Category: Lipsweet of the Jersey Shore

The Cocky Guido

Avery is at the Jersey Shore, where he finds himself servicing a cocky guido named Freddie. He can’t get enough of that Italian slab of manmeat!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Most guidos were actually fat or skinny. They were arrogant, orange-skinned prettyboys who weren’t even pretty. The men at the gym had turned out to be a bitter disappointment.
That was the Cornerside Gym of Northtown Meadows in Seaside Heights, New Jersey. Avery worked there. Cornerside Gym had a reputation nationwide as a place for serious meatheads, weightlifters, boxers, etc., and the gym didn’t even accept women as members except where legally required to.
Seaside Heights, New Jersey, was not one of those places, so no women ever came into Cornerside except as cleaners at night. Avery didn’t mind that one bit. He enjoyed watching men work out, and he greatly appreciated the physiques of the men who worked out here. Seaside Heights was on the Jersey Shore, so a lot of those men were guidos.
It wasn’t like the guidos from that teevee show though. In the real world, most guidos were fat, or at least the ones who came to Avery’s gym were pretty tubby. They didn’t seem to realize it though. They carried themselves like they had good bodies they wanted to show off. One of them even once pulled up his shirt and smacked on his protruding belly as he insulted a skinny nerd in the locker room, even though the skinny nerd was in better shape than he was.
It was disconcerting. More than once, Avery wondered if he had wandered into an alternate reality where the standards for having a good body had changed. Still though, there was something about their cocky confidence that was arousing even when their bodies weren’t perfect, and sometimes they had both the perfect body and the cocky confidence.
Those, of course, were Avery’s favorites. One of them was Freddie Rizzoli.
Freddie walked out of the weight room one afternoon wearing nothing but sandals and a pair of sweat-marinated basketball shorts. Freddie was short and squat, too muscular for his body size, like he had trouble supporting so much muscle, yet he didn’t have that awkward-bodybuilder shape either — he looked too muscular only because he was so short, he packed more power than seemed possible into a small space.
“That’s right, man, fuck it! I told them how it is!” He pounded on his chest, talking to some friends as they all headed into the locker room. His bare chest flexed. He ran his fingers through his greasy slicked-back hair. “I don’t even play like that, man, swear to God! No disrespect, baby!”
Avery blushed and looked away. He hoped he didn’t look too obvious. He went about his business, ignoring Freddie and the other guidos. He heard them grunting and encouraging each other as they did bench presses. They were touchy, gripping each other’s muscles and casually masaging each other’s shoulders in between sets. When walking by, he even saw Freddie laying on that bench press with those sweat-soaked shorts clinging to his flesh. The outline of his huge, uncut cock was clearly visible pressing against the fabric of the shorts. It left nothing to the imagination.
When Freddie lifted, he grunted and his dick twitched. Avery drooled a little. He hurried away. Avery’s own cock was rock-hard, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Freddie. He rushed home to jack off.
But then he didn’t see Freddie at the gym next time he went. Avery was disappointed.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he saw Freddie again, still with those same couple of friends — he seemed to spend all of his time with them. Freddie ran his fingers through that over-brushed mop of straight, crunchy hair as he went into the locker room, having finished his workout, muscles drenched in sweat and cradled by the too-tight tank top he wore. Avery wondered if he could come up with an excuse to go into the locker room to check Freddie out. He blushed even though he was alone, not wanting to feel like such a lush.
But Freddie and his friends remained in there for only a minute or two. They returned with towels around their waists, having taken off their shirts. Avery watched sweat gleam on Freddie’s chest — which was freshly shaven, and not at all orange (Freddie actually tanned using sunlight, unlike most of his friends).
“Man, it’s just head,” Freddie said to one of his buddies, with a haughty chuckle, “you shouldn’t be picky about head.” He grabbed his dick through the towel around his waist.
“Why not?”
He laughed as though the answer should be obvious: “Cuz then you might get less. A mouth is a mouth, after all. So long as it’s warm and wet, who cares what she looks like?” His friends snorted and agreed with him, except for the one who had asked the question. Avery didn’t mean to follow them, but they went in the same direction he went. They went to the sauna, whereas Avery intended to walk past the sauna to go to the employee lounge. Freddie glanced at him and nodded his chin in his direction. “Fat girls love suckin’ dick,” he said quietly, like he thought Avery would scold him for being crude.
“Ain’t that nasty?”
“You ain’t gotta look down, do ya?” Freddie said as he went in the sauna, friends following behind him. They guffawed and slapped Freddie on the back. Freddie’s dimpled face, wide-eyed and exhilarated, was visible through the little window in the sauna door.
Wow, he is a champion douchebag… That was one aspect of guido life that came through on TV loud and clear. Avery didn’t like men because they were nice though.
He liked men with muscles and machismo and manhood to spare, and Freddie as exactly that sort of man.
Avery was disappointed that he didn’t get to watch Freddie any longer. Unfortunately, the sauna was one of the few spots in this gym where he couldn’t justify simply walking in whenever he wanted. Staff normally stayed out of there, and there was no storage or anything else he might have been able to use as an excuse. Plus, he had some actual job responsibilities he needed to get back to eventually.
For now though, he kept an eye on the little window in the door though. He was able to watch Freddie’s shoulder muscles flex as he laughed. The sight of his muscles and the sound of his arrogant alpha-male laughter made Avery’s dick twitch and harden up in his pants.
Avery was about to walk away to jack off alone when he heard some low murmured comments in the sauna, followed by more chortling laughter. It was very loud this time, loud enough to startle Avery from his daydream. From the tone, he guessed somebody had made some sort of scandalous joke. Something about the sound made him stand flat against the wall, listening the best he could.
A part of him could tell that they had been talking about him. The hairs on the back of Avery’s neck stood on end. He couldn’t put his fingers on what made him think that until he heard their words, but he was certain of it even before he listened.
“Man, that ain’t what I’m sayin’!” Freddie insisted, his voice audible through the door. It sounded like he was trying to stay light-hearted, to prove this wasn’t a big deal, whatever it was. Avery could hear him rolling his eyes in there as his friends laughed at him, a forced smile on his face to make himself seem easygoing even though he wasn’t. “A mouth is a mouth is all I’m saying. That’s how they did it in the Old Country-“
“As though you know, man.”
“Fuck you, bitch, say that to my face!” Freddie barked and everyone fell silent. That part was clearly audible outside the sauna. Then Freddie cleared his throat and chuckled like he hadn’t just snapped. “Yo, I been there, you know that. In Sicily, man, if you act like some disrespec’ful punk, man, you get on ya knees, boi! Verità!” He laughed cruelly. “I ain’t done it myself, but I know how shit goes down. My uncle got this one punk who owe him money, man, he puts that bitch in his place e’ry day, man!” He paused. “‘Cept on Sunday, man, he don’t do that. That’s God’s day.”
His friends murmured quietly in response, but nobody challenged him. It sounded like Freddie said this frequently and they tolerated it but didn’t approve. They exchanged glances with each other, and they laughed politely at Freddie’s antics. As always, he had taken it too far. Freddie always took things too far. When his friends laughed, he laughed harder. When his friends bullied a nerd, Freddie got too mean about it and did time in juvie. When his friends smoked weed or drank beer, Freddie smoked or drank until he puked. When they insulted a pimp, Freddie insulted him so bad the pimp tried to stab him.
The one thing Freddie couldn’t do was stop himself.
Freddie didn’t like the idea of his friends thinking of him as a braggart — he liked the idea of being old-school, hardcore, not behaving like some “prettyboy”, as his father would have called his friends. Only pansies worried about projecting an image; a real man trusted that reality would show off his manhood to everyone who needed to see it. His body streaked with sweat, he made sure his friends could all see his muscles. He kissed first one bicep, then the other, and he let his towel “accidentally” fall away to reveal his gigantic dick.
He knew he had the biggest dick among his friends. He made sure they never forgot it. His shaft was more than a foot long, veiny as fuck, and it was thick like a coke can.
“Man, Freddie, admit it, you playin’, right? You wouldn’t do nothin’ like that, and we all know it,” someone said, and everyone else fell quiet. They all shared knowing snickers with each other. “This ain’t the Old Country-“
Freddie scoffed loudly. “Yo, you don’t even know, man. No disrespect, but you don’t get how a real man is, ya feel me?” He sniffled and laughed to show how little he cared for that suggestion. He shrugged like it was no big deal. “If you got a real man’s cock and balls like me, you need to use ’em, y’know. That’s how Italians do, man, ya gotta drain ya nuts.”
“That’s why you get fat girls, man-“
“Yeah, well, fat chicks suck dick the best, everybody knows that. They know how to get deep, and they don’t get pissy about it if you force it in deeper.” He imitated a girl’s plaintive voice begging for more cock, and he pumped his hips, shadow-fucking a woman’s mouth. “Oh, it’s too big, don’t make me deep-throat it, Freddie, I can’t take the whole thing. But it tastes so good… Oooh, I want more…” He switched back to his own voice. “When I get a woman, I get inside that pussy, man. It’s all about the pussy.” He paused. “Or ass, ‘course, if she a dirty bird.”
“You could get some ass right now.”
“Yeah, do it, Freddie.”
Freddie snorted. “What?”
“There’s that dude out there, right? The one who works here? The little flamboyant one?”
Avery blushed. Am I caught? They must have noticed me checking him out. Avery was the only one who worked at this gym who might be described as a “little flamboyant” man. Avery held back a giggle.
“Yeah, he wanna slurp yo’ balls, man. He looked at you like a fat kid looks at cake.”
“So let ‘im.” Freddie shrugged. He wagged his pecker towards his friends. He guffawed too, slapping his knee at the sick look they made — they didn’t like being reminded that he had the biggest cock in the whole crew.
“Yeah, that’s some Old Country shit, Freddie. Does ya dick work or not?”
They all laughed, all except Freddie. He bit his lip and scoffed again, like this wasn’t a big deal and of course he would do it, like there was no doubt, even though the hesitation in his voice was palpable. “I mean… yeah, like… Uh-huh…. He prolly ain’t allowed to.” He cleared his throat. “Gym prolly got rules and shit.” Then he let out another forced laugh, like that ended the conversation and he wasn’t going to continue it. “So what’re you’s doin’ tonight-?”
“Uh-huh, you scared?”
“He is, he’s worried his dick won’t work-“
“Probably worried the creep gonna have a bigger dick than him.”
“What if the dude makes him bend over and ramrods him like a prison bitch?”
“That’s prolly what’ll happen-“
“Freddie gonna bottom for him-!”
They all laughed, all again, except Freddie, who roared and bellowed. “Man! I could kick that punk’s ass!” Even as he said it, he knew it made him sound weak — it was obvious he could kick that punk’s ass, that’s why his friends had suggested otherwise as a joke. Freddie knew he made himself sound defensive and weak, but he couldn’t help himself. He hated it when anyone questioned his masculinity, even a little bit. “I could do it, no problem. No disrespect, but I could knock that boy’s block off.”
Having a feeling that Freddie was about to come out of the sauna, Avery stepped away. He went to the closet just down the hall and made it look like he had just brought the mop bucket there and needed to move stuff around to make space for it. Since he wasn’t near the sauna anymore, he couldn’t hear what they said, but they kept laughing and chanting while Freddie listed excuses.
“Man, you know how I am, I don’t like, y’know… This gym is real important, I don’t wanna ruin it, y’know, get kicked out and shit. Gotta get my gym on, pump up the muscles, y’know-“
“Uh-huh, Freddie, just admit it, you’ve never jacked off in a dude’s mouth-“
“And you never would-“
“And you know fuck-all about how they would do it in the ‘Old-Country’-“
“All you’s guys can go fuck yaselves,” Fredde said with a grimace. He flexed one bicep and kissed it again, showing off a dimpled smile — for no clear reason that Avery could tell, Freddie was just unsure of himself and filled up awkward pauses with bluster and self-worship. “Course I’ll do it. Ain’t nevuh said I wasn’t gonna do it.”
Finally Freddie came out of the sauna. He had only a towel wrapped around his waist. He blanched at the sight of Avery like he had hoped maybe Avery would have left by now.
But Avery was there by the closet, fiddling with the mop bucket. He smiled at Freddie.
“Hey, uh, yo…” He sounded like he was going to ask a question politely. But then he heard his friends all clustered by the door to hear, poking at his back and teasing him under their breath. He felt he needed to maintain his macho image. So he grabbed his dick through his towel. “Yo, freak, you wanna slurp my meat?”
Avery blushed. “Uh…” His first reaction was, of course, to say yes, but he instinctually wanted to avoid looking too pervy, and Freddie was such a jerk Avery had an unquenchable desire to tell him no, even if he really wanted to say yes. So he played coy. He giggled and touched Freddie’s nipple, making both pecs flex in sync with each other. Freddie furrowed his brow. “I don’t know,” Avery said with another girlish giggle.
“Course you do.” Freddie scoffed. He took a deep breath and dropped his towel, standing there cockily in the hallway like he expected Avery to be so turned on by his foot-long dick that he couldn’t help but start swallowing it down right then and there. He was almost right, but Avery kept a nonchalant look on his face, despite desire blooming deep within him. When his posing didn’t result in Avery dropping to his knees, Freddie just scowled and said, “Come on.” He opened the door to the sauna.
Avery blushed but came in. The other guidos were rushing to get their own towels over their waists — they had been wearing the towels, but they hadn’t bothered to keep them secured, so most of them were loose; now that there was a stranger in the sauna, they made sure to fix the towels.
“Ah, shit, is he really doin’ it?”
“Oh damn, Freddie!”
“Bow-bow-chicka-wow-wow!”
Avery and Freddie were in the center of the sauna, which forced the other guidos by the door. They all clustered together as though worried they’d get splashed on. Though they thought it was too weird to be near Avery, they didn’t mind bumping into each other, clasping each other’s sweaty muscles and getting so close together they could taste each other’s bodies. Avery could even see one man’s towel ride up enough on his thigh that his dick protruded and rubbed against his buddy’s hairy orange-tanned thigh — they were all so engrossed in watching Freddie that no one noticed.
“Well, get on ya knees, boi!” Freddie said, pumping his biceps for the benefit of his friends. He even kissed one bicep, which made Avery giggle. Freddie ran his fingers through his greasy black hair. “You’s guys thought I wasn’t gonna do it, you thought I was just playin’!”
“Freddie’s fo’ real!”
“Aw, shit, baby!” one of them shouted, ran forward a few feet and smacked Freddie on the ass — that seemed to be some kind of inside joke — before going back to his compatriots. As he did, his towel fell, baring a splendid orange-brown ass, gleaming with sweat in the overheated sauna. Avery wondered which of that guido’s friends spray-tanned his buttcheeks.
“Get ya naked ass outta here-!”
“Don’t let your dick touch me!”
They shoved him away, and the one who had run away from the group looked behind his back. He didn’t want to pick up the towel that he had dropped because it would mean he had to bend over, ass facing either his friends or Avery and Freddie. Finally he squatted awkwardly, covering his crotch with one hand, picked up the towel and wrapped it around his waist again.
Avery sunk to his knees. He blushed, embarrassed at the leering, laughing guidos who surrounded him. Freddie had a nice big cock. His pubic hair was trimmed, which Avery was not a fan of — he preferred a more natural man — and his chest was shaved as smooth as a billiard ball. But that gym-toned body was perfect enough to make up for any disappointment in his lack of hair.
When he took Freddie’s dick in his mouth, Freddie gasped but tried to cover it up by sternly grunting, so his friends didn’t think this was a big deal for him. He crossed his arms over his pecs and flexed his muscles, making Avery giggle and blush again.
“See? You’s guys is a bunch of pansies, gettin’ all squeamish like girls,” Freddie said with a scoff, as though this had happened a hundred times and Freddie was fed up with their response. “A mouth is a mouth, boi!” He flexed both biceps over Avery’s head.
But Avery could sense the nervous energy in the thrum of Freddie’s muscles and the tension even in his relaxed limbs. It didn’t bother Avery none, as he focused on slurping that rod down deep.
“Damn, Freddie…”
“Get deep in his throat!”
Ruddy arousal bloomed over Freddie’s face and chest, his tanned neck turning burgundy. His tongue lolled around inside his mouth. Sweat covered his body. Freddie tensed up because he was worried he would cum too quickly. He had been raised to think being on top made him tough but cumming too quick would make him weak — a real man should take a little time to fuck his bottom’s throat.
But taking a break or otherwise slowing down directly would look weak too. Freddie’s instinct was to grab Avery’s head and fuck his face aggressively. He didn’t entirely want to to do though, because it would require touching his head and reminding himself he was with a man. In any case, he was sure that would make him cum right away.
“Swallow it, yo…” Freddie paused and added, in poor Italian, “Succhiare il mio cazzo!” He thought a little trash-talk would be a good compromise — it would make him look tough without making him cum more quickly, and that sentence was one of the few Italian things he could say confidently. So he said it again, “Succhiare il mio cazzo!”. He chuckled. Ain’t nobody else here knew what that meant, so Freddie flexed his pecs to make them bounce and sneered down at the weak man slobbering on his knob. Spit dripped down the shaft and soaked his pubic hair. “Aw, shit, you gonna play with it like a tubby bitch, huh? You best-” His voice broke, which he only barely managed to cover up by coughing. A shiver of potent pleasure ran up his spine. Freddie blushed — it wasn’t obvious because he was very tan and he was ruddy anyway from the heat in this humid sauna, but he could feel it, and he grew antsy trying to affect a nonchalant attitude in front of his friends. “You best deep-throat that shit, baby…” He winced as his friends laughed — he hadn’t meant to call Avery baby. That was a step too far, he thought.
“Baby? You two gonna fall in love?”
“Ooooooh! Freddie’s in love!”
“Fuck you, man, you’s guys-” Freddie pumped his hips one time, cutting off his own words because his dick rammed all the way into Avery’s throat and an explosion of pleasure like nothing he had ever experienced wracked his body. It felt so good it hurt.
He had never been deep-throated like this. He couldn’t admit how unprecedented it was because he had been bragging to his friends for years about how he made his girls deep-throat him. He said that they loved it. He specifically said that his balls rested on their chin when he came. That had never been true until now.
His balls slapped against Avery’s chin, and Freddie let out a tortured crying wail as an orgasm erupted within him. Already his friends snickered — that had taken maybe three minutes — and hooted as they slapped his ass.
He grunted, his orgasm so intense it almost hurt, and he gripped Avery’s head tightly, ignoring his short, masculine haircut. He grimaced and sprayed a massive wad down Avery’s throat, filling his belly up with creamy warmth.
The taste was salty and savory, and Avery guzzled down every drop. He loved straight boy cum because it had a vibrant, spring-like quality that made him crave more even as he swallowed Freddie’s load and licked every drop off his limpening shaft.
It just kept on flowing, more and more. Freddie’s eyes opened wide as he watched. His friends peered closer — they’d never really seen someone cum before. Of course they’d watched porn and they’d fucked their girlfriends alongside each other — they even once gangbanged this older lady who had begged for Italian meat — but they had always been distracted by their own desires and the female flesh around them. Not this time. They had no reason to look anywhere else, and like people unable to turn their heads away from an accident, they stared as Freddie’s dick throbbed and pulsating.
Great creamy gobs of cum spilled out and over Avery’s face. He saw all those eyes staring at him, and he thought to make a big mess, letting most of the cum in his mouth overflow. That embarrassed them all.
“Aw, shit-“
“Lookit that nasty!”
“Oh it’s all over his face! It’s all over his face! You the man, Freddie!”
“Ah, shit, yo, damn…” Freddie said. He shook his head and sighed, trying not to reveal how surprised he was by that big load. Avery had really pulled it right out of his balls. Freddie shrugged as though that was how much cum he normally shot. “Damn… Alright, I was, y’know… You can go now, man-” His voice broke and his friends laughed at him. “We done, you, uh… I used you as quick as I could. I wasn’t tryin’ to take a lotta time, so now you gotta go.” Freddie again knew he sounded defensive; he sounded like he was embarrassed about how quick that had been (which he was), but he couldn’t stop himself. “Man, that was what they call a cazzo veloce in the Old Country.”
Avery remained sitting right there. Freddie was so focused on demonstrating to his friends how macho he was and how he had forced Avery to slurp his dick then leave that he didn’t notice that Avery hadn’t left. Avery sat next to Freddie and clutched his muscular body. Freddie was too uncomfortable to make him leave, so he endured it until he and his friends had finally had enough of the sauna.
Then they left Avery there to remember the taste of Freddie’s fine Italian cock. That, Avery thought, had been unici deliziosi!

