accents – Mansploitation

The Professional Wrestler

Avery Flowers is desperate for professional wrestler meat, so when he gets behind the scenes long enough to meet up with the legendary Shane “Mudstomper” Fulton, he’s in for the ride of his life!

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Read the whole thing here!

Mudstomper was built like a pro linebacker, but he dressed like a bluegrass hillbilly complete with bare feet like dinner plates, overalls with the legs rolled up and a stick of hay between his teeth. His shoulders were corded-muscle, veiny, his skin taut, his jaw square.
His real name was Shane or something, Avery couldn’t remember. He hadn’t known which wrestler he was going to like until he got here. He loved wrestlers.
And as soon as he saw the picture of Mudstomper, Avery knew what he was going to do.
He pretty much ignored the warmup match between Colonel Bling and Wyatt Wyoming. They were both reasonably sexy, but not enough to wet Avery’s whistle (he was going to try to get their autographs later, as they might be worth money if either one blew up in a couple years). Wyatt Wyoming was a cowboy and a good guy, while Colonel Bling was a heel, like an evil black version of the KFC Colonel. The best moment was when Bling pantomimed humping Wyatt’s face, and Colonel Bling’s sweat-glistening muscles set Avery’s heart aflutter.
As a fervent admirer of the male physique, Avery greatly appreciated the wrestlers and their splendid bodies. Wyatt Wyoming was especially perfect. He could be a competitive bodybuilder, for sure.
He was close enough he could see the line between Bling’s dark brown thigh and his slightly paler, fleshier asscheek. His spandex speedo was crawling up so his ass-flesh was partially visible. He could see the cheeks ripple as he picked up Wyatt Wyoming and slammed him on the ring. Avery could see Bling’s hand rubbing against Wyatt’s cock at one point — accidentally, and only for a second, but still, it made Avery laugh.
Or maybe it wasn’t an accident. Avery liked to think it was real.
Before Avery knew it, it was over. He was so focused on the men he didn’t even notice who won the match. Probably Wyatt Wyoming. If the heel won, the crowd would have booed and gone ape. All Avery heard was ordinary cheering.
And there was Mudstomper. He was the good guy in the match, up against a heel named Killer Green, a tall man with a bizarre green-and-translucent catsuit on. Avery didn’t get that choice at all. It might have been a reference to something Avery wasn’t familiar with. Probably something Japanese and on YouTube.
Mudstomper was the clear crowd favorite. He delivered a monologue of some sort — Avery didn’t listen to a word — just yards from where Avery sat, in the front row, so close Avery smelled Mudstomper’s ball-sweat beneath those overalls. He spoke with a rolling, exaggerated drawl.
“And thaaa’sss why, Killuh Green-uh, that uhhz why… I will destroy ya! I’ll ride you to the state prison like a hohse, I sweah on muh sistah’s grave!” Mudstomper roared and pounded on his giant chest, screaming over the frenzied audience. He gestured with the pitchfork he always carried but for some reason never used on the men he was trying to “destroy” (he had a back story involving a dead sister). Avery was entranced by a pearl of sweat sliding down Mudstomper’s bicep and the greasy blond tangle of hair that Avery wanted to dive into.
The actual match went in a blur of arching muscles, heaving biceps and powerful thighs shaking, tight underwear getting ridden up, visible jockstrap lines and asscheeks that thundered like Zeus. Avery’s belly rumbled, and not because he was hungry.
He wasn’t hungry at all. Say what you will about the professional wrestling crowd, but nobody could accuse them of smelling good. Avery appreciated a man with some funk to his meat, but not the fatties and nerds who predominated in the crowd. A man like Mudstomper, his sweat and his unwashed balls and armpits and all that… That, Avery could appreciate.
Anyway, eventually, Mudstomper won, and those meaty biceps shook, sweat dripping off them, as the ref held his hand up. The crowd went wild. Mudstomper cheered with them. So did Avery.
And then it was over.
The lights came up, and the cheering got even louder, and then it turned oddly aggressive.
The arena was bedlam. Fans shouted and threw empty cans of beer at the ring. People poured out and tried to get onstage, but bouncers pushed them back. Avery was jostled this way and that
Avery, however, made it through because he had a backstage pass. He had connections throughout the entertainment industry, so he could get backstage passes to nearly any event. He found the dressing room labelled “Mudstomper” and knocked on it.
“Howdy, come on in!”
Avery entered. That was surprisingly easy.
Shane “Mudstomper” Fulton was in there with a medic, who had just finished stitching up a small cut on his shoulder. His opponent’s tooth had broken his skin during one stunt gone slightly awry. A trickle of blood ran down his bicep. Mudstomper was still dressed in his overalls and nothing else, save the length of straw still between his teeth.
“You ain’t the delivery guy,” Mudstomper said. His drawl rang out like a howl, and his dimples beckoned Avery, who came as close as he could, close enough to smell Mudstomper’s sweat — so much better than the smell of those fans out in the crowd — and feel the body heat of his overworked muscles emanating from him.
“No, I’m Avery. Avery Flowers,” Avery said. “I’m a fan.” He held up his backstage pass. “I think we know someone in common though. Your agent is Tommy Ramogen, right? He also represents my friend Suzanne, she’s in Hollywood right now,” Avery said. “She’s a model. Supermodel, technically.” He smiled — he could see Mudstomper’s eyes open wide — Avery had his hook.
“Well, that’s finuh than a pig in its pen, I reckon,” Mudstomper said, his hillbilly accent now in full force — he wanted to impress Avery with his acting and his devotion, presumably.
“Yeah, she’s doing great,” Avery said. He batted his eyes at Mudstomper as the medic patted him on his momentous bicep.
“Is you an actor too, suh?” Mudstomper asked. He chewed on the length of straw in his mouth. On the table beside him sat a jar filled with unchewed lengths of straw. Avery wondered where he got them.
“Oh, no, no, I just collect celebrity autographs,” Avery said. “Do you mind?” He handed over a piece of paper and a pen.
Mudstomper’s autograph was just an X in a rough block-letter shape, as though he was illiterate and struggled even to write one X. He beamed. “Well, if’n ya friend evuh get any kinda parts in Hollywood, you give her mah email address,” he said. He wrote that on a different piece of paper — his handwriting was blockish and very neat — and slid that to Avery. He flexed his bicep as the medic finished up on his wounded shoulder. The medic headed out of the dressing room. When he saw Avery looking at it, he shrugged and said, “You wanna touch it?”
“Hell yeah!” Avery planted his lips right on it, and Mudstomper laughed a deep, nervous baritone barrel laugh. He undid one of the straps of his overalls, so they sagged and revealed one massive pectoral muscle the size of Avery’s head.
“Lemme j’st send a text so Robert don’t bust in here, interruptin’ us wit’ dat pulled pork. You know about Cajun Charlie’s? That place any good?” Mudstomper picked up his cell phone with his free hand, then awkwardly typed out a text with it while Avery passionately licked, sucked and caressed every inch of his other arm.
“No. Cajun Charlie’s sucks, it tastes like an old shoe. Go to Hoppumslaw on the east side,” Avery said. “They have the best pulled pork.”
“Awright, thankee mightily, suh,” Mudstomper muttered. He texted furiously, then put his phone down. He looked over at Avery who had licked his bulging bicep until it shimmered in the fluorescent light of the dressing room. He reached over and locked the door. “I let ya touch mah arms up, suh, if you send that lady-friend of ya’s some good word about me,” he said. He flexed his other arm, and Avery moved to that one. “Tell ‘er to come see me sometimes.”
Avery said. “Do guys pay you to do that a lot?”
Mudstomper blushed. “Boy-howdy, you don’t even know, suh, you don’t even know!” He laughed and slapped his thighs. “You like biceps?”
“I’m just trying to get bigger,” Avery said. “I thought touching someone big might help.”
“You wanna jack my dick? That might help too.”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. He undid the other strap to his overalls, and they fell to the ground. Mudstomper wore a fine athletic very-modern jockstrap, which was almost funny to see in contrast to the overalls. Avery sucked on Mudstomper’s pecs, which made him roll his eyes and pick his cell phone back up.
After a few moments of Avery licking his chest, Mudstomper remembered to flex his pecs like a stripper. He just grunted as Avery moaned. Then one of Avery’s hands roamed to that overfull jockstrap and pulled his cock out. Mudstomper twitched and grunted.
Avery said with a giggle, “I love your arms.”
“Mah gu’hlfriend don’t like ’em cuz they hairy,” he said. “They’s as hairy as a hedgehog in a hampuh!” He guffawed. “You likin’ it? You onea dem muscle-men, huh?”
“It’s really big!” Avery said and blushed. He had both hands on Mudstomper’s cock, stroking it back and forth. It throbbed in his grasp.
Mudstomper looked away from his phone. He eyed Avery. “Why’d you say that like you was surprised?”
“I wasn’t surprised, just excited,” Avery said. “I’m not like a total size queen or anything, but I like it.”
“If your lady-friend is into big dicks, tell her I got one,” Mudstomper said.
“Okay,” Avery said. “But you better show me.” He dropped to his knees and put the tip of Mudstomper’s cock in his mouth. The smell of those sweat-soaked overalls, which still lay by Mudstomper’s feet, filled Avery’s nostrils. Yeah, he thought, he could see how those bushy sweat-soaked armpits would be popular.
But Mudstomper’s fat pale cock was even better. It tasted of pure funky manhood, like his muscles had tasted back when Avery first licked them — not tasting of saliva, but of just plain manhood. His cock tasted like that forever, even after it was soaked in spit, it still tasted like the undiluted manhood of Mudstomper’s muscles.
His cell phone chirped, startling Mudstomper, who was just beginning to really enjoy this as his cock perked up in Avery’s mouth. He looked back at his phone and cursed.
“Shithead. He says there’s a line at Hoppumslaw. No fucking shit, jackass. It’s got a line cuz it’s good. If you always pick the place with no line, you’re always picking the least popular, shittiest place. No wonder I always get crappy pulled pork on the road,” he said as he furiously typed out a response, very quickly this time because he could use both hands. “Idiot. He says the line looks dangerous — is Hoppumslaw full of black people?”
“Probably,” Avery said as he slurped his own spit off Mudstomper’s throbbing shaft.
“Then he’s being racist. Just go in, they won’t rob him. Will they?”
Avery shrugged. “Don’t wear expensive sneakers there,” he said. He kept stroking Mudstomper’s shaft and thwacked it over his face.
“Robert don’t got nothing worth a damn ‘cept that I’m his friend, and they can’t steal that,” Mudstomper said. He leaned back to give Avery better access to his cock. “Hey, where do single chicks go in this town?”
“Hmmm… I don’t know where to find girls. The Big Time Bar maybe, I always see hot chicks vomiting in the alley behind there.”
“Big Time Bar? Got it,” he said. He kept typing to his friend, his phone buzzing every few seconds. Mudstomper completely ignored Avery now, like he had forgotten where his dick was. As he moved, his cocktip shifted around in Avery’s mouth. Avery tried to swallow it deeply, but Mudstomper moved around too much.
Gasping for air, Avery smiled and thwacked his dick over his face. “There’s also Lipsweet. That’s a wrestlers bar. Mostly men, but a buncha singlet-chasing females hang out there too.”
He nodded. His dick was fully erect, throbbing and veiny. Avery licked the length of it, then gargled on Mudstomper’s balls. Precum ran down the shaft. His sac was hairy and hot, and his balls hung low and heavy. He clutched those thighs the size of car tires as he slipped between his legs to kiss Mudstomper’s ass.
There was a knock on the door. Mudstomper scowled and went to it, motioning for Avery to continue. He opened it just a crack.
It was a muscular black man whom Avery didn’t recognize, at least not from the tiny portion of his face he could see. When he heard the man’s voice, however, Avery realized it could only be Colonel Bling, having dropped character. He no longer had the stentorian call of a military dictator — that’s what Colonel Bling was, an American army officer cum military coup leader on a fictional Caribbean island — also, he wore a lot of bling.
The real Colonel Bling did too, or maybe he just hadn’t changed out of his costume yet. The bling jingled and clanked on his chest as he poked his head into the dressing room.
“Whatchoo doin’ in there? We goin’ out. I heard there’s usually females at a bar called Lipsweet, but you gotta dress bettuh than that. But you ain’t gonna fit in lookin’ like Huck Finn, and this nigga don’t spend time with a whiteboy dressed like that. Whiteboy gotta dress proper to be seen wit’ me. I gots a rep to protect.” His eyes roamed down Mudstomper’s naked body, only a sliver of which was visible through the door that was open only a crack. Mudstomper’s asscheeks quivered as Avery’s hands roamed between his legs to stroke his dick off. “You naked in there? You got a female already?”
The black wrestler — Colonel Bling — tried to open the door, but Mudstomper was prepared and had the door blocked by his body. The knob smacked him in the six-packed belly. Avery scooted to as close to the wall as he could, to be sure Colonel Bling didn’t see any part of his body or his shadow. Avery kept his head moving up and down that magnificent dick though, and it kept throbbing in his mouth. Mudstomper even pumped his hips slowly back and forth, making love to Avery’s throat, ever so slighttly so Colonel Bling didn’t see what he was doing.
“No. I’m just changing, Jackson. I know about Lipsweet, I know — there’s a singlet-chaser who told me she’d meet me there later,” he said. He had to bite back a moan of pleasure as his cock throbbed in Avery’s grasp. Avery licked his mountainous asscheeks.
“Oh. Hey, lemme in, man, you hear about the new safety thing from corporate? We can’t do the flying shoulder smash anymore. Not without a harness. It’s-“
“No, go away, Jackson,” Mudstomper said, scowling. “Just fuck off, I’ll see you at the bar-“
“You don’t gotta be an asshole, man-“
“I’m goddamn naked, and I’m changing my clothes! I don’t want to talk about the new goddamn safety regulations!” Mudstomper said. Then he saw some fans walking by in the hall. Mudstomper added, “I gots to take the purse I won to fix the family tractuh or the bank gonna take our fahm fo’ sho’!” He smiled at the women walking by. “Hey, howdy, how you doin’?”
The women giggled and all talked at once. For a moment Avery thought he was going to lose his man to a bunch of chicks. But it soon became apparent that they were more interested in Colonel Bling, who walked away with a girl on each arm. Their giggles intensified.
“Damn it,” Mudstomper said wistfully. He let the door shut and locked it again. He turned back around. “He gets all the best chicks. Hey, lemme in that ass, okay? You take it up the ass, right?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said once again. He blushed. He turned around and pulled his own underwear down, revealing a perfectly pale ass.
“I hate that dude, fuckin’ Colonel Bling. He thinks he’s special cuz the girls love him, he’s like the most popular heel for female fans,” Mudstomper said. He had to get on his knees and scoot forward, cock in hand, to meet Avery’s ass. “But that’s hardly even a big deal, girls always love bad boys. That’s what that publicist said. For a good guy, I do really well among women.”
Before Avery could say anything in response, there was a tight pinch and intense pressure in his ass. He opened his mouth and gasped, biting at the air. He sucked in his breath.
“Sorry, do that hurt, hoss?”
“No — No, it’s fine-” Avery’s voice was tense and wavery. He took a deep breath and relaxed his ass.
“You wanna bite on muh arm? It won’t hurt, it’ll slide in gentle as a calf bein’ borned,” he said, drifting into his stage accent briefly. His own Southern accent was mild, and it was much twangy as drawly — he was from northern Nevada. He placed one of his forearms in front of Avery’s face, while using his other meaty paw to keep Avery’s hips up — Mudstomper was so tall he struggled to keep Avery in alignment with his crotch.
His cock slid in easily once he got past that initial resistance, and Avery gnawed on his ropy-muscled forearm. Mudstomper took a deep breath. He had been extremely reluctant to cornhole a man back when he was younger.
It had been so weird back then that he stopped partway through. His friends had to talk him into doing it again — they didn’t understand guys with big cocks took a lot of effort to get hard; it was easy with a girl, but when you had to concentrate to feel aroused at all, getting all thirteen inches of his meat fully erect was difficult.
But not anymore. He’d done it for money, talent-agent connections and even once, he did it for a free first-class upgrade on a flight to Tampa Bay — he thought it should be a law that companies had to upgrade big men like him first, since there was no way he could fit in a coach seat without virtually sitting on his neighbor’s lap. Over the years he’d lost his inhibitions. Now he could easily pretend he was deep in a woman.
It was funny, he thought as he watched Avery squirm beneath him, how much pleasure he could bring someone without really doing anything much himself. He could tell he had found Avery’s prostate. Avery was out of breath, wriggling, undulating, gasping, incomprehensibly begging.
Then Avery threw his head back and kissed Mudstomper on the neck, which Mudstomper gamely allowed until he became worried Avery would leave a hickey that would be obvious when he picked up chicks at the bar later. He gently redirected Avery to kissing and even nibbling on his forearm, while his lower half plowed in and out of Avery’s tight ass.
“Alright, I’m gonna cum in a minute, how you wanna do it?” Mudstomper said. He stopped moving with his dick all the way inside Avery. “What position you want?”
“Can… Uh… Can you… Lay… on your… back? With me… Sitting… facing you…”
“Reverse cowgirl? No way, your cum will get on my chest. Don’t say you’ll aim it, I know that won’t work,” Mudstomper said. Then he muttered, “Okay, for five hundred dollars, you can cum on my chest. If you stiff me, I swear I’ll beat your ass — no, I’ll have Robert beat your ass, he’s skinny and got a face like a warthog’s pussy, you won’t be turned on at all.”
“Okay, I’ll pay-” Avery said between moans of desire. He was on the verge of orgasm already as Mudstomper dropped backwards, almost like a wrestling move, pulling Avery on top of him so he could get on his back with Avery riding him, all without moving his cock out of Avery’s ass. Avery grimaced as a shock of pre-orgasmic pain hit him, and he rotated around to face Mudstomper’s chest.
Mudstomper covered his own face with his arm so he didn’t have to watch Avery cum on him. He’d seen it before. He tried to think about something else while he listened to Avery moan and felt his delicate little fingers caressing Mudstomper’s chest.
He was glad to feel his own orgasm first. If he felt Avery cum first, he might lose his erection. He groaned and his muscles rippled beneath Avery’s grasp as he pistoned his hips upward — he had to admit, the one nice thing about plowing men was that they really knew how to take it without complaint — no girl ever took his entire foot-long dick in there and let him cum inside her.
His nut sprayed into Avery, who cried out, the sound muffled by Mudstomper’s hand which he clasped over his lips. “Shush!” he snapped, glancing towards the door. He heard male voices passing by the dressing room.
Avery could sense the orgasm washing over Mudstomper’s body in the pulsating of his muscles beneath Avery’s grasp. Then, as the last jet of cum hit Avery’s insides and seeped into him, he leaned forward.
He rubbed his dick over Mudstomper’s flat belly and shaved crotch, which brought him to orgasm with Mudstomper’s dick still pressing on his prostate. Cum sprayed across Mudstomper’s broad chest and belly.
“Aaaaah…” Mudstomper grunted and covered his eyes with both hands. The young-me, he thought, would have been terrified at the thought of letting some random dude cum on his chest. Now he just thought of it as a distasteful but important part of the job. “Okay, clean it off, I ain’t openin’ my eyes till you clean it off…”
Avery was sprawled out over his chest, his limp dick rubbing over Mudstomper’s cum-soaked belly. Most of Mudstomper’s load slipped out of Avery’s ass, soaking his cock and his balls, so Mudstomper’s body was covered from the shoulder to the thigh in cum.
Avery giggled again and sighed. He found a box of tissues and thoroughly got all the cum off Mudstomper’s chest. It had run down in rivulets to his side, which Avery sopped up. Then he kissed each of Mudstomper’s nipples. “Okay, you’re clean.”
Mudstomper sat up. He scowled at Avery. “You better pay up. No check,” he said.
“I’ll have to go to the ATM. Do you wanna come with me?” Avery said. “I’ll make it six hundred if you let me play with it in the car. You drive, so I can use both hands.”
“Deal. I’m not getting hard again though, you can just play with it limp,” Mudstomper said. He stood and put his clothes on. “I’ll tell Robert to meet me with the pulled pork. What a fucking moron. He’s probably still waiting in line.”
Avery wiped his own lips off. “Probably. If he’s white and he looks like a jackass, they’ll keep getting in front of him in line,” he said. He patted Mudstomper on the side before he put a plain white shirt on. “Hey, do you like fat chicks?”
“What?”
As they walked out the door, Avery said, “Cuz I know a fat chick who would gladly let you demolish her, she loves muscular guys. I get to watch though.” He paused. “You can wait to see if you get a hotter chick tonight, you don’t have to say yes right now.”
“Okay,” Mudstomper said. He whistled — that meant he’d be guaranteed to at least get laid tonight. That was good, he always felt better about cornholing a man if he got some pussy out of it too.
Avery led him out the door with a smile on his face as well.

