob pulled his face away from Giuseppe’s back, there was a layer of his sweat there, and it tasted bitterly of olive oil. He ran his fingers through Giuseppe’s hair too, until Giuseppe swatted his hand away.
The place he went was a vineyard a few miles outside of the city. He drove his scooter to a dirt road and down to an abandoned wooden shack. There was a big vat in it and a sour smell that was not exactly pleasant, but somehow smelled good to Rob.
“It is… how do you say… Aceto… it is wine, but it has spoiled?” Giuseppe said when he got off the Vespa.
“Vinegar?”
“Si, si, vinegar-uh, yes,” Giuseppe said. Rob had to smile — he would have never guessed what Giuseppe meant if he had said vinegar as he pronounced it: vweeneggerruh.
Rob placed the smell now. It was the scent of fine vinegar, wafting from that vat. The aroma was rich and heady, filling his nostrils with warmth. Through the slats in the side of the building, Rob could see rows upon rows of grape vines that stretched off over the sunny hills surrounding this barn.
The scent disappeared suddenly, replaced by acrid cigarette smoke. Giuseppe took a deep drag. He offered one to Rob, who declined at first, then thought when in Rome… and took it. He smoked for years but had quit eleven years ago. So when he lit it, he coughed a few times, earning a harsh scornful stare from Giuseppe, and then was momentarily struck dizzy by the rush of nicotine.
Ah, he loved smoking. Il fumo di sigaretta è il più alto risultato di aria!
For a moment, Rob basked in the warmth of the cigarette smoke. Giuseppe uncorked the wine he had brought for the picnic. He took a long drink from it and passed it wordlessly to Rob, who drank as well. It was fine wine, thick and unctuous on his tongue. It was red, very dark, mysterious and full-bodied, possessing il sapore di mille fasci di oscurità.
“Come-uh here,” Giuseppe said. His voice firm but kind. He led Rob to a grassy spot, where they sat together. The smell of grape-blossoms filled the air, mixing with the heady profumo del vino. Giuseppe smiled a little nervously. “Do you think I am handsome-uh?” His voice was smooth like a buttery pasta sauce, and it hung low in the air, resonating in Rob’s ear.
Rob blushed. He took a deep drag from the cigarette. He nodded. “You’re real handsome.”
Giuseppe leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then in one smooth motion, he wrapped Rob up in one arm and laid him on the ground. The wooden floor of the barn scratched at his back.
Rob wasn’t used to being seduced like this. It happened so fast there was a certain instinctual need to protect himself, and he squealed, clutching at Giuseppe’s powerful arms.
Once he was on the ground and didn’t feel like he was falling anymore, Rob kissed Giuseppe on the lips. Giuseppe was slightly hesitant. Rob only really got cornholed by alpha males, who did not normally kiss him, certainly not as part of a passionate make-out session.
But Giuseppe had never been with a woman he didn’t “seduce”. Even when it was obvious early on that she was going to let him have sex with her, Giuseppe always went through the motions of rubbing her shoulders or feet or taking her out on a picnic or doing whatever it took to seduce her. It just felt right to him. Making love to a woman he barely knew, or making love to a woman he did know but doing it in a quick and dirty way just made Giuseppe feel like a filthy manwhore.
He didn’t want to feel like that, and he didn’t want his women to feel like that either. Giuseppe had no experience making love in any other way.
So he let Rob kiss him on the lips. Then he let Rob kiss a trail down his chest. That was weird for Giuseppe — he usually took the lead with his women, and he was the one who showered the other with kisses. It was strange and even a bit ticklish, he thought, to let a man do it.
But soon Giuseppe was laying on the ground, feeling the barn floor beneath his back, as Rob took his handsome uncut cock out and put the tip in his mouth. He looked up at Giuseppe, who made eye contact with him and moaned. Rob cooed in desire at those deep, dark soulful eyes il colore dell’ombra del carbone.
“Succhi il cazzo, per favore, ho bisogno della tua bocca su di me!” Giuseppe let out a moan. Rob couldn’t decide if Giuseppe was still being seductive or not. He had a feeling Giuseppe told girls he loved them all the time when he seduced them, and he was fighting back the urge to say that now out of pure habit.
And he popped the rest of his dick into his mouth, deep-throating him the best he could. Giuseppe was uncut, which Rob thought was hot. He rammed his head all the way down, ingoiare ogni parte della sua virilità virile, figuring that Giuseppe had never been deep-throated like that.
That was true, Giuseppe spent most of his love-making sessions licking his partners’ womanhoods — assaporando il sapore della femminilità and using his tongue to bring them the beatitudine assoluta. That was how a woman could be truly seduced, not just physically, but emotionally e spiritualmente too. He could make her his if he sucked on her pussy in just the right way.
Giuseppe found himself experiencing an orgasm more intense than he thought possible. Without even realizing he was doing it, he had grabbed Rob’s head and held on. He slammed his dick into Rob’s mouth, all the way in, deep into his spasming throat.
“Si, you are-uh… You have-uh…” Giuseppe rolled his eyes as a spasm of pleasure ran up his spine. “You have a mouth-uh, it is made of silk-uh, yes, si? I am, uh, how do you say… in love with your mouth.” He smiled down at Rob and wiped away the moisture that ran down Rob’s cheeks.
jacking him off got Rob as hard as a conchiglia too. Giuseppe’s cock tasted, like his sweat, of olive oil and sunlight. It was the tastiest cock Rob had ever jacked. He relaxed his throat and trusted Giuseppe to make sweet love to his throat until that hairy ballsac slapped against Rob’s chin.
Eventually even Rob needed to take a break, and he pulled away from Giuseppe’s cock. It twitched and leaked precum down the shaft, while Giuseppe’s hairy chest muscles all flexed at once.
“Baciami. Voglio assaporare il mio amore sulle tue labbra,” Giuseppe said. He gently but firmly grabbed Rob and brought his face up to meet Giuseppe’s. Again, Rob never thought Giuseppe would kiss him so much, but he didn’t even seem to mind sucking his own precum off Rob’s face. He planted his lips right on Rob’s, and Rob swooned.
“Will you plow me now? Please? I need your cock!” Rob yelled out, begging as he bent over on all fours.
Giuseppe’s dick throbbed above his face, while Rob still hoarsely tried to recover his breath. He kissed every inch of Giuseppe’s thighs and sucked on his body hair, and even his balls while Giuseppe recovered from his orgasm, ignoring his question.
“Yes, I am ready now,” Giuseppe said, when he had regained his composure. Those deep brown eyes were so big Rob lost himself in them, wordlessly craving another kiss, which Giuseppe provided. “I will make-uh sweet and sugared-uh love upon you, my darling-uh.”
Giuseppe enjoyed the lovestruck look on Rob’s face — it felt just as victorious and triumphant as when he made a woman look like that. He had conquered Rob just as he had conquered so many females e li sedusse completamente. Giuseppe stared at his own spit-dripping cock, waiting for himself to calm down enough that he could stick it in without blowing his load right away. He gave it one stroke with his own hand and groaned. He had never felt so horny. He just wanted to get his cock back in a tight, moist hole, and he didn’t care whose.
“I will make-uh you feel like-uh… how do you say?… A hundred-uh dollars-uh!” Giuseppe tried to say that with a cowboy accent, like John Wayne, but it wasn’t very good and Rob didn’t even notice that he was affecting an accent.
Giuseppe decided he was ready as Rob displayed his bare ass and spread his cheeks — which Giuseppe assumed Rob did only because he was so turned on by Giuseppe’s John Wayne impression.
Keeping a firm, flat smile on his face, Giuseppe gulped but pretended not to be nervous. As far as he was concerned, it wasn’t pervy if he was on top — if Giuseppe weren’t so successful with married women, he’d have probably done this multiple times by now, so really, he thought, his lack of practice signified that he was more manly than those mafioso and thugs who did it on a regular basis. Giuseppe tried to convince himself of that, unsuccessfully, as he blushed and awkwardly wedged his cock between Rob’s cheeks.
He took a deep breath. Before he could start plowing, Rob turned his head and kissed Giuseppe on the lips once more.
“Stick it in me!” Rob said, desperate for it to begin.
“I will-uh enter-uh you now. You will feel-uh much of the pleasure-uh…”
By now, Giuseppe was so aroused to begin with that he kissed back without a second thought — on the mouth this time, with tongue, and with his hands caressing Rob’s body where his tits would be if he had any. He plunged his tongue between Rob’s lips. His arms caressed Rob’s body and spread his asscheeks.
A jolt of pain shot up Rob’s spine, but it lasted only a moment, just long enough to bring the pleasure it came with to the forefront of Rob’s spine. It had been a long time since any man made him feel like this. He wanted to both cry and beg for more allo stesso tempo. He clutched Giuseppe’s well-muscled forearm for support.
Rob quivered just like a girl did when she wanted to get fucked so bad she could taste it. Giuseppe grinned. He loved bringing girls to this state, and, it seemed, he was so sexy he could do it to a man too. Giuseppe thought he should be famous on account of being so prestante.
“Vedi, io sono l’ultimo amante del mondo.”
He slid his dick in. When Rob let out a long, loud moan, Giuseppe again assumed his dick was exceptional and that that was why it felt so good to Rob. He smiled with pride as Rob’s whole body writhed beneath him, and Giuseppe could see the pressure and agony turn to bliss as his dick teased Rob’s prostate.
“Ah, si… Open your bottom-uh…” Giuseppe crooned into Rob’s ear, making Rob cringe and moan. “I will fill you up with love-uh…”
Rob was on all fours, so he couldn’t jack himself off because he used both hands for support. But he could lift his head and lean back, so he could kiss Giuseppe as he got rear-ended. Giuseppe supported his chest with one arm, giving Giuseppe perfect access while making Rob unable to do more than writhe in sync with his penetration.
Actually there was one other thing Rob could do, as his desire to cum built up to explosive levels: He grabbed Giuseppe’s hand and brought it to his cock.
Giuseppe didn’t hesitate. He didn’t know if a reacharound was a normal macho thing to do or not. Probably not, he thought as his hands wrapped around Rob’s shaft. Almost certainly not.
But in the heat of the moment, it seemed decente. Giuseppe was bragging to himself about how much pleasure he was bringing Rob, so it made sense. He had heard men in prison talk of pleasing their “prison wives” with a reacharound, and in the Italian military, officers were allowed to cornhole recruits so long as they gave a reacharound (or so the rumors suggested). Giuseppe thought it might be normal in America too. It might even, he decided, be something John Wayne would do.
So he did it. He gripped Rob’s cockshaft and stroked it, somewhat awkwardly because he had never done that, never even touched a limp dick besides his own, much less a stranger’s.
He might have lost his nerve to keep stroking if they hadn’t reached a climax moments later. As soon as he touched Rob’s dick, Rob’s prostate exploded within him, sending pangs of pleasure up Rob’s spine. Rob cried out and went back to all fours, but this time Giuseppe went with him, pounding away and stroking him off.
Rob shot his wad into the dirt, ending up on his side as Giuseppe plowed in with all his potenza. “Oh god!” Rob cried out. He dug his fingers into the soil, bringing up clods of dirt as the most intense orgasm of his life wracked his body.
Cum flowed within Rob, who sighed. He loved that feeling, a man’s heavy balls filling him up, the sensation of creamy cum seeping into his flesh. He became Giuseppe in that moment, as he felt his dick turn all moist and cummy, still rock-hard where it throbbed within Rob.
And then it was all over. Rob gasped for air. His own dick was done, and he felt his climax draining away. Giuseppe’s dick still shot the last few drops of cum before it too limpened inside him. Giuseppe didn’t pull out until then.
“Damn…” Rob said. He leaned back, spread-eagled, on the dirt.
Giuseppe kissed him on the lips once more, then stood. “That was good-uh, si? You will pay?”
Rob nodded. “Yeah. Hand me my pants.” Giuseppe did so, and Rob counted out the money: un migliaio di euro.
Giuseppe took the cash. “You are… You will be in Rome-uh for some time-uh?”
“No,” Rob said. He yawned and stood, stretching his legs before putting his clothes back on. “I’m leaving soon. I’m going back home, to America” He ignored Giuseppe’s annoyed expression — Giuseppe was not used to people breaking up with him. Giuseppe might lose interest, or a husband might come into the picture, or a woman might be forbidden by her father to see him, but Giuseppe was not dumped. That had literally never happened, and Giuseppe’s mind raced to comprehend it.
But Rob was ready to move on. He’d had his fill of Italy, and he was ready to return home.