The Cook

Avery is after a hunky waiter, but when he gets shot down, he finds himself servicing a perfectly chunky cook with a cocky attitude and a manhood to match!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery Flowers ate the salad. It was a terrible salad. It was just a little plastic container full of lettuce, with a half a tomato plopped on top, and a cup of ranch dressing on the side. It was obvious no one ever ordered the side salad.
That was fine with Avery, he wasn’t here for the salad. He was here for the men. Or one man specifically.
His name was Robert Halberman, and he was handsome like a movie star. He had deep dimples and a trim, lean body, with high cheekbones that looked like they were sculpted from the finest clay. His chin was strong and wide, his jaw high and square. He had a thick shock of black hair that was slicked back.
He was handsome enough to make Avery forget how disappointing the salad was. It’s not like he wanted it anyway, it was just an excuse to be here.
“Hey, man, whatchoo puttin’ it off for? She gave you digits, you best use ‘em or I might!” That wasn’t Robert, that was the cook behind the little window into the back. He was chunky and had a few acne scars on his cheek, but Avery hadn’t gotten a good look at him yet — he certainly wasn’t handsome like Robert, and he seemed obnoxious. Avery wished he would go away.
Robert said something that Avery couldn’t catch, and the other guy exclaimed, “Hell yeah, I’ll take a run at her. She might like me, ya never know, homeboy!” His deep barrel laugh filled the air.
Avery already didn’t like the cook. He was loud and grating. As closing time drew near, Avery wondered if it would be possible to get Robert alone. It was just the two of them, so he hoped that the cook would have stuff to do in the kitchen while Robert prepared the front to close. That would be convenient. It would give Avery plenty of opportunity to talk to Robert.
This place did mostly takeout and delivery, so no one came in during the last few minutes they were open. Then the elderly Chinese woman who did the deliveries this evening got her last order and left. She locked the door on the way out because it was two minutes to close.
No one had told Avery to leave yet, but he had finished his salad — or rather, he had nibbled sufficiently on his bowl of lettuce (the tomato half was too underripe to eat). He saw Robert sneaking sideways glances at him. It was no doubt weird for someone to come in and eat a terrible, overpriced salad at nearly midnight. But Avery had really come here for Robert, not the salad (and secondarily, Avery had come here to get away from his mother, who was probably farting herself to sleep right now after having tuckered herself out muttering racist comments at the news).
“Hi, sir, we’re closed now. You can, uh… stay and finish,” Robert said. “For a little while, but, uh…” He had the mop bucket out, and he smiled, flashing those charming dimples at Avery.
“Yeah, no problem,” Avery said. “I’ll be gone soon. Can I make you an offer first?”
“An offer? What?”
“I’ll give you two hundred dollars if you let me take a swing on your dick,” Avery said. “I’ll slurp you dry, man, I’ll-“
“What? No way. No. I mean… gross, man, no way.” Robert blushed. “I got a girlfriend. And no, y’know, just plain no.” He backed away.
Avery was deflated and embarrassed. He had really thought that would work. He could tell he had intimidated Robert. That happened sometimes.
‘Oh well’, he thought. ‘It was worth a try. Tomorrow I’ll take an uber’. There was an uber driver around here, a Brazilian hunk who seemed willing to take his dick out at a moment’s notice. Avery didn’t even need to pay to jack him off, he was so enthusiastic it was too easy.
That made it less fun though. He didn’t like to admit it even to himself, but Avery enjoyed the hunt. He liked tracking down straight boys and getting them to cross that line. If he didn’t get turned down sometimes, then he wasn’t pushing his luck enough, that was how he saw it.
He got up to throw the remains of his “salad” away. He thought about getting a bottle of water for the ride home, but it was so expensive here, and Robert had probably already shut down the register.
“Ha ha ha ha ha!” That cook laughed so loud it echoed in the squat little corner pizza shop. “You gettin’ paid, boi! How’s dat?! Huh? What? You fuckin’ pansy-ass, a mouth is a mouth! What’s ya goddamn problem, jabroni?”
The cook waddled out to the front of the shop, his big cheeks ruddy, which covered up the spot of acne scarring over by his left cheek. He was thickly built — he definitely didn’t have a six-pack, but he wasn’t fat — he looked like he fancied himself a bodybuilder and lifted weights a lot, but ate too much of the pizza he cooked here to really have a great body.
He had dark hair like Robert’s, but his was curly, tangled and greasy, slick with sweat. He did not have sculpted cheekbones — he had no cheekbones at all that Avery could see — and his jaw was entirely too square, giving him a cavemanish look.
So he was not a handsome movie-star type. He looked Italian though, like he should really work in a pizza shop — he even had a map of Italy with the state of Puglia colored in tattooed on his wide but short neck — while Robert looked more like a dark-haired Irishman.
“Hey, yo, man, lemme rap atcha, huh? I heard you like some manmeat. I know I got some hella belly, I see that, swear to God, I know I ain’t on the slim and skinny prettyboy train!” the cook said. He lifted up his shirt to reveal his paunch — which was really minimal, he sort of carried himself like a fat guy, Avery thought, which accentuated it. If he lost just twenty pounds, he’d have a perfect body.
Avery didn’t mind that though. He blushed at sight of the cook slapping his belly. He didn’t need his men to have a perfect body — to some degree, he thought, an imperfect body was more interesting. He’d met plenty of swarthy loverboys like Robert, but the cook was novel.
“But I got meat to spare, lemme tell you, bud, lemme say that. I got all kinda meat, I got Italian sausage — no lies, man, swear to God, I swear to motherfucking God, you got me? You wanna see it?” He made like he was going to drop his pants right here in front of the wide open windows. He undid his belt, then grinned — he had dimples too, deep pools excavated into those chipmunkian cheeks — and put it back. “Can’t do it here, and you gotta pay if you wanna see it, huh?”
“Well-“
“I ain’t no kinda liar, swear to God. I got a foot of meat, and I think you can pay me to see it, okay? I’m from Queens — and my name is Vinnie Delatucci, okay? Nice to meetcha-” He shook Avery’s hand vigorously, then he rammed Avery’s hand down his pants. Avery yelped in surprise as his hand brushed over a big sweaty dick. “Grab it so you can see-” Vinnie yelped and blushed when Avery actually grabbed his cock, like he hadn’t thought Avery would actually do it. “See? Ain’t no baby dick like Robert’s-“
“Shut the fuck up, Vinnie-!”
“Hey! You said no. I am a firm believer, yessuh, that the customer is always right, baby. You see, back in Queens, New Yawk where I’m from-“
“You ain’t gotta tell no one that, Vinnie. Literally no one is impressed,” Robert called out from the counter, where he counted up credit card receipts.
Vinnie puckered his lips. “Man, you don’t even know, you don’t even know, boy, swear to God. I call it how I see it, that’s right, motherfucker. Back in Queens, swear to God, there’s all kinda old dudes who wanna touch a big dick, they say it makes ya dick bigguh-” For the first time, Vinnie seemed momentarily flustered. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, swear to God. They’s always payin’ motherfuckers, you know, you can easy anytime make a couple bucks off some old-ass freak.” He paused. “You ain’t a old freak, I ain’t callin’ you that.”
“Hmm-hmm. So you’ve done it before?” Avery asked. He tweaked Vinnie’s nipple through his uniform polo shirt.
“Nah.” Vinnie sniffled, watching Avery touch his chest with wide-eyed amazement. “I had females beggin’ for my meat. So I ain’t need to get wit’ them. Ain’t got time. You don’t even know, swear to God. Chicks around here is a bunch of prudes, swear to God, ain’t like New Yawk chicks-“
“Don’t listen to him, man, he was a tubby shit in high school-“
“I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout high school-!”
“You left New York City when you graduated, motherfucker, ain’t no girls into you unless they wanted to get grope some tubby fat kid who probably stank like his sister’s oozing pussy-“
“Don’t you talk ‘bout my sister! I wasn’t — man, he don’t even know, he don’t know ‘bout New Yaw — that’s what you call it, man, swear to God. Only outsiders say New Yawk City. And none of that’s true, man, swear to God-“
“It is so true! His brother told me! And I am an outsider, man, I’ve never been to New York City-“
“Don’t fucking say that-!”
“Shut your fat fucking face-!”
“Hey!” Avery screamed. He smiled. “I don’t care who was fat in high school.” Both men looked at him, and Avery waited to be sure they would stay quiet. “Vinnie… Yes, I’ll take you up on that. But you have to put it in my butt too, okay?”
Vinnie scoffed and sucked on his teeth. “Of course, man. I’ll stick you good, fo’ real, you won’t even know. You gonna get rocked, boy! Gonna wreck that ass, fo’ real.” He shouted and clapped his hands. “You got a hotel room or some shit?”
Avery shook his head. “Do you have a supply closet?”
“Fuck yeah, that’s nasty, that’s real nasty, I like that,” Vinnie said. Despite his overconfidence, Avery detected a trace of anxiety in his voice. Vinnie scoffed. “In the closet, yeah. You ain’t gonna snitch, right, Robert? Snitches get stitches.”
“I won’t snitch.”
“Good. Get in there, boy, and get on ya knees!” Vinnie said. He affected a nonchalant look. “I’ll come plow ya throat in a sec, boy, swear to God. I gotta make a call, y’know-“
“He’s gotta call his bitch-ass sister to tell her not to come pick him up right away-“
“Man, shut up, you don’t even know, you don’t even know-“
“That’s what it is, mister! His sister is such a nasty slut-“
“Donchu talk ‘bout my sister, man!” Vinnie headed towards the kitchen, swaggering and screwing up his face.
Avery just ignored him. He decided that Vinnie’s bluster was best ignored. That seemed to be what Robert did anyway. He didn’t know how that argument was resolved, all heard was Vinnie’s deep voice repeating his catchphrases — “You don’t even know, Robert, swear to God!” His Queens accent made it sound like yew done evehn knaw, Rahberh, swuh to Gahd! Several times it sounded like Vinnie was about to punch Robert.
But somehow, it was all resolved in the time it took Avery to find some towels to kneel on. Vinnie swaddled in, his hefty body barely fitting in the doorway because he didn’t open it all the way — as though hiding from someone, though no one was around but Robert. His ass was big and plump, barely fitting in his nasty jeans that reeked of pizza grease — he probably wore these to work every day.
“Man, you gonna beg for it? Lemme hear you beg.” Vinnie sounded confident, but he still looked less so than he wanted to — his body language was nervous. He crossed his arms over his chest. Avery was quite sure that he had witnessed someone do it like this, some macho New Yawker who had leaned back against a wall and looked very cool letting a man jerk him off. Vinnie looked like he was imitating someone Avery had never met.