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.

Reacharound From a Stepfather

Fletcher doesn’t like his new stepdad, who’s a biker. But when Fletcher comes home from college for spring break, he has to spend time… and a bed with him, which means Fletcher’s about to see his stepdad Sagan in a whole new light. Can he handle what Sagan has in store for him?

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Read the whole thing here!

Fletcher didn’t like his new stepfather, and the more time they spent together, the less he liked him. He knew it made him seem like a whiny kid instead of the young adult college student he actually was, but he couldn’t help it.
Until last year, his mother had always been a liberal, educated woman with a professional career as a paralegal. Then she met Sagan. He was a biker, a redneck and a mechanic, a rough, hairy and tattooed thug, walking with a pimp lean even though he’s white, muscles like a baseball player… They fell in love, and Sagan convinced her it was wrong for a woman to work outside the home.
And so that was that, she quit her job. She began speaking in a Southern accent and reminded people all the time that she was “Alabama-born” — that was technically true, but she had been born in Alabama while her parents passed through on the way to their home in Dover. She was really a Delawarean.
Luckily Fletcher was in college by then. He didn’t have to see Sagan very often, but when he did, he became annoyed by his redneck antics every time. Tonight he was home for spring break, he’d be leaving tomorrow to go on a trip with his friends, so he only had to get through one night with Sagan in the house.
He went to bed early, while Sagan and his friends were still outside smoking cigarettes in the dark and talking about motorcycles. Sagan knew everything about bikes and made sure everyone was aware of it. Fletcher really hated him and his stupid redneck voice. That holler in his accent made this whole house feel like a trailer park.
This family used to be nice. Back when his biological father was here, it wasn’t like this. Mom was sophisticated, smart, professional. The house was clean, and there were never motorcycles revving outside over and over. Why did they have to be so loud?
Fletcher pulled his pillow over his face, and he groaned into it. Outside, the rednecks drawled on and on like youtube videos.
“Them Jap bikes ain’t that bad. I wouldn’t nevuh buy one, but they ain’t as shitty as they used to be.”
“Don’t ever ask me when I’m sober cuz I’ll deny it, but I’d love to buy a Mitsuhama.”
“Chicks dig them bikes, they think they’s sexy. And quiet, girls don’t like loud bikes.”
“If my bitch ever said she ain’t like a bike cuz it’s too loud, I’d bend her over the revving engine and fuck some sense into her. She’ll either go deaf or get smart with a quickness.”
That last voice was Sagan, or so Fletcher suspected. They all sounded the same to him, that same drawling redneck accent. He had told his mother before about the terrible, misogynistic things he said, but she didn’t care. “That’s just his way, sweetie,” was what she said. “He don’t mean it. He just talk rough. He spent time in prison, y’know.”
Fletcher didn’t care why Sagan talked like that. He didn’t like anyone talking about his mother like she was some common slut. But there was nothing he could do, so he just huddled under his covers, trying to pretend the noise wasn’t keeping him awake.
Did they all realize how loud they were being? It wasn’t normal in any neighborhood, was it? To be this loud at night? Who revs engines in the middle of the night?!
“Lemme head in there, guys. I’ll be back. I got some… one to do.”
“You gonna fuck the missus? We’ll help you out if’n you want.”
Sagan must have made some kind of face, because Fletcher didn’t hear him say anything, but the other men laughed. He hoped he wasn’t going to have to hear Sagan and Mom having sex. That would be awful. Fletcher would have to move out.
The front door opened. Sagan snorted and spat on the ground before entering. That was another habit Fletcher found revolting — Sagan spat often, like a baseball player.
After the front door slammed shut, Fletcher heard his stepfather come into the hall. There, he stopped for what seemed like a long time. Fletcher stayed as motionless and silent as possible, buried under his blankets.
Sagan’s heavy footsteps resumed, walking down the hall, but they stopped in front of Fletcher’s room.
“Stick it in her, Sagan! Stick it in her good!”
“Ooh, Sagan, I love you!”
“I love you too, babuh. Hmm-hmm.” They all laughed at that impression of Sagan. Did they think he sounded like Elvis? It sounded like an Elvis impression.
Fletcher rolled over. He pretended to be asleep when Sagan opened the door to his room. The smell of cigarette smoke, engine oil and sweat filled the air, and Sagan’s broad chest heaved with his breathing, like he was out of breath even though he wasn’t.
“Hey, Fletcher,” Sagan said quietly, a leer deep in his voice. “You awake?”
Pretending to be groggy, Fletcher rolled back over and faced him. “Kinda.”
Sagan sat on the edge of the bed, which weighed down the mattress and forced Fletcher to move closer to him. His body pressed against Sagan’s muscular ass right where he sat. Fletcher scooted further away, but the angle of the mattress forced him closer.
In truth, he kind of liked it next to Sagan’s powerful body. Fletcher didn’t like him, but he did appreciate Sagan’s muscular frame. Fletcher found the male form pleasing, at least when it was muscular and well-formed like Sagan. In the light, Sagan’s body was pockmarked with scars and faded prison tats, but in the darkness, he was just a masculine silhouette whose shape made Fletcher’s eyes open wide.
His smell was strong too in the darkness. That aroma, combining manliness and motorcycle and cigarette smoke, was intoxicating and heady, and it made Fletcher dizzy. He inhaled deeply of it.
“I know you don’t like me,” Sagan said.
Fletcher shrugged. “I don’t hate you.”
“That’s nice,” Sagan said. He placed one hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “I love yer mama. You might not believe it, but I really do. I got s’r’uss feelin’s for her. You believe me?”
Fletcher didn’t respond. It hadn’t occurred to him to even have an opinion on that. He didn’t like his stepfather, he didn’t want the relationship to continue, he didn’t want Sagan to love his mother.
But Fletcher hadn’t considered whether it was true or not. His mother had her own history and goals and secret longings, and Sagan did too. For a moment, it felt like running into a teacher out in the community, it was surprising to learn, or rather to feel viscerally, that they were real people with their own lives, inner feelings, hopes and fears. His mother too, she wanted love, she believed Sagan loved her, and until this very moment, Fletcher had never considered this relationship in any way other than how it affected him.
Did he believe Sagan loved his mother? Well… It couldn’t be a scam, right? Mom didn’t have any money. Why else would Sagan marry her?
But that didn’t mean it was real love. Just because they both believed they were in love didn’t mean they were true loves, in the Disney, Hallmark, romcom kind of way. Or did it? What made some loves true and others not? Permanence? Is there no way to know if love is real except to wait a couple decades and see if it remains? No other emotion is defined that way.
But Fletcher didn’t say any of those things out loud.
Sagan sighed and stripped off his leather jacket. He carefully draped it over the chair by the bed. Then he took off his stained t-shirt and the torn wifebeater he wore under that. His powerful chest, brimming with tattoos, was barely visible in the dim light of night.
“I ain’t hear no moanin’ yet, Sagan!”
“Oooh, ooh, Sagan, I love your tiny dick-!”
“I wantchoo to fill me with every single millimeter! That’s right, both millimeters, all the way in!”
“You havin’ trouble gettin’ hard, Sagan?”
“You can ignore them,” Sagan said. “Sorry they so loud. They’s a bunch of assholes.”
“Yeah, they are.”
A long pause followed as Sagan’s grease-stained, callused fingers caressed Fletcher’s shoulder. It made Fletcher shudder and scoot closer to Sagan. “You don’t got a girlfriend, huh? You never did, right?” he said.
Fletcher shook his head and blushed, glad that Sagan couldn’t see how red his face was. In the darkness of his unlit room, he found himself inexorably drawn to Sagan’s visible asscrack as he pondered how to respond. Sagan had probably never been eighteen years old and single. He was probably fucking mad chicks back then. And now. Or at least until he got married. And maybe he still was fucking around outside of his marriage.
“Yer mama is still gonna love you,” Sagan said. “She loves you more than me, y’know. You might not think it, but she do. She told me that last week. I been telling her how to think and how to dress and how to vote and she just accept it. Then I tell her you’re a bit of a whiner, and she slapped me. She said she love you more than me and if I ever say somethin’ not nice about you again, she’ll leave me. She said she ain’t gonna put out for a month to punish me.”
“Really?”
“Fer real, man,” Sagan said. “I ain’t even mean to insult you or nuttin’. I was just annoyed you got all whiny about me treading in mud and engine grease on the floor.” He snorted again and spat in the trash can. Fletcher was grossed out but also intensely aroused. He found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sagan’s muscular back, which writhed when he hocked a loogie and spat.
“Okay.”
Sagan bent over and began undoing his heavy black boots. Since he was leaning forward, his bare back stretched and his asscrack was visible above the waist of his scuffed jeans. “You can play wit’ it, if you want.”
“What?”
“My ass. I can feel you lookin’ at it,” Sagan said, still facing down to his feet as he untied his boots. “Go ahead. I was in prison, remember? I ain’t gonna freak out at a man touchin’ me.”
“Oh.”
“Go on ‘n touch me.”
Fletcher got past his anxiety and stuck a finger down Sagan’s pants, right in his hairy, sweaty crack. A shudder ran down Fletcher’s spine. His eyes opened wide, and he moved close enough that his nose touched the firmness of Sagan’s back.
That asscrack was hot and hairy and sweaty, and it made Fletcher’s dick stand up under the covers. His finger crept lower and lower until his entire hand was wedged between Sagan’s ass and his dirty jeans.
Fletcher’s finger stopped when it reached the tangle of hair over Sagan’s asshole. Then he pushed through and touched that tight warm ring. He didn’t go in, sensing that Sagan wouldn’t permit that, he just hugged the rim while Sagan pulled off his boots and socks.
“Yee-haw! Make her scream, Sagan!”
Someone outside loudly revved the engine to their motorcycle, and the others laughed.
“She likin’ this sound yet or what?” He revved it again, cackling as he asked over and over whether she liked the sound.
Then Sagan stood without warning. At first Fletcher thought he was mad, that this would be it and Sagan was going to beat him up. But instead he simply dropped his pants and his dingy white boxers. His thick cock dangled, half-hard already. He stood there as though waiting for something.
“You can touch it, if you want,” Sagan said softly.
Fletcher did so, trembling as he wrapped one hand around Sagan’s thick cock. There was a tattoo of a skull-and-crossbones on it, Fletcher could just barely see it in the dark. That was weird. Who tattooed their cockshaft? Fletcher pictured Sagan taking his dick out in a tattoo parlor and the tattooist touching it, holding it still as he worked on it. Must have hurt, Fletcher thought.
His heart pounding, Fletcher hefted up that slab of meat and inhaled deeply of its musty scent. Sagan chuckled. His limp cock throbbed in Fletcher’s grip.
Without giving it another thought, Fletcher swallowed it down, as deep as he could get on it. He drooled as an explosion of masculine flavor hit his tongue, and Sagan moaned. There was a faintly surprised tenor in his voice, as though he didn’t think Fletcher’s unpracticed throat would be smooth and welcoming
“C’mon, Sagan, you put it in her ass yet?”
“I gonna drink all yer beer if you don’t get out here!”
“If you ain’t get hard yet, it ain’t gonna happen!”
Soon Sagan was rock-hard, grunting as he bucked his hips, pushing his dick deeper and deeper down Fletcher’s throat. He held onto the back of Fletcher’s head as though going to throat him down, but didn’t. He just gently worked his dick as far as it would go.
“Yeah…” Sagan voice melted away as his dick spasmed in Fletcher’s mouth.
The taste of precum hit him, and Fletcher gurgled merrily. It was salty and sweet, savory and sour, it tasted like exactly what he had been looking for. He forced himself to deep-throat even more of it.
He continued until his nose was buried in Sagan’s unkempt pubic hair, which stood out from his crotch like a shrub. His dick was even bigger than it had first seemed because the first few inches were concealed by hair, which smelled of metal and stale semen.
Fletcher’s fingers crept up Sagan’s body to his muscular chest. He didn’t have a six-pack, but his barrel-shaped torso was bulging with muscles and the power of his frame emanated from him in his body heat, which enveloped Fletcher. Fletcher withdrew his fingers when he realized that probably seemed too weird to Sagan.
But Sagan shook his head, grabbed his hands and brought them back up to his nipples. “Go on and feel whatever you wanna feel, boy,” Sagan said. He flexed his pecs beneath Fletcher’s grasp. “You wanna stick a finger in my ass? Go on, I’s a prison-man, ‘member? You ain’t gonna shock me.”
Fletcher, however, was shocked. He kept one of his hands on those rock-hard pecs and erect nipples, while his other hand crept to Sagan’s plump ass. He pushed his finger back through the tangled nest of asshair and plunged hesitantly into Sagan’s butthole.
It was warm and tight, and every time he moved his finger even the slightest, it made Sagan grunt and shake. Fletcher smiled as he watched his stepfather writhe beneath his touch. His spongy prostate felt good beneath Fletcher’s fingertip.
“I’m-a ram you in the ass now, boy,” Sagan murmured. He hurried under the blankets as though this was a race, wrapped his muscular body around Fletcher and rammed the tip of his dick right in. Fletcher bucked and tensed as pain shot through him. Sagan stopped moving. “Hey, sorry, I ain’t nevuh ram a man outside of prison. I ain’t used to doin’ it nice,” he said. He sounded genuinely apologetic as he stroked Fletcher’s spasming back. “But I’ll do somethin’ fer you I only ever done on my prison bitch’s birthday and Christmas.” He reached one hand around Fletcher’s body and grabbed his cock, which was already hard.
Then he began working his dick in and out slowly. The motion sent sparks of sensation through Fletcher’s body, and he gasped and moaned and writhed, as the pressure in his ass grew and grew even as it morphed into spams of pleasure that wracked Fletcher’s body. Every minute or two, Sagan seemed to forget that he was trying to be gentle, and he’d hump his hips hard until Fletcher squealed and squirmed. Then he apologized and slowed down again.
“Sorry, boy, you squirm real nice-like…” He kissed Fletcher on the nape. His hands squeezed Fletcher’s cock, one hand holding firmly onto the cockroot while the other spit-lubed hand stroked the shaft.
He kept chewing on his lips and snorting, emitting almost a snore-like sound. He even paused every few minutes and spat a loogie into the trash can by the bed. Each time he did, his belly and his powerful chest writhed above Fletcher’s body.
The thick, bristly hair of his chest and arms scratched at Fletcher’s back. He arched his spine as the sensations grew more and more intense, to the point where he wasn’t sure he could stand it. Fletcher couldn’t even tell if it was so intensely painful or pleasurable, it was just too much of everything, and it made him squirm in his stepafather’s powerful arms.
“If it hurts, you can bite my arm, son,” Sagan said softly, his voice sending a shudder up Fletcher’s spine. He put the meaty part of his forearm in front of Fletcher’s face, like a chokehold almost, but not tight.
Fletcher was glad to have the opportunity for a little relief, as the sensations roiling within were so intense it felt like he was going to explode. He bit down hard on the firm muscles of Sagan’s forearm, which made Sagan moan as though he loved being bitten. His forearm was brimming with muscle so big it seemed to barely fit beneath his skin, and his coarse body hairs rubbed against Fletcher’s teeth and lips. There were tattoos there on his skin, but Fletcher couldn’t see them in the dark and his mind was too distracted by the cock in his ass to remember what they were.
“You makin’ babies tonight, Sagan?!”
“Don’t pull out, man!”
“Whoop, whoop!”
He chuckled into Fletcher’s ear. “I ain’t gonna pull out. I’m gonna cum inside you, boy. You like that? You wanna feel me shoot a nut in you?”
“Yeah…”
“Good. I don’t like pullin’ out. Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“Good. It should hurt a bit,” Sagan said. “Is it alright if’n I come see you at night every once in a while?”
“Yeah.”
After another long pause, Sagan said, “Every night?”
“Yeah,” Fletcher said. “You’ll do this again, right?”
“Hell yeah. Try and stop me,” Sagan said. He kissed Fletcher on the cheek.
“Hmmm…” Fletcher’s voice broke as a fresh wave of pleasure hit his prostate and rumbled its way up his body. His open mouth gnawed at Sagan’s meaty forearm, but he couldn’t summon the wherewithal to actually bite down anymore. All he could do was writhe amid the tangle of Sagan’s sweat-matted hair and contorting muscles.
The motorcycles outside revved loudly. Sagan grunted, annoyed, waited for the engines to quiet down again, then screamed loud enough that everyone outside could hear. “You quit makin’ that racket, Cooter! I’ll come cornhole you instead, motherfucker, bend you right over that bike and ram you up the backside! You know I will too!”
They all laughed — presumably all except Cooter — and teased each other about who would like it the best if Sagan did ramrod them. Fletcher moaned at the thought of it, his mind picturing Cooter (or at least, the biker he suspected was Cooter, since Fletcher didn’t know who was who out there) bent over as he was sodomized by Sagan’s big tattooed meat.
Fletcher wondered if Sagan actually did that kind of thing. Did he cornhole the other bikers?
“You like that, huh? I did ramrod that Cooter once. He bet he could beat me in a race. I beat his ass down,” Sagan said. “Next time I do that, I let you watch, boy. Maybe you can join in, if you want to. You like that idea?”
“Yes, dad…” Fletcher moaned in ecstasy, as Sagan’s cock rammed all the way in and all the way out with each powerful thrust of Chooper’s body. It made Fletcher’s bed shake under them.
“Good. Now here comes my nut. You ready fer it? Lemme hear you say it.”
“I’m ready for your nut,” Fletcher said, struggling to get the words out.
“Alright, this’ll hurt a bit,” he said, then rammed his dick all the way in. It did send a shiver of pain up Fletcher’s spine, but more prominently it sent Fletcher to new heights of ecstasy as well. His prostate burned with stimulation as his mind reeled.
When Sagan’s orgasm actually came, Fletcher felt it through the quiver of his muscles and the loud rumbling in his throat. Fletcher gasped as his own climax began building at that moment, when he felt Sagan’s manhood spasming deep within him.
“He’e it is, boy, take it, take every drop…” His voice was low and slow. “Lemme hear you say it. Say when you feel it and when you don’t no mo’.”
Cum sprayed into Fletcher’s body, as Sagan’s muscles all tensed. He yelped and squealed directly into Fletcher’s ear and even licked his earlobe as pleasure shot through them both.
“I feel it, daddy,” Fletcher said, his voice weak and small as pleasure overran him. “I feel your cum inside me.” Once the semen flowed into him, it stuck to his innards and Fletcher felt nothing but creamy warmth. It was only after a few full minutes that Fletcher realized he was definitely done, as he kept feeling trickling jizz inside him until then. “That’s it, I think. I don’t feel it anymore,” he said through gritted teeth.
Then Sagan pulled out, laid Fletcher on his back and used both hands to stroke Fletcher off. Fletcher writhed, the intense pleasure overwhelming him. He clutched Sagan’s powerful chest and broad shoulders. Sagan smiled as though he enjoyed the sight of Fletcher’s delicate fingers clutching his muscles and his kinky chest hair.
“I ain’t nevuh done this, boy,” Sagan said before bending his head over and taking Fletcher’s dick in his mouth. He moved all in one smooth motion, as though if he stopped to think about it, he’d back out.
By that time, Fletcher was already beginning to nut. His orgasm overwhelmed him as soon as he felt that warm moisture on his dick. Sagan’s tongue had no sooner touched Fletcher’s manhood when cum sprayed into Sagan’s mouth. He gagged but didn’t stop.
A plentiful load flowed into Sagan’s throat, and though he screwed up his face in disgust, he swallowed every drop. Fletcher had never felt pleasure so intense — he had masturbated, of course, but it had never felt like this. He shot what felt like a massive load, which drained down Sagan’s tattooed neck.
When Fletcher was done, Sagan lifted his head up, wiped his lips off with a tissue and gagged again. He patted Fletcher on the cheek, kissed him chastely there and got out of bed.
“Damn, Sagan, you tryin’-a give her an orgasm tonight? Tryin’ somethin’ new?”
“Lemme tell you a secret, boy,” Sagan said, standing next to the bed. He rubbed Fletcher’s back and asscheeks with one hand. “I been in prison a couple times. I, uh… I mean… I did have a prison bitch. A couple of ’em. But, uh… I also been the prison bitch a few times, and I uh… I had a prison wife for awhile. I ain’t mind swallowin’ that man’s dick. I don’t mind swallowin’ your’n neither. Don’t tell yer mama.”
“Okay,” Fletcher said, too exhausted to process that information.
“Now you just playin’ wit’ it, Sagan!”
Sagan slowly put his clothes on. He smiled at Fletcher and patted him on the head. “Go on, go to sleep, boy, and have a good trip tomorrow. I’ll make those fuckheads shut up.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sagan.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. He paused at the doorway. “I don’t expect you to say this back to me, Fletcher… But I love you, son.”
Fletcher waited until he was gone to say it back, but he had a feeling Sagan knew he had said it. Just seconds later, Sagan barked at his friends outside.
“Shut yer goddamn mouths and turn your engines off, fuckheads! The family I love is tryin’-a sleep!”