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

Rob’s World of Men: Chapter Nine

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

Rob finally settled in at the public sauna in Rovaniemi, Finland, one afternoon to relax. Only one other person was in the sauna, and he was intimidating.
The other man in the sauna stared at him, sweat dripping from his high cheekbones. He was a tall Finn with deep-set eyes, a grizzled jaw and muscles that went on for days. He looked like a shaved brown bear, Rob thought, except for the fact that the hair on his head — long, flowing hair that went past his broad shoulders — was blond like the sun. Rob had always thought men with long hair were sexy, and this guy also had muscle like a bodybuilder and a square, jutting jaw.
Rob shivered. He hadn’t been scared of anyone since coming to Finland. It was a very quiet, peaceful place.
But this man had a dim stare and muscle for days. He was both arousing and frightening. Rob wanted to stay and worship his body carved in granite.
A part of him said to leave, begged him to rush out of there before this burly Finn attacked him. He could dress in a hurry, rush out the door and high-tail it to his car in the parking lot. He could call the police, but to say what: there’s a man looking at me? There’s a Finn in the sauna, help!?
Besides, Rob had been chased around by a bunch of bullies in his time. He didn’t intend to let that happen again; he wasn’t the weakest boy in school anymore. He had never met a mean Finn, but maybe, he thought, this burly fellow would be his first. If so, Rob intended to stand up for himself.
The long-haired Finn stood and took a step towards Rob, whose heart raced. He was a thin little twink who couldn’t defend himself at all.
“Hello,” said the man in thickly-accented English. His craggy face gleamed with sweat in the haze of the sauna’s löyly.
“Uh… Hi,” Rob said. When had the sauna emptied? There were others here when Rob came in, but now it was just he and the big Finn, and Rob was terrified.
“My name is Heikki.”
“Nice to meet you, Heikki. I’m Rob,” he said. He held out a hand to shake, and when Heikki’s giant meaty paw collided with his, Rob shuddered in both fear and desire. Heikki was like a bodybuilder but without that vascular veininess that bodybuilders had. Heikki looked like he had built his muscles through real work, as a lumberjack or ice fisherman or who knew what. Rob had never felt so slender and weak.
Heikki grunted. “You are… American, yes?”
“Yes, that’s right…” Rob was too nervous to think of anything meaningful to say right now.
“That is good,” said Heikki. His deep voice rumbled. It was flat though, deadpan, giving no hint of his emotions, his voice as still and rough as uncut lumber. “You will do have some jack off. Yes?”
“Uh…” Rob couldn’t tell if that was an offer, a prediction, a threat or a question, or some combination thereof.
Heikki walked away. Rob breathed a sigh of relief until he saw that Heikki wasn’t leaving. He walked to the door to the sauna and wedged it shut with a kantele — a traditional stringed instrument — against the doorknob. The kantele had been laying on a bench as though abandoned there.
Past the door was the “hot room”, where Finns got acclimated to heat before actually coming into the sauna itself. It didn’t sound like anyone was out there right now, making Rob nervous. He was in here all alone with his giant man built like a silver birch tree, who looked at him as if Rob were a hungry meal.
“Uh…” Rob’s eyes opened wide at the sight of Heikki flopping his massive uncut cock between his fingers. “You want me to, uh… like jack your dick? Or whatever?” Rob said.
“Yes, I think we are agreementing,” Heikki said.
“You’re horny enough to…?” Rob’s voice trailed off because he realized he didn’t care why Heikki wanted to do this.
Rob shuddered when he reached up and tentatively grabbed Heikki’s cock. It was limp and moist from the humid sauna air, dripping with condensed löyly. Heikki’s muscles rippled like he was uncomfortable with Rob’s touch, but he sat down next to Rob on the wooden bench of the sauna.
Before Rob could get on his knees to jack Heikki’s cock, Heikki’s mitt-like hands gripped Rob’s delicate shoulders. Rob nearly fell backwards but Heikki held him in his massive biceps as Rob swooned. Then Heikki kissed him right on the lips.
It was an awkward kiss for a few reasons. First of all, Heikki seemed to have little experience with this — he seemed like the kind of rural lumberjack who rarely got laid despite his handsome face and bulging muscles; he was too crude and big for most girls, Rob suspected. Second of all, Heikki was clearly uncomfortable kissing a man. He hesitated at the last moment and his callused fingers explored Rob’s lithe chest as though Heikki expected to find breasts there. Thirdly, Heikki was simply huge.
He was at least a foot and a half taller than Rob, and probably outweighed him by two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Rob lost himself in those arms, and Heikki’s mouth was so big it felt like four Heikkis could have kissed him at the same time. Rob wondered if Heikki could swallow his entire head — it sure felt like it.
Heikki’s massive tongue pushed into Rob’s mouth. It was too awkward for Rob to lose himself in the heat of the moment, but his dick was rock-hard and he couldn’t think about anything other than the feel of Heikki’s pulsating muscles against Rob’s smooth skin.
When Heikki pulled away and grinned sheepishly, Rob reached into his crotch and gave his dick another stroke. Heikki was still totally limp. His dick was like a fleshy uncooked sausage dangling between his legs, behind a nest of curly dark-blond pubic hairs.
The löyly that condensed on Heikki’s body was salty and invigorating, hot like the sauna itself. It made Rob moan and crave more.
His tongue traced the outline of Heikki’s rock-hard muscles and the colorful tattoos — a squadron of beautiful blue butterflies flapping with wings the shape of kantele picks, an ornate Finnish maiden with blonde braids flowing like a Finnhorse’s mane around her blue and white pastoral dress — as he explored and worshiped Heikki’s muscles.
Rob stood and stretched his knees — about to sink to the ground to jack on Heikki’s meat — when Heikki dropped to his knees in front of Rob instead. He kissed Rob on the lips again, then moved to Rob’s neck, which he nuzzled with his slightly grizzled chin.
Their heights nearly matched up now, with Heikki on his knees on the ground and Rob standing in front of him. Heikki’s head was only a little above Rob’s.
Much to Rob’s surprise, Heikki’s hand gingerly grabbed Rob’s dick. He gave it a few strokes, until precum leaked from the tip.
“Oh, wow, Heikki…” Rob blushed. He felt tiny. His cock was substantial, bigger than most men, but, compared to Heikki, every part of Rob felt small and weak. Heikki’s massive hand stroked Rob off. When Rob was overcome by shocked passion, he leaned on Heikki’s massive chest, reminding Rob how tiny he was in comparison. Heikki’s muscles rippled beneath Rob’s touch.
But Rob assumed that that was where this ended, as far as Heikki pleasuring Rob went. Now Heikki would stand and want to blow a nut off. He’d probably plow Rob’s mouth violently like macho guys usually did — that was fine with Rob, who loved it when men like Heikki abused his throat.
“You are smooth like girl and tasty on my tongue,” Heikki said as he kissed Rob’s arm and shoulders. He licked a trail of sensitive skin all the way down Rob’s chest, as Rob wondered where he would stop.
Was this really going to happen? A part of Rob’s mind had realized for several minutes that Heikki acted as though he was going to bottom, but that had been difficult to believe. It simply didn’t happen that way. Rob barely knew how to top. He had never in his entire life been on top with a man who was so much bigger than he was.
Then before Rob could process this, Heikki opened his mouth and swallowed Rob’s cock. He gagged right away as though he regretted doing it, then he let out a loud mewling sound around Rob’s dickshaft.
Rob was already hard, and his dick instantly sent pangs of pleasure up Rob’s spine. Rob drew in his breath and found he couldn’t bring himself to exhale, like he was worried anything he might do would remind Heikki that he is supposed to be a top.
His hands moved instinctively, and Rob found himself running his fingers through Heikki’s long blond hair. Rob had never felt anything so silken and beautiful, and the writhing mass of shoulder muscles beneath it made it even hotter.
“Ah, damn, Heikki, where did you learn to do this?” Rob murmured, gasping to himself.
Heikki pulled away and spoke in Finnish. “Haluan sinun naida persettäni!”
Rob had learned a few words here and there, but he had no idea what Heikki said. He smiled and nodded, though this experience had been so stressful and exhilarating that Rob’s smile was more of a grimace.