“Please, let me taste your dick, I’ll do it so good, I promise. You can smash my throat real hard,” Avery said.
“Course I can, baby, that’s how I do! We call it how we see it, swear to God, I ain’t even playin’!” Vinnie pounded on the wall as though he was continuing his argument with Robert. Then he gulped audibly in the darkened closet — there was a dim light sliding in from the hallway outside, but it was otherwise dark in here. He unzipped his jeans.
“Hmm… No, take your pants down,” Avery said. He actually liked jerking guys off through their fly, but he predicted that making Vinnie drop his pants would provoke a reaction.
Sure enough, Vinnie scoffed and sucked on his lip. “Alright, boy, goddamn, you need good access, huh? You scared? I bet, donchu worry, I ain’t no kinda, y’know… I can drop my pants, you don’t even know.” He let his jeans, heavy with grease and sweat, plop to the ground. He wore dingy grayish boxers, which he dropped as well.
He had a big dick, that was true. It was not a foot long, Avery could tell that for sure. It was maybe ten inches — still big enough to brag about, but he had clearly been exaggerating. If he lost enough weight to have a six-pack though, Avery thought it might have looked more like a foot long, that always made cocks look bigger.
Avery teased him first by planting his lips on the tip. Vinnie shuddered, but tried to play it off as though it was deliberate. “Woo-hoo, alright, there ya go, yeah. You got it, baby, you got it.” He kissed the air.
He tasted like pizza-grease. Avery loved it. He didn’t eat stuff like pizza anymore — he tried to limit his carbs, though he wasn’t quite on a low-carb diet (he couldn’t handle a true low-carb diet). It was nice to taste a disgustingly delicious pizza once again.
Avery lowered his head quickly, wanting to surprise Vinnie, who shuddered again and clucked his teeth. Avery let that thick shaft fill his throat, and Vinnie gingerly touched his hair.
“Hmmm, yeah, boy, get that shit wet,” Vinnie said, loud enough that Robert could hear on the other side of the wall. He was obviously performing for Robert’s benefit, Avery thought — his dick was only now getting hard and he was already moaning like he was about to blow his nut. “Man, you don’t even know, Robert, you squeamish pansy! Scared to get ya dick wet, boy, swear to God! Feels just like a fine-ass female!”
He finally shut up when his dick did twitch and firm up. A wavery moan escaped from his lips — that sounded a lot more genuine. He grunted and his hands finally gripped Avery’s head. Up until now he’d just been touching his scalp gingerly, like he wanted to feel he was fucking Avery’s throat, but couldn’t bring himself to actually do so.
He held onto Avery’s head and pistoned his hips. A surprised groan escaped and his balls swayed in front of Avery’s chin. His dick was rock-hard now.
Avery let a big clump of spit spill out from his mouth, coating Vinnie’s shaft. It ran down into his unkempt pubic bush. His veiny shaft throbbed, and Vinnie’s voice broke — he covered that up by coughing and grumbling. “Uh, yeah, alright then, you gettin’ deep on there!” His knees went weak as a burst of precum hit Avery’s tongue. Vinnie’s voice swooned. “Like a champion, man, shit…”
Robert could be heard laughing — it was obvious that Vinnie was surprised and nervous by how good this felt. Precum flowed down Avery’s throat, the salty and sweet taste making him want to deep-throat forever. His lungs cried out for oxygen, and he pulled off despite Vinnie gripping his head tightly.
Vinnie gasped. “Goddamn, man, shit,” he sucked in his breath. His muscles all quivered as Avery’s hands snuck up under his shirt. Vinnie lifted it up, baring his chest, and took his shirt off. Sweat glistened on his broad chest.
“Are you ready to fuck? Can you handle that?”
“‘Course I can, swear to God, boy! You think I might say no, boy, no way. You best turn around and bend the fuck over, swear to God, I’ll smack the punk off ya face!” He chuckled, then stopped. “I mean, I’m just sayin’, y’know, if you wanna get cornholed-“
“It’s fine, just fuck me.” Avery was too horny to think. His ass tingled, demanding action. He ripped the fly on his jeans in his haste to get them down, and he bent over. He had to stick his upper body on one of the supply closet shelves, so his head was surrounded by trash bags and oregano shakers.
“Okay, man.” Avery took a deep breath and slid his dick between Vinnie’s cheeks. He shivered. “You hear that, man? He beggin’ me for it! He need it, swear to God! Ain’t nobody want you, ya skinny prettyboy blockhead!” He smacked on the wall again.
“He chose me first, Vinnie, you were his consolation prize! Remember?” Robert’s voice came through the wall.
Vinnie paused. Then he scoffed loudly. “That’s cuz he ain’t see me on account of I wuz in the back. Swear to God, man.” He paused and grunted. “Swear to God, he tellin’ me I got a better body than you-“
“He ain’t say that-“
“Swear to God, motherfucker!”
“Lemme hear him say it!”
“His mouth is full, bitch! Just go home, Robert! This is man stuff, okay? Real-man shit goin’ on in here!”
“Yeah, I know, it’s man-stuff, yeah. Have fun with your pervy shit, Vinnie., that’s the ultimate in man-stuff. I’ll tell your sister that’s one less cock for her to suck. Don’t forget to lock up.”
The front door could be heard opening and closing, bell jingling. Vinnie growled like he wanted to shout another insult, but Robert was already gone. Vinnie was slow because he slipped his dick in deeper and deeper.
Intense pressure hit Avery’s ass, making Avery grunt and bite his lip. The pain was potent, and the pleasure distant, at first, but with every thrust of Vinnie’s awkward dick, it felt better and better. His barrel-shaped belly slapped against Avery’s asscheeks.
“Shit, man…” Vinnie had been distracted until now, and Avery could sense the increase in his awkwardity now that he was talking to Robert through the door. With no one to impress, Vinnie’s bravado diminished somewhat. “Hey, lemme get in there, shit, shit, okay, swear to God… shit…”
Slowly the agony in his ass became a mind-melting pleasure. Avery jacked himself off. He raised his head until it bumped into the shelf above him, and he had to lift his head out of the shelving area. That placed himself right in front of Vinnie’s now-bare chest.
It was hairy and broad, fleshy, meaty, muscles flexing over and over as he nervously plowed into Avery’s ass. Avery loved feeling his men’s body behind him, so he jutted backwards until Vinnie had no choice but to wrap his arms around Avery to pound him hard.
“Stay like that, boy, goddamn, here I go, shit!” Vinnie jammed his dick in harder and harder, his inhibitions slowly melting away now that he saw Avery wasn’t going to make him stop. He could understand now why all the older New Yawkers he had grown up with always talked about male ass as though it was as good as female — aside from the lack of tits to grab onto, he thought, it was fine.
“Hmm, fuck me, Vinnie, I wanna get cornholed by a real macho from New York City,” Avery said, his voice breaking. He crooned and turned to rub his face against Vinnie’s broad shoulders.
Vinnie groaned into his ear. “You playin’, boy, I know that. I from New Yawk, baby, not no New Yawk City. Now shut ya face and beg me to ramrod you.”
“Ramrod me, baby, I wanna feel your nut inside me,” Avery said. He puckered his lips and kissed Vinnie on the cheek the best he could like this. He managed to kiss him a little bit on the lips too, and Vinnie didn’t seem to notice or care.
At last they both orgasmed. Avery felt like his entire lower half had turned to liquid, and he wasn’t even aware of his hand jacking himself off until a powerful orgasm erupted within him. It sprayed over those trash bags and the shelf in front of his crotch, while Vinnie let out a long, rumbling roar right into Avery’s ear.
He grunted, and his voice broke. This time, without Robert to make fun of him, Vinnie didn’t bother to cover it up with a cough. He moaned again and again, cooing, his breath condensing on Avery’s cheek. He even kissed Avery back — chastely, no tongue — until he realized what he was doing. In the dark, Vinnie thought, it was easy to forget he wasn’t fucking a woman.
Cum coated Avery’s insides, great creamy gobs of it, every drop stimulating his prostate with a wave of pleasure. He cried out loud and rattled the shelves he still gripped for support. One of the oregano shakers toppled onto the floor, and the smell of oregano bloomed in the air, overpowering the cottony cum-scent that was exploding in Avery’s nose.
“Shit, man, take it, damn… Swear to God…” Vinnie moaned. He shuddered again, his hefty body rubbing against Avery’s back.
“Hmmm… You have a nice dick,” Avery said, his voice a faint tingle since he still had that massive cock stretching his ass and making it hard to concentrate. “Thanks for that.”
“That’s how we do, y’know, you wanna feel some dick, I got plenty,” Vinnie said as he watched his dick slide out. He clucked his tongue. “Swear to God, I ain’t some squeamish fuck. Men get they dick wet. Yeah, hell, yeah, boy, swear to God. Men get they dick wet.”
They both shivered in post-orgasmic bliss when his cock finally plopped out. Cum dripped down Avery’s thigh, but he cleaned himself off with some napkins. Vinnie did the same.
“You got that money, right? You best pay up! I’ll wreck ya if you try to stiff me, ain’t playin’, I’ll wreck the fuck right outta ya!” He punched his own palm, which he no doubt thought was intimidating, but with his pants around his ankles and his voice post-orgasmically warbling, it didn’t come across as intimidating.
Avery giggled. He pulled the money out of his pocket, and placed it in Vinnie’s pants as he pulled them up. He slid his hand all the way in his pocket, giving Vinnie’s cock one last stroke through his pocket. In the same moment, he kissed Vinnie on the lips.
Vinnie just grunted. “Alright, fine. Hey, man, hey man… Since my sister ain’t come, can I get a ride home?”
“Sure,” Avery said. “Can I play with your dick on the way home?”
Vinnie clucked his tongue. “Yeah, fine, whatevuh.” He opened the door and walked out. His pants were up, but he hadn’t taken his short down, so his broad chest muscles, glistening with sweat, were bare. Avery touched one nipple and giggled. Vinnie stopped. “I mean, you best pay, motherfucker. If you wanna play wit’ it… you know-“
“Hmm… We’ll talk,” Avery said. He didn’t intend to pay anymore, not unless he got to at least give a handjob. But that depended on how long the ride would be — if it was long enough for Vinnie to get hard again and cum on the way home, that would be worth a few bucks.
Avery didn’t normally mess around with the same guy twice, but Avery thought he might make an exception for Vinnie. “You’ll have to tell me more about New York City,” Avery said with a giggle.
“Shit, lemme tell you, ain’t no one say that back in New Yawk, swear to God, baby. Back in New Yawk, e’ry motherfucker get his dick wet, fo’ real, ain’t none of that squeamish crap. So yeah, you wanna play wit’, boy, I ain’t tryin’ to stand in ya way. You need some real dick, huh? Ain’t want that prettyboy Robert, right?”
“That’s right,” Avery said.
He wondered if he could find Vinnie’s old neighborhood in Queens. That sounded like a fun place to try next.