Massaging the Football Player

Tupou is a Tongan exchange student playing football in Dallas, so when he gets an inconvenient stiffy, it’s up to the masseur Avery to help him out. Can Tupou get his needs met?

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Read it here!

Tupou Moala had been going along to get along since he arrived in America. He smiled a lot, and he nodded whenever he thought it appropriate. He agreed with whatever anyone suggested.
That’s because he was from Tonga, and while he had grown up speaking English alongside Tongan, he had trouble understanding nearly everything that happened in America. It wasn’t just the language — his English was good — it was everything about the culture. People spoke of television shows he didn’t know, hashtags he had never tweeted about. It might as well have been a completely different world. He felt like an old man angry about technology, even though he was only nineteen.
He had come to GHU to play football. Before he got here, he was only vaguely aware he was supposed to take classes at the same time. They had said that, but they minimized it. They said not to worry about the university part of university football. The only part that mattered was the football.
Now he struggled to get through his coursework, and didn’t even understand how to get tutoring — much less getting nerds to take his tests for him, which he also could have done if he had known that was an option — nobody had told him that because they assumed all jocks knew it. A lot of things in America were not explicit. Churches were racially segregated, for example, which nobody would acknowledge. It was impossible to know which churches were for white people or for black people except by going there and looking at the people going inside. Everybody assumed Tupou knew that nerds would do his homework if he asked them to. No one back in Tonga did homework for the rugby and cricket jocks who dominated the sports scene there. Those were the sports Tupou came up playing, and when he wasn’t busy with practices, he continued playing rugby with a local amateur team. Nobody here played cricket.
A lot of the people here didn’t speak English as he had learned it. There were a group of players from Florida who had spoken what Tupou was certain was a foreign language before finally learning it was, in fact, a peculiar dialect of English. He didn’t understand the black people who talked like rappers. He didn’t understand Coach Marshall at all, and they said he spoke proper American English. He needed to see a doctor every month and the medical system here was incomprehensible to Tupou — every time he went there, they said he was doing it wrong, signing in incorrectly, handing over the wrong cards, sitting in the wrong place. Every time, he did it differently, handed over a different card with his name on it, stood out of the way rather than sit, and still, they always said he was doing it wrong. It was a minefield too, because he’d found that he kept getting surprise bills in the mail, for medical appointments that he’d been told would be free. He assumed it was because he was doing things wrong, yet no one could tell him the correct way to do it.
But despite all that, Tupou really enjoyed America. The people were friendly, and the parties were fun. It was scary: there were so many people here, and none of them knew each other, it was so big, you could get lost in the woods here for years. It was cold most of the time too, which Tupou actually liked — he was big enough that he was normally overheated, so the cold was enjoyable.
Yet it was very very much unlike Tonga. There was not even any ocean for hundreds of miles in any direction. Tupou did not know how to take that. It wasn’t something that occurred to him until he had been in Dallas for some time, and then the thought of it gave him a claustrophobic feeling. Even though he could see for miles in every direction — Texas was very flat — he still felt penned in, cooped up and isolated.
Tupou was more than seven feet tall, and he had a full head of thick, wavy black hair. Men here did not have long hair, and many Americans made a big to-do about his hair. They thought it was either funny or gorgeous or weird or just plain interesting. Many men in Tonga have long hair. Many people in America liked touching Tupou’s hair.
He enjoyed American football. It wasn’t as much fun as rugby, but it was fun enough, even though Americans took it too seriously. He couldn’t believe they paid for him to come here and go to school just so he could play football.
It was because there were so many people. It took Tupou an embarrassingly long time to realize that was why. In Tonga, every single person would have to pay to see many games and buy many jerseys just to produce as much money as the university football league Tupou played in, and that was not even the main league! The National Football League was many times more popular than that, and a dozen or so minor leagues were also scattered around the country. And of course there were unpaid amateur leagues as well.
The city of Dallas had thirteen times the population of the entire country of Tonga. That was why there were many professional athletes in America, and virtually none in Tonga. Even their national rugby team mostly had side careers, and that was the most popular team in the country. In America, even minor sports have semi-professional leagues.
But the university sports team Tupou played for was very professional, and Tupou was expected to attend many practices, strategy sessions, weightlifting and cardio events, as well as massages from Mister Avery. He was an assistant coach who mainly taught gymnastics, not football, but he did provide massages for all of the football players. He was a very smart man indeed. He had an office near the showers in the locker room.
But Tupou had never gotten a “full massage” from Mister Avery. The others on Tupou’s team did speak of a “full massage” from Mister Avery, without specifying what it was.
Again, Americans love to not say things out loud.
Mister Avery had massaged his shoulders a few times and his leg once when he was limping in practice, and he had bandaged Tupou when he sprained a wrist during a match. But Tupou had never spent time alone with Mister Avery before he summoned him to his office one day.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked when his teammates told him he was to go see Mister Avery for a “full massage”.
His teammates had moved on to sharing stories of girls, and they ignored him. Tupou didn’t understand why he was supposed to see Mister Avery, or why his teammates were looking at him like he had done something wrong.
“Nah, you ain’t in trouble,” said George Hill — wide receiver — with a chuckle when he saw that Tupou was confused.
“Oh. What is it? What do I need?” Tupou said, and the others snickered. Tupou smiled as if he was in on the joke, but he did not know why he must now go see Mister Avery.
Perhaps, he thought, it was related to the hardon that struck Tupou the other day in the locker room. He was talking about a woman who he was to see that weekend, and when he told his teammates about her, his dick got hard. He was not the only one to get “boners”, as the Americans did say.
And Tupou had gathered that yet another thing Americans did not say was that those athletes who got an inconvenient boner went to go see Mister Avery. So perhaps that was why he was summoned to Mister Avery’s office.
“He’s prolly gonna jack you off. Do you do that in Tonga?”
“He’s gonna taste ya coconuts, Tupou.” That was Tuck McCarraher, one of those rednecks whose accents Tupou did not understand. He had long hair like Tupou but somehow it was always greasy, even right after he shampooed it. Tupou saw him shampoo it in the shower, and yet he came out greasy and hairy like a tired pig.
Tupou laughed along with the others, though he didn’t quite get it. It sounded like they were saying that Mister Avery would give him a handjob. But that, he assumed, couldn’t be right.
Still, the more he stood there, the more sure he was. That was why they hooted and made masturbation gestures.
The other players all assumed Tupou would freak out. That was why they made a big deal out of it. They more or less assumed that anyone who wasn’t from a Western country was probably from a pretty homophobic place.
But Tonga was one exception. Everyone hooted and laughed and pantomimed ramming Tupou in the ass — since Tupou towered over everyone, they just pretended to hump his thighs.
“He will wank me off?” Tupou asked.
The others laughed and said yes. They all thought it was funny that Tupou didn’t know it already. They had been talking about it all year. Tupou just hadn’t been listening or understanding well enough to pick it up.
But it was true. Mister Avery was known for giving out handjobs to any athlete who wanted it. They all thought it was better to go to him than to try to train with a stiff dick and blue balls. That was an idea Tupou well understood. Tongan men did something similar. Tupou was the son of a chief, and he was given a man to jack him off as soon as he turned eighteen.
Why did Americans not simply say so? They treat their women as fragile wisps, that was why, he decided. They did not want women to find out what men did behind closed doors.
“Will he let me ram him?” Tupou asked, his eyes opened wide. “In the bottom?”
That made the rest of the team fall quiet. Mister Avery handed out handjobs and swallowed their loads if they wanted that, but no one did anal. That, they all thought, was a step too far. No one here wanted to do that, no one on the football team at least.
“Prolly will, you big lug…” someone said, and everyone laughed. “He’ll love you…”
“Tupou’s crazy…”
“Mister Avery is small. Tupou will split him in half!”
They all burst into hysterical laughter over that. They all pretended they were talking about Tupou being tall — which he was, at nearly seven-feet — and heavy — which he was, being so thick and beefy he didn’t even fit in any standard-size jersey — and not his cock size. No one was willing to admit they checked out each other’s cock sizes in the shower.
But that was, in fact, what they were all talking about. Tupou had a gigantic dick, and Mister Avery was not a large man.
Tupou hurried off to Mister Avery’s office. He was ready to do it. That girl he hung out with this weekend had refused to have sex with him. A lot of the girls around here were like that, he had noticed, they talked about how cute he was and they played with his muscles and they rode his back like a horse, but they didn’t like the idea of actually getting fucked by the seven-foot-tall Tongan with a body like a shaved bear and a foot-long cock. They liked flirting with him and that was about it.
“Come in, Tupou,” Mister Avery said when Tupou knocked on his door.
Tupou walked in. He wore nothing but his jockstrap, cradling his sweaty balls and cock that barely fit in the pouch. He smiled at Mister Avery, wondering if those confused glances had been because athletes weren’t supposed to walk around in their jockstraps. No one had told him that either. But he shrugged it off for now. “Yes, Mister Avery. I will-“
“Did you talk to the Student Foreign Aid people? About the State Department?”
“What?” Tupou grunted.
Mister Avery sighed. “Of course you didn’t. You have to do what he says, Tupou, he’s been emailing you. He said the State Department needs an interview with you. It’s for your visa.”
“Oh.” Tupou grunted. He frowned. Were those other players wrong? Maybe Mister Avery was not planning on giving him a handjob after all.
“Is something wrong? He said it’s not a big deal. They just need to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Tupou grabbed his dick through his jockstrap. He wondered if his teammates were playing a prank on him. “Will you… Can I ram you?”
Mister Avery always took everything in stride, but that was sudden enough to shock him. He assumed Tupou was worried he’d be deported.
A long pause came between them, as both men froze like they had done something wrong. Mister Avery cleared his throat. His eyes bugged out. “Uh… Tupou…”
“The other players, they say that you jack them off. They say that you-“
“Tupou, I invited you in here to tell you about your visa, so you wouldn’t get deported. I don’t-“
“You don’t jerk players off? I want that.” Tupou crossed his arms over his chest. “I will do the visa, fine. I want-“
“I don’t just jerk players off.” Mister Avery wrinkled his nose. “That’s inappropriate.” He paused, and a sly smile crept on his face. “Sometimes… Men have urges, Tupou. Sometimes those urges lead to actions. It doesn’t mean anything happened, not really. It just means men are sometimes overcome by urges. They do things by instinct. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” It didn’t look like he understood. In truth, Tupou didn’t really care. He was waiting for Mister Avery to say either yes or no.
Mister Avery stood up and walked behind Tupou. He placed both hands on his broad shoulders. “I’ll just give you a massage. We’ll see what happens from there. If you need a hand at some point… I’d be glad to help out.”
Tupou smiled. He nodded. He could tell what was going to happen, and he enjoyed the massage — Mister Avery was really very good at it. He sighed, the stresses of dealing with a foreign country flowing away from him as he sunk down in the chair at Mister Avery’s desk.
His stiffness diminished slowly at first, then quickly. Tupou sat stiff until he took a big long breath, and he realized for sure that he was not in trouble. He had not done something wrong. Mister Avery was going to jack him off after all, and for now, the massage eased away the aches in his shoulders, then his back and his arms.
Soon enough, his muscles were big and soft now, relaxed, like liquefied meat beneath Mister Avery’s soft fingers. Tupou had to fight off the urge to kiss Mister Avery on the lips.
Somehow, Tupou ended up on the couch on one side of Mister Avery’s office. He just lay there, lounging, while Mister Avery kneaded his thick flesh. His jockstrap was off now, his massive uncut cock dangling over the side. Tupou couldn’t remembered if he had taken it off, or if Mister Avery had.
At last, it was happening. Tupou let out a baritone moan that echoed in the tiny cement-walled office. His cock throbbed, instantly running to full erection in Mister Avery’s hand. Tupou was uncut, well more than a foot long, his dick flopping at first before it was as hard as iron.
Mister Avery stroked it slowly, teasing him, his other hand continuing to caress Tupou’s chest and shoulders. Tupou licked his lips. He wanted to demand that Mister Avery start jerking him off — the other players had implied it was allowed, after all — but he had a feeling it would be better to not say it out loud. It seemed a lot of Americans were more willing to do things like this as long as they never had to admit they had done them.
Indeed, his teammates only communicated about Mister Avery’s “full massages” through sarcasm, jokes, accusations, etc. Nobody admitted clearly that they themselves had done so. Americans never say what they mean.
“Hmmm… You were tense, Tupou. You must have been stressed out about moving to America,” Mister Avery said softly. He leaned over and sucked a few beads of sweat off in the valley between Tupou’s powerful pecs.
“Yes.” Tupou’s voice rumbled and resonated, the sound booming in Mister Avery’s ears because he was still bent over, licking his chest, so the sound was close to his head. He sucked on both nipples.
Avery’s head moved lower, his kisses and his soft lips making a trail down Tupou’s belly to his crotch. Tupou closed his eyes as his dick disappeared down Mister Avery’s throat. A wave of soft, blissful pleasure enveloped him, and Tupou stretched his arms and legs like he was just waking up.
“Eeeeehhhh…” Tupou groaned. His whole muscular body rippled from head to toe.
It had been a long time since Tupou had gotten jerked off by a man, the last time he did it was back in Tonga. He wasn’t even aware how horny he was until he finally felt a warm mouth encircle his dick once more. He moaned, his pitching island accent shining through in the sound as it resonated in the office.
For the first time, Mister Avery felt like he was being seduced by a player instead of the other way around. They often came to him wanting handjobs, but they never outright asked for it, and they certainly never asked for it. Instead, the other players usually just let themselves get hard while he massaged their shoulders or refused to take their jockstraps off because of an erection, and Mister Avery would “convince” them to let him help out. When they wanted to bust a nut, they just stood there hemming and hawing, refusing to either lay down or leave, until Mister Avery took the initiative to get on his knees.
But Tupou was different. He guided Mister Avery’s head in place, and he made sweet love to his throat like no football player ever had. Mister Avery tasted the sweet and fresh flavor of Tupou’s cock, which tasted of sunlight and ocean waves. He moaned and guzzled it down deep.
Salty precum flowed. Tupou was young and virile, already nearing orgasm though Mister Avery suspected he would last longer than most men his age. His dick was slick with fluids, which Mister Avery guzzled down.
The dome didn’t last long. Tupou was too large — both overall and in his cock specifically — and too enthusiastic. He gripped Mister Avery’s head and rolled around with him on the couch, like he might find an alternate throat in there big enough for Tupou’s entire cock. He plowed in and out with all his might, but somehow it didn’t come across like a violent throating. It was more of a plain and pleasant love-making session, and it made Mister Avery swoon with desire, hands roaming all over Tupou’s powerful thighs and thunderous asscheeks.
Eventually Mister Avery pulled off his dick, leaving thin tendrils of saliva collecting his lips to Tupou’s shaft. Tupou gasped with desire and wiped up all that spit and precum on his shaft, wiping it off on Mister Avery’s chin.
He was used to his men laying there, maybe pretending to be asleep or to think that his love-making was a form of massage. But Tupou took charge and made love to Mister Avery’s mouth.
And then, all in one smooth motion, he had Mister Avery bent over the couch. Tupou towered over him, flexing his chest muscles and gently but firmly forcing his cock into Mister Avery’s tight ass.
“Damn.” Mister Avery muttered through gritted teeth. He rarely got it up the ass — he enjoyed it, it was just a step too far for most of his players, so he didn’t do it very often. He grimaced as Tupou’s cock invaded his ass.
It was tight and pinching. Mister Avery sucked in his breath. Tupou wrapped Mister Avery’s tiny body up in his massive arms, plowing in inexorably though not cruelly. Just like when he had lovingly rammed his dick in and out of Mister Avery’s throat, Tupou had a way of plowing that was both aggressive and soft, sensitive yet hard and difficult and strugglesome in all the right ways. Mister Avery cried out for more.
The pain turned very quickly into pleasure, and when Tupou’s uncut dickhead hit his prostate, a jolt of pleasure wracked Mister Avery’s body, and a shiver of mind-numbing sensations ran up his spine. It felt so good he literally drooled and had to wipe the fluids off his lips, which still tasted of Tupou’s precum.
The couch strained to support them both as Tupou rammed his cock in and out. Tupou was gigantic and he plowed in an animated way, rocking the couch to its foundations and even making the floor creak. Somehow the rickety old office couch held despite its creaking and wheezing.
Mister Avery was shocked at how easy it was to take. For him, Tupou’s massive size was a challenge he wanted to rise to meet. Tupou was not used to that because the university girls he had been with since coming to America (and most of the Tongan girls back home) found his size a turn-off. Tupou was well-practiced in using his dick as gently as he could, so he managed to get it all in without too much difficulty, much to his surprise.
So they both moaned as they plowed hard. Mister Avery barely needed to jack himself off, which was good because Tupou plowed so hard he barely could. Mister Avery cried out, grunting and groaning loud enough that he was sure anyone outside the office could hear.
Hopefully, he thought, no one was there.
An orgasm ripped through Mister Avery’s body, and he shot his wad onto the couch. As he experienced the most incredible climax of his life, Tupou reached his own orgasm. He shot a huge load that filled Mister Avery’s tight ass.
It soaked into his flesh. They both sighed, and Tupou grunted something in Tongan. The indecipherable words rang out in Mister Avery’s ears as cum flowed through him, and the creamy, sticky texture of it coated Mister Avery’s body.
They both moaned together. “Oh god, yes, Tupou…” Mister Avery murmured. Every time he thought it was over, more cum filled into him, great gobs of it, more and more with every passing moment. Was that because he was so big? Mister Avery wondered, or maybe it was because he was a young and virile man? Or was it that he was a little — or a lot — socially inept and hadn’t had a girlfriend since coming to America? Maybe a little of all those things, Mister Avery thought, or maybe Tupou simply had overfull balls.
In any case, Mister Avery accepted every drop, letting it flow into him and seep into his flesh. There was so much cum in his body Mister Avery imagined he could taste its salty flavor.
Mister Avery laid limp on the couch, while Tupou groaned and humped his hips a few more times. When he was satisfied that every drop of cum had escaped his dick, he sighed and leaned back. Then he was motionless for a moment. At last he grunted again, and twisted his hips as though his post-orgasmic bliss felt so good it hurt. His cock popped out.
Mister Avery took a deep, relieved breath. He turned his head to smile at Tupou and gently rubbed his shoulders. “Good job, Tupou. I hope you feel better now.”
“I do, Mister Avery.” Tupou’s big goofy grin spread over his face. “If I need another massage, can I come see you again?”
“You can come see me anytime,” Mister Avery said with a smile.