Heikki returned to jacking. It was awkward for him, having to stoop down to get into Rob’s crotch. To make it easier, Rob stepped up onto the wooden bench he had been sitting on. At last that meant Rob towered over Heikki, who was on his knees on the floor. Heikki could more easily jack cock, while Rob rested on his broad shoulders and massaged the tight layer of back muscles beneath him.
Then at last Heikki pulled off him again. He lightly tapped Rob’s asscheeks. He turned Rob around. Rob’s instinct was that this was it, Heikki wanted to top now, he was going to cornhole Rob — which Rob was fine with, even if he was a little disappointed that his topping adventure ended so soon.
But Heikki didn’t cornhole him in the ass. He dove his face between Rob’s cheeks and licked his asshole. Heikki shuddered in a mixture of delight and disgust as his tongue lapped at Rob’s ass. Due to the heat and humidity of the sauna’s löyly, both men were covered in salty moisture, and Heikki guzzled down every drop that clung to Rob’s flesh.
That didn’t last long before Heikki pulled away again. His big, callused hands roamed all over Rob’s body. He pushed Rob to sit back down on the bench.
Heikki stood and stretched his legs. Now that he stood and Rob sat, Rob’s face was well below Heikki’s crotch. Rob had to look up at him like a colossus, half-hard cock throbbing in the air as Heikki added more water to the hot coals on top of the the kiuas. A fresh burst of steam filled the air. He munched on some reindeer jerky from a bag he had brought in and left by the door.
“It is good warm. Air is good for skin,” Heikki said. He may have blushed or his cheeks might have just gotten rosier from the heat, Rob couldn’t tell which.
Then Heikki took a deep breath, sighed and shook his head as he kneeled down on the ground. He sprawled his upper body over the bench Rob was sitting on. Rob was entranced by the looping curves of the man’s incredible shoulder muscles, and Rob’s delicate fingers traced the powerful, throbbing lines of his meaty shoulderblades.
Even though Heikki had made it clear he wanted to bottom, Rob’s tingled, shocked body still didn’t quite process what was happening, not right away. Heikki sprawled out on the bench next to Rob with his ass in the air — Heikki was so tall that even knelt over, his upraised ass was well above Rob’s navel.
It was obvious he wanted to get cornholed, but Rob hesitated. What if he was misreading this situation? What if he accidentally offended Heikki by trying to plow into his ass?
But then Heikki reached one of his big-biceped arms around himself and rammed his pinkie into his ass to loosen it up. He grunted and his whole body tensed at first, then he relaxed.
Taking a deep breath, Rob mounted him from behind. “You gotta lower your ass some,” he said as he patted Heikki’s jiggling asscheeks. Heikki obediently lowered his hips until his ass was even with Rob’s crotch. That forced Heikki to awkwardly half-bend and half-stoop over the bench, but he didn’t seem to mind.
His mind reeled as he slipped his dick into Heikki’s ass. Heikki howled like a wolf, and Rob again wondered if he had done something wrong. But Heikki made no effort to move away, and Rob could tell that Heikki’s cock jerked from half-hard to stone-like and leaking precum. He must be into assplay, Rob thought.
Heikki bit his lip and his muscles tensed all at once. He grunted, half-in-pain and half gasping with pleasure. It was like cornholing a statue, Rob thought, all firm and unyielding. Rob couldn’t get a good grip, though he greatly enjoyed trying, clawing all over Heikki’s powerful frame.
But that was only the surface of Heikki’s body, which was indeed iron-like all over. He had muscles in places where Rob didn’t even think there were muscles. Inside Heikki’s ass, however, he was soft and pink and moist, inviting and warm, even compared to the heat of the sauna. Rob sped up his humping when it became clear that Heikki wasn’t in pain, and he moved from gingerly sticking it in and out to slamming his entire little twink body down on Heikki’s ass.
Like flicking a switch, it was obvious when Rob hit Heikki’s prostate and got past the big man’s discomfort. Heikki’s muscles all relaxed at once, and touching him was like a big warm, firm pillow. Rob lost himself in all that flesh, which throbbed and pulsated beneath Rob’s touch.
He had to stand on his toes, and when Heikki’s body rose, Rob found himself elevated off the ground. He gripped Heikki’s back with both hands and humped until Heikki lowered himself again.
He even pulled on that long blond hair. It felt like perfect irony, he thought, since he usually serviced alpha males who liked to pull on Rob’s hair as they cornholed him. Rob never understood why men were into that.
But now that he was plowing into a straight man with long hair, Rob totally understood. His delicate fingers grabbed a fistful of the löyly-moistened blond hair and pulled. He didn’t pull hard, just hard enough to make Heikki lift his head up.
Heikki crooned and let out a long, low moan that echoed in the small wooden sauna. Rob shuddered as Heikki’s asshole clenched. Rob’s free hand tried to stroke Heikki off, but Heikki was so big that Rob struggled to reach his cock, and when he did, Heikki’s own paws were already furiously stroking his meat.
Then both men came at the same time. Rob was surprised by how suddenly his orgasm approached — he was not often a top, so he had little experience in this position — and overwhelmed him. His fingers tightened into talons that ripped at Heikki’s writhing muscles, while Heikki’s whole body tensed.
The smell of semen filled the air. Heikki groaned. He sprayed cum over Rob’s hands and onto the wooden bench beneath him, while Rob slammed his cock all the way in.
A thick burst of cum spurted out, coating Heikki’s insides. They both moaned together, in harmony like they were singing. The most intense orgasm of his life wracked Rob’s body. He shuddered and shivered despite the heat of the sauna.
He didn’t know how much he had shot. It felt like a huge orgasm. Rob could feel it sloshing around inside Heikki’s ass, sticking to Rob’s shaft and dripping down into the nest of hair around Heikki’s thighs. Every motion either one of them took sent shivers of exquisite afterclimax up Rob’s spine.
Then it was all over. The sauna seemed impossibly silent. Heikki’s labored breathing was audible, but distant, like the howl of a wolf outside. It was met by a barking yap — Heikki’s spitz was tied up in the warm spot outside by the ventilation shaft. Heikki bellowed something in Finnish to him.
Rob’s cock slowly limpened inside Heikki, whose muscles tightened as Rob dragged his fingertips overtop Heikki’s taut skin. Heikki gasped for air. Drops of cum dribbled from his cock, which Rob stroked while they both recovered from the intense orgasm.
Finally Rob was done. He gently extricated himself from Heikki, hopping off his back and letting his dick plop out. Heikki let out a sound that was half-sigh and half-roar, like an angry bear about to fall asleep.
He turned around, his broad chest gleamed with sweat and cum. Rob fell into his arms, sat on his lap and nuzzled the filthy flesh of his pectorals. Heikki cradled him close.
This felt more normal, Rob thought, a little twink like him relaxing in his alpha bear’s biceps. That was something Rob had done a hundred times before, but never with a big blond-haired muscle-god like Heikki. He traced the bulging curve of Heikki’s biceps as they both relaxed there.
“Thank you.”
Rob giggled. “You’re welcome, Heikki.”
“We have become dirty,” Heikki said. He stood, looking down at the cum dripping from his chest. He glanced behind himself, where more cum clung to the fine blond hairs of his ass. He smiled awkwardly. He gestured towards the showers — Finns always showered before a sauna, so there were a few showerheads in the other side of the building — and smiled. “We must clean off.”
“Okay, yeah,” Rob said. “I guess we should.” He stood and stretched his legs as Heikki removed the chair that blocked the sauna door from opening. Then they both headed off to the showers.
“You have hotel?” Heikki asked. Rob nodded, and Heikki grinned. “You give to me hotel room number. I will come to visit. You will put penis in other Finns?”
“Uh… what?”
Heikki pantomimed chopping wood with an axe. “The men who I am working with, at wood-chopping camp. And we like the man who puts out butt. It is okay. We are tired of putting penis in each other. We will come to hotel. Yes?”
Rob’s knees buckled and he nearly fell to the floor of the showering area. Was this for real? He couldn’t believe his luck. “Uh, yes! Yeah! Of course. Yes. I’ll… cornhole any number of Finnish lumberjacks, is that what you’re asking?”
Heikki nodded and smiled. “We will all do it.” Heikki put on headphones, and death metal blared into his ears. He swaddled into the shower to rinse off.
Rob took a deep breath. He decided he wasn’t done yet with the sweating — luckily, he was in a sauna. So he sat there to relax and bathe in steam, looking forward to the remainder of his Finnish adventure.