The Alpha in a Wrestling Singlet

Avery is summoned into a steamy sauna by a wrestling coach, cuz one of his athletes is in a rage-filled fury over a ref’s bad call, and only Avery’s tender touch — and his mouth — can calm this livid alpha! That’s cuz Marco’s a hothead with a need to dominate other men, which is something Avery is eager to sign up for.

Can Avery get Marco to calm down long enough to spill his seed?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Avery struggled to remain professional. He was in the men’s locker room at the Cornerside Gym near the GHU campus. The smell of sweat filled the air even though no one was in here. It stank of manhood. Avery had an urge to just go through smelling things, checking out the shower where it sounded like someone was still cleaning himself off. The locker room was full of clothes scattered over the floor. That’s because there was a wrestling match going on. The wrestlers had changed, gone out for the match and left their clothes behind.
That was the source of the smell that Avery craved. As a masseur working for the Cornerside Gym, he had to stay professional. He was not hired to sniff the jocks of this college wrestling team.
“Just wait here,” Coach Thickman said when they came to the physical therapy work-space at the back of the locker room, connected to it by a hallway. His bristly mustache shook. Avery suspected that Thickman was supposed to give him more instructions, but Thickman just walked away. “The match is over. Marco will be here soon.”
Avery didn’t know why he was here. He had been hired to give someone named Marco a massage, but Avery had a feeling that was just an excuse to get him here. Marco was probably going to ask for Avery to jerk him off.
That was also part of being a masseur for the Cornerside Gym. Avery was expected to — and was eager to — fulfill that part of his duties. Avery greatly admired the male form, and the Cornerside Gym was full of men with the most admirable of physiques. It was a serious gym, men only, home to real athletes and bodybuilders, and of course, this regional champion wrestling team.
A series of loud whoops and hollers filled the locker room. The sound echoed and resonated. They were angry, upset, Avery gathered, they must not have done well in the match. There were grunts, recriminations, possibly some almost-fights. Avery had to fight back his urge to sneak out there and watch. The physical therapy room was set back a little, with lockable doors since it was accessible from both the men’s and women’s locker rooms. Avery would have to step well out into the hall to see anything. He wondered if he’d get in trouble.
Then Marco entered with a scowl on his face. He was short, but he was a heavyweight, his body packed with muscle and body hair, which extended all the way to his shoulders. He had swarthy skin and dark eyes, with a curly mess of tangled black hair. His hawkbrown nose was hooked and regal — he was a dark hawkbrown, a darkhawk, as they say, not that Avery ascribes to that kind of thing. It had a crooked bent to it, like it had been broken recently.
“Yo.” Marco sneered. “Man!” He threw his hands in the air like he was upset. He turned back around. “Coach! I-” He took one step out of the door and rammed right into the beefy chest of Coach Thickman, who pushed him back into the physical therapy room.
“What?”
“Lemme go talk to that ref, coach. He made a mistake.” Marco’s voice was clipped, angry, almost sinister. He had a thick New York accent with a deep and guttural stawk in a barking baritone to it that made Avery shiver with delight. Marco straightened the tight straps of his wrestling singlet. His chest hair was matted to his skin with sweat. His pecs and his biceps and shoulders and back all kept rippling as though it took every muscle he had to adjust his cock in the crotch of his singlet and stretch then release each strap of the singlet.
He ran his fingers through the thick black mane of hair, which clung flat to his head cuz he was so sweaty and it was hot and humid in here. A few tufts suggested he normally combed it up, and he had a voluminous head of hair, so it probably looked great on him like that. Pity he had a harsh, cocky-asshole of a face, a very punchable face, handsome but you’d never see him play a good guy in a movie.
“No. You’ll hit him.”
Marco scowled. “No I won’t.” But he mean-mugged at Avery as if that was a lie. He again stretched the fabric of his sweat-soaked singlet. The GHU colors were silver and red, so there was a silver U whose lower part stretched to his crotch. His fat cock protruded against the fabric. Avery could see that it had fallen out of his jockstrap, probably because he kept scratching it and rearranging his junk in his singlet. He sniffled and rubbed his nose. He might have been sniffing the hand that just arranged his cock and balls in his singlet. “I won’t hit the pansy.” He glanced at Avery, then looked down at his feet and again rearranged his dick in his singlet. “I don’t hit pansies.”
“You can’t hit someone every time you lose, Marco. You said-“
“Lemme out there!”
“You can’t hit the ref!”
“Fine, lemme fuck the slut. Where’s that slut-?” Marco paced, his hefty ass jiggling up and down in his singlet. It was riding up in his asscrack, so he pulled the fabric out of it as he paced. “You said I could have a slut-“
Coach Thickman slapped Marco across the face. A loud ringing sound boomed and echoed through the locker room. The moist sweatiness of Marco’s skin could be heard in the slap. Thickman shoved Marco back into the physical therapy room. “Don’t make me lay down the law, boy. I let you have a lotta leeway. You know I can’t bring you a female, the university is lookin’ into that shit, I could get fired if they found out. They wouldn’t even let me keep a cheerleader calendar in my office, cuz it could give you boys stiffies you can’t control, you gonna go groping waitresses at the Waffle House and shit, damn-“
“That wasn’t me!” Marco said.
“Shut yo’ fool mouth, sumbitch!” Thickman said. He jabbed a finger in Marco’s face. “You get’cha temper under control!” He sucked on his teeth, mean-mugging Marco harshly. “You got that Latin blood, that’s what that is. You got pepper under yo’ collar.” He feigned like he was gonna smack Marco in the balls, and Marco flinched. Thickman laughed and patted him on the cheek of the face, then the cheek of the ass. “So slow yo’ roll, whiteboy.”
“I told you it ain’t my fault!” Marco shouted. He pounded on his chest. Avery detected a casual stawk in his voice, like he was from New York or pretended to be. “Lemme out there, I ain’t a pussy. I can kick that blond motherfucker’s ass too, that last one I wrestled. He wrestled like a rank coward, like he don’t know nothing, Coach, swear to Christ! He over there in the other locker room, right? C’mon, he ain’t gonna bitch me out. No way. I ain’t lookin’ like a sloppy punk-ass sumbitch! I’ll go right over there, coach, swear to fuckin’ Christ! I’ll rip his goddamn nuts off and shove ‘em down that ref’s throat! I keeps it real, you know that!”
“Marco!” Coach Thickman barked. He smacked Marco again, and Marco stepped towards him like they were going to fight. Thickman pushed Marco, who was red-faced and fuming now, unable to stand still. He came at Thickman as though trying to pick a fight with someone behind him, even though there was no one there.
“You promised, Coach, you said you’d get me a girl! You said that! I ain’t playin’, I ain’t that kinda man! That fuckhead from Portsmouth State, man, I swear, you know I could have kicked his ass if it wasn’t for that damn ref!”
“Marco, shut up!” Thickman wrapped one arm around Marco’s head and put him in a tight headlock. Marco screamed and twisted, trying to get out of it, but he ended up only ensconced more tightly in Thickman’s arms. Thickman shouted incomprehensibly. Marco was bent backwards, with made his sweat-soaked crotch bulge aim upward. Avery’s eyes were drawn to it.
Marco was uncut. Avery could see that through the singlet. He licked his lips.
There was a long awkward pause. Avery was both nervous because this had turned into a very angry encounter for no comprehensible reason and aroused because Marco’s massive body rubbed against Coach Thickman’s. Marco’s sweat rubbed off on Thickman’s muscled flesh, which made his white polo shirt translucent.
“You okay? You better now?” Thickman asked when there had been a few moments of silence. Marco’s glistening chest heaved up and down, his pecs rippling under the straps of his singlet.
“Yeah. Fine. Lemme go.” Marco scoffed as though that should have been obvious, like he had never lost his temper. Thickman let him go. Marco again straightened his singlet. He glanced at Avery as though he hadn’t noticed him until now. “Man, coach-“
“Shut ya face, Marco.”
Marco bit his lip and looked down. His muscles were tense. He opened his mouth to complain a few more times, then stopped.
Thickman crossed his arms over his chest. “You wanted me to keep you out of trouble, right? You wanted me to make sure you didn’t get kicked off the team and arrested?”
“Man… Just… I won’t hit him.” Marco didn’t sound like he believed that even as he said it.
“Who? Some random lady in the parking lot?”
Marco sucked on his teeth. “No!” Coach Thickman glared at him. Marco cleared his throat. “The ref, man.”
“He’s gone, Marco. The only person you’ll find out there you can hit is maybe a lady in the parking lot.”
“I can go after that blond fuck from Portsmouth State. He wrestled like a fucking pussy, Thickman-“
Thickman slapped him again. “Do not call me Thickman, you little shit. You speak to me with respect.”
“Sorry, Coach.” Marco shifted his weight between his feet.
Thickman looked at Avery. “This is Marco. He’s a fucking moron with a temper problem. His idiot brain is always picking fights-“
“Man, Coach-” He sucked on his teeth.
“Shut up. Every time he loses he throws a little baby hissyfit and punches someone. Then I gotta clean up his messes with the police, with his teammates, with the dean, with the goddamn rabbi that one time-“
“It ain’t a hissyfit, shut up! I ain’t a fuckin’ pussy, coach, I’ll kick anyone’s ass, swear to Christ! I’ll come at those motherfuckers with e’rything — I’ll punch a Jew if he comes at me, you know that, I keep it real, Coach! Motherfuckers are always comin’ at me-“
“Shut up!” Thickman roared. “Which motherfuckers, Marco? There’s no motherfuckers here to hit. You just lost a match. You can’t get arrested every time that happens.”
“I ain’t get arrested every time it happens!”
“Sixty percent of the time!”
“Not every time! That ain’t every time!”
Thickman sighed. “You said you needed to get a nut out, Marco-“
“Not a man!”
“You specifically said you didn’t care! We agreed on this! You said you ain’t care cuz you a top. As long as you get ya dick wet, it don’t matter. Ah, coach, you don’t even know, where I come from, real man gotta stick his dick in someone, just fuck the shit outta her, or him, it’s all pink on the inside! I make any kinda bitch squeal!” Thickman did an exaggeratedly caveman-like impression. “Remember? The hood in Brooklyn.”
“I ain’t say that! I ain’t say that! I was just talkin’ ‘bout, y’know, my old ‘hood back in New York, coach. That’s how wise guys do it, y’know. They don’t care ‘bout males…” Marco’s voice trailed off. He looked at Avery like he had just noticed him there. “I mean… Yeah, hell yeah, I can do it. You ready, boy? I’m-a rock ya world.” He grabbed his dick through his singlet and shook it in Avery’s direction. “Wreck ya ass, boy. Like the old country.”