Floormates in the Dark

Avery is left in the dorm over spring break with the hunky exchange student Federico. He expected to share the building with Federico… but soon enough, they’re sharing a bed! Can Avery learn to appreciate Federico’s exotic ways?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Earlier today, Avery had realized that the only other of his floormates to be in the building right now was Federico. At the time, Avery just sighed and shook his head — he knew that Federico would come over and annoy him sooner or later.
That’s because Federico was an Italian exchange student and a star on the GHU soccer team. He came from Venice, where (he said) his father was a well-known local politician. He was a big burly foreigner with a hairy chest — like a seriously hairy chest, like he was a werewolf, so hairy the other floormates couldn’t imagine why he didn’t shave it— a loud voice and many annoying habits. Avery didn’t want to be rude, but he really did not want to spend the day with Federico.
So when Avery awoke to find that Federico was in his room in the middle of the night, he was angry. Federico had been following him around. First he was trying to get Avery to lift weights with him; Federico did that every morning and acted like it was a scandal when Avery said he never lifted weights. Then Federico wanted to eat dinner with him — Federico had crackers, cured meats and a slab of some stinky cheese, which Avery steadfastly refused to eat. It stank up this entire floor of Mannheim House and probably other floors too. Lastly Federico walked to the shower stark naked and stood in Avery’s doorway talking to him in thickly accented English about the weather.
His fat prick just dangled there between his legs, drawing Avery’s gaze to it. Avery gulped, trying to hide his stare. He had wondered if Federico was trying to turn him on.
Federico had been walking around the dorm naked most of the semester. It was normal for him in all-male environments, or so he said. He was shocked that Americans didn’t feel the same way. Back in Italy, he said, men weren’t worried about seeing each other naked — it was normal, and only squeamish losers got worked up over it. The RA had insisted he wear clothes to and from the shower though, and Federico had grudgingly complied.
But apparently Federico had interpreted that rule as applying only when the RA was actually here in Mannheim House. So now that it was the first day of spring break, he stood there in Avery’s doorway with his fat, uncut cock laying greasily against his thigh. Avery gulped.
Avery was only here during spring break because he was a team manager for the PE department, and they were practicing this week. Federico was here because he was an exchange student and couldn’t afford to go home for Spring Break.
“We could doing fun, we have entire floor to usselves, floormate-uh,” Federico said. Someone had jokingly called him a floormate back in September, and Federico had needed an explanation of what it meant and how to use -mate as a suffix. Federico thought it was great and had been calling everyone ‘floormate’ all semester. Federico cackled as Avery blushed, trying to ignore the bare cock beckoning Avery’s eyes.
Avery had simply declined to hang out. He said he had to study, which was technically accurate even if Avery had no intention of doing so. Avery ignored Federico’s irritated expression. He felt bad about rejecting Federico, who had been struggling to make friends in America, but he turned Avery off.
So when Avery woke up in the middle of the night to see that Federico had crept into his room, he was both scared and annoyed. What did Federico want with him? Light from the hall flooded the room while the door was open, but that lasted only a moment before Federico pulled it shut.
Avery was groggy at first, and he didn’t fight back when Federico told him to move over. Avery made room on the bed. The smell of Federico’s exotic cologne filled the room, while under it was a note of body musk and stale sweat. Federico must have worked out this evening. The other guys on this floor — their floormates — complained that Federico always smelled like a barrel of armpits. Avery agreed with that conclusion, but he didn’t complain. He liked the smell, but he didn’t tell anyone that.
Then Federico lay down in the narrow dorm bed alongside Avery, who gasped in shock at the realization that Federico was naked. His hairy body slid under the covers, pushing Avery against the wall. Federico was much bigger than Avery so he took up most of the bedspace.
“Hello, good night, eh, Aver-uh,” Federico said. His smooth, silken accent was deep and booming, echoing in the dorm room and in Avery’s ears. It made Avery shudder as a torrent of emotions washed over him. He couldn’t believe Federico wanted to share a bed with him. Was this normal in Italy?
“Federico, what are you doing?!” I-” Avery exclaimed, stopping only when Federico kissed him right on the lips.
Every part of Avery’s mind told him to continue, to kiss Federico on the lips and make out with him all night. But a part of Avery also wanted to tell him to leave, to remind him that he was a dickhead and that Avery wanted nothing to do with him.
Yet Avery didn’t do that. He stayed right where he was. For some reason as soon as he felt Federico’s broad, strapping chest muscles and his strong tongue pushing into Avery’s mouth, Avery didn’t want to fight him, nor did he want to fight against this experience. He just wanted to kiss Federico until there was no more kissing left to be had.
Avery’s petite fingers grabbed at Federico’s toned chest, while their tongues interlocked in Avery’s mouth. This was all happening so fast, Avery was left reeling, dizzy and full of surging desire.
There was something intense and arousing about kissing Federico on his soft lips. He was powerful and dominant, his corded muscle chest writhing atop Avery’s body. Avery’s skin wasn’t perfectly smooth, but compared to the dense layer of fur atop Federico’s chest, Avery seemed as smooth as a porcelain doll.
“No girls aredhere, eh,” Federico said. He hung his head sadly. “I went for a walk, eh, none of girls, eh.”
“Yeah. The campus is shut down, Federico. We’re not even really supposed to be here,” Avery said. That was true. They had to get special permission to stay here after the campus closed for the vacation. Federico couldn’t go back to Italy for just one week, and Avery had told the college he had no family to go home to (not technically true, but Avery didn’t want to go home). The GHU administration pushed him very hard to find a friend or family to stay with for the night, but Avery had refused — he paid top dollar for this dorm, and he wanted to use it.
“Federico…”
His hands moved of their own accord, gripping Federico’s back. He was a very hairy man, especially for someone so young, but his back was smooth and unblemished, a milky brown color, though in the dark, Avery couldn’t see anything except for Federico’s shadowy face. He had a dense beard which scratched at Avery’s scruffy face as they kissed.
Avery understood now why women liked Federico so much. The other guys on this floor often joked about that — to them, Federico was weird, almost effeminate yet offensively macho, hard to understand, both a prettyboy and a stinky alpha, and he had nice hair. His hair put theirs to shame.
But now, in this dorm room at night, Avery squirmed under Federico’s warm body and he let out little gasps that were swallowed up by Federico’s kisses, and Avery understood what women found alluring about him. He moved with such passion, his lips and his hands exploring Avery’s body and appreciating every inch of him, while Federico’s own body was toned and muscular, firm to the touch yet soft and pliable, exuding waves of warmth that Avery ensconced himself within.
He wished the dorm room was cold, so he could cuddle up with Federico like a loyal dog.
“Sssh…” Federico said. “You do not need to be embarrassed, it is okay-uh.” He reached behind himself, where he wrapped his fingers around Avery’s cock — he had to stick his hand under Avery’s boxer shorts. He gave it a stroke. Just one stroke, but somehow it was enough. It sent a little electric tingling sensation up Avery’s body.
Avery was too nervous to get hard. Federico just kept stroking. It was only when Avery’s hands roamed from Federico’s rippling back to his furry chest that Avery felt a surge of energy in his cock. It got hard and jabbed straight up in the air, throbbing beneath Federico’s touch.
“Good. You are a real man, eh, do not be embarrass-uh,” Federico said. He mounted Avery’s chest, the thick nest of hair around his balls and cock dragging along Avery’s smooth skin.
Avery realized with a nervous, anticipatory giggle that Federico intended for Avery to swallow his cock. He stroked Avery’s dick as he brought his own cock up to Avery’s mouth. Its silhouette loomed in the dark in front of Avery’s face.
“What, uh… what are you doing?”
“I am to be putting my penis into your mouth,” he said, cocking his head to the side and frowning as though Avery should have known that. He aimed his rock-hard, uncut cock towards Avery’s mouth, and the tip touched his lip. That was enough to taste the musty warmth of his manhood, and Avery chased the tip with his tongue. Federico kept his dick away. “Do not be embarrass. I will not tell anyone, eh, it is low to down.”
“You mean downlow?”
“Yes! Downlow. Dat is correct and factual,” Federico said. He beamed like he was a detective who had just solved a case. He finally let Avery put his mouth on his cock, but just barely, Federico keep it far enough away that Avery got only a teasing taste of the tip. Federico moaned like he was in pleasure even though Avery was only barely touching him. “I am bigger, eh, so you will be a passivo on me. You have nice big mouf, and no beard to touch me in the penis or dick, eh, si, I do not like beard hair.”
“Uh… are you going to get me off too?”
Federico paused. “No. I am bigger-uh dan you. Bigger men do not do so in Italy. I am only to top, eh, it is your position to do it wit’ your mouf-uh. You will lick my dick now, eh, si?”
Avery opened his mouth. Federico took Avery’s open mouth as an agreement and aimed his cocktip right for his wiggling tongue and his tight throat. Avery couldn’t deny that he was eager now to swallow Federico’s girthy Italian cock.
He was disappointed this wasn’t going to be reciprocated though. He thought that was what “downlow” meant. Maybe not. In any case, Federico didn’t even know that word, much less abide by it.
Regardless, Avery was eager to taste that cock, to swallow it as deep as he could and worship it until he tasted Federico’s creamy seed. Avery let his mouth fill with Federico’s dick.
It was only half-hard, but it was very big so it felt hard right away. Then it got harder and harder as Avery choked on its massive, salty head. It tasted both good and bad, but Avery was focused on the savory flavor and the sensation of desire that erupted in him now that he was tasting cock. It tasted clean and fleshy and it pulsated like an alien creature in Avery’s mouth. He gurgled on the moisture that leaked out of the tip. That foreskin felt like so much extra flesh Avery wondered if it was normal — he hadn’t been with very many uncircumcised men before.
“Yes, you are good, Aver-uh. Very good-uh. I am approving,” Federico said with a groan and a moan, his whole body rippling above Avery.
As Avery licked, Federico continued to jack Avery off, reaching behind himself to do so. He didn’t stroke it so much as hold on and let Avery move his hips, so Avery humped his hand while Federico acted like he didn’t even notice what was happening behind him. Federico’s attention was aimed squarely at his crotch, where his cock disappeared down Avery’s throat. He moaned and crooned like he was trying to seduce Avery, who vacillated between finding the sounds disgusting and alarming and finding them arousing and charming. He rubbed Avery’s face with his thumb and stroked his lips, gently but firmly pushing Avery’s mouth open as wide as it could go.
Then the hand jacking Avery off roamed down to his balls. Federico played with them very briefly before rubbing the taint between Avery’s balls and his ass. Avery’s flesh was very sensitive there, and the touch made Avery shudder with desire. His finger moved lower and lower, closer to Avery’s ass.
“You are nice with the mouth,” Federico said. His accent was thicker now that he was aroused, and his cock pulsated in Avery’s throat. Drops of precum hit his tongue, flooding his senses with the intense saltiness and savory flavor of his manhood. Avery’s hands roamed up his chest and tweaked his nipples, which made his pecs ripple each time he did it. Then Avery’s hands moved around Federico’s chest to his back and his smooth ass, firm like a pair of overinflated soccer balls.
Before Avery could do anything else, Federico’s finger pushed into his ass, pushing past Avery’s resistance, making Avery’s whole body tense up. The finger entering him sent a shiver of pain up Avery’s spine, but also a shudder of intense pleasure. He lifted his legs up — again his body acted on instinct even as his mind told him not to — and spread his own asscheeks to give Federico better access to it.
Then Federico pulled his cock away from Avery’s mouth. Thick gobs of saliva connected his lips to Federico’s shaft, until Avery’s hand tentatively stroked that massive meat. He had never felt anything like it, he thought, hot and spasming beneath his fingers, precum dripping in milky rivulets down the shaft, coating his foreskin and Avery’s fingertips. Avery groaned and Federico moaned.
“You are good at being girl-boy,” Federico said. “And you have nice girl-ass. It is… culo grassoccio.” For some reason when he said culo grassoccio, it made Avery grunt and blush, swooning with desire. Italian, he thought, was such a sexy language. Avery didn’t know what Federico said, but it turned him on.
Avery gave up on getting Federico to reciprocate. He decided to just go with the flow. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so willing to let Federico slam him, but he was — he wanted it more than anything. Federico’s obnoxious personality had faded into the background of his mind. He wanted nothing more than to feel Federico’s cock invade his ass.
“I will do putting in your ass,” Federico said softly. Though his tone was low, his words were loud and expressive, and they hung in the air, resonating in Avery’s ears.
As Avery rolled over onto his belly and stuck his ass in the air, Federico pulled out a tube of lube he had snuck over, Avery recalled Federico’s stunning success with girls. He seemed to be able to seduce any woman, from mousy shy nerds to outgoing cheerleaders, he got them all. It annoyed their other floormates because, to them, Federico was an annoying weirdo who didn’t do anything right. Somehow the girls loved him for it.
Federico was handsome, and American women loved Italian men. But Federico was more than just charming, he was a sexy beast who oozed charisma in his broken English. There was something special there, that was why he was good with girls. He had deep dark eyes that drilled into the soul of whoever he spoke to, and Avery found it hard to look away from him. His voice simmered like a slow soup.
And now he had even seduced Avery, who blushed like a tomato as he lowered his head to the pillow. Federico gently guided Avery’s hips up in the air, so Federico could kneel on his knees while Avery’s ass lined up with with his cock.
“Here I am, entering you now,” Federico whispered, his words echoing in Avery’s ear.
A jolt of pain hit Avery’s backside, but it lasted only a moment before a slow, melting sense of pleasure erupted deep within him. It was so potent that it felt faint, too powerful to be palpable at first, growing slowly over time. But Avery could sense how incredible it would be. If he gave it time to blossom, he thought, it would overwhelm anything.
“Va bene. Va bene, it is good,” Federico said. Avery didn’t know what that meant, but he got the impression it was supposed to be soothing. Avery’s whole body swooned in Federico’s arm as passion enveloped them both. Federico moaned into Avery’s ear, and both men rocked back and forth. Federico’s cock pulsated deep in Avery’s ass.
He was surprised at how little it hurt once Federico got started. He kissed the back of Avery’s neck and rubbed his shoulders as his cock slipped in, centimeter by centimeter.
The pain was still there. It didn’t go away, and it even grew. But it was increasingly overpowered by the intense, throbbing pleasure that made Avery writhe in exquisite agony. Federico pumped his hips more and more powerfully with every passing second, thrusting back and forth up Avery’s behind. Each thrust sent Avery to a new height of pleasure, and Avery couldn’t help but moan out loud.
He had to remind himself he could be as loud as he wanted to be — him and Federico were the only two people on this floor, or even in all of Mannheim House. Avery let his moans of desire grow louder, turning into demands for Federico to ram harder and harder. Federico probably didn’t notice what Avery was saying, as his English seemed to get worse when he was horny.
When Federico leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Avery’s chest, Avery moaned. They kissed there, and for Avery, it could have lasted a lifetime. He had never experienced a kiss like that. With his asshole stretching to accept Federico’s Italian cockmeat, Avery experienced an intense connection between them. He could feel every inch of Federico’s muscle and his powerful cock sliding into him, his bulging muscles and the clean sweat that dappled his skin now.
“You have-uh de beaut-iful-uh bottom, Aver-h…” Federico murmured. The way he said Avery made Avery giggle: vrwaowbbuh. “I will make you feel such pleasure. You will explode onto my hand.”
At last Federico’s hand explored downward. He tweaked each of Avery’s nipples in turn, sending little sparks of bliss through Avery’s body. Avery’s skin puckered, and he gasped when he realized where Federico was going.
Federico’s hand grabbed Avery’s cock. He groaned as though touching Avery’s dick was almost enough to send him over the edge. Avery moaned for the same reason. Avery’s shaft throbbed and spasmed, leaking precum into Federico’s grip.
Again Avery had no idea how long it lasted. His orgasm began from the moment Federico touched his dick. It continued forever, and Avery squirmed within Federico’s grasp. The more he wiggled, the more Federico’s cock moved inside Avery, sending shockwaves of pleasure up his spine, and the more Federico’s breathing sped up as he experienced his own intense orgasmic pleasure.
Avery thought that was it. He didn’t think he could take any more; he didn’t think it was possible to feel more or experience any more intensity shaking his body.
But Federico, it seemed, had other plans. Federico could take Avery to the next level.
And as he began pounding hard onto Avery’s ass, that was exactly what happened. The sensation was so intense that Avery screamed, in shock and pain and bliss and desire and pure, unadulterated lust. He screamed because there was no one on this floor to hear him anyway, so why not?
His muscles turned to jelly. They were weak and insubstantial compared to Federico’s body anyway. Avery just submitted. He would have collapsed onto the mattress but Federico kept him in position, bent over a pillow with his ass in the air.
The prostate orgasm was so intense that Avery couldn’t even feel Federico’s hand on his cock. He was numb all over, and the only feelings he experienced were the muscle-clenching power of his climax.
“Ah, si…” Federico’s moan made the hairs on the back of Avery’s neck stand up.
Cum sprayed into the pillow and mattress beneath him, as Avery came first. He bucked his hips, slamming his ass backwards deep onto Federico’s cock as his thick cumwad hit Federico’s fingers. That didn’t slow Federico down at all, and he cooed like he loved the feeling of semen dripping through his fingers.
As though he had been waiting for Avery to bust first — which was, in fact, precisely what he had done — Federico began pounding harder and faster now that Avery was done. He drew his dick up all the way out of Avery’s ass, then slammed his rod back in all at once.
After just a few more of those power-strokes, Federico began his own orgasm. Avery’s head was still groggy and dazed, but he was snapped back into consciousness by the feeling of white-hot cum spreading within him. It was warm and creamy and it seeped into every corner of Avery’s body.
It was an impossibly big load. Avery didn’t know a human male could shoot something so big, so much milky cum that it spread in gobs within him. It dripped down Avery’s thighs and clung to his fine blond hairs, while plastering Federico’s coarser black hairs to his skin.
“You are prestante…”
Then at last it was done. Federico slowly let his cock plop out of Avery’s ass, and when he did, Avery sighed loudly. He had never experienced an orgasm like that. The feeling of his asshole emptying was like scratching a painful itch that Avery didn’t even know he had had.
He collapsed into a moist, sweaty heap on the mattress. He was too tired to do anything but submit as Federico gently caressed his back muscles. Federico kissed him on the spine, his lips traveling down to Avery’s ass. He just kissed each asscheek one time.
“Tank you, Aver-uh,” Federico said. His velvety voice purred and made Avery desire him all over again.
But Federico just sunk onto the mattress. He wrapped his powerful body around Avery’s. He massaged Avery’s smooth skin and kissed him on the neck. His thick, luxuriant beard scratched at Avery’s face.
“You are very nice-uh,” Federico said. “I was enjoying to be jacking… off… Uh… I am apologizing-uh. I do not remember my English words right now, eh.”
“That’s okay,” Avery said softly. He hadn’t spoken since this started, and now he blushed. He buried his face in Federico’s biceps, blushing as though he wanted to hide even though they were alone in Avery’s dorm room (and alone on this floor, in this building and on this campus as well). Avery licked the clean sweat that stuck to Federico’s muscle.
“I am glad about no girl here tonight,” Federico said. He whispered directly in Avery’s ear, making him shudder as aftershocks of orgasm ran through Avery’s body. “You have nice butt, and your dick was feeling good in my hand, uh. Maybe we will do it again after you come back from spring break, eh, yes?”
“Yes,” Avery blurted out. “We will. We’ll do this again next semester, I’ll find you. Whenever. We’ll find a way. We’ll figure it out. We’re together a lot, so it can’t be that hard. We’re floormates, after all.”
“Indeed. We will find, eh, each odduh,” he said.