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

Rob’s World of Men: Chapter Eight

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

The fog was oppressive in London when Rob’s plane refused to land there due to the decreased visibility. It was only the first of many disappointments, but Rob kept a stiff upper lip. The plane eventually landed because the fog gave way to a gentle, enveloping rain.
It was not that cold, but there was a chill in the air, so Rob took a jumper out of his suitcase once he got it from the baggage-claim area. Then he made his way through the teeming throngs of people at Heathrow Airport.
He didn’t really like the “travel” part of traveling. He liked seeing exotic destinations or even just ordinary destinations in extraordinary places. But he didn’t like planes or airports or trains or long car rides or trams or barges or anything of that sort. Of course, they were the only way to get to his destinations, so he made do.
When he got out of the airport, the first thing he saw was a pair of men fighting in the upper level of the multi-storey. One of them shouted “Oi! Oi!” so loud, over and over, that Rob couldn’t hear anything else and never found out what the argy-bargy was about (but he had a feeling, based on the football kit they both wore, that it related to sport).
Rob had every intention of satisfying his secondary goal as well: servicing the most arousing alpha males he could find, whatever the cost.
Usually, he would just wing it. He had a knack for finding the right kind of guy anyway, and looking for them gave him plenty of time to see the countryside.
But a friend had given him a lead on an Englishman of incomparable studliness. His name was John Thomas, or, to be more precise, John Thomas Smith Walker Mayne, Duke of Malperham-upon-Avon and Baron Alewar of the Wildest Moors.
He didn’t tell very many people he was anything more than John Thomas. But most everyone in his life knew he was a duke anyway; English people had a way of knowing that even when nobody told them. Whilst that was interesting enough — Rob was still trying to find out what a “Baron Alewar” was — it wasn’t what Rob wanted in him anyway.
He was so handsome it hurt. John was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair that was always slicked back. He was an Oxford Uni student and played cricket well enough that he got tons of Google hits (Rob found cricket impenetrable and he was unable to understand anything about what position John played, what it meant or how good he was, but there were articles in major papers about him, so John assumed he must have been good). John was well-muscled but not bulky, and he had a handsome squarish jaw like a knight of the round table, with dimples Rob wanted to bathe in.
He had to have him, and luckily, Rob thought he had an in. Despite being a duke and a baron, John was middle-class at best (in terms of money), despite reading The Times everyday and pretending to follow it. He was in need of money.
But Rob wasn’t sure how to approach him. Englishmen, especially well-heeled Englishmen like John, didn’t talk about sensitive topics like money. So he started off by simply wandering around Oxford Uni. He looked in on a few classes, but the students all looked serious, grim-eyed and focused on sitting for exams. The few people Rob talked to scurried away like he had frightened them.
“Well, shit,” Rob said to no one in particular. He had thought John would be easy to find. On North American college campuses, handsome jocks were always the center of attention and could usually be found on the quad during the day. Oxford Uni had very small, enclosed quads, and the ground was soggy because of the damp that hung in the air, so no one spent time in the quad here. Rob was disappointed.
John was nowhere to be seen. That’s because he was having his elevenses with his manservant Jeeves. He happened to see Rob from a window as he finished his meal and bade Jeeves meet him back in his flat, but John thought nothing of him.
That was why, when he came out onto the quad and saw Rob again, John nodded to him as though they were acquainted. Rob took it as a sign that this was the Englishman for him. He was even handsomer in person than Rob had expected.
“Excuse me, sir, er… Duke… Your grace…?” Rob blushed.
John cocked his head to the side. “Not many people use my title, old chum, who are you that you know me and I do not know you? And you are American to boot? I have never met an American who uses my title, the idea is quite droll indeed.” A snooty laugh escaped from his thin lips, and the muscles of his broad shoulders flexed.
“My name is Rob.”
“Oh, what a fine fellow! I do greatly enjoy North America. My family owns a hunting lodge in Ontario, and I daresay, aside from les Québécois, it’s marvelous!” He laughed and clapped his hands — his French accent was self-consciously bad: lezz kebekwazz — then looked side to side like he thought he had been too loud. “What can I do for you, my fine yankee friend?”
“I, uh, I’m doing interviews for a North American cricket magazine,” Rob said. “It’s new, it’ll be in the first issue. I wanted to ask you some questions about the sport.”
“Ah, yes, well I am very busy indeed, I am not sure I could fit that in my diary,” he said. He beamed like he didn’t often get recognized for his skill. “I do so love the world of periodicals though, and I wish you the best of luck-“
“I can pay. Two hundred pounds.”
He paused, checking all around the quad for anyone he knew. “Yes, well, the money, of course, is not important. But I do wish to spread the world’s most civilized sport. I have always believed cricket teaches its players the best in comportment and decorum. It is truly a sport for gentlemen,” he said with a grin. Then he blurted out, “-and ladies! I did not forget ladies. Oxford has a marvelous women’s cricket team. Positively smashing.”
“Oh… Uh, well,” Rob stumbled over his words. John’s imposing size and charming grin made it hard to focus. “So will you do the interview? For two hundred pounds?”
“I’ll do it for the sport, not for the money. I’ll do it to exalt the glory of cricket itself,” John said, beaming to show off his dimples. “And I shall take the money, yes, of course, I do not wish to cause a scene.”
“You don’t have to accept the money,” Rob said with a grin.
“Of course, of course, but I don’t wish to rock the boat. If you are paying two hundred pounds, you should pay two hundred pounds. It’s not a problem,” he said with a casual chuckle. He paused. “I do have a prior commitment in a few minutes. Can we schedule it for later today? I have to get ready for my morris side’s rehearsal, I must change my clothes.”
“Oh, can I come with you?”
“Eh… I suppose,” he said. He led Rob back to his flat just a few blocks from uni. His manservant Jeeves was waiting for him there — having cleaned up after John’s elevenses, Jeeves hurried back to the flat to be ready to prepare John for the morris dancing rehearsals. “You can away, Jeeves, I shall dress myself.”
“Very good, sir,” Jeeves said, with a heavy tone and a deliberate look like he didn’t entirely believe that John was capable of dressing himself.
Rob pretended to care about cricket then and asked a few questions. He even jotted down John’s answers. John stood in the center of his flat at first. He didn’t expect Rob to wait here whilst John changed.
But John was unsure of expectations. Jeeves, of course, would be here when John removed his garments, but did Rob expect the same? He made no effort to walk away. Americans, John thought, always changed clothing in locker rooms (judging from the cinema, since John had never been to America in person). So John assumed that meant Rob intended to stay here and ask questions whilst John changed.
It was not a big deal, John told himself. It was how the lower classes operated. They often dressed in groups — without a single butler or valet even — such as before working in a mine. John wondered if Rob was a mineworker. John removed his shoes.
“There is a new North American cricket league,” Rob explained. “It’s not that popular. I’m hoping this magazine will increase its audience.”
“Oh how wonderful!” John kept a smile on his face as he removed his shirt and trousers.
“That’s why I wanted an interview with you, you’re charming and handsome, and you’ll bring in women, I hope, but I guess you’re used to that,” Rob said with a flirtatious smile aimed directly into John’s eyes. John blushed in response. He wasn’t used to people giving him compliments like that, so directly and bluntly, especially regarding women.
Rob was entranced by his broad chest, which was smooth and unblemished, a pale porcelain like fine ivory. John smelled of fine soap, not ordinary soap, but something soap-like, smelling a little of flowers and fruit — it didn’t smell like a flower-scented soap; it smelled like actual flowers, like John had bathed in rosewater dappled with blossoms.
“So you do morris dancing?”
“It is an important part of my family’s heritage,” John said. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he said it. “And I would be disappointing them to abstain from participating in it, so you see, there was never any doubt that I would do it. My entire family has done so for generations, so I never even considered skipping it.” He looked at the notes Rob was taking. “Is that going to be in the magazine? I am not certain it would be necessary. Do North American cricket fans care about such esoteric matters of English culture? I should think not.”
Rob had no intention of writing any article, but John didn’t know that. Rob just shrugged. “I gotta take notes on everything. My editor will decide what’s important enough to include in the article.”
“Indeed.”
The morris-dancing costume was simple, and, Rob was annoyed to see, not especially arousing. It covered everything. John pulled up a pair of white trousers, which were loose-fitting and billowy, and pulled on a white shirt. He looked almost like he was unfamiliar with the costume, which mystified Rob — he had no idea that John had never dressed himself in his morris-dancing clothing, so he was unused to doing so without Jeeves’s assistance.
“That is…” Rob had to suppress a giggle, “an interesting getup.” He watched John check that he had his handkerchiefs — that was part of the traditional morris dance. John’s family, the Dukes of Malperham-upon-Avon, had been running the morris side here at Oxford Uni for centuries; even when there was no one from the family attending school there, the Smiths sent a distant cousin or servant to run the side.
“I understand it is old-fashioned, of course,” John said. “But it is our heritage and our tradition. It supplies the Englishman with his soul, even if it seems strange.”
Rob shrugged. “Yeah, sure, no problem. We all have our strange national traditions. It’s no weirder than a sock hop,” he said. He blushed. “I was kinda hoping that you wouldn’t put those clothes on though…”
“I’m sorry, my fine yankee chum?”
Rob cleared his throat. “Well, I promised you two hundred pounds for an interview, and that would be fine. We could do that, and you could walk out of here with two hundred pounds-“
“Which I would be fine with, indeed, but I do not require it, as we have established. I do not wish to do anything for so gauche a reason as money,” John said. “I will do it for cricket.” He stood proudly as though he was being photographed.
“Quite right, tut-tut,” Rob said with another giggle. John looked dourly upon him — Englishmen, he thought, did not giggle. Rob found his intense glare difficult to endure. “But if you wanted… you could earn something more like five hundred pounds. I realize you don’t need it, of course-“
“All this talk of money makes me ill. It is impolite,” John said. He put his hands on his hips and played with the uncomfortable fabric of his morris-dancing costume. “Belgians speak of money. I am no Belgian.”
“Right, well, for five hundred pounds, all you’d have to do is stand there.”
“You intend to pay me five hundred pounds sterling to stand here?” John paused.
“Well, to stand there and not complain as I do something,” Rob said. He inserted one finger in his mouth and jacked on it. John’s eyes opened wide. Rob deep-throated his finger even more explicitly because it wasn’t clear John was willing to accept the implication. Rob blushed as John chortled and stumbled over his own words.