Thickman slapped him again. “What’d I say about that shit?” He lightly smacked Marco’s ass through that tight blue singlet. “Go’n cornhole him. He’s into it.” He looked at Avery, who eagerly nodded. Thickman smacked Marco’s ass again, making his cheeks jiggle like Mount Aetna. “Go’n hurry up. Don’t hit him.”
“I won’t!” Then Marco was quiet for a long time, chewing on his lower lip. His anger seemed to have diminished, but his chest still heaved, soaked in aggression-fueled sweats. “What happened to that girl?”
Thickman sighed. “I tol’ you that ain’t happenin’, on account of two reasons. Firstly, you lost and I ain’t bringin’ you no girl when you lose.”
“Man…”
“Secondly, you called that girl a bitch and a slut and a ho. You tried to get her to suck ya brother’s dick.”
“So? She could’ve done it.”
“Marco… You told me you couldn’t concentrate cuz the girls around here are prudes. You said you’d stop getting in trouble if you-“
“Coach-!”
“You said that! You said you needed to drain ya nuts! You ain’t say nothin’ ‘bout double-teamin’ some slut with your brother! Who ain’t even in this state, dumbass! What’d you think she was gonna do? Hang out in here while your brother drives for eight hours to get a blowjob?”
“Man, shut up!”
“She said you were too mean and too hairy and you said you took a shower but she didn’t think you took a shower and you fucked her too rough and you got a dick that looks like a goblin!”
“She did not!”
“She did! She said all that! She said she chargin’ extra for you next time. I don’t blame. Son, you nasty. Get right wit’ God.”
Marco hung his head. He shrugged and sucked on his teeth. “Whatever, that bitch was a fuckin’ prude, and she had a stank ass.”
“She had a stank ass? Shut up, Marco. Just go stick the pansy. Don’t hit him.”
“I won’t,” Marco said. He looked at Avery and shrugged. “Alright, then. You, uh… How, y’know, how you wanna do this?”
Coach Thickman scoffed. “I thought you knew how to use ya dick like a champion, Marco? Remember? Like in the old country? Of Brooklyn? You can get ya nut off in-“
“Shut up. Get outta here. I don’t wanna do it wit’ ya old-ass watching me.”
“Keep talkin’ ‘bout my ass, boy, you’ll find your tongue deep inside it,” Thickman said. “I’m-a wait right outside, so you ain’t tempted to start punching.”
“I wouldn’t. Punching sissies is like punching girls. You ain’t allowed to do that,” Marco said indignantly as Thickman went to the hall. He faced towards the locker room. Marco looked back at Avery. Despite Marco’s apparent confidence, his face looked tense and nervous, and he yet again rearranged his cock in his singlet and ran the same hand through his mop of hair.
“That’s why she said you stink,” Avery said.
“What?” Marco said with a snort.
“You keep touching your balls,” Avery said. “Then your hair, or you rub your nose. It makes you smell like ballsweat.
Marco snorted again. He threw his eyebrows way back. “What? Oh.” He grunted. “Okay. Thanks.”
Avery nodded. “Be gentle with girls.”
“Man, shit, shut up, you dunno nothin,” Marco said.
Avery walked right up to him, ignoring his fluttering heart. The scent of Marco’s post-match sweat filled the air. It was intense because it clung both to his body hair — which was substantial — and his singlet. Avery planted his tongue on Marco’s chest right above the edge of his singlet, which Marco began to remove.
“I done this before, man,” Marco said. “It ain’t shameful for me, y’know, cuz I’s on top. I ain’t no less of a man, nuh-uh.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “That’s how it is in th old country. Italy.”
“Of course,” Avery said. He dropped to his knees as Marco’s singlet landed on the floor. He wore a plain jockstrap, which Avery removed, making his thick, uncut cock pop out. He had a heavy pair of low-hangers too, which Avery cupped in one hand.
“Yeah, there it is, man, swallow that shit,” he said. He smacked Avery across the face with it. “Is it the biggest you’ve ever seen?”
“Hell yeah it is,” Avery said, following the shaft with his mouth. He stuck his tongue out until Marco held still long enough for him to lick it. The unwashed taste of body sweat and sun-drenched male flesh hit Avery’s tongue, making him moan. It wasn’t actually the biggest cock Avery had ever seen — it wasn’t even the biggest — but it was plenty big and Avery thought Marco’s arrogance was alluring, so he said it was the biggest. “By far the biggest, man, for sure.” He chased it with his tongue.
“I know,” he said. He sniffled like it didn’t matter. He kept thwacking Avery over the face with it though, emphasizing how it was almost as long as Avery’s entire face. It was thick and meaty too, and it was indeed uncut, just as Avery suspected when he saw it through the singlet.
Avery took that foreskin-clad tip in hand, and he started stroking it. He didn’t often get to jerk off uncut men, so it was a nice change of pace. He liked the way it seemed to have excess skin as he stroked it up and down, but then it grew more taut as it firmed up under the grip of his hands and his tongue. The funky smell of Marco’s dick got even more intense when it hardened up and that cocktip came out to play.
As a series of aggressive moans came outta Marco’s throat, Avery slathered spit up and down it, slobbering saliva all over the shaft. Marco bristled, shuffling his weight between his feet. Marco’s face showed his anxiety and his surprise at how good this felt, but he scoffed like he wasn’t impressed and kept his eyes away from Avery’s.
Avery said, as though the answer should have been obvious, “You’re Italian, right?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. He thwacked Marco’s fat erection over his face. Each time it hit Avery’s tongue and bounced off, it jiggled and roped over his nose and his forehead. And each time Marco twitched like he had seen a ghost. His cock pulsated atop Avery’s face. “So you’ll do it old-country style? Or not? Doesn’t matter to me, that’s just how real Italians do it. It’s a machismo thing.”
He sniffled and shifted his weight between his feet. He wiped his face off. “Hell yeah,” he grunted. “‘Course I do it that way, slut. I know what it means.” He sniffled. “I’m from Brooklyn, dawg. We keep it real.”
“Oh, great, okay,” Avery said. His heart thumped. Was this really working? He turned around and aimed his ass for Marco’s cock. “What’s that Italian saying? A virile man makes his bottom feel it all. I don’t remember it in Italian.”
“That’s right.” He spoke in stuttering Italian, a language he obviously had only a dim knowledge of. “Uh-huh. That’s how you say that.”
He was so focused on his dick sliding into Avery’s ass that he barely seemed to notice his hand being brought around to Avery’s front. The heat emanating from his sweat-soaked chest hit Avery’s smooth back, as his cock rammed its way up Avery’s backside. That sent a spasm of pleasure to wrack Avery’s body, and he let out a harsh, jagged moan of a breath. Avery dragged Marco’s to his own cock and had Marco start stroking, just as his manhood filled Avery’s ass up all the way.
“Ah shit!” Marco yelped and backed his hand away when he realized he was giving Avery a reacharound. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, I thought you were going to gimme a reacharound? That’s how the toughest tops do it in prison and stuff, y’know, but that’s fine,” Avery said with a grin. “That’s how mafia guys do it. I thought you were from New York? They’ve got old-country Italians there, I just assumed you were into that.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I know. Yeah,” Marco said with an indignant sniffle. His hand moved slowly back to Avery’s cock, and he gulped as he touched it. “Yeah, ‘course. That’s how they do it in the old country. It ain’t, y’know, America is… things is different over there.”
“Your cock is so big,” Avery said with a moan. He leaned his head back, which both allowed him to grind his ass onto Marco’s cock while licking his chest hair as well as gave Marco easy access to Avery’s cock. Avery got swallowed up in the thickness of his arms and his chest.
It was an awkward reacharound, but Avery didn’t mind. The nervous yet cocky sounds emanating from Marco’s throat made the awkwardity worth it. Avery turned his face to the side so he could suck all the wrestling sweat off Marco’s chest, while his body squirmed and experienced Marco’s increasingly harsh ramming.
Soon he slammed his dick in all the way with each thrust of his hips. At first he seemed to want to do it hard enough to make Avery tell him to slow down, but when it became clear that wouldn’t happen, he stopped trying. Instead he closed his eyes, bit his lip and slammed his dick in and out as hard as he could. His balls slapped agsinst Avery’s asscheeks.
But Avery wasn’t surprised that Marco had trouble keeping a girl after fucking her — he was not gentle, and he wasn’t aggressive in an obviously good way either. Avery loved it because he liked a little pain, and he thought Marco’s machismo was hot. Girls, Avery thought, would find it a lot less appealing. That, he thought, must be why Marco was so angry and high-strung.
That and the smelling-like-ballsweat thing.
“Alright, boy, gonna fill you up,” Marco said with a grunt. He held Avery’s body in place with one hand while his other stroked Avery off. He had no sooner warned Avery when his balls crawled up in his sac. He stopped moving for just a moment, grunted in Avery’s ear and then let go of him.
Hot cum sprayed into Avery, great arcing jets of it that filled him up and turned his prostate on. Before Marco had even finished cumming, Avery was having his own orgasm — luckily Marco didn’t notice Avery’s cum coating his fingers — as the most intense sensations of his life ran up his spine.
It was a moment that seemed to last forever, Avery being filled at one end while his own cock sprayed onto Marco’s pudgy fingers. His hairy Italian muscles rippled behind Avery’s back, and his hot breath condensed on Avery’s neck.
Marco pulled away the moment he was done, so quickly that the last few drops of his cum landed on Avery’s back. They dripped down his asscrack and onto the floor of the filthy locker room. He sighed like he had thought he might not be able to do that.
“Alright, Coach Thickman, I done it,” Marco said. He snorted and jogged in place, half-hard dick bouncing as it slowly limpened.
Thickman walked in and groaned at the sight of his hard cock. “Boy, cover yourself up.”
But Marco just glared first at his singlet and jockstrap, then at Coach Thickman, then at Avery, then back at Thickman. “Nah,” he said like a cocky jerk. He walked towards the locker room, stark-naked. “I gotta take a shower.”
Thickman followed him trying to make him put clothes on, but Marco ignored him. Avery didn’t mind. He stayed there with Marco’s jockstrap and singlet, sniffing it and bringing himself to a second orgasm that was so intense it was almost painful. He spurted his second wad onto the pile of sweat-soaked clothes Marco had worn in here and forgotten about on the floor.
When he was done, Avery gathered up the singlet and the jockstrap, he hurried out of there. Those, he thought, were going to give him orgasms for many nights to come.

Humping the Enforcer

Avery has to pay protection money to the mafia, but when the don comes by too, Avery is given a gift that just won’t stop giving! He gets to do what he wants to the crude enforcer Joey, who has muscles and swagger and not a lot of brains.

The don is frustrated by Joey’s idiocy, which gives Avery a chance to explore another episode in the world of Twink on Top!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