The Boss

Lamar is glad to have work, even if it’s difficult, dirty and remote. He’s gotta shower with other men, including his boss Nelson. When it turns out Nelson has some ideas on how two men can meet their needs far from women, Lamar just might have to swing on the downlow whether he wants to or not!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Lamar stumbled through the worksite towards the temporary showers. Moonlight shone upon the upturned dirt and scattered heavy equipment. Lamar’s hardhat almost fell off, but he righted it. He wasn’t drunk, but in the dark and on the uneven surface of the construction site, it looked like he was. He nearly fell several times.
Behind him, the rest of the work crew hooted and clapped. They were drunk. The crickets were impossibly loud here too — Lamar had thought coming here to the middle of nowhere would be a nice, quiet place to relax, but during the day his fellow workers catcalled each other (since there were no women here) amid the rumbling of heavy machinery, and at night, the crickets crippeted, the sound joining with the men to create a lively chorus louder than any city street Lamar had lived on.
He couldn’t complain. He hadn’t come here for peace and quiet, that was just something he had hoped to find anyway. He had come here to escape a debt.
A lot of what he had expected turned out not to be true. Lamar was a strong young man, a high school basketball star and all-around ladysman. His life was made — he was a good student, a good player, a law-abiding kid who wanted to go to college and was good enough to get a scholarship.
Only he wasn’t quite that good. His senior year had been a disaster. It wasn’t really his fault, the team just fell apart. His grades were awful. In the end, he had been offered a five hundred dollar scholarship to a podunk school that cost thirty-eight times that amount per semester. It was a joke.
And so that had been the end of all his dreams. There was no other way to do it, and he had fucked up.
Now here he was, working for his uncle’s friend, Nelson, who helped Lamar pay off his debt and gave him this job out in the middle of nowhere.
The rural construction site was in south Louisiana, near but not quite on the Gulf Coast. Nelson’s crew was building worker housing for an oil rig that would be built nearby afterwards. They were some thirty miles from the nearest road, living in tents, using endless generators to power makeshift equipment with limited supplies. The pay was not bad, especially since it was impossible to spend any of it most of the time.
But conditions were tough. Nature was loud, the work was long, the heat was stultifying, and the lack of electricity made everything boring.
At least the shower — which was just a tent with a hose contraption attached — seemed likely to feel good. It had its own generator to make its own hot water. That had seemed useless when he started and the day’s heat was like a woolen blanket he couldn’t throw off. But he was getting used to it, and it was chilly at night. A warm shower was going to feel good.
It was funny how something you took for granted could become a luxury in a matter of hours. Hot running water is too basic to be thankful for until the moment you don’t have it anymore, and then it’s the only thing that matters.
He stepped into the shower tent and sighed. He was glad to get away from the other workers. Nelson was the only black man on the crew, and he was the crew leader. That meant Lamar was the only black man among the rank and file. Lamar’s arrival had doubled the black population here, and he wasn’t sure that wase a good thing. The others seemed to see him as an extension of Nelson.
The rest were rednecks and roughnecks and other kinds of necks, Lamar didn’t know. He didn’t understand most of what they said, the drawl, holler and stawk in their voices mixing like currents in an eddy, and what came out was an incomprehensible wash of syllables. Nelson was in charge, and it was plainly obvious that none of them liked taking orders from a black man.
Nelson didn’t take any shit from them, but Lamar commanded no such respect. He was a rookie. He tried to let their words roll off him, but it was tough — if they had been outright racist, that would have been easier, he thought. He could fight them or at least dismiss them as ignorant hillbillies in his mind.
But they weren’t racist, at least not openly, not in a way Lamar could be sure he wasn’t imagining. They just gave Lamar all the worst tasks to do. They delighted in making fun of his skinny arms and relative lack of experience. In the showers, they had taken to pretending his dick was small even though it wasn’t.
That was the other reason he was glad to shower by himself at night. He hadn’t realized the only light in the shower tent came from the sun. It seemed obvious now, but he hadn’t even thought about it before stepping into the tent and realizing he was going to be showering in the dark. That must be why they all showered as soon as work stopped, when the sun was just setting.
Still, the shower tent was just a big wide open area, so there was nothing to bump into, and there was enough moonlight that it wasn’t pitch-black. He sighed when he got in, glad to be able to shower without a bunch of white rednecks crowding in around him.
They were entirely too comfortable with man-on-man contact for Lamar’s taste. They had a game they called the Crack Game, which basically meant they tried to thwack each other with their dicks in the asscrack. It wasn’t even a real game, there was no way to win or lose, no points, no beginning, no end. Lamar panicked the first time one of those hairy hillbillies attempted at Lamar, ramming his cock between Lamar’s plump brown cheeks — half the reason he had never joined a gang was that people had been telling him since he was a boy that his ass was too perfect for prison.
These workers were not too perfect for prison. Most of them had records, and a handful were open about being booty bandits. Lamar tried to stay away from them.
He turned the water on, and let it warm up before stepping under the stream. He sighed. He felt the day’s sweat wash over him, and the pounding stream of water pushed anxiety and aches from his labored muscles. He really liked being in here alone in the dark, he thought, deciding right then and there that he was going to continue showering at night as long as he worked here.
“Who dat?” came Nelson’s deeply accented rural voice.
“Lamar, man. I’m just showerin’-“
“I see that. What’d I tell you ’bout callin’ me man, nigga?”
Lamar rolled his eyes. Luckily Nelson couldn’t see that. Lamar said, “Sorry, sir.” Nelson had told him to call him sir so it didn’t look like he was showing favoritism to his friend’s nephew. Lamar had never called anyone ‘sir’ consistently like that.
He took off his hardhat and placed it next to Lamar’s. Since this entire area was technically a worksite, the hardhat was legally required everywhere except the sleeping quarters and the showers. He’d had it on so long Lamar’s scalp was super-sensitive when he first took it off tonight.
Lamar sighed, annoyed that he wasn’t getting his shower alone. That was another luxury that seemed basic until he didn’t have it anymore.
Even though he couldn’t see the man’s crotch, Lamar kept his eyes scrupulously above Nelson’s waist. That was just polite, that was how he and his fellow teammates had done it in the showers in the projects he grew up in — the juvenile shower had individual stalls, but when they moved up to the adult showering area, they did it in small groups of awkward, gaze-avoiding young men. They pretended not to have ever seen each other’s cocks no matter how often they showered together.
But the rednecks here didn’t do that at all. They compared sizes and pretended to masturbate on each other. They grabbed each other’s nuts and held on just to get the other person’s attention.
A part of Lamar wondered if he would feel better if he could be that relaxed and uninhibited. It wasn’t good to be uptight. They were right, it was just nudity. It was just a dick. We all have them, why not let them out? None of the men here had anything to hide. They all had imperfect bodies, with bellies and hairy backs and some of them have little dinky dicks that they weren’t even ashamed of it.
“Woo-hoo! I’m the undisputed champion of the Crack Game! Ain’t nobody can compete with me!” A hillbilly drawl echoed from the campsite. Sound traveled so clearly at night that Lamar could hear it easily even here in the shower. “Got a cock like a baseball bat!”
Lamar shuddered. That was a hillbilly named Cooter, who had a Confederate flag on his belly and a hoggish cock, ugly as a dead baby in a puddle, shit! He had hair on his back, he was one of those kinds of white men. Lamar did not like that kind of white man. Not in a racist way, he felt the same way about an Arab or a Jew or a Mexican whose chest hair had grown up over his shoulders and onto his back. Nah. Lamar don’t play that way. Cooter loved the Crack Game, the other workers must have been playing it outside.
“Cooter is shameful white trash,” Nelson said. He shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he got in the shower next to Lamar. “He dirty.”
Lamar wanted to complain and ask him to use a different shower, further away, but he didn’t dare. He just nodded and trembled.
“You seen that Confederate flag tattoo, right?” he asked and Lamar nodded. Nelson spat on the wooden floor of the shower tent. “He racist as shit.”
“He told me he wasn’t, he said he lost his virginity to a black girl,” Lamar said.
“Yeah, that’s just what he say. It’s true — I think — but he ain’t tellin’ the whole story cuz he don’t know you yet. That black girl was a prostitute his papa bought him. He told me that last year,” Nelson said.
“Oh. Okay.”
“They’s all racist. They don’t like me givin’ ’em orders,” Nelson said.
“They seem to respect you.”
“They do, but they don’t like it,” Nelson said. He cleared his throat and leaned back so the water ran over his powerful chest and big cock — Lamar couldn’t tell how big it really was because he refused to look directly at it, but even out the corner of his eye, he could tell it was big. “You like it here?”
Lamar shrugged. “The pay’s good.”
“That ain’t what I asked, boy. I’m gonna talk to yo’ uncle when I go back to the office tomorrow,” he said. “What should I tell him?”
“Tell him it’s fine, tell him I’m doin’ good,” Lamar said.
Nelson nodded. “Okay.” He paused, then whistled and placed one hand on Lamar’s flat belly. “You got a nice six-pack, boy. You probably get all kinds of girls with that, huh?”
Lamar burned with embarrassment as he mumbled his agreement. The other workers had been making fun of his ladysman smile and taut belly as well. Really Nelson had pretty close to a six-pack too — not quite, there was a hint of pudge there, but it was close enough that Lamar didn’t see much of a difference between their bellies.
His entire body tensed at the touch of Nelson’s hand. Lamar was a star basketball player, so he was used to his coach slapping his ass and rubbing his back. But something about the darkened, humid environment made this more nerve-wracking.
“You doin’ okay wit’out a girl here?”
Lamar nodded, then realized Nelson couldn’t see that. “Yeah,” he said, as casually as he could muster. Nelson’s hand slipped around his belly and clutched the small of his back. It rested there, gripping him loosely. Nelson’s hand was callused and firm, his fingers thick.
“You ever mess around on the downlow?”
His words hung there in the humid shower air. Lamar gulped. “No,” he said. He trembled, cursing himself for looking weak in front of Nelson.
Nelson chuckled dryly. “Really? That don’t sound like the truth, nigga.”
“Well… I mean…”
“You ain’t gotta go on,” he said. “I know what that means, you don’t wanna mess wit’ those rednecks. I don’t mess around with white men neither. Reminds me too much of prison life.”
“Okay.”
“You ain’t no kinda white man,” he said.
“Yeah…”
“You wanna jack me off?”
“No…”
“You wanna take it in the ass?”
“No way!” Lamar yelped and bit his lip as Nelson took his hand and placed it on Nelson’s thick rod. It spasmed as soon as Lamar touched it. Lamar felt a shudder of disgust, as well as horniness, run up his body. He’d been on the DL with some buddies in the past but never an older man like Nelson. Nelson sighed loudly, right in Lamar’s ear. Lamar’s heart raced and he shuddered. He tried to take his hand away, but Nelson held it in place, and Lamar had no choice but to hold onto its hot, throbbing thickness. Lamar gulped. “I, uh… If we on the downlow, that means I get to stick you too, right, nigga?”
“What was that?”
“I mean… sir.”
“Thank you. No, that ain’t right, Lamar. I’m yo’ boss. How would it look if I let you put it in me?” He said, softly, moving his mouth right next to Lamar’s ear.
“Nobody is here-“
“They could walk in,” he said. He kissed Lamar on the ear. “How about this, nigga? I’ll give you a reacharound.”
“What’s that?” Lamar asked before he had even given it any thought — of course it was obvious if you paused to consider it. He blushed, thinking he probably sounded naive. He knew what a reacharound was. His mind simply wasn’t working fast enough to keep up with the reality unfolding around him.
Nelson laughed. “Your uncle ain’t nevuh tell you what a reacharound is? He ain’t tell you ’bout prison?”
“Uh… My mom won’t let him tell me that stuff. She says it’s impolite to talk about prison.”
“Oh, you one of dem sheltered chilluns, huh?”
“No!”
In one smooth motion, Nelson slid behind Lamar. He wedged his dick between Lamar’s cheeks. Nelson was rock-hard, already leaking precum into Lamar’s ass.
“Well, when yo’ uncle and me was in prison together, we had sum rules. The guards took it serious, nigga,” Nelson said. He leaned in close so he could whisper in Lamar’s ear. “They ain’t wanna get involved when inmates get in fights with stiffies. So they make up a rule. You can do whatevuh it takes to blow a nut if the nigga on top give a reacharound. Then you ain’t a bitch, not a punk, you just lettin’ another man use yo’ butthole for awhile.”
Lamar shuddered. He bit his lip and looked down.
“Don’t be like that, nigga. We messin’ around on the downlow,” Nelson said. “Don’t go telling yo’ uncle I hurt you. I ain’t. You can tell me to fuck off if you want.”
A part of Lamar did want to tell him that, but a bigger part of him didn’t want to. Not only would it be easier to just go along with it, Lamar was very horny. He hadn’t realized how much he was going to miss girls. Back when he messed around on the DL in his old neighborhood, Lamar had always sworn he wouldn’t do it again, but when the opportunity presented itself and he was horny… the prospect of getting it in the butt seemed like a good trade for getting to blow a nut himself. He let his stiffies guide him then. It was only after it was all over that Lamar again promised himself that next time he would say no.
He was older now, more mature, better able to handle the sometimes intense horniness arising from his crotch.
“Will you jerk me off too? On the downlow?” Lamar asked. “I mean… since you don’t wanna take it in the ass-“
“Nah, I don’t do that,” Nelson said, taking Lamar’s words as acquiescence. “Thank you, baby. I’ll tell yo’ uncle you doin’ real good. I won’t tell ‘im about this.”
“Okay.”
“It don’t count in the dark, nigga. By the time morning comes around, you gonna be walkin’ normal again,” he said. “And if not, I’ll take you with me back to the office, so you get a whole day to recover. It’ll be like this nevuh happened.”
Then Nelson pumped his hips, slamming his dick into Lamar’s ass. Lamar bucked and squealed. A sharp burst of pain hit him, and he arched his back. Lamar held his breath and gripped the hose supplying his showerhead for support.
“Sssh, sssh,” Nelson said. “When you and yo’ buddies mess around on the downlow, you ever do it in the butt?”
“Uh… no…” That wasn’t true, but Lamar didn’t want to admit it to Nelson.
Nelson smiled. “I ain’t realize that, nigga. Hmm-hmm, I’s takin’ yo’ intactness,” he said. “Sorry ’bout that.” He paused to grab a bar of soap and work up a lather. He used that as lube as he slowly worked more of his dick into Lamar. He handed Lamar the bar of soap so he could use both hands to guide his cock.
As soon as he grabbed the soap, Lamar knew he was going to drop it. It slipped right out of his hand and plopped onto the wet wooden floor. Lamar gasped, and Nelson laughed.
“Go on then, bend over,” Nelson said. “That’s a better position anyway.”
Sharp, shooting pains ran up his side as Lamar bent over. He had no sooner touched the soap when another ray of agony shot through him. Lamar gasped as a deep ball of pleasure boiled up too — it felt distant for now, like it occurred behind all the pain, but it was undeniably there.
“Grab yo’ ankles, boi,” Nelson said.
Lamar did so. He couldn’t decide if this was a more or less painful position than any others. He gritted his teeth as Nelson pushed another inch or two of his dick in, and that pit of pleasure grew stronger.
Then Nelson’s hand crept around and grabbed Lamar’s dick. Lamar yelped again, even though it wasn’t a surprise. He lifted his head as intense pre-orgasmic energy roiled through him.
His ass loosened up enough that Nelson could plow him more easily, a fact that Lamar found humiliating. It was comforting to know that Nelson wouldn’t bring this up tomorrow. Nelson even kissed him on his grizzled neck, his own thick mustache bristling against Lamar’s skin.
Then Nelson’s free arm wrapped around Lamar’s body and held him close. His smooth chest rubbed against Lamar’s back, muscles rippling. Lamar’s dick pulsated beneath Nelson’s grip. Lamar wanted to let go but didn’t. The more he squeezed, the more Nelson’s whole body rippled and his muscles flexed where they pressed against Lamar’s limbs.
“You gonna nut now, nigga?”
“I dunno…” Lamar said, breathless. He wasn’t lying, but as soon as he said it, he knew the correct answer was yes.
Nelson seemed to realize that. He licked Lamar’s cheek. “I love feelin’ niggas orgasm when my dick’s inside ’em. So go on. I wanna feel it,” he said. He repeated himself over and over, his deep, gruff voice resonating in Lamar’s ear. Lamar really wanted to tell him to shut up, but before he could, his orgasm hit him. He moaned and bucked, hips flexing as he pushed his ass backwards onto Nelson’s manhood.
Hot cum sprayed within the shower, mixing with the warm water and slipping between the slats of wood that made up the floor. Lamar writhed in Nelson’s biceps as pleasure erupted deep within him.
Nelson held on tight as the orgasm burst in Lamar’s ass, spreading throughout his body. Then Nelson let out a long low sigh right in Lamar’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Both of Nelson’s arms wrapped around Lamar’s belly. “Sorry ’bout this, nigga. Might hurt a bit,” he said softly. Then he rammed his dick in and out in a series of long, smooth actions. Blinding pain erupted in Lamar’s ass, and he bit his lip to avoid screaming. The pain grew more and more intense before transforming into intense bliss.
He didn’t know how long Nelson plowed him hard like that. It felt like eons, but was probably only a few seconds. Soon enough, it was over and Nelson held on with his dick at maximum penetration.
Then hot semen spurted out, coating Lamar’s insides. Lamar moaned, embarrassed at how orgasmic the sound was — he didn’t mean to sound like he was enjoying this, even if a part of him did enjoy it. Intense sensations wracked his body, and he cried out as spasms of pleasure spread through his frame. He hoped it sounded like pain to Nelson, so he wouldn’t think Lamar wanted to do this again.
He did want to do it again. He just didn’t want to want to do it again.
He shuddered with humiliation as wad after wad of cum flowed into him. It dripped down his thighs and landed on the floor. The creamy semen seeped into every corner of Lamar’s body.
“Gimme yo’ hand, boy,” Nelson said with a growl. “I don’t like it when my dick just fall out of a nigga’s ass. Keep stroking it, okay?” He placed Lamar’s hand on the root of his limpening dick as he slowly withdrew it.
Lamar gulped nervously but did as he was told. Nelson’s dick was thick and slimy, dripping with shower water, soap suds, dried sweat and sticky semen. Lamar’s stomach churned and he gagged at the warm texture of it.
Finally it was all the way out. Nelson kissed him on the lips, and even shoved his tongue into Lamar’s mouth. Then he stepped away and washed his dick off in the stream of hot shower water.
“You okay, nigga?” he asked.
Lamar winced and straightened his legs. He still felt burning pain, and deep inside, remnants of his orgasm, but he tried to hide it. He mumbled, “Yeah, it’s okay, nigga.”
“What?”
“I mean… I’m okay, sir.”
“Good. I put a tub of aloe in yo’ bunk. It’s under yo’ pillow,” Nelson said as he walked back to his clothes. He didn’t put them on though, he just put that hardhat back on his head — that was legally required, after all — and picked his clothes up. “Put that aloe in your ass. It’ll help,” he said, then walked out of the tent, bare cock flapping in the breeze.
Lamar breathed a sigh of relief. That hadn’t been too painful, he thought, and at least he didn’t get caught. He shuddered at the silhouettes of his redneck coworkers, who were still hanging out by the campfire, hollering at each other and thwacking each other’s asses with their cocks.
The sound of their carrying on filled the night sky. Lamar just smiled, washed his ass off and walked to his tent. That had been humiliating, he thought, but fun as well, and it seemed like a worthwhile trade if it gave him a chance to work here and pay off his debt. Just like Nelson, he remained naked on the walk to his bunk except for the hardhat he kept on his head. The aloe was there at his bunk, just as Nelson had promised, and it did help the pain.
He managed to sink into restful sleep before the rednecks even got back to their bunks, and for the first time since he got there, Lamar felt like he was where he was supposed to be.