“I say! I-I-I-I-I-I… I dare say you are a disreputable lout! You would pay… pay the Queen’s good money for something craven and perverse!” John said. “Correct? Did I misunderstand you? You mean… you wish to fornicate? And you will pay me… a monkey?”
Rob raised his eyebrow. “A monkey…? Nooooo. You can buy a monkey, I guess. I mean, it’s illegal, I’m pretty sure. Probably costs more than five hundred pounds too.”
“A monkey is working-class slang for five hundred pounds,” John said, barely controlling his pride at being able to explain working-class slang to someone. John harrumphed and crossed his arms over his broad chest, cradled by that billowy white morris-dancing shirt.
“So you’ll do it?”
John winced. “Please, sir, have some decorum. Do they not have manners in America? Of course I am not opposed to… activities of a masculine nature. But it is most improper to do so so wantonly, so flippantly!”
“Oh?”
“The polite way to invite a man to explore manhoods together is to say that you would like to promenade amongst the lavender blossoms,” he whispered.
“But I don’t. I have allergies. I just wanted to taste your dick.”
“Don’t be difficult, sir,” John said. “And please, do not assault my ears with such common talk.”
“I didn’t realize you had such sensitive ears,” Rob said. One of his hands slipped under John’s loose-fitting morris-dancing shirt. John twitched but didn’t tell him to stop. Rob thought that accusing him of having “sensitive ears” would make John quit it with the euphemisms, but John just nodded.
“I am a well-bred gentleman, of course I do not wish to hear of such things or speak of money,” John said. “The only acceptable topics of conversation are cricket, the value of a good butler, the weather and gardening. The latter two are only acceptable provided they have been proceeding handsomely.”
“I see,” Rob said. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?”
“I am not in need of money,” John said as he took the morris-dancing shirt off anyway. He kept a stony look fixed on his face as though he was going to say no, even though he had already agreed to Rob’s offer. He would just never say it out loud.
“Do you want me to jack you off?” Rob asked, eyes twinkling because John exploded in harrumphs.
“Absurd! How dare you speak to me like that!”
“You can tell me to leave,” Rob said. “But my plan is to jack you off-“
“Your diction is shamefully crass!”
“-and then stick your dick in my ass until you fill it with cum, and then give you give five hundred pounds. If you see any flaws in that plan — any flaws that don’t relate to euphemisms,” Rob said, “then let me know now.”
“Your tongue speaks the crudest of words.” He jutted his hips forward to give Rob easy access to his crotch, even as he looked away and sighed as though scandalized.
John paused and watched Rob’s hand pull down his white trousers, revealing those clean — seemingly brand-new — pair of y-fronts, hugging his arse and his plump cheeks. Rob smiled. He tugged the y-fronts down, and John’s dick flopped out.
“Where do you get your underwear? They’re really hot and they look comfortable,” Rob said.
John frowned. “You can not buy any yourself. My pants are bespoke, made especial for my household by the Cordwainer family of Bristol. They are part of an ancient and storied tradition.” He gave his massive dick a single stroke, and it was half-hard already. “My family does not buy pants that just any American could buy.”
Rob rolled his eyes. He had a feeling he could buy those very same pants if he really wanted to — he was a lot wealthier than he let on — but he didn’t want an argument. He bared John’s massive slab of meat. “You have a giant cock,” Rob said with a giggle.
John scoffed. “You are crass,” he said. He bristled. “You may say that I have a ‘sizable endowment’.” He paused. “That part you may tell people, nothing else.”
“Won’t they wonder how I know?”
John looked at him like he was an idiot. “Of course. But they won’t ask.”
“And the money? You don’t want the money?”
John gulped and blurted out, “I want the money! I mean… I don’t want it, of course, but I should take it.” He paused, watching his manhood firm up in Rob’s hand, as Rob chased it with his tongue. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, after all.”
“I would not be uncomfortable keeping the money.” Rob’s voice was muffled by the rod he kept rubbing over his lips and licking with his tongue.
“Indeed, well, I should not wish to cause a problem,” John said. He flopped his dick between his fingers but looked away as Rob kissed it right on the tip. “So you should do as you intended, of course.” He paused. “By which I mean, yes, you should pay me. Not for the sake of payment, just for the sake of… you know… doing it.”
“Right, right,” Rob said. He hefted up John’s cock in his fingers and slowly jacked it down his throat. John’s eyes opened wide.
John had been jacked off before, but he never knew it could feel like this. He closed his eyes and bit back a moan — he thought it would be improper to enjoy this too much, and he didn’t want to give Rob any ideas.
His dick firmed up right away in Rob’s mouth, and throbbed against his tongue. John leaned forward, forcing his dick in deeper until he realized that might be seen as rude — he was no throat-forcing hooligan, after all — and he took a step back.
Soon his cock was veiny, pulsating, leaking precum that coated Rob’s throat and ran down his chin. It was salty and warm and inviting, and it made Rob want more.
“Are you ready?” Rob asked, smacking his lips as he pulled John’s dick out. “Huh?”
“Ready for what, my good man?” John’s face was ruddy, and a few beads of sweat had appeared on his normally perfect forehead.
“Well… I suppose you won’t want me to say out loud what this next thing is,” Rob said. John’s eyes opened wide in both fear and desire, and Rob giggled. “Oh good, I don’t need to say it. You look like the King after a fart.” He dropped his own trousers and turned around to bend over.
“Perhaps you should leave.” John’s voice was grim and flat.
Rob assumed he had misheard. He turned back around. “I’m sorry?”
“I will not… fornicate with the likes of you! You have disrespected the King, and I shall not stand for that!” His dick was still hard, but for John, the King was more important than any amount of blue-balls. He formed a fist, and for the first time, those massive cricket-jock muscles looked intimidating to Rob, who cowered back. John was big enough his punch was going to pack a wallop.
“Sorry, sorry, I was just making a joke-“
“That is not a joke! It is a declaration of war upon the people of England! It is a wounding of an entire nation! Nay, several nations, for the Welsh and the Scottish and the Manxmen-“
“Okay, relax, John, I’m sorry, I apologize.”
“Well, in this country, we treat our King with the utmost respect,” John said. He stretched his shoulders and legs, and have his dick one quick stroke. “I shall forgive you this indiscretion. Whilst you are in Britain, however, I suggest you carry yourself with an appropriate amount of respect.” He paused. “It is not because of the money. No amount of money would make up for such disrespect. I am simply a forgiving type.”
“Oh, okay.” Rob breathed a sigh of relief and turned around. He spread his cheeks. “Have you ever done it in the butt?”
John sighed dramatically. “Please do not speak like that.” He slid his dick between Rob’s asscheeks. “I have… I have not traversed the rocky road, no, not the one lined with lavender fields, nor the one with petunias on the other side.”
Rob furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. “So are the petunias vaginas?”
“I shall ignore that. The v-word is so impolite; it is grossly inappropriate.” John gingerly slipped the tip of his dick into Rob’s ass. He bit his lip when a jolt of pleasure shot up his spine, and he kept feeding his manhood deeper into him.
His hands caressed Rob’s ass until he remembered he was touching a man, and he took his hands away. His heart thumped. If his grandma-ma found out about this, he’d be disowned from the family — for a variety of reasons: because the yank was “lavender”; because he was doing work for pay; because he was spending time with a commoner; because he was disgracing Oxford, where being caught would be shameful for the whole family; because John was alone with a flamboyant American.
But John wasn’t really worried about being caught. It actually made the whole experience more intense for him. He felt victorious getting away with it, like when he and the lads in boarding school had raided the kitchen at night. They’d eat jelly and pudding until dawn and his heart would nearly thump out of his chest as he fled back to his room.
“Oh god, cornhole me, your highness!” Rob said with another giggle that turned into a full-throated guffaw at the look on John’s face.
“I am not royalty,”John said, his eyes opened wide as sweat trickled down his chin. He was on the verge of orgasm, but even then he felt the need to lecture Rob about proper terms of address. “That is not the proper form of address in this context-“
But John stopped talking because Rob was laughing too hard to hear anyway, and it was hard to concentrate with his dick throbbing mightily in Rob’s ass. John blushed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t really mean that literally…” Rob said. He wrenched his head back and moaned, with John’s cock resting on his prostate. He couldn’t bear it anymore and writhed. He howled so loud Jeeves could hear it (he was out in the corridor, and though he wondered intensely what was happening, he would never inquire about it).
“Yes, well, it is not necessary to speak like that.
“Please do penetrate me further, milord,” Rob said with a gasp and a laugh.
“You do not need to tease me,” John said. He wrinkled his nose but kept plowing his entire cock in with every thrust of his hips. He had no idea he was perfectly lined up to stimulate Rob’s prostate every time he rammed into him.
John was easily upset by teasing, but he kept a stiff upper lip — a skill he had perfected in boarding school. He used all of those cricket-toned muscles to piston his cock deep into Rob’s ass.
Rob shot his wad into his hand, filling up his palm with more creamy fluid than he thought possible. He hadn’t shot such a big load in a long time. But John not only had a big cock and a big body, but he also seemed to think he needed to plow extra hard to prove himself — not like most of the men Rob paid, who usually treated him like a piece of meat. That certainly had its appeal, but for now, Rob enjoyed the feel of John caringly grinding his dick into Rob’s ass.
“I am finishing now,” John said with a moan. He finally showed a little passion on his face and in the timbre of his voice, and his cheeks turned apple-red.
His load filled Rob up with warmth that seeped into his flesh. He shot a big load too, even bigger than Rob’s, great gobs of cream and juice spraying into every corner of Rob’s ass.
Rob cried out wordlessly, his fingers tightening into claws and his toes curling. His whole body tensed up as the most potent orgasm of his life exploded within him.
“Oh goddamn!” Rob shouted, only for John to frown at him as though he shouldn’t express his orgasm verbally. Rob just writhed and nuzzled his face against John’s muscular body.
Then, Rob fell limp, and John too, atop him. They both humped there together for a moment, John’s soft cock still moving and twitching in his ass. That turned John’s cumwad into a big frothy mess that bubbled out and into his crotch, sliding between Rob’s legs.
John leaned back and let his dick flop out. He sighed, his eyes opened wide at the sight of the puddle of cum that coated his crotch. He frowned. “Ah… you are quite the flamboyant little American.” He stood there, looking at his cum-splattered dick as though he had no idea how it got that way.
Rob quickly dressed. “Are you… okay?” Rob asked. John still hadn’t moved.
“Yes. I just need a minute.”
“Okay, well, I’m going,” Rob said. He gave John the money he had promised him, and then headed for the door. John grabbed the five hundred pounds as though he didn’t care about it, but he carefully placed it in the pocket of the trousers he had previously taken off and which now rested on the floor. John stood there, grim-faced and bleary-eyed, dick dangling moistly between his legs, as Rob opened the door.
John cleared his throat. “Can you ask Jeeves to come in? Tell him his lordship needs to be cleaned up.”