When Avery Flowers saw Joey at the door of his shop, he felt the usual surge of feelings: fear, annoyance, rage and a dash of arousal, since Joey had an alluring and arousing physique.
But this time, the mafia enforcer Joey Rizzoli was accompanied by a stout older man in a fine suit.
That older man kept a faint grin, and he stopped to look at the flowers on the counter. Joey, as usual, stone-faced, sturdy as a chair. He looked vaguely displeased at everything, even the flowers that filled the store.
Avery sighed. Running a florist shop in Little Italy in New York meant he had to pay protection money to the Mafia. He had been doing it since before the shop even opened. Today was the fourth of the month, making it Joey Rizzoli’s regular day to collect a payment.
The money was in an envelope hidden in the register. Avery made sure to put it there this morning. He liked to tease Joey, who was gruff, mean and macho, riddled with muscle and bravado. He had a temper and a cocky attitude, but he was barred by Mafia rules from hurting anyone who paid proper protection money. That meant Avery could flirt with him, squeeze his biceps, repeatedly ask him out on a date as if Joey was a slutty woman, and Joey just accepted it like an awkward statue made of frowns. He occasionally growled and flexed his pecs beneath the ill-fitting suit he always wore.
But Avery had no idea who the portly older man was at first. That changed when the man took off his hat and spoke — this is the Don! Don Caprinelli! Avery gasped and bit his own lip.
“Good afternoon, Mister Flowers,” the stout man said. “My name is Tranquillo Caprinelli.”
“Yo, you should address him as Don Caprinelli,” Joey cut in, barking at Avery as though he had been disrespectful already.
Don Caprinelli held a hand up to silence Joey, whose crude yet handsome face scrunched up. The Italian flag tattoo on his neck stretched when he tightened his visage. He wrinkled his nose at Avery, and his broad shoulders expanded as he took a deep breath. From their body language, Avery gathered that the Don often told Joey to take a deep breath and calm down and that Joey was annoyed every time he said it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Don Caprinelli,” Avery said. He bowed his head respectfully.
“My daughter’s wedding is this month, Mister Flowers,” he said in a smooth voice like melted caramel, “And in recognition of that joyous day, I am asking that you spend the money you would normally pay for Caprinelli security services. Spend it on yourself or on the charity of your choosing, and have a joyous month.” He smiled.
“Oh! Okay, thank you, Don Caprinelli-“
“Do not mention it, and as always, you and your beautiful shop here remain under my protection for the entire month. And the usual perks at the Hotel Sweet,” he said with a smile. He shook Avery’s hand.
“Oh… thank, you, that’s… the Hotel Sweet?” Avery had no idea what that meant. The Hotel Sweet was a rundown motel down the street. It was known as a hotbed of prostitution.
“He doesn’t… Don, he, uh… has never been interested,” Joey said. He stammered like he had done something wrong, and when Don Caprinelli shot him a quizzical look, he looked down and bit his lip.
Don Caprinelli turned to Avery, looked at him with shock in his eyes, then examined him head to toe. He nodded in realization.
“Yeah, sorry,” Avery said. “I’m not into anything down at the Hotel Sweet… Unless Joey ever hangs out there.” He smirked as Joey, who, predictably, blushed. His glowering face looked down at his feet, then glanced at the flowers as though he was suddenly very interested in petunias.
“He does not spend time at the Hotel Sweet…” Don Caprinelli smiled, then spoke quickly with Joey in Italian. Joey let out a laugh as they talked — the first time he had laughed in all the time Avery knew him. Their conversation sounded like a negotiation to Avery. Joey continued to laugh, nervously, with many cautious glances towards Avery. He kissed the crucifix around his neck. Don Caprinelli’s Italian was fluid and rhythmic, while Joey’s was halting and sounded like mispronounced English.
“Ten minutes,” Joey said softly — another first: the first time he ever sounded less than totally confident. He had been collecting extortion money from Avery for years and never showed any hesitance or uncertainty about what to do.
“What-?”
“I have worked out a deal. I give all the businessmen who pay me a free weekly visit to one of the ladies at the Hotel Sweet. Since Joey failed to offer you anything as a substitute for that perk, he has agreed to give you ten minutes with him. You may do anything you wish to Joey for ten minutes,” Don Caprinelli said.
Joey spoke with that thick New York-Italian stawk that had always turned Avery on so good. “No stickin’ it in.” He looked down at his feet yet again when Don Caprinelli clucked his tongue and shot him a harsh look.
“Uh… what?”
“You can… like… gimme a handjob, or whatever. No penetration,” he said. He sniffed and pushed past Avery into the backroom, Avery’s office. Joey’s heavy body barely fit in the doorway, and Avery felt a surge of body heat and intense desire as Joey’s suited muscles brushed past him. Joey called back to Don Caprinelli, saying something in Italian.
Don Caprinelli chuckled. “He is afraid you will hold him down and cornhole him-“
“That ain’t what I said!”
“I tell him you are three times the boy’s size, Joey, you can overpower him if he tries to cornhole you,” Don Caprinelli said. He smiled and followed into the backroom. “I will not watch, but I will stand at the doorway.”
Avery turned to enter the office, still trying to comprehend what, exactly, was happening, Was Joey really letting him give a handjob? Joey stood there in front of him, scowling, with his arms across his chest. He filled out that suit nicely; it looked even better on him than a nicer suit would have, Avery thought, the undersized shirt and oversized jacket making him look like the world’s meanest high-schooler getting ready for an away game.
“No poop or pee neither,” Joey said. “And no putting cigarettes out on me. And no farting.” He threw his hands in the air. “No puttin’ it in!”
“In where? By whom?”
“Any hole. Anyone, man,” Joey said. “Just gimme a handjob or whatever.”
“Oh, I think I can get more creative than that,” Avery said. He smiled as Don Caprinelli chuckled behind him. He quickly stripped off his clothes.
Joey snickered at Avery’s small body, pale skin and weak muscles. “How old are you, man?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“You look like you’re about twelve. Gonna feel like I’m lettin’ a little boy grope me up,” he said.
“You’re exaggerating, I don’t even get carded for cigarettes. I just have a youthful, girlish glow,” Avery said. His dick was out, and he tried not to feel self-conscious — not about his cock size, which was ample, just that he was so much smaller than Joey.
Joey didn’t look like he bought into Avery’s defense. He faced away as Avery unbuttoned his shirt. It was cute to see Joey nervous for the first time after he had been extorting money from Avery for years. Avery slowly stripped off Joey’s suit and suit.
He kissed his nipples beneath the tight a-shirt he wore. Joey’s pecs rippled, sending a thrill up Avery’s spine. His hands roamed over Joey’s muscled side, which made Joey twitch out of either anxiety or ticklishness or a bit of both.
Then Avery pulled the t-shirt off Joey’s body — or he lifted it up, anyway, Joey was too tall for Avery to actually take it all the way off. Joey removed it himself. He had a broad chest and a nearly flat belly, with just a hint of meat there. Avery’s mouth moved down to that belly, licking the trail of black hairs there leading down past his belly button.
He undid the belt holding up Joey’s slacks. Joey let out a strange sort of mewling sound as Avery dropped his pants, then pulled down the plain tight white boxers he wore.
His massive cock sprung forth. Avery gasped and smiled at Joey’s cocky grin. He must have liked showing off his big dick.
Don Caprinelli clucked his tongue. “You like his monster, huh? That’s the difference between ‘fairy’ men and girls. Girls run screaming from it-“
“No, they don’t, Don, that happened one time,” Joey said with a hangdog look. “One girl walked away because she said it was too big.”
Avery stroked his shaft, slowly at first, as Joey spoke. Then he sped up, as Joey’s face went from annoyed to surprised at how aroused he was. He looked down at his dick as though he had never seen it get hard before. Its long shaft throbbed beneath Avery’s grasp.
“And Anita?” Don Caprinelli said, snickering from the doorway, where he remained, still facing away from the scene.
“She didn’t see it-“
“She saw you. She said he looks like a caveman. I bring him a girl to bed, as a present for his years of loyal service, and he acts like a goon-“
“Don Caprinelli…” Joey’s voice turned into a moan as his dick pulsated in Avery’s hand.
“Shut up, you embarrassed me. The sissy probably understands girls. Maybe he can help you avoid the same fate if I ever bring you another girl,” Don Caprinelli said.
Avery smiled, stroking Joey faster and faster. Joey’s muscles rippled and he closed his eyes like he was ready to cum. Avery wasn’t ready to let that happen, but he liked seeing Joey prepare for it. He chewed on his lower lip, and his biceps flexed as he flailed his arms, too embarrassed to touch either Avery or himself at the moment.
“I’m no expert in women. They’re mystifying to me too,” Avery said, hands working hard at Joey’s cock. “Virtually any girl could dress like a slut and get all the big hairy macho men to bang them, but almost none of them do that. That doesn’t make any sense to me. If I was a girl, I’d be such a cheap lay. I’d suck your dick every day, Joey, I’d let you and all your buddies demolish me.”
Joey chuckled dryly, like he wanted to laugh harder but was too distracted by his dick leaking precum into Avery’s hand. Don Caprinelli guffawed from the doorway, laughing so hard he bent over and slapped his own thigh.
He let go of Joey’s cock. Joey’s eyes bugged out, and he flexed his hips, humping the air. His muscles twitched again, and he let out an involuntary growl. It seemed he wanted Avery to continue jacking him off, but he didn’t want to admit that because Don Caprinelli would hear him.
Avery walked around Joey, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw his ass. It was thick and plump, but firmer than Avery thought possible. Joey was tall enough that Avery had to reach up to massage those round cheeks, which were as hard as overinflated volleyballs — it was clear that Joey was tense, which was part of the reason his flesh was hard, but it was also clear that Joey’s ass was simply bursting with strength.
“Will you bend over?” Avery asked.
“You can’t put nothin’ in my ass!”
“I won’t,” Avery said. He lightly caressed the strapping muscles of Joey’s back. He felt Joey sigh through his spine, then Joey bent over and grabbed his ankles.
That position forced his asscheeks to separate, revealing his hairy hole. But as much as Avery wanted to stick his fingers and tongue (and everything else) in there, it was clear Joey wouldn’t cotton to that. So Avery just massaged the hairy crack of Joey’s ass, then had him bend his knees until he was crouched.
Avery hadn’t really known where he was taking this until he saw Joey in that position, his great, hairy trunk-like thighs pressed close together. Avery stripped off his own clothes while both Joey and Don Caprinelli were facing away from him.
Then he lined up behind Joey’s crouching body. Joey winced and trembled when he felt Avery’s cock pushing into his back, but Avery made sure to wrap his fingers around Joey’s cock first. Joey sighed and forced his muscles to relax as his dick re-hardened beneath Avery’s grasp.
“Damn, fairy… what is this?” He asked.
Avery didn’t answer. He pushed his dick lower still, through the tangle of coarse black hairs on Joey’s thighs. Joey didn’t even seem to notice as Avery’s dick slipped between his legs and poked out below his crotch.
Since Joey was crouched over but was much taller than Avery, the simplest position was for Avery to kneel behind him. He wrapped his arms around Joey’s broad body, his left hand straining to reach Joey’s nipples while his right stroked Joey off.
“Uh, oh…” Joey realized Avery’s dick was between his thighs. He cleared his throat. “Don Caprinelli… Is it… a sin if you… If uh, his… dick is uh, not in me, but…-“
“Then no, Joey, please spare me the details. Don’t let him put it in a hole. That is what the Church teaches,” Don Caprinelli said. He kept his face angled well away. “Is the little fairy hurting you?”
“No!” Joey said.
“Then it is fine. You can stop him if you wish. I would give you a girl instead, but you would only scare her away,” Don Caprinelli said. “You should develop some culture and sophistication, Joey.”
Joey hung his head and sighed. It was obvious he had heard this lecture many times before. “Yes, Don.”
“I brought him to the symphony, Mister Flowers,” Don Caprinelli said. “He fell asleep. I pay for his tuxedo and for a girl to sit next to him, and he falls asleep. He snores so loud the oboist dropped his instrument in the third movement-“
Avery snorted and held back laughter.
“He tells the girl he prefers hot air balloons-“
“I like Led Zeppelin!”
“I tell you, he is a caveman. I have never been more mortified, Mister Flowers,” Don Caprinelli said. He still faced the other way in the door threshold, so he didn’t see Avery dry-humping Joey’s thighs.
Avery thought it was a funny story, but the funniest aspect was how embarrassed Joey was. He had always looked uncomfortable in the suit he wore to extort Avery, but now it was obvious how humiliated he was by his lack of class. Joey’s face burned a bright red, and his thighs tensed, squeezing Avery’s cock.
The increase in tightness sent a shiver of sexual pleasure up Avery’s spine. He began humping harder and faster, and he reached around to Joey’s long cock with both hands.
“It smells like a brothel in there,” Don Caprinelli said. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells like Hotel Sweet.”
But Avery was too aroused to answer, and Joey was either too tense, too horny or too embarrassed. He grunted, nostrils flaring as his ass puckered, its iron-hard globes pressed against the smooth, slim flesh of Avery’s torso.
Joey slowly leaned forward. It didn’t seem he was really aware he was doing it, at least not until he was on his belly, where Avery couldn’t jack him off anymore because his dick was jammed against the floor.
But that allowed Avery to crawl atop Joey’s back. He was so much shorter than Joey that his face pressed into the center of Joey’s back, which was dappled with sweat and a few stray black hairs. Avery licked him while Joey growled, out of either discomfort or desire or even ticklishness again, it wasn’t clear which.
Meanwhile Avery slammed his dick in and out of Joey’s thigh. It really did feel exactly like cornhole a man in the ass, Avery thought, just without the hole — the thighs felt like an asscrack, so Avery felt like he was ramming his dick between asscheeks.
And that thought gave him an idea. He crawled up Joey’s body until his cock throbbed in between Joey’s cheeks. Then he humped the hot, sweaty groove there, his dick pulsating against the tight rim of Joey’s asshole.
“Nope, nope,” Joey said after just a few seconds. He rolled over, pushing Avery onto the ground beside him. “I ain’t doing that, fairy.”
“Joey-!” Don Caprinelli snapped.
“I’m sorry, Don, he was trying to-“
“You can simply be more polite. This is why girls run in terror from you,” Don Caprinelli said.
“He ain’t a girl-“
“Politeness is mandatory, Joey.”
Joey sighed and shook his head. “Mister Flowers, I… You best not… I mean… I would prefer you did not… touch my, uh… You know… Back there… My… I don’t know the polite word for it, Don.”
“Anus,” Avery said with a giggle. The word made Joey chuckle too, like a little boy laughing at a fart joke.
Avery wasn’t surprised that Joey had backed out of the ass-humping. But now he was laying on his back on the floor, his rock-hard dick sticking straight up. Avery mounted his thighs and pressed his dick right next to Joey’s.
Joey’s body remained stiff and hard, almost as rock-solid as his dick, which pulsated hotly in Avery’s fingers as he jacked them both off together. His other hand tweaked Joey’s nipples, and caressed his broad shoulders. Joey’s chest was once again hard, the tension making it impossible for him to relax his muscles.
When the first few drops of precum lubricated Avery’s hand, he realized Joey wasn’t going to let this continue for long. Joey heaved and gasped for breath as though he was terrified of how aroused he was. It was his dick producing the precum, but Avery thought he shouldn’t point that out or risk angering Joey.
Avery instead lowered his body until he could once again stick his dick between Joey’s thighs. This time he was on Joey’s front side, so his face nestled in Joey’s chest, between his mountainous pecs. Joey’s dick dug into Avery’s flesh above his crotch.
Then Avery’s rod plunged between those thighs, reawakening Avery’s arousal and making his shaft spasm. He gasped and even lightly nibbled on Joey’s skin, which made him twitch and bark.
“Hey! Don Caprinelli, he’s trying to eat me!” Joey said like a boy tattling on his friend.
Don Caprinelli snorted. Avery didn’t see Don Caprinelli glance over with a sick look on his face, because Avery was slamming his dick up and down between Joey’s thighs. Joey’s dick throbbed and leaked precum onto Avery’s belly and chest.
“It is fine. It is dry-humping,” Don Caprinelli said. “Or it is humping, at least. I do not think he is a cannibal.”
Then a potent orgasm began, deep within Avery, who only dimly heard Joey sigh and mutter to himself. Avery gasped and threw his head back. Joey looked down at him from his reclining position, eyes wide like he had no idea where this was ending up. He watched in horror as bliss wracked Avery’s body, and Avery buried his face in Joey’s mafia-tatted chest.
Meanwhile Avery’s whole body spasmed and roiled atop Joey’s powerful frame. He rammed his dick back and forth as he licked and sucked hickeys onto Joey’s pecs. His dick spewed cum down onto the floor, making a big mess on the backside of Joey’s thighs and ass.
“Oh god, he’s doin’ it…”
Avery felt the most intense pleasure of his life rolling through him. He writhed and moaned into Joey’s body, his spine arching as the orgasm overwhelmed his body. By the time he was done, his skin was dripping with sweat, both his own and Joey’s.
He lifted his head. Joey was still rock-hard, with a vaguely nauseated look on his face, and Avery gripped his dick with both hands. He rubbed it against his smooth chest, intending to get Joey off that way, but then Joey got his attention.
Joey pulled lightly on his hair until Avery looked up at him, still gasping from his own post-orgasmic pleasure. He made a shushing face, then grasped an imaginary penis in front of his face. He pretended to jack it off, using his tongue to push against his cheeks.
“Damn, you one nasty fairy…”
Avery was still recovering from the aftershocks of his orgasm, so he was confused at first. After a moment, he realized what Joey was asking for — they both glanced up at Don Caprinelli, who faced the other way with his arms across his chest. He gave no indication he realized that Joey’s actions and his words were no longer quite linked.
That was interesting, Avery thought, he had assumed that Joey didn’t want to do anything and Don Caprinelli had talked him into it. Now it seemed that Joey’s reluctance was, at least in part, a show for Don Caprinelli’s benefit — maybe Joey had only been unpleasant about it because Don Caprinelli would punish him for being enthusiastic.
Without a peep, Avery lowered his head until he could swallow Joey’s dick. He tasted that salty cocktip, precum flowing like water from a tap as Joey’s aroused body spasmed. But it only lasted a moment: Joey must have been on the verge of orgasm already. From the moment Avery’s lips encircled his dick, cum throbbed in his thick shaft, and his balls crawled up in his sac.
By the time Avery managed to get his mouth all the way down the first two-thirds of Joey’s dick, his tongue slathering spit along the piss-slit, Joey had gripped his head. He sneered at Avery like he was punishing him for the puddle of cum Joey now sat in, and he slammed Avery’s head down on his dick.
“Hurry up and finish, fairy-“
“Be nice, Joey. Let him take his time,” Don Caprinelli snapped at him. “You have forgotten all the manners I have been teaching you.”
Joey threw his head back, but he had to suppress making any sound beyond a vague, quiet grunt. Avery could imagine how girls were scared of him if this was how he made love, Avery thought, but he didn’t say so because his mouth was full.
A hot load of cum sprayed into Avery’s mouth. It was creamy and sweet, thick like yogurt, and it coated Avery’s tongue and throat. It slipped down into his gullet as Joey made harsh, violent love to Avery’s face. Avery gagged involuntarily; as soon as he did, he realized he had attracted Don Caprinelli’s attention.
“Joey!” Don Caprinelli snapped. He had turned around, and he saw what was happening.
Joey winced and pulled away. He hurried to his feet as Don Caprinelli glowered at him. Cum still dripped from his cocktip as he tucked his dick away and blushed.
“Sorry, Don. The fairy seduced me-“
“Do not blame it on the fairy. He did what is only natural to him,” Don Caprinelli gripped Joey by the hair and pulled his head down to the level where they could look each other in the eye. It was arousing to watch for Avery, who cleaned cum off his face as it unfolded — once again, Joey was forced to submit to someone much smaller than him. Don Caprinelli shook his head with disgust. “I do not wish to have such depravity in my organization.”
“I’m sorry, Don.”
“Yes, you are,” Don Caprinelli said. He let go of Joey’s hair. “Now put your clothes on. We will go home now.” He turned to Avery and nodded politely. “Thank you for making loyal payments these last few years. You have been such an aid to my organization.”
“Uh, yeah… Thank you, Don Caprinelli,” Avery said. “For keeping my business safe.”
He nodded again. He pushed Joey towards the bathroom. “Clean yourself off, beast. I think you can please Mister Flowers every month from now on, Joey. Perhaps you will learn your manners that way.”