The Gigolo

Galeno is a gigolo who makes love to women for money, but he just might be willing to service Teddy too… Can Teddy convince him to cross the thin lavender line?

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Read the whole thing here!

Teddy placed a plate of chicken on the bar in front of the couple, who nodded at him but didn’t pay much attention. The woman didn’t look at him because she was focused on her man, Galeno. Galeno didn’t look at Teddy because he was a man on a mission. Teddy might as well have been invisible.
Galeno used the chopsticks to pick up a piece of chicken. He popped it in her mouth and she squealed. Galeno smiled, showing off those dimples to die for.
Arousal filled the air, virtually radiating off the couple and making the whole bar feel like a bordello. Teddy found it difficult to look away because Galeno was so handsome.
Teddy worked in the Rockhard Country Club and he’d become increasingly certain that Galeno was a gigolo. The place was chock-full of women, more than most country clubs, and Galeno was usually with one.
He wasn’t with the same one every night though. He cycled between them. He could, of course, have simply been a player, maybe he got laid a lot. Teddy was jealous of those ladies. That didn’t mean Galeno was a gigolo. But it was the only thing that really made sense to Teddy.
Galeno never got “caught”. After more than a year of constant womanizing out of the same country club, that seemed unlikely. Surely at some point, a woman he had been with previously would come in to the country club she was a member of. She’d see Galeno with another woman. Teddy was pretty sure that had happened at least once, when he saw a woman coming in whom he’d seen with Galena a few weeks prior. But the woman had just shrugged at the sight of Galeno with a different woman.
So him being a gigolo made sense, that would explain it too.
Of course they could have just broken up, maybe that was why she didn’t get upset. That was another reasonable explanation. Teddy couldn’t quite be sure. It simply violated everything he thought he knew about sexual interaction to assume Galeno could serially date every woman in this place and not spark any kind of jealous encounter or public breakup.
He didn’t want to look like he was spying on them, so Teddy didn’t stick around at the bar. Galeno and his current woman were eating their chicken very slowly and would not likely order anything else. He poured a couple wines for one of the waitresses, then went to the walk-in to get more limes.
There was a woman there crying. She had scurried behind the wall separating the corridor from the bar and restaurant, so nobody could see her until they came up close. She had her face in her arm, buried against the wall. A loud choked sob came from her lips.
“Uh… Miss?” Teddy came closer.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. She wiped her tears away. “I just… I don’t feel quite like myself.”
“You don’t need to apologize. If you want, you can sit in the pantry right there, that’s even more alone than this hall. You can sit in the walk-in too, but that’s pretty cold. You might not like it there,” Teddy said. “I love your necklace, by the way.” It was just a glittery piece of gold, nothing special, but Teddy thought she needed a pick-me-up.
“Thanks.” She sniffled.
“Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”
“Not unless you can turn into an employed man who’s willing to be stepfather to three ungrateful brats,” she said with a sniffle.
Teddy shrugged. “I’ve never tried to turn into an employed man who’s willing to be stepfather to three ungrateful brats. Lemme try.” He closed his eyes and pulled on his ears like he was a silly kids’ magician doing a trick. “Abracadabra!” He paused. “Did it work? Ah… no, I still don’t wanna be a stepdad.” He frowned at her. “Sorry. The answer is no, I don’t have the ability to turn into an employed man who’s willing to be a stepfather to three ungrateful brats.”
She laughed through her tears. “Thanks for trying. I guess I should have mentioned you’d have to be willing to marry me too.”
“You’re just full of rules.”
“I’d even be willing to forget about the stepfather-thing. I just want a man to take me seriously… I got stood up by this man as soon as he saw me and I told him I had three kids. We got along great online, we chatted for hours… And then he just snuck out on our first date. He said he had to go to the bathroom, and he disappeared.”
“Oh… That’s terrible… Look on the bright side: He could have been kidnapped by yakuza.”
A smile flickered over her face. “You’re silly. I’m Carla, and I-“
They were interrupted by an angry shout from the bar. Teddy turned to look and saw Galeno watching as a woman stormed away. She had thrown her drink in his face. Galeno shrugged. He wiped his face off, then finished his chicken.
“Excuse me, Carla,” Teddy said. He hurried back to the bar to clean up the liquor that had spilled.
Galeno nodded at him. “Good evening,” he said in that cloying Brazilian accent. “Sorry about the mess, senhor.” He had long curly black hair that extended well past his shoulders, and dusky brown skin. His accent fit him like the tailored suit he also wore. His dimples mesmerized like a swaying cobra. The sight of those compelling brown eyes made Teddy’s knees weak, and the feel of his hot breath glancingly condensing on Teddy’s arm made him want to swoon into Galeno’s powerful arms.
“Uh, so…” Teddy glanced back at the corridor beyond which he saw Betty’s shadow. Teddy cleared his throat. “You’re really into girls, right?”
Galeno scoffed.
“Do you… accept money from them?”
Galeno nodded. “That is why she left from here. She paid for one day, and she got it, for absolutely. I told her she must do payment for more time or I would leave,” he said with a sigh. His accent stuck in Teddy’s ears and made him crave more. Galeno’s soft skin beckoned. His English was good, not perfect, but perfectly wrong. Galeno made a kissy face and said, “She believed I did fallen into love with her.”
“But you didn’t?”
“I did. I fall into love with all women, no matter their size or age or shape. They have such beautiful flavors, and each one is a papaya of infinite sweetness. I could consume their tender womanhoods for hours, each one different but each one the same, and-” Galeno saw Teddy’s expression and fell flat. “Yes, I like women. But they must pay. I give them very much good love, it is worth it.”
“So you’d… be with a woman whose kind of thick and maybe needs someone else to do her makeup for her?” Teddy asked. Galeno nodded. Teddy continued, “Well… I’ve got a client for you. What do you charge?”
“For a whole day? I would ask-“
“A day? What am I, a vicarious nymphomaniac?”
“O que você quer dizer?”
“Nevermind, no, not a whole day. Just… an hour.”
He shrugged. “Four hundred dollars.”
“I can do that,” Teddy said. He took it out of his tips for the day. It was most of his tips so far today, but he could handle that. The Rockhard Country Club paid pretty good, and Teddy made tips on top of that.
Teddy went back to Carla, who was preparing to leave. He smiled at her. “I found you a man.”
“What? How?!”
“Well… Don’t get attached, he’s a gigolo,” Teddy said. “But I paid for him to satisfy you for an hour.” Teddy gestured to Galeno, who was getting up from the bar. His handsome face was framed by his magnificent mane.
Carla blushed and her knees went weak. She couldn’t stop giggling. “Oh, uh… He’s… He’s… a… Oh… I…”
Galeno came closer and took Betty’s hand in his. She blushed. Galeno leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Isso não significa nada.”
She swooned into his arms, and wrapped her hands around his well-muscled chest. Galeno’s hand roamed up and down her back as he led her away. Her breasts heaved, and Teddy could sense that her heart quickened. A few beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. She erupted in a salad of giggles, while Galeno smiled at whatever she said.
They went to the disabled bathroom near the locker rooms. Teddy went back to the bar, a little disappointed that he didn’t even get to watch or anything. The bar was pretty quiet today. Nothing much to do. He sighed.
He went back to the disabled bathroom and put his head to the door. He couldn’t help but snicker at the sound of Carla orgasming. You could tell she was having her pussy eaten, Teddy thought. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he could tell, that was a cunnilingus orgasm. He pictured Galeno’s broad brown back muscles writhing as he lapped at her womanhood.
Teddy wanted him bad. As a great admirer of the male physique, Teddy thought Galeno was ideal, his perfectly sculpted body suitable to model for Adonis or Heracles. He was so handsome Teddy thought it’d be weird, he didn’t have any frame of reference for how it felt to walk around with a face like that.
Perhaps he would let Teddy explore his body one day. Usually men only did that when they were horny and couldn’t nab a woman though, and it seemed unlikely that that would ever be a problem for a man like Galeno.
In any case, Teddy had other goals. He was trying to get this nineteen year-old caddy Noah who worked at the club and had a delightfully perfect body. He was much more reasonable. He had as much as said he would let a man jack him off for an X-Box. Teddy just needed to get him alone sometime, and he needed to buy an X-Box so he could make the deal whenever the time was right.
That nineteen year-old didn’t work today though. Teddy would have to wait for next week. Noah might have had a girlfriend now too, which would probably put the kibosh on Teddy’s efforts.
Noah vanished from his mind moments later though, when he saw Carla stumbling out of that disabled bathroom, positively aglow with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her hair was a mess — it had been a mess before, but now it looked like birds had built a nest in it. She was dazed, and she didn’t even notice Teddy. It looked like she was still orgasming a little bit, her whole body twitching with every step.
Galeno sat down. “Cup in water, please,” he said. “I am feeling of thirst.” He smacked his chapped lips.
Teddy gave him the water. “So, Galeno… how was it? Was she nice?”
He shrugged, and he flashed a grin that accentuated his dimples. “She was good. Thank you for the business.”
“You’re welcome. Do you…-?”
“Yes, I will be with men as well, but only on top, and I charge fifty percent more,” he said. His accent was noticeably less pronounced when discussing money.
“Oh, so…”
“Three hundred dollars for an hour.”
“Well, shit,” Teddy said. “I’d have never bought you for her if I’d known that. Will you be ready to go again at midnight? That’s when I get off-“
He chuckled. “I am Brazilian. I can go again as soon as you wish,” he said proudly. “We have, eh, the, eh… infinite manhood.”
Teddy blushed and giggled again. This time, his giggles had become flirtatious. Teddy touched Galeno’s bicep through his polo shirt. It flexed under his touch. Galeno smiled, showing off his dimples. Teddy’s knees went weak again.
Then a customer came in, and Teddy had to make a drink. He left Galeno there at the bar. He was so excited he dropped the first glass, heart racing as he looked forward to his little rendezvous with Galeno.
Eventually midnight came, and Galeno had vanished. Teddy was disappointed. He supposed that Galeno probably found a woman — a second woman of the night. Even if he charged men more than women, Galeno would probably always choose a female client over a male.
But still, Teddy was hopeful that he’d land Galeno eventually. Obviously it was within the realm of possibility, he just needed to get the timing right. Really though, that was true of all men. If Teddy got in there at the right time and with the right incentive, any hunk would swing downlow.
The bar gradually emptied out as midnight approached, and then Teddy was alone. He cleaned up, exhausted, disappointed, more tired than he should be because he had been excited about getting it in the ass from a real Brazilian gigolo and now it seemed that wasn’t happening.
But there he was.
Galeno walked into the bar, alone, looking substantially different than before. He had changed out of his fine suit and into a brilliantly colored sleeveless shirt made of something like nylon, below which he wore a pair of shorts that were the same color. They were too short by modern American standards, but they weren’t “short shorts”, they were just old-fashioned, Teddy thought, or foreign — presumably typical of Brazil.
His hair was wet, his skin a little moist, whether from shower water or sweat, Teddy couldn’t tell. He was mesmerized by those deep brown eyes in which he lost himself.
“Hello,” Galeno said. He kept talking, but Teddy couldn’t hear. Galeno ran his fingers through his hair. He lowered his head and kissed Teddy on the lips. He picked Teddy up and walked into the walk-in pantry that was around the corner, near where Carla had been sobbing earlier.
Teddy was dizzy. He had been reconciled to the fact that Galeno wouldn’t be with him, and now here he was. He smelled faintly musky, but with a clean, fruity scent.
He didn’t know that Galeno had done this for him — Galeno had been hired by more than one man over the years, and he knew well how to appeal to them. While women preferred him in a clean suit like a businessman, men preferred him in a skimpy outfit to show off his muscles. Galeno had gone for a quick jog to get good and sweaty, then showered without soap — just rinsed off — so he would be musky while still smelling clean. If he had more time, he would have grown one day’s worth of beard-stubble too and even let his chest sprout a layer of fur. But that would require more than an hour and three hundred dollars.
Teddy felt like the heroine of a romance novel. He rubbed his face against the smooth muscle of Galeno’s bicep, and his fingers danced over Galeno’s chest.
Galeno deposited him in the pantry. It smelled strongly of rice and olive oil, with a tropical scent that was straight out of Brazil — was that the pantry? Or was that Galeno? Teddy didn’t know. He nuzzled Galeno’s chest, his hands roaming under his shirt and lifting it over his head.
Teddy was surprised at how passionate and involved Galeno was. A lot of times when he paid a man to jack off with him, the man acted like he wasn’t involved, like he was just renting his body out for a little while. That was hot; Teddy didn’t mind it.
But Galeno was different. Galeno treated him like a woman who needed to be seduced, showered with kisses and affection. Galeno had no hesitation about kissing a man, it seemed, and his hands even explored Teddy’s body.
That was because Galeno was Brazilian. Like most Brazilian men, Galeno saw himself as so horny, so virile and so masculine that he could be aroused by anyone, and he did not see it as problematic to do anything at all with a man — except get penetrated. He thought nothing of kissing a man on the lips, or even licking that man’s asshole like it was a pussy.
That was what Galeno did. He kissed a trail down Teddy’s slim, pale body, which trembled beneath his touch. Galeno tasted the tender sweetness of his skin, and pulled his pants down.
“Hmmm… You have nice… how do you say… uh… buttocks?” Galeno remembered the word ass, of course, but he knew it was alluring when he pretended to forget English words during the heat of the moment. “It is tasting of sweetness, yes?”
“Yes…” Teddy gasped. He hadn’t expected Galeno to lick his ass. Men didn’t normally do that.
But to Galeno, this was little different than licking a vagina, which he did expertly and often. He enjoyed the harsh funkiness of it, the intense flavor, and the deeply rutting sensation it aroused within him. It was almost enough to get him hard even without a woman in the room.
He lapped at Teddy’s ass until it was good and loose. Then, pulling his face away, Galeno nodded and smiled. Teddy was good and ready, both loose and tight at once. Teddy was on all fours now, and Galeno placed his pinkie finger right there at the entrance to his asshole. He didn’t penetrate him fully, just teased the rim, which made Teddy cry out.
“Hmmmm… you feel so good, my little namorado…” Galeno said breathlessly, aiming his words directly into Teddy’s mouth.
The one thing Galeno didn’t get to do to often was get his dick wet. Few of the women who paid for his services were willing to spend time sucking on his dick.
Galeno kept his finger at Teddy’s ass to keep it open and ready, stretching over Teddy’s back to reach it. That gave Teddy enough room to pop his lips on Galeno’s cock.
“Aaaaaaaaaah…….” Galeno let out a long, cringing moan as soon as Teddy’s lips touched his dick. He could tell that sound excited Teddy, so Galeno did it again and again.
A surge of pleasure hit him. Sometimes messing with Galeno could be clinical; it was a set-menu, a series of practiced actions he could perform in his sleep, each one bringing his clients to new heights of ecstasy. It was nice to do something new for a change, to pleasure somebody different than what he was recently used to. He moaned, glad he could be as loud and as deep as he wanted — that turned off most of the women who paid for his services, but not Teddy.
His cock rocketed to full erection. It tasted clean from his shower, but with that funky aftertaste that Teddy adored. He deep-throated it to the root, letting Galeno plow into his face. Teddy didn’t mind an aggressive dick in his throat, but Galeno, of course, didn’t do that. Galeno casually and caringly humped Teddy’s tongue and the back of his throat.
“Ah, yes, you have such a soft, perfect mouth,” Galeno said with another moan. He guided Teddy’s hand up to feel his nipples, and he flexed his pecs to make Teddy croon.
Finally he felt a few drops of precum hit Teddy’s tongue, which Galeno took as a sign it was time to move on. He quickly pulled Teddy up and had him bend over the shelves of the pantry. Teddy gripped one shelf tightly.
“Oh god, stick it in me, Galeno!”
“Hmmm… Kiss me…” Galeno pulled Teddy’s head to face him, and he planted his lips tightly on Teddy’s. His cock drilled in to Teddy’s tight hole, which was still open because of Galeno’s tongue and finger.
Teddy yelped, fingers tightening into claws that dug at the shelf. Galeno gripped his shoulders and slid his dick in, inch by inch.
This was another matter that was better with men than with women — women rarely chose anal sex, and when they did, they rarely wanted Galeno to fuck hard. They liked a slow, languorous fuck, something they could experience without a single note of discomfort.
Men, however, liked to jack off with force and power.
Galeno wasn’t aggressive, but he was plenty hard. His long hair swayed around his head as he gripped Teddy’s shoulders with one hand, and his hips with the other. He held him in place as he drilled his cock in all the way, until his balls slapped against Teddy’s thighs.
Immediately, Teddy let out a howl as a surge of pleasure wracked his body. He’d never been plowed up the butt quite like this. Galeno seemed to know exactly where his prostate was, and with each thrust of his hips, he stimulated it to a new plateau of intense bliss.
“Oh god, yes!”
Galeno chuckled at the sight of Teddy writhing beneath him. He leaned his head down, rubbing his chest muscles over Teddy’s smooth back. He whispered in Teddy’s ear, “Você está ativado por idiomas estrangeiros, sim?”
Teddy didn’t know what that meant, but he was too overwhelmed by the sensations exploding within him to notice; the sound was too arousing to think, and Galeno’s smooth voice echoed in his mind. He didn’t even realize how long he stood there, leaning against the shelves as he got reamed. He was shocked to learn it was almost midnight when he finally shot his load.
It was an intense and wild orgasm for Teddy, though Galeno was more subdued. Galeno moaned moistly into Teddy’s ear, licking his earlobe. That was enough to send Teddy over the edge at just the right moment for Galeno — who always preferred his men to cum just before Galeno did.
Teddy’s wad sprayed onto the shelf in front of him, making a puddle that sit in front of the trash bags. Galeno kept going, ramming his dick in and out as hard as he could now, since Teddy was wide-open enough to take it.
Creamy cum filled Teddy up, great gobs of it that seeped into his flesh. It was warm and sticky. He could feel it trickling through his body and slipping out into his asscrack.
“Ah, yes, Teddy…” Galeno moaned again. “You feel so sweetly…” He gasped and kissed the back of Teddy’s neck. He hadn’t expected this to feel so good.
But he often thought that after jacking off with men. It was just because they were different, he thought, they felt new and fresh. Plus the women who hired him mostly did so because they had trouble with men — they were too fat, too old, too tall, too stentorian, too mean, and Galeno was able to satisfy them. But feminine men like Teddy were perfectly fine.
So for Galeno, this was almost as intense an orgasm as for Teddy, and he drained a massive load deep into Teddy’s ass. Teddy groaned along with him, then they both fell silent. Galeno sucked on his teeth and kissed Teddy’s head again.
“Yes…” he said with a grunt. He pulled out and Teddy twitched, then fell limp. One final spasm of bliss coursed through both men, who both let out a final rumbling moan of desire.
Teddy giggled as he struggled to stand on weakened knees. He turned around and leaned against Galeno’s chest. He sucked some of the sweat off there. “Hmmm… You taste good, Galeno.”
Galeno nodded. “You have three minutes,” he said.
Teddy smiled and hugged him close. “I better make the best of it.” He looked up at Galeno. “You’re really good at what you do. Are all Brazilian men that good?”
Galeno sniffled and puffed out his chest. “All Brazilian men are better lovers, it is certain. They are better than any man. But I am better than them all.”
Warmth suffused Teddy as he hugged Galeno and smiled, rubbing his face against his chest and stroking his dick for three minutes. By the time he was done, Teddy was already thinking about going to Brazil.