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

Rob’s World of Men: Chapter Seven

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

Rob liked to make an entrance, so he waited behind the hamam. It was a small stone structure on the outskirts of Izumir, Türkiye. No one around here knew that Rob owned it. He had bought it recently to be sure he would be allowed in, despite not being Turkish.
After an hour or so of waiting, he saw Yusuf approach cautiously, his hefty frame shaking beneath his salvar, jubba and fez. He stopped to pet a fat cat lounging on a bench by the door, then swaggered into the hamam as though on his way to a fight.
Yusuf’s eyes scanned the hamam as he entered it, but he didn’t see any Americans. Rob had sent him an anonymous letter claiming to be an American tourist who wanted to jack his dick for a thousand American dollars. That was a lot of money anywhere, but to Yusuf it was enough to make him do almost anything.
And for Yusuf, cornholing men in the hamam was not that strange of a request. As long as he was on top, he had done nothing wrong, as far as he was concerned — though he considered all of his bottoms to be in a state of grave sin.
But Yusuf didn’t know who Rob was. So he awkwardly walked into the hamam’s camekân and removed his clothes, leaving the fez for last. When he took it off, a big mess of black curls was revealed upon his scalp. He wore a loincloth only when he moved deeper into the hamam. A few dozen Turks milled around, hairy chests gleaming with shower water. They wore the same loincloth, as did Rob, who stood out as a gleaming white, hairless pale man in a sea of swarthy Turks.
Yusuf didn’t see him right away. He moved into the hamam’s colder soğukluk and then its warmer ılıklık and finally the steaming hot hararet, which induced intense perspiration. The loincloth soon came off, and Yusuf, like the others, sat in the steam stark-naked. Rob did too, though he was worried he would get a hardon, so he tried to remain demure.
Yusuf wondered if that letter had been a prank. He was glad he hadn’t told anyone where he was coming or why. He had read the letter in a cafe, drinking strong Turkish coffee — the best coffee in the world — and had kept his face stoic so nobody would know what kind of offer he was entertaining.
It was normal, in a hamam, for a strong man like Yusuf to come up behind a weaker, smaller man and cornhole them. The weaker man would take his dick and swallow his load, and Yusuf could stop thinking about women for a few moments at least. That’s why it wasn’t sinful for him, Yusuf thought. His imam had explained it. It replaced a grave sin — coveting a woman — with a very minor indiscretion.
Still, it was only proper to do it in the dark where no one saw it and to deny it when asked even if everyone knew you did it — what happened in the hamam, stayed in the hamam.
Yusuf approached a Turk who was slim and middle-aged. He seemed possibly American even if he was obviously Turkish by descent.
The smaller Turk trembled when Yusuf grabbed his cock and shook it in the smaller Turk’s direction. Yusuf’s great wrestling-toned muscles flexed. Shower water dripped through his chest hair.
“What do you want?” asked the smaller Turk in fluent Turkish, as he blanched and looked away.
Yusuf frowned. Obviously this was not the American who sent the letter. Yusuf stalked away.
He made sure all the guys in here could see his cock. He liked being the biggest man in the room, especially in a hamam where smaller men were treated poorly. Yusuf knew that well because he was often the one who treated them poorly.
“What are you looking at?” Yusuf asked one of the men near him. He didn’t intend to pick a fight, but as soon as he said it, he knew that would happen, and he wasn’t about to turn the other cheek.
The other fighter was Mustafa, and he was just a little smaller than Yusuf. He puffed his chest out, until their nipples touched and their chest-hair rubbed against each other, their sweat intermingling as it ran down their bellies.
A few more words were exchanged before the first fists flew. A part of Yusuf knew the only reason he had picked this fight was that he felt weak and vulnerable right now, so he felt a need to demonstrate that he was neither. He hoped this “wealthy American” was watching.
He was. Rob stood there in a shadowy corner of the hamam, close enough he could feel the perk asscheeks of the lithe Turk in front of him. Those plump brown orbs rubbed against Rob’s cock. That was ordinary enough around here that the young Turk didn’t realize it was happening, not even when Rob’s dick twitched.
Yusuf knocked Mustafa down and mounted his chest to punch him in the face. His heavy balls left a layer of sweat on Mustafa’s chest. He didn’t get to punch him much in this position because someone grabbed him and dragged him off before too long.
Mustafa staggered to his feet as the hamam settled down, and Yusuf watched Mustafa leave. He crossed his arms over his chest and flexed his muscles. He sneered. “You had better run, weakling.”
He realized that that wealthy American must not be coming. He turned around to leave, cock flopping out and slapping Rob in the face — Rob had kneeled behind Yusuf. The sweat streaked down Rob’s face. He looked up at Yusuf and, above his head, the domed ceiling of the hamam.
“Hi, I’m American. My name is Rob.” Rob looked up at Yusuf, who stopped short.
He was obviously white, and when he spoke, blatantly American; Yusuf had learned English from an Australian, so the stranger’s American accent sounded wrong to him. Yusuf furrowed his brow. It was obvious what was about to happen, but he was dismayed that it was to happen here, in the center of the hamam, where a dozen men could see.
A thousand dollars was a lot of money. Yusuf could buy plenty of rosewater-flavored sweets with that, and Yusuf’s masculinity couldn’t be questioned, since he just beat someone up. He kept his arms folded over his chest and didn’t say a word.
A few men snickered as Rob waddled forward on his knees, reaching for Yusuf’s cock. Some of them whispered too.
“He must owe a debt…”
“Yusuf is tough like that, he does not allow insults to his manhood.”
Yusuf wrinkled his nose. Somehow the rumor had already spread within the hamam that Rob was jacking Yusuf off because he owed him money, probably for gambling. That was unislamic of him, and of course Rob was obviously not Muslim, so no one thought it inappropriate to make him jack dick. Nobody seemed to notice that Rob jacked cock enthusiastically, voluntarily and without a moment’s hesitation.
Yusuf was fine with that, of course. He looked stronger and tougher this way.
As his dick disappeared into Rob’s throat, he decided to play along. He gripped Rob’s ears and drilled his cock in deeply. In Turkey, if someone owed you money and you were getting paid back this way, you were supposed to cornhole hard. Yusuf’s father had told him to “take ownership” of the man’s mouth and to make him feel all the humiliation his position required. There was nothing more shameful than a man on his knees in front of another man, so it was Yusuf’s duty to ensure he felt that shame.
He spat on Rob’s face. The others in the hamam laughed and jeered, and some of them thwacked Rob’s head with their own limp cocks. Yusuf spat again and again, until Rob’s face was coated with his sticky spittle.
“You make his face as shameful as his spirit…”
“Destroy his throat, Yusuf!”
Yusuf began to get nervous. He had begun plowing into Rob’s throat assuming Rob would make him stop or at least go easy on him. He wanted Rob to beg for mercy. But as he made eye contact with Rob, he realized that wouldn’t happen — he could see in Rob’s eyes that he wanted every bit of this, that Yusuf couldn’t use his face too hard for Rob’s liking.
It felt better than any throat from a female too. Yusuf felt guilty about that. Was it a sin to actually enjoy this? Did that make it worse? He wasn’t sure.
What was most important, he thought, was secular — he was going to look like the toughest guy in the hamam after this. He let go of Rob’s head, deciding to go the other route — rather than force his cock down Rob’s throat, he demanded Rob deep-throat him and slapped him when he failed.
“Get all the way down on it,” Yusuf said. He smacked Rob when he gagged without his nose nestling all the way in Yusuf’s unkempt pubic bush. Rob didn’t mind, and he even slurped weakly to provoke the slaps — he loved that. He also loved that Yusuf didn’t trim his pubic hair. So many men did these days that Rob enjoyed it when he got the full bush experience. Yusuf’s pubic hair smelled like a copper penny and scratched at Rob’s face.
His hands roamed up to Yusuf’s powerful chest, which was just as hairy, with a thick layer of coarse, kinky black hairs. When Rob touched his nipples, Yusuf’s pecs flexed and Yusuf slapped his hands away. “This isn’t for you, pervert. You are here to serve me.”
Rob stuck his bare ass in the air. He knew that, if he asked to get cornholed, that would look especially pervy and unislamic to the other men. So he just shook his ass, aimed at the others but sticking it high enough in the air to attract Yusuf’s attention to.
His precum flowed down Rob’s throat, but Yusuf was thinking about Rob’s ass. Could he do that? Of course he could. He had done it with a prostitute once. It felt amazing. Would it be the same on a man? Would the others consider it wrong?
“I think he likes it…”
“Yusuf must not be kidding about that little one being a pervert…”
Yusuf groaned. He needed to blow his load, and now that he saw Rob’s bare, smooth ass with its tight hole beckoning, Yusuf knew exactly where he was going to blow it.
He pulled out and pushed Rob onto the floor in one smooth motion. Rob was still dizzy and gasping for air from the deep-throating as he felt his asscheeks get spread open wide.
“Get in him, Yusuf!”
“Destroy his asshole! Make him feel it!”
They whooped and hollered. They had all gathered that Rob was totally into it, but they preferred to act like Rob was simply repaying a debt. They could purport to be so tough they went to hamams where ruffians cornholed weaker men, and they managed to go there without losing their own masculinity. That would improve their image and their family’s pride. Admitting they went to the kind of hamam where men perved out with each other would have the opposite impact.
So it was convenient for everyone to pretend that this was a debt-repayment. Even Rob jacking himself off and moving his ass back onto Yusuf’s cock of his own accord didn’t lead them to acknowledge that this was Rob’s choice. They could never have stayed to watch — or even allowed it to continue — if they knew that Rob wanted this so bad he had paid for it.
But Yusuf had no interest in letting them realize that. He pounded away at Rob’s ass, softly at first because that just seemed right. Rob, however, didn’t complain. He gasped and squirmed and moaned, a sound that Yusuf loved to hear, and Rob begged for more.
So Yusuf cornholed harder and harder. He hoped to make Rob tell him to slow down. If he tore him up enough, surely even a pervert would need to take a break, Yusuf thought.
But there seemed to be no signs of that happening. Yusuf let out a frustrated grunt that turned into a howl of desire as an orgasm erupted within him. He had a tense, furrowed-brow look as he cornholed, making his climax seem more like an angry explosion of rage than an orgasm. That was just the way he liked it.
He roared and cursed in Turkish, pounding on his chest like Tarzan. He smacked Rob’s asscheeks hard too, hard enough to make Rob cry out, moan and buckle. Rob furiously jacked himself off as pain and pleasure erupted in his ass in equal measure.
The sound of the other men cheering him on vanished. At first Rob thought it was just because of the intensity of his orgasm that overwhelmed the sound of everyone else in the hamam. But then he realized they had all genuinely fallen silent. Perhaps it felt too pervy to literally watch and cheer. So they all looked down at their own feet and the humid water condensing on their limp dicks instead. They avoided seeing Rob and Yusuf loudly orgasm.
“Take it! Take every drop of it!” Yusuf said with a roar. He laid his strapping chest on Rob’s back, pinning him in place as they both orgasmed. His kinky black hairs scratched Rob’s smooth skin.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, a giant load that kept on going and going. Yusuf stopped moving for a moment, his hot breath condensing on Rob’s face even in the warm hamam. Cum flowed like piss, great gobs of it that coated Rob’s insides in creamy warmth.
Yusuf grunted and flexed his hips as he shot another wad, making a moist squelching sound that caused the others to laugh and grimace. A few drops of cum spilled out onto the floor.
At last Rob’s orgasm was done, but Yusuf’s was not. He kept on grinding his dick into Rob’s ass, making him squirm some more. It was painful, but Rob didn’t mind. He liked feeling Yusuf’s muscles tense and relax on his back, and Yusuf’s breath on his ear, and he liked being squashed beneath his weight, which forced his belly to wallow in his own wad of cum he had shot onto the floor. He looked up to see a dozen naked Turks watching with wide-eyed amazement, their dicks soft, balls crawling up in their sacs because they were nervous.
Yusuf snarled. He pushed Rob’s head down and gyrated his hips one last time. That made Rob cry out and writhe in agony, and it nearly made Rob get hard all over again. If Yusuf had done it twice, Rob would have been ready to go once more.
But Yusuf let go of Rob, pushing him onto the puddle of cum and stagnant shower water on the floor.
Yusuf crossed his arms over his chest again and flexed his biceps as the other Muslims cheered, somewhat nervously. His cock looked bigger than over, gleaming with moisture and analjuice. A few drops of cum dripped from the tip.
A proudful sneer crossed Yusuf’s face. He spread Rob’s asscheeks so everyone could see that gaping hole. “Look at that nasty, what a whore,” Yusuf said.
“Ew!”
“He is bringing his decadent Western ways to Turkey!”
Rob just smiled and stood. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m leaving Turkey right now.”
“You’re not trying to turn our men into perverts?”
Rob shook his head. “Of course not,” he said. He pushed into the crowd of guys. Most of them attempted to step away from him, because no one wanted to touch his body covered in cum and Yusuf’s sweat. Even a few of Yusuf’s dark coarse hairs clung to Rob’s skin, matted there with a mixture of both men’s sweat. Rob didn’t want to clean off, not yet.
“Disgusting! We shall call the police!”
“We mustn’t allow the Western pervert to stay in here and corrupt us all!”
No one followed Rob, which was exactly how he liked it. He went to a shadowy corner of the hamam, while he listened to the men excitedly talk about calling the police — it seemed no one wanted to actually do it, for fear it would look like they were perverts too.
Rob didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stick around. “Thanks, Yusuf,” he said. He passed the cash to Yusuf, who had just realized he forgot to get paid. He had been so relieved to cum he hadn’t asked for it.
Everyone saw him take cash from the American. Yusuf cleared his throat and said, “this is a fine payment on your debt, weakling.”