The Guido

Avery’s up for another adventure in rough trade, and this time it’s a cocky guido named Joey Rizzoli. He’s got manhood to prove, money to earn and balls to drain…

Can Avery satisfy Joey’s needs?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

Avery forced himself to exercise. If he didn’t make an effort to move around, he’d burn about fifty calories a day because he could do all his work sitting at a desk. So he occasionally stopped by a Cornerside Gym — he traveled around the country, and Cornerside Gyms were common enough he could usually find one somewhere not too far away from wherever he was.
He was in north New Jersey when he decided to go in for a workout. He had to do it quickly because he hadn’t done any work yet today. But he wanted to do his workout first, so he could finish up before the place filled with overweight divorcées working off their mimosas.
But when he walked in the front door, Avery’s plans changed instantly.
There was a young man there, maybe nineteen years old or so, short and broad-shouldered, wiry-muscled, with a few tattoos dotting his body. He wore a sleeveless shredder — that’s one of those muscle shirts without sleeves or sides, so it was really just a hunk of fabric that covered his chest. He had a fantastic body, short and compact but stunning, six-packed, bulging where it needed to be, smooth and nut-brown.
“Yo, man, whatchoo sayin? I ain’t gotta show no ID, I know that-“
“I’m afraid I’m required to ask for it in this case.”
“Ain’t not a single other motherfucker here that you ask fo’ ID. Nah. That ain’t right.” The young man grunted and his hands formed fists at his side.
“You’ll need to purchase your own membership, sir,” said the clerk, who stammered and blushed.
The guido, Joey, ran his fingers through his dense mane of black hair. He clucked his tongue and feinted like he was going to punch the clerk. “Man, this ain’t ‘bout money.”
“I know you’re not Thomas Molloni,” the clerk said. “Sorry. I don’t care if you share passes. But my boss said we have to put a stop to it. You can buy a year-long membership for only-“
“Man, it ain’t ‘bout the money.” Joey paused. “Ain’t Tommy got some kinda guest passes on his account?”
The clerk shook his head. “Sorry. He had three for the year, but he used them up in January.”
“Man, this is fucked! I been comin’ in here on Tommy’s pass for two years, boy, I swear to God!” Joey had a thick Italian New Yorker stawk. Avery wasn’t sure if that was genuine or an affectation, but it sounded real to him. Joey must have made a face or a gesture that got the clerk scared, something Avery couldn’t see from where he stood. The clerk took a step back and put his hands up. Joey scoffed. “I ain’t gonna hitcha, boy. Man, just… Fuck you. Alright, go fuck yaself.” He spat, turned and licked his lips. He saw Avery and nodded as though they knew each other.
Joey sauntered outside. His hands were clenched in fists, and since his shredder didn’t cover most of his chest, Avery could see that his muscles were tense all over. He walked like he didn’t care though.
“Hey, man, I can help you out,” Avery said. He followed Joey outside. Joey was distracted by his anger, so he didn’t realize Avery was talking to him. “I’ll buy you a membership for a whole year.”
“What?” He paused and thought. “Wait, what? Huh?”
“Will you ramrod me? I’ll buy you a membership for a whole year if you cornhole me,” Avery said.
There was a long pause. Then Joey guffawed. He clasped his belly and bellowed, “Yo, what?!”
“I’ll jerk you off better than any girl, and you can demolish my ass,” Avery said. “Come on… A whole year of gym membership.”
“Yo, man…” He made a face like he was going to say no, like he was going to shout ‘of course not’. He grabbed his dick through his workout shorts. “Yo… Yo, man… Hey… Uh…” He sighed. “Yo, I ain’t poor or nothin’. Don’t get that impression. I ain’t, y’know, I ain’t not buy that membership myself cuz I can’t afford it. Ain’t ‘bout that, man, I swear to God. I’ll light a twenty-dollar Avery on fire now just to prove it-” he took his wallet out then put it back. “I ain’t got no cash, man, but I would, I swear to God-“
“Okay, I believe you. Even when you can afford something, it’s always better to get it for free, right? Plus you get to ram me silly,” Avery said.
“Yeah, but I mean… I got a rep to protec’,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders. “Lotta… I mean, a lotta guys do that, right? Like… fo’ real? That’s true, right? People say that. Like… old guys. Old motherfuckers, y’know, when I was comin’ up… I ain’t nevuh think I get no freak swinging on my nuts. Man, they say that’s how it used to be…” He took a step back towards the door. Then he paused. “Yo, this gonna mean you my puttana. In the old country, a man who get rammed is a lesser man, a bitch, a puttana. That’s old-school, man, but that’s how I roll. You feel me?”
“That’s fine. I’ll be your bitch,” Avery said. He followed Joey inside, and they went to the fearful clerk. Avery paid for a year-long membership, while Joey mean-mugged the clerk. Joey jutted his chin out, flexed his pecs in the clerk’s direction and snarled arrogantly when Avery paid the Avery.
Then they went to the back, into the sauna. As soon as he got in there, Joey took a deep breath like he was nervous. He didn’t say anything though. He just bit his lip and flipped his shirt off.
“Yo, I got a sick body, don’t I?” He licked his lips. “Yeah, girls love me. I don’t even need the gym, man, I swear. The world is my gym, y’know.” He paused. “Like black guys in prison, y’know, you can get hard just in ya bedroom or whatever. You don’t need a gym.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery murmured as he sunk to his knees and pulled Joey’s shorts down. Joey gasped, but covered it up with a cocky chuckle. He leaned back like he was trying to escape.
After a pause, Joey blurted out, “not that I can’t afford it, man. That ain’t why I work out, y’know, wherever. I just…” He gasped a little as his cock popped out. “Damn, boy, you eager.” Then, like he needed to remind himself that he was supposed to be arrogant, he added, “‘Course you is. You wanna taste my meat. Y’ain’t no kinda vegetarian, I bet, no way.” He chuckled to himself.
Despite his cocky words, Avery thought Joey was perhaps the most nervous guy he had ever jerked off. Avery was glad to see that Joey had a big horse-cock — he had been worried that Joey was overcompensating for a small piece of meat, but that wasn’t the case. It was long and thick and veiny, and it twitched as soon as Avery popped the tip in his mouth.
“Yo, man, yeah… I, uh… swallow that shit, bitch,” Joey said. His voice was tremulous, like he had read somewhere that guys should trashtalk when they get dome from a man, but he didn’t really know how to do it. “You some kinda girlyboy, huh? I bet… Pansy, uh… You’s a pansy-ass.”
His dick stiffened up in Avery’s mouth. Joey tasted strong and firm, his cock warm and sending flavors of musk, salt and expensive soap through Avery’s senses. He could tell that Joey used some kind of fruity lotion, either as lube when he jacked off or just as lotion and then he jacked off; either way his cock tasted like it.
“I bet you like this, huh? You into it, girlyboy? Huh? This the best dick you evuh ate? I bet so,” he said with a throaty chuckle.
Avery took his dick out and thwacked it over his face. He shrugged. “Could be better. You can ram my face, y’know. Just grab my head and go for it.”
Joey’s eyes bugged out. “I, uh… I know, man.” He screwed up his eyes as though it was obvious. “Yeah. I assumed that was gonna happen. I was just lettin’ you get started. I’m hardcore, man, swear to God, you don’t even know.” He gingerly grabbed Avery’s scalp and held on tight to his hair. He gulped. “I ram, man, that’s what I do.” He danced a little on his feet. “I don’t let up neither. I tell girls, don’t mess wit’ me if you don’t want yo’ mind blown. It’s gonna be difficult, but it’s worth it, ya know? E’rything good is difficult, swear to God. Ya gotta work at it, baby. So yeah, I’m-a ram ya throat. You my puttana, that’s just right. It’d be wrong fo’ me to be gentle on ya throat, bitch. God don’t want that. God want puttanas treated like puttanas.” He gulped again and pivoted his hips.
His dick slid down Avery’s throat once more. Avery opened up as wide as he could to swallow it, and when he couldn’t take any more, he gagged. He loved that meaty feeling crowding up his throat, making his eyes water as he accepted it all.
“Oh, wait, I seen my uncle do this,” Joey said, his voice finally betraying his excitement. Then he made a serious face. “No gaggin’, baby, show me that you love me.” He lightly slapped Avery’s face and rammed his dick down again. When Avery gagged, Joey said, “No gaggin’, baby, show me that you love me.” He did it again, and again, his words not exactly mean but firm and strict, like he was talking to a disobedient prostitute.
Avery loved it. He made no effort to stop gagging. He loved being facefucked, and he loved Joey talking to him like a slutty girl. Joey’s balls slapped against Avery’s chin as he savored the salty taste of precum that flowed down his throat.
“No gaggin’, baby, show me that you love me.”
Finally Joey managed to get his dick all the way in, balls dangling against Avery’s chin. Joey pumped his biceps and cheered. He grunted loudly like a caveman, then realized he might be heard outside the sauna so he stopped.
“Yo, yeah, you my puttana now, hell yeah! Ram! Turnin’ yo’ throat into my pussy, bitch!” Joey said. “Got my balls on yo’ chin. You got chinballs, that’s what you got. I see that, bitch. Yo’ daddy must be ‘shamed of yo’ chinballs, ain’t he? Should be.” He sniffled.
He pulled off and let Avery gasp for air. Thick tendrils of spit connected Avery’s lips to Joey’s cock. Joey’s face was a little reddish, both from sexual arousal and embarrassment, not to mention a physiological reaction to the warm, humid air of the sauna.
“You worshipin’ my shit, right? Yo, you ever seen a man wit’ a body like this, huh?” He gestured to his six-pack. “Fuckin’ bomb, right?!”
“Yeah-“
“Yo, man, I try to strip and the woman — who was a total fuckin’ bitch, lemme tell you. But she say nah, she won’t hire me, she say no way on ‘ccount of I’m too short.” He looked like that was the biggest injustice he had ever heard of. His eyes popped out, jaw jutting forward. “Fuck that, man! Fuckin’ hell!”
“You have a great body-“
“I know, man, I know it! Whatevuh, fuck her, I don’t even care.” He paused. “It weren’t about the money, neither. Strippers make good money, but I got money, no problem. That ain’t it. I just wanted to give girls access, ya know. They deserve it. They need it. Ya dig?” He paused. “I ain’t poor, swear to God.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said as he rubbed Joey’s precum leaking cock over his face. Then he slowly licked a trail up Joey’s body, licking his chest and savoring the salty sweat that collected there. Joey was visibly uncomfortable with that — it looked like he was ticklish and trying to suppress his giggling — but he didn’t want to stop Avery; he puffed up his chest to make his muscles bigger. Avery smiled. “You know if you were a male stripper, you’d get hired by a lot of men. It’d be a lot of dudes feeling you up, appreciating your physique.”