The Vintner

Teddy is tending bar when he meets an Italian vintner with a handsome face and a hunky body, plus a need for money that Teddy is all too happy to help with! All Giovanni has to do is give him a taste of his alpha male manhood…

Read it now as an ebook!

The Drifter

Rob has paid off a child support beef for the legendary drifter and hobo Tommy Weathers, and for that, Rob is ready to taste his filthy, raunchy meat. Is Tommy willing to give it up?

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Read the whole thing here

It took a long time after Rob paid off the child support for Tommy to be released. Rob’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his latest lust striding cockily through the jail, his eyes darting suspiciously towards the uniformed cop who escorted him out.
“I thanks ya kindly, suh,” Tommy said when he was in the waiting area and his handcuffs were unlocked. “You a real prince among men.”
The situation was awkward, the waiting area clogged with dour-looking girlfriends, mothers and lawyers, all of them pretending they weren’t eavesdropping. Tommy was oblivious though and shamelessly spoke loudly and at great length in front of them.
“Uh, yeah, no problem. You’re welcome,” Rob said.
Tommy’s deep voice boomed. He was tall and big-bodied by nature, but with the lean, ropy build of a drifter. He was white but with very sun-tanned skin, burnt and reburnt by his days of shirtless work. He was missing several teeth. His accent was so thick it reminded Rob of the incomprehensible hillbilly, Boomhauer, from King of the Hill. He talked incessantly too, as though he was required to verbalize every thought he had.
“I’m gonna pay you back, suh. Not in money, you know I ain’t got none of that, and if’n I did, I’d just spend it all on booze, ya hear. The ol’ Tommy, he would-a say he gonna pay you back in cold hard cash, ya hear, but he wouldn’t do it. Nosirree. He just use ya and abuse ya for as much as he can, then spend it all on fentunill, uh-huh, ya hear, son? I ain’t that kinda man no mo’, suh, and I thanks ya rightly for all that you done. I’s gonna tell ya upfront that if I gets any cash, I be buyin’ liquor wit’ it. Ain’t proud of it, ’s just my weakness, ya hear? God ain’t see fit to gimme the strength to resist sweet lady drink.”
He kept talking as they walked back to Rob’s car and drove away from the jail. Rob found his accent alluring, and his intense energy made Rob horny. He couldn’t focus on Tommy’s words because he was so aroused.
So far, Rob had only managed to jack Tommy off once when he was drunk. They met because Tommy was holding up a sign asking for money at a busy intersection — he had insisted even as he begged for handouts that he didn’t accept welfare (he offered to write down every person’s address and pay them back at some point in the future, but most people understandably declined). Rob had offered him thirty bucks to jack him off.
Tommy agreed without giving it a second thought and jumped into the passenger seat. Once he was there, however, he made a big show of this being contrary to his ideals as a Christian. Those ideals didn’t slow him down any, but he did make Rob buy him liquor first, and by the time he had his dick out in the shadowy corner of an All-Mart parking lot, Tommy had been piss-drunk.
His dick was thick and fleshy, nice and long, and it throbbed beneath Rob’s fingertips. Tommy had demonstrated its thickness by holding it next to his forearm — it was just a bit thicker than his cock. He cackled with pride.
“Mah friends always used to say I got color cock,” he grinned, showing off his gap-toothed jaw. “You know what that mean? I got dick like a color boy. Ain’t prejudice now, ya hear?”
“Uh-huh.”
He went on, talking about his lack of prejudice and, at the same time, all the groups of people he was prejudiced against: Filipinos, blacks, foreigners, electricians, feminists, Marylanders, Jews, Frenchmen, people named Bruce, Canadians, psychiatrists, people who eat smooth peanut butter, Texans, politicians, Mexicans and Mormons, among others. Even as his dick got hard in Rob’s hand and leaked precum into his fingers, Tommy didn’t stop talking.
“I used to fuck this color girl, she loved me somethin’ fierce. Ah, damn, she got this ass, man… It’s enough to make me unchristian, it rightly is, suh. I tell you one thing. Uh-huh.”
When he orgasmed, he shut up for about half a second, then let loose with a loud torrent of moaning. Even his moans had a redneck accent though, which made Rob giggle.
Sitting there in the car in the All-Mart parking lot, Rob had nearly busted his own load just from the sight of Tommy’s muscles writhing beneath his t-shirt, his scruffy chin and his unwashed hair shaking. He finally stopped talking for a few seconds, long enough to spray sweet, sunny-smelling semen all over Rob’s hand. It spurted over Tommy’s t-shirt too, soaking into it. That made Tommy drunkenly groan with disgust, but Rob had given him a new t-shirt. Tommy allowed him to keep the old one, which Rob had fallen asleep sniffing and licking.
So that had been how he met Tommy. He had paid Tommy thirty bucks and the bottle and said he could stay at Rob’s place. He slept on the couch. That first night, he had spent the whole thirty bucks on more booze. He said that it would last him a week, but he actually finished it in two days — he shared some with a couple of homeless men, but he drank most of it himself.
Since then Tommy had been out and about — “testifyin’ at ‘bout the Lord on heaven” — so Rob hadn’t had the chance to get at his dick again.
Until today.
Tommy had spent a day and a half in jail after being arrested for being drunk in public. It turned out he owed five hundred in child support, which Rob paid to get him out.
When they pulled into Rob’s house, Tommy cleared his throat. “Ya need any more work done, suh?”
Rob shook his head no. Tommy had refused to take charity, so he had done some work around the house in exchange for a couch to sleep on. But that work was all done.
“You gonna wanna jack me off, huh?”
“Yeah,” Rob said.
He sighed. “Fine. I knew it was gonna come to that. I don’t take charity, so I’ll do whatevuh it take,” he said.
“I might know someone who needs work done,” Rob said. “Why don’t I make some calls? I might be able to find you a job.”
“I’d be much obliged,” he said. He sniffed his pits. “I should go take a shower. I got jailstink in me.”
“No.” Rob blushed. “Wait. Lemme… y’know… first.”
“Oh, you like it stinky, huh?”
“The stinkier the better,” Rob said. He sent off a text message to a friend of his, asking about a job for Tommy. Then he dropped to his knees and massaged Tommy’s cock through his jeans. Tommy snorted and was silent for a moment — that was highly unusual for him, and it was enough to make Rob chuckle. He undid the fly and let Tommy’s cock flop out.
Rob opened his mouth and swallowed it down. That triggered Tommy to start talking again, but Rob ignored him. He focused on the taste of his meat; it was salty and musky, with a sun-drenched summery flavor that made Rob drool all over it.
“You really like jackin’ dick, huh? What’s up wit’ dat? Huh? Dick don’t taste good, I never put it in my mouth — no how, no way — but I knows dat, yessuh, you best believe it. That’s where piss come from, why don’t it just taste like piss?” He paused, his voice scrunched up as he pondered this conundrum. “Oh, but girls piss too. Pussy does piss I know dat, suh. But they’s cleaner. That’s the diff’rence. Tastes like piss, yessuh. I know dat.”
His dick got hard easily — Rob was glad to see he didn’t have whiskey dick, despite the bottle of whiskey he had drunk before getting arrested. It was massively thick, one of those rare cocks that Rob actually needed to struggle to deep-throat.
There were two reasons in Rob’s book to practice rough trade. Firstly, he just plain enjoyed it. Secondly, and even more important, Rob loved to humiliate his father. Dad was an upper-class elitist who hated the lower classes. He genuinely thought poor people shouldn’t be allowed to speak to the wealthy unless spoken to first.
So as Rob swallowed, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dad. As expected, it went straight to voice mail — Dad knew what it meant when Rob called him. Rob was fine with the voice mail, since Dad couldn’t hang it up. Rob left the phone recording while he moistly put his mouth on Tommy’s cock, whose incessant yammering in his Southern dialect would enrage Dad so much it made Rob smile.
“You got nice lips, damn, suh. I wasn’t expectin’ that, nosirree. I never do no pervy shit wit’ no male person befo’, nope, no, no, no, no way, and I will slap the bitch off anyone say different,” he said. “But I’s a Christian man, so I won’t do that. I don’t slap no one. I would though, I’d do it and get meself some fo’giveness later. I’s Christian fo’ real, suh. Don’t hit anyone who question me, not even men. Nope, that ain’t Christian. But don’t doubt that I ain’t nevuh do none of that pervuht shit befo’, or I will hit ya, and that’s a Christian promise.” He continued swearing that he both would definitely hit this hypothetical person and definitely would not, apparently having no realization that he was contradicting himself over and over. He peered down at his cock as it disappeared down Rob’s throat. He covered his eyes with one hand, peeking through his fingers before looking away again.
Rob loved hearing Tommy’s rumbling drawl, his gravelly voice filling the air with the words that dripped out of him like molasses. His cock dripped too, salty precum flowing down Rob’s throat. He gurgled on it, letting some leak out from his lips and down his chin.
The phone rang — not Rob’s personal phone, but his landline. Rob wasn’t going to answer until he saw he caller ID. It was a friend who owned a small bakery in town.
“I should take this,” Rob said. “It’s the guy I asked about giving you a job. I sent him a text. He called on the landline-“
“Hell yeah, answer that, suh, I rightly need dat, yeah,” he said. He wrinkled his nose as Rob lazily stroked his dick and answered the phone. He stared at the cock as he had to fight back the urge to start jacking on it again — he needed his mouth free to talk on the phone.
It turned out his friend did have a job available. He needed someone to re-tile his bathroom, and, when Rob asked, Tommy nodded as though he didn’t have experiencing tiling but was willing to pretend he did.
So Rob passed the phone over. Tommy took a deep breath before answering, and Rob couldn’t help but lick his dick. He didn’t put it in his mouth again while Tommy interviewed over the phone, he just licked and lightly stroked the shaft.
“Hello, suh. Yessuh, I swears, I do got experience. Yessuh, I ain’t gonna lie to ya, ain’t nevuh tiled a bathroom all by myself. But I done it. I know all ‘bout that, yessuh. And you can rest yerself unworried, suh, I’s a Christian man. I’s a God-fearin’ man, uh-huh.” His voice broke when a drop of precum leaked onto Rob’s tongue. “Yessuh. I got dat punc-tual-ity, yessuh, I always do. I do good work. I was raised propuh.”
His dick twitched in Rob’s mouth. Rob kissed the tip as loudly as he could, giggling when Tommy frowned at him. Rob licked up all the precum that dripped out of his dick.
“I only ask that ya treat me wit’ respect as well. I only ask fo’ you to treat me like a man, ya hear. I don’t like to hear no kinda disrespec’. Ya got me? Huh? I see, yeah. Yessuh,” he said. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, suh. I do gots a problem wit’ the drink, yeah. I’s man enough to admit dat. Uh-huh.”
Tommy used one hand to keep the phone on his ear, while his other hand grabbed Rob by the head. He bucked his hips one time, slamming his dick all the way into Rob’s throat. He listened intently to the phone as he did, like he didn’t even notice what his cock was doing. He smiled and stuck his tongue out when he was all the way in Rob’s gullet, and he moaned loudly.
Then he blushed and stammered into the phone. “Sorry, suh, I was, uh… I just stubbed my toe, so sorry,” he said. “I ain’t know ‘bout that, suh. It might not be the best way to go. I do drink me some ‘lcohol, that’s fo’ sho’. Uh-huh. I ain’t gonna lie to you, suh, I’s a Christian man, I do drink e’ry night. The Lord ain’t seen fit to take that burden from my back. I pray e’ry night, both befo’ and aftuh I get drunk, ya hear. I pray fo’ guidance, yessuh, and I pray for forgiveness.”
As Rob started to stroke Tommy’s cock in earnest again, he looked up at Tommy’s serious face. Tommy had one arm crossed over his flat belly, rubbing against the blond hairs there. Rob suckled loudly and moistly on his cockshaft, which throbbed and precummed down Rob’s throat.
“Alright, yessuh, thank you, thank you fo’ the oppo’tunity, yessuh, I do ‘ppreciate it, mighty fine,” Tommy said. Then he hung up the phone. He snorted. “He ain’t hire me.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“He say he gonna need me to do some drivin’. The tiles he wanna use is in some far-away warehouse or somethin’. He say he gonna make me take a breathalyzer first. He say insurance make him do it,” Tommy said. “I can’t get no kinda DUI no mo’, or I do some big-boy time in the slammer. That’s what my lawyer say last time. So I tell him, I tells ya friend, I tells him nah, I can’t lie. I gonna be drunk, at least at the legal limit from the night befo’. ‘nless you pick me up from jail like you done today, that’s ‘bout the only way I might be sober fo’ him. God ain’t seen fit to take the burden of drink off my back, ya hear.”
“Uh-huh. That’s too bad, I’m sorry to hear that,” Rob said. He was too horny to really care, though a part of him was annoyed that Tommy hadn’t even been willing to try to quit drinking for the job. Rob was also certain that his friend was making that up — he had no breathalyzer, he was just saying that to scare Tommy into admitting he would never show up sober.
“Hey, suh, I wanna-” Tommy said. He snorted and threw his head back to moan, biting his lip as he nearly orgasmed right then and there. He pulled his dick out and let it flop against Rob’s face. It smelled like hay and saliva and sweat, and it made Rob’s mind race as dizzying desire overwhelmed him. Tommy took a deep breath. “I’s in need, ya know that, ya hear. You seem like the kinda man who wanna help a Christian brotha out, and ya know I don’t take no kinda charity, no way. Huh-huh. I don’t do dat. I got some pride left in these old bones.”
“What do you want, Tommy?” Rob didn’t meant to be impatient, but he desperately wanted to get back to swallowing his dick.
“I want you to forgive me my debt fo’ that child support shit, and I need more. If you gimme ‘bout two hundred, I can buy enough liquor to last me for weeks and still have enough to pay child support fo’ this month, ya hear. That’ll keep me outta jail long enough to get a job.”
“A job that doesn’t expect you to come to work sober?” Rob asked. Tommy wrinkled his nose, and Rob smiled. He didn’t mean to be confrontational — he wasn’t Tommy’s social worker, after all.
“That’s fair, I say. I say that’s fair,” Tommy said. “But the Lord ain’t seen fit to tell me to quit drinkin’. The Lord ain’t say that yet. Maybe it’ll happen tomorrow. Maybe the day aftuh that, I dunno. The Lord works in mysterious ways, suh, as I’m sure you well know.”
“Uh-huh.” Rob inhaled deeply from the musky cock that rested and pulsated atop his face, as he looked up into Tommy’s ultra-serious mien.
“So I’s askin’ for two hundred, suh, but I wouldn’t be askin’ if I ain’t wanna earn it, like a real man. I dunno if you know this ‘bout me, but I don’t take charity. Nope, no way, no how,” he said, and even though he had told Rob that maybe a hundred times in the week or so they had known each other, he seemed to be genuinely unaware that he had said it before. He took a deep breath. “I’s willin’ to treat you in a most unchristian way, if that’s the way you want it.”
Rob would have had no idea what that meant, but from the way Tommy raised his eyebrows and stroked his twitching cock, Rob guessed it was exactly what he wanted. He glanced over at the phone to be sure his father’s voicemail would pick up this conversation.
“You’ll stick it in my ass?”
Tommy blanched, frowned and chuckled nervously. “Damn, you really speak blunt, suh, but yeah, that’s what I’s sayin’.”
“Have you ever done it before?”