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

Rob’s World of Men: Chapter Six

Read it now as an ebook from your favorite ebookstore!

Rob’s World of Men

Chapter One: The American

Chapter Two: The Frenchman

Chapter Three: The Swede

Chapter Four: The Russian

Chapter Five: The Australian

Chapter Six: The German

Chapter Seven: The Turk

Chapter Eight: The Englishman

Chapter Nine: The Finn

Chapter Ten: The Italian

Rob was stuffed full of sausage and mustard, and now he was eager to find a different kind of sausage. Rob had been touring Europe for weeks now, and he was enjoying the sights and sounds of Berlin.
The city was warm and windy tonight. Rob wanted to stay outside, but he didn’t want to waste his time. It didn’t seem there was anything going on on the streets of Berlin.
So he went into the first nightclub he saw. It turned out to be a rather old, not very hip club, playing dansmusik, which was just dorky enough to be charming. There were a wide range of both men and women. The men were not really his type, however. They were mostly thin, tall, stately — he liked men who were rough, crude and at least a little bit dangerous.
He made his way across the dancefloor. There were a lot of women here, that was the first thing he had noticed. A lot of hot women. That did not bode well for his chances of finding a man. A lot of women meant no desperate guys.
He decided to try his luck elsewhere. He headed out and towards the seedy side of town. He hadn’t gotten very far when he saw a Bier Palas that was still open. It was very touristy, so he wasn’t sure if it was for him. Rob wasn’t in Germany for the tourist stuff — he wanted men. He wanted to touch and taste them; he wanted to savor every drop of German manhood.
He went to the door just to pop his head inside. It was mostly women, he saw, once again, just like the nightclub (why are there so many German women?! Damn it!). Fat tourists guzzled cheap, watered-down beer. The girls were dressed as frumpy fraus in dirndls, with big tits mostly visible, like if a Hooters restaurant were tossed back in time to the late 19th century.
“Guten Abend.” A man’s dour voice filled the air.
Rob turned around and gulped nervously. The man in front of him was an intimidating sight. He was nearly seven feet tall and built like a professional wrestler, with arms bigger than Rob’s head and a broad strapping chest like he was part-Volkswagen. He was blond and squarish, with a very Teutonic face and a crooked nose like der Kämpfer. His hair was short and neatly combed. He crossed those massive arms over his chest.
“Oh, hallo,” Rob said. Now that he had taken in the man’s towering physique, Rob was turned on. He also noticed now that this man — Otto according to his nametag — worked for the Bier Palas. He was a bouncer or security guard of some sort.
That meant he was dressed like an employee, in traditional German garb. He wore liederhosen and a green and white shirt. This Bier Palas did not have a uniform that fit him well, so the liederhosen were too short, stopping at the knee, and his muscles bulged out of the clothes.
The German man grunted. “Are you the thief?”
“What?”
He paused, eyeing Rob up and down. He frowned, and Rob’s heart raced. Otto casually opened Rob’s shirt pocket and peered inside. “Someone has been picking the pockets of our customers as they leave.” He paused. “Wenn du der Dieb bist, werde ich dich fangen.” He waited for Rob to show he understood the German — which Rob did, but poorly enough he could pretend he didn’t.
Rob nodded. “Oh, yeah, I swear, that wasn’t me. I don’t do that. I actually have plenty of money,” he said. “I wanted to ask you something. My name is Rob,” he said. He blushed and stammered because Otto was such an imposing figure wie eine Statue eines heidnischen Gottes. “I wanted to offer you a job, of sorts. It’s not the kind of job you are used to, I assume-“
“Please be quick.” He inhaled deeply and glowered at Rob. “I have a tight schedule. I must be home shortly.”
“Oh, yes, well, I can offer you money,” Rob said. “I will pay you five hundred euros to cornhole me.” He paused, but Otto had no reaction. “Are you okay? What do you think?” He tweaked Otto’s bicep, which was harder than Rob expected; Otto must have been an amateur bodybuilder, he thought, with skin like Alabasterstein. He giggled and stroked it again, but Otto pushed his hand away.
“You are offering me money for sex. That is prostitution. Die Hure.”
“Well… Yes, that’s right,” Rob said. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
He flared his nostrils. “Fine. But I will not interrupt my workplace. That would be inefficient. I have a job to do.” He pointed to a door in the alley, behind the door into the Bier Palas. “Go in there and wait.”
He didn’t stick around to see if Rob would do it. Rob hesitated but did so. It was a small vestibule with a locked door on the other side, beyond which were a few offices. Rob guessed these were the administrative offices for the Bier Palas.
After an hour or so, Otto returned. He still had his lederhosen on. He came into the small vestible, locked the door behind himself and frowned at Rob.
“Do it.”
Rob’s eyes opened wide. “Uh… Otto? You mean-?”
Otto’s lips were pursed. “I said do it. You want me to give penis, you must do it.”
“Oh, yeah, okay. I just thought, uh…”
Otto stood there stiff as a board, arms crossed over his massive chest. He was so tall Rob could barely reach his shoulders at all. Rob touched Otto’s flat stomach through his shirt, then started to lift it over his chest. The blond hairs on his belly were fine und Weich, and his skin was perfectly smooth. His six-pack rippled beneath Rob’s touch.
Otto stopped him. “You said you wished to have dick of mine. Like oral and anal penis? Yes?”
“Uh, well… yeah.”
“You do not need to take my shirt off. It could become wrinkled. It would be inefficient,” Otto said.
“Oh. I, uh… I mean, I think if I am paying for it… It would be nice… Okay, fine…” Rob’s voice trailed off. Otto narrowed his eyes to slits, and Rob realized it was best to just move on. He didn’t mind jacking off guys in clothes.
Otto wore lederhosen, which were like britches and overalls combined, so they were held up with straps that ran over his chest. Rob was going to undo the straps, but Otto raced to do it like he was in a hurry. He gently but firmly pushed Rob to his knees.
“You are wasting time,” Otto said. His ill-fitting lederhosen were tight around the knees, so they didn’t fall all the way down. They just lowered enough to give Rob access zu seinem Schritt, clad in plain, unadorned but perfectly clean briefs. Rob thought that was cute: virtually no men between eighteen and eighty wore briefs back in America.
Otto took his briefs down, again doing it before Rob could. Rob couldn’t tell if Otto was in a hurry now because he wanted to get this over with (perhaps worried he’d get caught) or if he was embarrassed about it or if Otto simply never dawdled.
His dick bobbed and weaved. Rob hesitated, giggling until Otto took charge and dropped his cocktip into Rob’s mouth. Rob started jacking then, teasing the tip and sliding his tongue over the shaft and into Otto’s pisshole.
An emotionless grunt escaped from Otto’s mouth. His Schwanz twitched, then began to stiffen up in Rob’s mouth. Rob’s hands roamed up to his chest, underneath his shirt, and he managed to just barely reach the bottom of Otto’s pecs. Otto snarled and looked displeased, but he didn’t make Rob stop feeling him up.
“Stop.” Otto’s voice filled the vestibule.
Rob looked up at him. He pulled off Otto’s cock but left it there resting above his head. He licked the underside of the shaft. Otto showed no pleasure on his face, which made Rob giggle.
“If you wish to do it in anal sex, you must do it now.” Otto motioned for him to turn around. “It is best to do it with you an all four of your hands and feet. Stick your buttocks high in the air.”
Rob scoffed. “I know how to do it-“
“Then do it! Why do Americans dilly-dally so much?”
“Okay, first of all,” Rob said as he bent over. “I was technically born in Toronto. Second of all, how did you learn the word dilly-dally? No one says that-“
“Shut up. All Americans say they are Canadian.”
Rob was bent over now in front of him, and he had to drop to his knees to get himself lined up with Otto’s manhood. He still hadn’t taken off his lederhosen, which were around his ankles, or his traditional shirt, which he just unbuttoned a bit near the bottom to give himself unfettered access to Rob’s ass.
He drilled into Rob’s ass without any fanfare. He didn’t give Rob much of a chance to adjust to it either. He just slammed his Schwanz in and kept pushing, even as Rob writhed and cried out.
“You must open your buttocks hole.” Otto grunted. He smacked Rob’s asscheeks. “Relax it-“
“Yeah, I know how, thanks,” Rob said through gritted teeth. The pain was substantial. He wasn’t sure if Otto had never done this, or if he’d only done it with very slutty women with loose asses, or maybe only with kinky women who enjoyed it painful. Or maybe this was just how it went in Germany, Rob thought, and it was expected to be difficult.