He narrowed his eyes to slits. “I wouldn’t be that kind of stripper. Unless they pay good.” He paused. “I mean, no… No way, not for no amount of money. I got money, man. My papa got money, yo. He work for the Mafia. You ain’t hear that from me.”
“Sure, yeah.” Avery sucked the sweat off his biceps. “You have amazing arms. I’ve never seen anyone with biceps like yours. So big… You must be so strong.”
“That’s right, puttana, I swear to God. People don’t even know. I’m short, I know that, people’s always, y’know, talkin’ smack ‘bout me bein’ short. But y’know, I got meat, I got muscle, and I work out like none other, swear to God. I be in this gym e’ry day, man, you don’t even know,” he said. He flexed his biceps. “I’m gonna be a stuntman, yo, I swear to God.”
Avery dropped back to his knees and licked Joey’s cock until it was fully hard again, while he rubbed lube into his asshole. Joey didn’t seem to notice, he had his arms folded over his chest as he daydreamed about being a stuntman.
“My papa don’t even know, man, he always talkin’ ‘bout how I gotta go work at McDonald’s or somethin’,” Joey said with a groan. Then he startled and stood up. “I mean… as a front, ‘course. He want me to have a visible source of income, ya know? For the IRS or whatever.” He paused. “I don’t live wit’ my parents. I mean… Wait, yeah, I live wit’ my parents, but only so I can protect ‘em, y’know. There’s all kinda families who wanna hit ‘em, who wanna hit me and might stoop so low as to hit my mama to get at me.” He peered down at Avery to see if Avery was buying this. Avery didn’t care, he focused on slathering spit up and down Joey’s cockshaft. Avery didn’t believe Joey at all about any of this, but he saw no reason to let on. Joey sniffled like he was satisfied. “That’s, y’know, that’s part of bein’ hardcore. You gotta put up wit’ risk, ya dig? Always someone tryin’ to come at me.”
“You ready to ram me?” Avery asked. He kissed Joey’s dicktip, then turned around and guided it towards his ass.
“Hell yeah.” Joey’s voice again betrayed his lack of confidence. Avery wondered if he had ever even rammed a girl in the ass; he suspected not, but Joey, of course, would never admit that. Joey jerked in his breath as his dick pushed into Avery’s ass. Joey closed his eyes and gasped. He leaned against the wall of the sauna.
“Gonna wreck, uh… Gonna wreck ya butthole, man,” Joey said. He sounded like he was near tears, which made Avery suppress a giggle as Joey continued to haltingly, tensely talk shit. “Damn, boy, shit… You, uh… Gonna turn yo’ asshole into my, uh… Uh… pussy. Or, uh… Yeah.”
His hands jumped around in the air above Avery’s back, like he didn’t want to touch a man’s flesh any more than absolutely necessary. He pumped his biceps, showing off his muscles in the mirror on the sauna wall — no one was here to watch except for Avery, who faced the wrong way, so the only person who could see Joey’s muscles was himself.
“Oh!” Joey gasped like he had just remembered something. “You gotta play along, man. I’m callin’ my boy.” He bent over to pick his phone out of his pants pocket. Then he dialed a number. His voice was suddenly deep and gruff, betraying no hint about what he was doing. His dick rubbed against Avery’s prostate, forcing Avery to muffle the sound of his tortuous moan of pre-orgasmic bliss. Joey sneered at him. “Yo. Yeah. I just wanted to let you know I’m doin’ that thing we was talkin’ ‘bout, that you said we should all do but nevuh admit-” He laughed cockily. “Nah, not that. Nah. Nah.” He rolled his eyes. Then he whispered, “ain’t a fat chick, man. I don’t ram wit’ fat bitches, quit sayin’ that, and she weren’t that fat. It ain’t no kinda girl. Remember? You said you’d do it and I was like no way. Well, y’know, my balls got swole and-” He laughed. “Yeah, man, yeah, I’m demolishin’ this boy. He owe me money, y’know.”
Avery grunted as he slid all the way back, finally getting every inch of Joey’s dick in his ass. It was thick and hard, throbbing, and it sent waves of intense pressure through Avery’s body. He felt pleasure too, but it was more distant for now, growing with each thrust of Avery’s body back and forth on Joey’s manhood.
“Nah, this is some bitch who owe me money. He ain’t got it on ‘ccount of him being a deadbeat. So I shove my interest rate right up his stupid bitch-ass, to remind him he gotta pay me. Ain’t that right, puttana?”
“Yes! I’m a deadbeat and I’m your bitch!” Avery groaned. He didn’t make an effort to sound like he was really a deadbeat, but the tension in his voice was enough to further the illusion for the friend on the other end of the line.
Joey scoffed at whatever his friend said. “Yeah, man, I don’t gotta tell you e’rything. Ain’t loan-sharkin’, not exactly. I just got some business interests, y’know. I loan out a little money here and there. Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ it, I just gotta get a little creative to get paid. I swear, man, whatchoo sayin’? Huh? I don’t tell you ‘bout all the Mafia-shit I do. Ain’t s’posed to, man, it’s secret. Go ram yaself, Tommy. You don’t know e’rything I do. I swear to God, I just make loans — I got money, Tommy, you know that — fuck you! Fuck you! I don’t ‘live in my parents’ basement’, man, it ain’t like that! I’m security! I keeps ‘em safe!” He paused, screamed into the phone and punched the wall behind himself. “Ram you!” He hung up the phone.
Then, before Avery could say anything, Joey grabbed his hips and rammed his cock all the way in. He growled and grabbed Joey by the hair. He held on tight as he rode him hard.
Pain exploded in Avery’s ass. He moaned, biting his lip to avoid making too much noise. Though the pain was intensified by Joey’s angry plowing, the pleasure was magnified as well. Avery grunted and squirmed beneath Joey’s body.
“Man, ram that asshole, I swear to God. I could kick his ass. I should, man, I swear to God, I will. Next time I see him, I gonna demolish him. He don’t know, man, he don’t know jack-shit ‘bout me, swear to God,” he said. “He knows I’m in the Mafia. He knows that. He just denies it to piss me off.” He was so focused on expressing his anger against his friend that he barely noticed when Avery motioned for him to lower his body.
So Joey just did it. He had started off not wanting to touch Avery any more than necessary, but now he slammed his heavy, muscle-dense body on Avery’s back. He grunted into Avery’s ear as he rammed hard, ramming his dick in and out. He was oblivious to everything except his harsh words muttered into Avery’s ear.
“He’s a pussy anyway, man, he didn’t lose his virginity until senior year, swear to God, that is some weak sauce. He always cryin’ bout how he loves some girl or another, man, that ain’t hardcore,” Joey said. “So he don’t even know. He don’t even know, man, swear to God.” He paused and grabbed Avery by the hair, lifting his head up so he could see his face. “You know, man, right? I go hard, huh? You evuh been rammed this hard?”
“No, never. It’s too much!” Avery said, laughing even as he climaxed. His torso twisting, lungs heaving for air, covered up the sound of his laughter, so Joey interpreted it as genuine agreement with his boasts.
“See! Ha! I bet he never got no one sayin’ that,” Joey said with a groan. “He make love, ya know, he don’t cornhole punks. He ain’t hardcore like me, swear to God.”
Avery’s orgasm continued. He gasped, covered in sweat. Joey would have cum already — Avery could sense it in his throbbing cock and his balls rising up in their sac — but he was still angry and more focused on that than his own pleasure, so he just kept pounding numbly while Avery shot his own wad onto the sauna floor.
It was the smell of Avery’s cum that sparked Joey to realize what he was doing. Joey took a deep breath. He licked his lips and grunted. He opened his mouth to speak, but all of the pleasure and climactic bliss that had been building up in him while he was distracted erupted at once. Joey moaned.
When he moaned, his open mouth landed on Avery’s cheek. It was close enough to a kiss for Avery, who melted into Joey’s powerful arms. Hot cum sprayed into Avery’s tight ass, while Avery lazily licked Joey’s neck and muscular shoulders.
Joey shot a huge load, thick and creamy, hot, seeping into Avery’s flesh. Avery shuddered as he felt it flow within him. Joey’s cock throbbed and spasmed inside Avery’s ass, making Avery squirm beneath Joey’s massive muscles.
“Hell yeah…” Joey said with a grunt, cum flowing like a river into Avery’s body. Then he jerked up his spit and licked his lips. ” Yeah. Fuckin’ yeah. I fuck girls in the ass all the time. I tells ‘em, y’know, when we first hook up, you best give up the booty. I don’t mess wit’ weak-sauce girls who don’t do anal, y’know, I ain’t no pussy, swear to God. I mean, I fuck pussy, I ain’t too good fo’ some pussy. But sometimes a real man need ass, ya dig?” Even as he was still cumming the last few drops of semen, he was already boasting and talking again. Now his deep, throaty voice was right next to Avery’s ears, making Avery moan, his own orgasm continuing as long as Joey’s dick teased his prostate.
But finally that came to an end as well. Joey backed up and sighed, visibly relieved like he had thought he might not be able to do that. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Alright. Good. Fuck you, pansy,” he said. He chuckled to himself. “Yo, I’m a real paesano, ya know.” He grabbed Avery’s pants, pulled his wallet out and took the twenty-dollar Avery out of it. “I’m chargin’ you an extra twenty bucks cuz I rammed you so good. I ain’t mean to ram you that good.” He sniffled. “Not that I need the money. Ain’t ‘bout that.”
Avery couldn’t respond because his body flooded with endorphins now that his ass was empty. He laid limply on the floor. He didn’t mind losing the extra twenty dollars anyway. He smiled.
Joey tucked his cock away. He flexed his biceps at himself in the mirror. “Yeah. Good, that was cool. Fuck yeah. If anyone ever ask, boy, I swear to God, you had best say you owed me money. You.” He looked at Avery. “Well, whatever. Nobody gonna ask. If we run into each other at the gym again, you pretend you don’t know me.” He paused. “Unless I’m alone. You can, y’know, make another offer if you want. I don’t need the money. But, y’know, maybe I do it, just to pass the time or whatever.” He frowned. He walked to the door, then paused before he walked out. “But you gotta offer me money, man. I won’t do it for the money, but I won’t do it wit’out it either.”
“Okay, yeah, no problem,” Avery said.
“Good.” He paused again. “I mean… Even if I’m wit’ someone, you can offer. Make me an offer. I’ll prolly say fuck no. But hang around and I’ll find you after. Ain’t ‘bout the money. You can suck my swagger, bitch.”
“I know, okay. I can’t wait.”
“I know. You ain’t gotta tell me, bitch,” he said as he slammed the door shut.