“Nossuh!” he said. Then he paused. “I been drinkin’ a lotta drink fo’ a long time, suh.” He put his hand over his heart. “I ain’t wanna lie to ya, suh. This man I know — Willie — he tells me one time that we get drunk together in a tramp camp out near the highway — not the highway here in Tuscaloosa, this was down in Florida — and we get so drunk, me and Willie, we get so drunk we can’t even stand, I swear to God. I wasn’t composed-mentis — that’s a legal term, ya hear — and I ain’t even remembuh it the next day. But Willie, he a color boy, not that I’s prejudice, but he say the next day, he say that we was real drunk and I was attemptin’ at his asshole all night. Color boys say dat, yessuh. But I wasn’t right in the mind then, and I don’t rightly remembuh it. I punched that Willie in the face and I ain’t even ask fo’giveness. He say we was drunk and messin’ each other off — color boys call that ‘sixty-ninin’’, yessuh, and then he say he stick me in the asshole, and I say no way, no how, I don’t do that, nossuh. I don’t let no white man in my ass, and I don’t let no color man in there neither. I ain’t prejudice. He say we both do it, but I punch him in the face.” Tommy laughed. “He punch me back, but we make up and get to smokin’ some ice togethuh, all forgotten. We was both smokin’ that crystal meth-am-phetamine then. I quit that now, by the grace of God, thank you, suh.”
As he told that long story, Rob got into position. He bent over on all fours, above his own cell phone so he could be sure his father would listen to every moist sound and intense moan. He slathered lube all over his ass.
It was only as he finished his story, talking about smoking meth and over-enunciating the word methamphetamine, that Tommy got in position to enter Rob’s ass. He kneeled and got behind Rob, who cringed as soon as he felt that thick prick at the entrance to his ass.
Tommy grabbed Rob’s hair, which was just long enough that he could grip it. He screwed up his face like a mean thug for a moment, and he slapped Rob’s asscheek.
“I ain’t gonna stick ya real mean-like. Ya reckon it’s okay if I hold onto yer hair, suh?”
“That’s fine.”
“I just likes to hold on, like for somethin’ to grip. Plus I can pull on it just a bit, make ya tighten up some. Ya just gotta tell me to stop or slow down,” Tommy said, sounding like he really hoped Rob would make him stop.
But Rob didn’t. He was so horny he backed his ass up while Tommy was still talking, so in the end, Tommy didn’t penetrate Rob — instead Rob penetrated himself with Tommy’s dick.
He threw his head back and moaned as Tommy’s cock hit his prostate, inch after inch of it squeezing into his ass. Rob had rarely accepted such a thick slab of meat, so he struggled to take in the whole thing.
“Oh god! It’s so big!” Rob knew that men like Tommy pounded better if their ego was stroked, so Rob kept shouting about how huge Tommy’s cock was. Sure enough, that made Tommy grin like an ape and bristle with pride.
“Here we go, suh, I do hope this is worth it,” Tommy said. He groaned and grunted as he forced the last few inches of his dick in.
They were both motionless for a moment. Rob shivered as he struggled to adjust to the cock in his ass and the wave of pleasure enveloping him. Tommy looked down at his dick disappearing in Rob’s ass as though he had no idea how it had gotten there. He chuckled to himself and was again struck silent for a few seconds. Though Tommy’s accent had turned him on, Rob was glad to have a few moments to think as his prostate came alive.
Then at last Tommy began pounding away at Rob’s ass. He pulled gently on Rob’s hair to keep his head up, even as Tommy pushed down on Rob’s upper back. He placed Rob’s shoulders on the floor, his ass in the air and his head upraised just enough that he could see.
“Damn, suh, from behind you look a lot like a girl,” Tommy said. “A girl who got a real athletic back, that’s nice. A li’l hairy, but hey, I know I ain’t no prize. I met girls a lot hairier than you and I ain’t kick ‘em out of bed. Or outta the tent I be sleepin’ in, or whatevuh. I don’t fuck wit’ prostitutes, mind you suh.” He groaned again and slammed his dick in so hard his balls slapped against Rob’s thigh.
“Uh-huh.” Rob reached behind himself and massaged Tommy’s balls. It wasn’t clear Tommy even realized he was doing it — Tommy’s mind was fixated on the pleasure and the horror of his dick in a man’s asshole. Rob’s fingers slipped behind Tommy’s balls, rubbing that sensitive spot where his sac met his taint. The thick nest of blond hairs there was choked with dried-on sweat.
Tommy stopped moving. He coughed. “Ah, damn, does this make me a rentboy, suh?”
“Uh… No, you’re just…” Rob winced. It was hard to concentrate on speaking with such a huge cock throbbing inside his ass. It was right on his prostate, sending jolts of bliss through his body. “You’re just givin’ me a lesson on masculinity. I’m small and weak-“
Tommy chortled. He mulled around the word masculinity in his mouth and repeated it, dick twitching inside Rob’s twisting body. “Muscle-innity? Wuzzat?”
“It’s, a, uh… bein’ a man” Rob said.
“Well hooty toot, ain’t that right. I ain’t no pervuht, just doin’ what I gotta do to make some scratch. Wish I could tell my sister that and have her get impressed. She called me a failure and a loser, can you believe that? She accuse me of stealin’ cash from her when I was sleepin’ on her couch,” Tommy said. He started moving his hips again, rubbing his dick on every surface of Rob’s guts. Tommy moaned and bit his lip. “I did steal cash from her, mind you. I done sought forgiveness fo’ it already,” he said. “But she ain’t know I done it. She ain’t have no kinda clues ‘bout that. She just ‘ssumed. To me, that ain’t right. She my sister. She should gimme the benefit of the doubt. Ya hear me, suh?”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.”
He chuckled dryly. “I can tell you want me to blow my load. You like, uh, nut, huh, suh?” He shuddered as though that thought was unspeakably disgusting.
“Yeah. Stick it in me,” Rob said, still too distracted by his ass to speak normally, so his voice was wrenched by moans.
“Now when I fuck a girl in the ass, she nevuh want me to fill her up inside. Huh? You want me to pull out? I like to fill her up, cuz that’s in the Bible,” Tommy said. “Spillin’ yer seed is bad, I know that. I hears this preacher say it one time.”
“Yeah. Just cum inside me, okay,” Rob said. He rolled his eyes while he shot his own load into his hand. Some of it even landed on the phone on the floor, which still whirred as it recorded Tommy’s voice and the sound of Rob’s orgasm. Rob smiled — his father was going to hate this. Tommy’s earnest nature, his Christianity, his dirtiness, his redneck accent, he was everything Rob’s dad despised.
“Yessuh, I am glad you say dat,” he said. He spat into the palm of his hand and used that as additional lube. He groaned and slammed his dick in. He pulled it all the way out and did so again, grunting each time, as Rob bit his own lip, the waves of pleasure overwhelming him with each thrust of Tommy’s cock.
Rob could feel his orgasm approach. He writhed, his sensitive ass tingling so intensely Rob could do nothing but bury his face in his own arms. But that didn’t last long because Tommy pulled on his hair as he climaxed.
“Aw, fuck yeah…” He spoke softly for once, and he paused, allowing a moment of delectable silence to fill the room. “Gonna shoot so much you ain’t nevuh stop drippin’, suh… Got a ‘nfinite ‘mount of cum to fill ya up wit’, suh. I always shoots some big loads, like a color boy. I ain’t color, mind ya, and I ain’t prejudice.”
A big jet of creamy cum hit Rob’s prostate, reawakening his own orgasm. Rob twisted and contorted, but Tommy kept a tight grip on his hair.
Then Tommy collapsed his body onto Rob’s back. That pinned Rob down as Tommy gyrated his hips, shooting wad after wad of hot cum inside his ass. It was thicker than most cum, or so Rob thought he sensed as it trickled into his body. He could feel it sticking to his innards, soaking into him, its heat seeping into his flesh.
Rob moaned, but the sound was overpowered by Tommy’s own moan. Tommy’s ropy, dusty, sunburnt muscles flexed where they pressed against Rob’s bare back, and Rob moaned beneath his grasp.
“Ya feel me fillin’ you up, suh? That how you like it? Huh? Girls don’t like that, or some of them do but I think they just prostitutes and sluts, that’s what they is. They usually make me pull out, shoot all over the floor, but I don’t like dat, nossuh. I like-” he paused and his voice broke as he moaned again, another few drops of cum dripping into Rob’s ass. “I likes this, yessuh. I do this fo’ two hundred anytime, yessuh, that’s fo’ sho’. Ain’t Christian to do it, ain’t propuhly Christian, but that’s why the Cath-olics invented forgiveness, yessuh.”
At last they were both done. Rob didn’t know how long he laid there. It felt like eons. All he could focus on was the feel of Tommy’s muscles writhing above his back, his cum trickling into his ass and his breath condensing on Rob’s neck.
“Alright, suh, that okay?”
“Yeah, Tommy, you can get off me now,” Rob said, breathless and strained.
“Yessuh,” he pulled off. He wrinkled his face at sight of his cum-coated cock, dripping with santorum and goop. He laughed at himself. “Well, shit, I wasn’t sure I could do it, but I did it. Yessuh, I did.”
“Yeah. That was good, Tommy,” Rob said. He took a deep breath.
Tommy crossed his arms over his wiry chest and shot Rob a suspicious look. “You ain’t gonna stiff me, right? Two hundred. That’s what you said.” He thought for a moment. “You pretty rich, right?”
“Well, not exactly,” Rob said. His own cock was rock-hard, even though he had cum a couple minutes ago. That’s because the stink of Tommy’s hobo armpits filled the room, and Rob kept playing with Tommy’s rubbery soft cock and wiry muscles. “But I do okay. You said you’ve been in prison before, right? Not just jail-“
“Ayyuh, yessuh, I been gone to lockup buncha times, big-boy prison too, a year and a half once, back befo’ I was a God-fearin’ man,” he said. “That’s how I seen pervuhsion befo’, I know how bad that taste, so I bet — I ain’t taste it, mind you, I know from rep’tation. I hold my own in prison.” He looked away.
“So you’ve never tasted cock?”
“Nosuh, nosuh, nosuh,” he said. “And I nevuh would, nevuh. I tol’ this one color fella he best shank me, cuz no how no way, uh-huh, I ain’t puttin’ his nasty old thing in my mouth.”
“Oh, okay,” Rob said. He had hoped maybe there was a chance he could get his dick in Tommy’s mouth, but he knew that was always a longshot, so he just shrugged.
But Rob saw a hesitant look on Tommy’s face. Rob said, “Four hundred.”
“Eight. I don’t taste no color fella prick, nosuh.”
Rob nodded. “Fine,” he said. His heart pounded. Was he really about to get his dick wet in this redneck?
Tommy got on his knees, weary look on his face, his mouth already puckering. He looked at Rob’s dick and wrinkled his nose. “I nevuh done it — I love me some drugs, you see, but I tol’ that color fella I ain’t tastin’ no hog fo’ it,” he said. “Tastin’ like shit anyhows, on ‘ccount of he always stickin’ his homeboys in the butthole.” He picked up Rob’s dick with two fingers and winced. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Just before it touched Rob’s dick, he closed his mouth again. “You ain’t gonna stiff me, right?”
“Swear to God,” Rob said.
Tommy closed his eyes. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, you feel me?”
Rob nodded. “No judgement, it’s-” He gasped as his cock slid into Tommy’s mouth. Tommy immediately deep-throated him most of the way down, but as soon as Rob’s cock touched the back of his tongue, Tommy violently retched.
Tommy sat back and closed his mouth like he thought he might vomit. He paused. “First taste is always the nastiest,” he said as though that was a cliche he’d said before. “I-” His face turned pale and he snapped his mouth shut. He got up and hurried the best he could with his pants around his ankles. He went to the bathroom and bent over the toilet, retching into it. “Sorry, suh, sorry, I’s tryin’ — first taste is always the worst, makes ya puke, but I’ll get-” He retched again. “I’ll get through it, swear to God.”
Rob came into the bathroom then. Tommy was bent over the toilet dry-heaving and spitting. His pants were still down so his asshole was bare, wrinkled, pale as could be but studded with off-blond hairs, especially running up his asscrack. Rob came up behind Tommy and thwacked his cock against Tommy’s asscrack.
“Don’chu even try and stick it in my hole,” Tommy said. He turned back around, leaning his back against the toilet. He eyed Rob’s cock with disdain.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to stick it in, just playin’,” Rob said. He slowly got closer, expecting Tommy to open his mouth. But he didn’t. Rob got closer and closer, until his dick touched Tommy’s lip. He didn’t react.
Then he opened his mouth a crack. Rob slid his dick in. Again, Tommy gagged, but not as violently, and Rob was able to keep his dick in there.
Tommy kept his mouth opened wide and his tongue low, minimizing the amount of Rob’s dick that touched his tongue. His chapped lip rubbed against it.
“Oh god, yeah…” Rob moaned loudly. He grabbed Tommy by the ears and pushed his dick in as a sudden orgasm overwhelmed him. The change in angle meant his cock rubbed thoroughly against Tommy’s tongue, and he gagged once more.
“No wai-sshh, I cauuhn’t-” Tommy tried to pull off Rob’s dick, but he was pinned with the toilet behind him, and Rob had a grip on both ears. He let go to hold onto Tommy by the mullet on the back of his head. His hairy was dusty and coarse, and he let out a furious stomach-churning retch as Rob’s dick slid all the way into Tommy’s throat.
“Sorry, just a sec, just a second,” Rob said softly, his face turning red. A jet of cum hit the back of Tommy’s throat, dripping straight down his gullet.
This time when Tommy gagged as the second cumwad hit him, he spat up all the cum he had swallowed so far. His whole body writhed as a big ball of spit and semen slipped out onto Rob’s cock. Tommy finally managed to get himself off Rob’s dick.
“Nasssshuh-” Tommy tried to hold back a vomit, but he couldn’t. He twisted sideways so he could vomit into the toilet bowl. His stomach was empty because he had thrown up before, then spat up Rob’s first cumwad. Rob wasn’t done cumming though. His third spurt of cum landed on the strap of Tommy’s wifebeater on his shoulder.
Then Rob moved to the side of the toilet, so he could jam his dick back into Tommy’s mouth, as Tommy let out a hoarse breath and spat again. Tommy didn’t see it coming, so Rob managed to get his fourth and final cumwad into Tommy’s mouth.
“Sorry, sorry,” Rob said. He thought he shouldn’t have to apologize, since he was paying good money for this, but he figured apologizing would make Tommy more likely to come back. “I’m all done.”
Despite being done, Rob didn’t stop moving his limpening dick in and out of Tommy’s mouth. Tommy was hunched over the toilet, letting fluids drip from his mouth into the bowl. Finally he took Rob’s dick in two fingers and held him back. He closed his mouth, spit again and took a deep breath.
“Alright, alright, you got’cha money’s worth. Damn, that’s the dickens! Still, you ain’t taste as bad as that color fella,” he said. “Or so I hears.” He stood up and pulled his pants up.
“I’ll get you your money. I’ll have to write a check, I don’t have that much cash. What kinda fee will you pay at the check-cashing place.”
“Like five percent plus, uh…” His voice trailed off. “Hundred bucks. Five percent plus a hundred bucks.”
That was clearly a lie, he was exaggerating the cost. But Rob didn’t care. Money was no object to him. He wrote out a check for two hundred dollars, which would more than cover any check-cashing fee. He didn’t get up, his body still too weak and basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. He passed the check over to Tommy.
“Thank ya, suh,” Tommy said. He stood, stretched his knees and wiped his cock off with a napkin. “I thanks ya mightily. I’m just gonna go cash this check, yessuh. I got big plans fo’ it. Gonna buy just a little liquor. Enough to get me drunk fo’ a couple nights. Gonna make this money last, yessuh.”
“And child support,” Rob said weakly while Tommy got dressed. “Don’t forget, you want to be able to pay your child support for a couple months. Or else you’ll just get arrested again.”
Tommy paused for a long time. It was clear he had no intention of paying his child support. He stared at the check for a long time. He smiled at Rob. “Yessuh, ‘course. Thanks a lot fo’ ya help, suh. I swear, I be back. I am gonna turn my life around, yessuh.”
“Okay, see ya, Tommy,” Rob said.
As the door slammed shut behind Tommy, Rob knew that was it, he was not going to see Tommy again. All of that money would be spent on booze, and it would all be gone in a week or two. Tommy was a drifter, and it was time for him to drift away.