Soon, Rob’s ass did adjust, despite Otto pounding away at it. Rob gripped the floor and howled in both pain and pleasure. The pain, however, slowly diminished with each thrust of Otto’s cock inside him. The pleasure grew and grew, until Rob was covered in sweat and moaning.
His prostate sent wave after wave of bliss through his veins. Once he got used to it, Rob enjoyed Otto’s rough, awkward way of cornholing. It was very efficient — he got his dick in right away, and every time he thrust, he brought his cock virtually all the way out, so just the tip remained in Rob’s ass, then he plowed all the way in until his balls slapped against Rob’s body.
Whenever Rob shifted his weight even a little, Otto wordlessly brought him back to the position he was in to begin with. Otto kept Rob perfectly straight in front of his body, centered, so that when Otto penetrated him, he could go in perfectly straight and symmetrically.
“Goddamn…” Rob cried out. He stroked himself off as he got cornholeed, and he lowered his head until Otto forced him back into position once more.
“Wait.” Otto stopped with his dick all the way in Rob. He reached for the lederhosen around his waist. His cock was so big that Rob mewled and whimpered, and he squirmed, but Otto stopped him. “I said wait. There is no need to make any noise.”
“I’m sorry, it feels so good-“
“Hush, that is not necessary.” Otto pulled a small paper bag out of his pocket. Inside was a styrofoam container — leftovers from lunch. He kept his dick in Rob’s ass as he opened it up.
“Are you-?”
“Hush. Ich muss jetzt essen,” Otto said. “I will finish when I am ready.”
“Oh, I-“
“Hush.” Inside the container was about a third of a sausage resting on a bed of sauerkraut. He took a bite of the sausage. “I saved this from my lunch to eat on my home after work. That would be now, if I weren’t here with you.”
“Oh.” That still seemed weird to Rob, but it was hard to think about anything except that massive Teutonic cock in his ass. Rob sucked in his breath. Otto took another bite of the sausage.
The smell of sausage and potently funky sauerkraut filled the air. It was enough to cut through the intense sensations rsouroiling Rob’s body. His voice broke and he lowered his body, jutting his ass back um es tiefer auf den Schwanz zu pochen, der in seinem Arsch pocht. Otto grunted but didn’t complain, he just used a plastic fork to eat sauerkraut from the to-go container.
Then he spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning up, all still without moving a muscle, that massive cock still throbbing against Rob’s prostate. Otto put the plastic fork, the container and the napkins he had used back into the to-go bag he had come with. He carefully folded the top of the paper bag, then placed it by the door to grab on the way out.
“Okay, can we finish?” Rob asked. He was getting annoyed. He had paid for this, after all, and Otto had forbidden him from touching his chest or removing his shirt, had strictly decided on the position he would take, right down to the orientation of his head, which didn’t even affect Otto, and now he made Rob wait while he ate leftovers. It hardly seemed fair to pay for that. Wasn’t the customer always right?
But when Rob turned his head to say something, he saw Otto’s broad chest muscles flexing beneath his shirt, ruddiness running up his neck to the pale skin of his cheeks as he resumed cornholing Rob. He put headphones on too, so Rob realized there was no point in complaining, Otto wouldn’t hear. Otto forced Rob’s head to face forward again.
Then he began plowing hard, his orgasm slowly building. He finally moved a little too as he went, lowering himself, first to pin Rob down and in place, then as Otto reached orgasm, he got lower and lower.
Soon that seven-foot tall body landed on Rob, pinning him to the floor. Rob struggled to breathe, but he didn’t complain — he loved it. He finally sensed some passion and real desire in Otto’s body. Otto breathed heavily and grunted.
“Okay, I am going to finish now, cowboy. I am going to shoot my semen into your ass, and you will take every drop. That is the plan, do you understand it?” His voice was still flat and firm, but there was a note of urgency now, like he raced to say this before he finally shot his wad.
“Yes, okay!” Rob cried out the best he could beneath Otto’s chest. Since Otto was so tall, Rob was crushed beneath his chest and flat stomach, so Otto could feel his pecs on the back of his head. Rob’s own face was above the floor, Rob’s entire body squirming beneath Otto’s muscles, which were like a blanket that weighed him down.
He still had those headphones on, and his eyes were closed. Pulsating Technomusik was audible from the headphones, and it pounded like a soundtrack as Otto rutted. Otto grunted, a few drops of spit slipping past his lips and onto Rob’s cheeks.
Then, finally, he was done, and cum filled Rob up. He shot a massive load, thick and milky, which seeped into Rob’s flesh. Its heat overwhelmed him, along with the body heat of Otto’s broad muscles, until Rob could feel it all over himself, like he had been literally covered inside and out.
“Aaaaah….” Otto moaned directly into Rob’s ear. Then he wrapped one of those powerful corded-muscle arms around Rob’s thin, reedy chest. He lifted Rob up.
The other orgasm running through Rob was so intense he had little awareness of what was happening. He didn’t get why Otto lifted him up, not until Otto’s hand reached around to Rob’s own cock and touched it.
Rob couldn’t speak right now, so he didn’t ask why Otto gave him a reacharound — and he wouldn’t have asked even if he could, because he worried asking would make Otto realize he didn’t need to and therefore stop.
Otto actually just thought this was part of it. He found it distasteful, but it was just a handjob. He kept his limpening dick in Rob’s ass — he just assumed that was what most men did, because it seemed logical and efficient — as he stroked him off.
Since he had just gotten plowed and Otto’s cock still teased his prostate, Rob began orgasming basically the moment Otto started stroking him off. He writhed, impaled on Otto’s dick, wrapped up in his pale stone-like arms.
Finally cum sprayed over Otto’s fingers and onto the floor. Rob cried out, his whole body vibrating in a ferocious frenzy that was only more intense because Rob knew how much he stood out — Otto barely moved at all, no more than necessary, so Rob’s wild motions seemed odd and unsuitable to Otto.
Not that he would ever say that. Otto was intensely aware of the sticky cum dripping from his fingers, but he didn’t let himself get bothered by it. He waited until Rob was done shooting his wad.
Then Otto let go. His dick flopped out, and Rob toppled to the ground, letting out a loud post-orgasmic sigh. Otto stood. He shook his dick between his fingers, then grabbed the remaining napkins from his to-go bag.
He quickly and efficiently wiped up his own hands and cock, then he even wiped up the cum off the floor and off Rob’s ass. He threw the napkins back into the bag that waited by the door to be thrown away. He pulled his lederhosen back up, cursing at the sight of a few drops of cum that had hit the fabric.
“I will have to wash these now. You must pay extra,” Otto said. “Hand over the money now. Five hundred and twenty euros.”
Rob didn’t really think it was reasonable to pay to clean the lederhosen. If it was up to him, after all, he’d have had Otto take his clothes off, and they wouldn’t have gotten cum-stained.
But Otto didn’t look like he would entertain any haggling. That was something Rob had noticed in Germany so far — no haggling, no special deals or sales, just plain posted prices. It was nice, he thought, even if annoying at times.
He handed over the five hundred and twenty euros, then smiled at Otto. “Thanks for that.”
He nodded. “I hope you have a good time in Germany, sir.” Then he added. “It is simply inspiring.” He smiled, which was awkward on his big squarish face. “Simply Inspiring” was the tourism slogan of Germany and was printed back in that Bier Palas in several languages on one of the walls.
But Rob didn’t know that. He just thought Otto was awkwardly describing Germany as “simply inspiring”. He nodded and smiled. “Oh. Yeah. Cool. Germany’s, uh… been nice.”
“Good. Tell the tourism board I am nice to tourists and I do not frighten you even though I am very big, tell them that,” he said. He nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
He turned around and left, grabbing the paper bag to throw away before he was gone. He put his headphones back on too, and before Rob could even say goodbye, Otto was gone, tapping his feet to the sound of techno before he got on a bus going home.
Rob smiled when he finally left the vestibule. He had done what he set out to do in Germany, he thought, and he was ready to move on.