accusing – Mansploitation

The Stripper

Lemond is a stripper who needs a break… and a few extra dollars! Avery is glad to help out in return for a swing on Lemon’s huge throbbing slab of mahogany meat!

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Avery had never been to a high-class bachelorette party. It was not at all what he expected. The bride-to-be was Daphne Jardine, a wealthy heiress to a chandelier fortune. Avery didn’t know her that well — she was just a friend of a friend whom he saw often at parties — but she had insisted he come. Avery only agreed because he hoped to see a stripper. Avery was a great admirer of the male form, and strippers often had incredible physiques.
When he arrived, however, at Daphne’s ancient mansion, Avery decided that wasn’t going to happen. This wasn’t that sort of party. People who owned mansions like this didn’t hire strippers. He didn’t realize Daphne was this rich.
A butler showed Avery to the party, which consisted of a half-dozen women drinking champagne. The decorations were present, everywhere, scattered expertly, chic and expensive, covering every part of the mansion, but they had a certain soulless quality — Avery could tell that some servant had put them up, not someone who actually wanted to attend the party. There were streamers and a golden goblet for the bride to drink out of, and the giftbag included a skin cream with actual diamond dust in it.
“Oh my god, Avery! I’m so glad you’re here!” Avery’s friend Mandy hugged him. She whispered in his ear, “Oh my god, Daphne has such a stick up her ass, it’s… like a whole tree.”
“Woo, we’re partying! Let’s bring out the cake!”
“Yeah! Oh my god, Daphne, do you know what your fiancé is doing tonight?”
Daphne sat, skeletal and grimly smiling — she was skinny and well-manicured, with brittle hair and a saccharine smile — and shaking her head. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me what men do on their bachelor parties.”
“You know what they’re doing…” Avery said with a laugh.
Daphne shot him an angry look. “I told him no stripper, if that’s what you’re implying, Avery. We are remaining loyal to each other. He wouldn’t do that to me.” She shuddered.
“Okay, sorry….” Avery murmured. He rolled his eyes. The putative stripper was the only reason Avery came.
But now, it seemed, she was opposed to strippers. As a servant of some sort — some sort of “games maid”? Avery didn’t know — brought them out a game to play, Avery considered leaving. This felt more like a child’s birthday party thrown by the servants than a real bachelorette party.
The music playing, Avery realized, was a nocturne by Chopin. What kind of bachelorette party played classical music?
The game was essentially Duck, Duck, Goose, but with little penis-shaped cookies — it might have been fun with a bunch of silly girls, a male stripper and enough alcohol that they were all drunk before beginning the game. With just Daphne and some other haughty bitches, none of whom would drink enough to get tipsy much less drunk, the game was a somber, annoying diversion.
There was a knock on the front door — the cavernous main hallway had an echo, so the knock was audible even in the party. Everyone turned to look at Daphne, but she just said to wait. “Velma will answer the door. I believe this is all the guests, right? Are we missing someone? No one else was invited.” Daphne furrowed her brow.
Avery sat in grim silence. No one wanted to start the next round of this utterly idiotic game knowing that whoever the new partygoer was would interrupt them momentarily. Avery looked among the women here — who was missing? Most of these women showed up to parties together, that was how Avery knew them. Mandy was an associated hanger-on who used to work with Daphne at her feminist bookstore, and she was how Avery came to know Daphne and the others. Now Mandy’s eyes twinkled in Avery’s direction.
The door opened, and in walked a tall, broad-shouldered black man in a fine suit. He had dimples like LL Cool J and light brown skin, with a broad chest that barely fit in the suit. It was a plain navy blue suit with an impeccable alabaster tie. He walked with swagger and a thick jaw, and the bulge in his pants attracted Avery’s eye.
“Daphne Jardine?” he said. He had a clipboard in hand.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been served,” he said. He handed over a stack of documents to her.
Daphne’s face turned into a bitter scowl. “I’m being served! You asshole! It’s my bachelorette party! How dare you?!” She called out of the room. “Velma! How could you let this man in? He’s not from the party! Velma! I swear to Christ, I’ll have your son deported-!”
“Daphne, wait! Wait!” Mandy got up and went to her.
But Daphne was in a rage, screaming at Velma in the hallway. Velma quaked and backed away from her. “Don’t tell me to wait, what is this? Is it that jerkoff from the City Council? I told him I read the code, his patriarchy won’t bring me down,” she said to the black man who had served her with papers. His eyes were opened wide like he was shocked she was upset. Daphne wagged her finger at him. “Are you a real process server? I’d like to formally dispute that I was properly served-“
“Daphne, what are you being sued over?” Mandy asked with a big grin on her face. She pointed to the papers in Daphne’s hand.
Daphne sighed and shook her head. “The city council has a bee in its bonnet about my store. They’re claiming that a bookstore is a Class D commercial establishment, but the definitions provided in the zoning code make it clear that Class C is the more appropriate fit. That’s for retail stores that aren’t everyday shops like gas stations. The examples given in the city code include a CD store — the zoning guide was written in the 90s — which is pretty much the same thing as a bookstore, right? Why would it-?”
“Daphne, look at the papers,” Mandy said, exasperated.
Daphne nodded and glanced at them, but it was obvious she was too worked up to really process what she was reading. She looked at the black man. “You! What are you still doing here? This is a private function, and you’ve done what you were hired to do, you jackal! You court-sponsored… hound!” Her face was ruddy, veins popping against the skin of her neck.
“Hey, lady, relax,” the black man said with a sigh. He straightened his tie.
“Daphne! Read the goddamn papers!” Mandy said.
“Now? I have lawyers for that, Mandy,” Daphne said. She finally looked at the papers and read the words. “I’m being sued for… improper use of party-related materials and utter craving for mahogany manmeat. What does that mean? I don’t use mahogany, that’s endangered, I would never do that! This inaccurate accusation will not stand! I’m being persecuted!” It was apparent she was still worked up because she said manmeat like she didn’t recognize it. She looked up. “I will be contacting the National Organization for Women and-“
The black man looked at her. “That’s right, but don’t worry, I’m here to work on both of those charges with you! I am… the Mahogany Miracle!” He shrugged his suit jacket off, and Mandy squealed, followed by the other girls, at the sight of his incredible shoulders straining against the tight fabric of his button-down shirt.
Mandy pressed play on an app on her phone, and the sound of pulse-pounding hip hop filled the air. Avery hurried to turn off the Chopin, though no one could hear it anymore.
“Wooooooh!”
“Oh my god, that’s so crazy!”
“He’s a stripper!!!!”
Finally it began to feel like a real party. The Mahogany Miracle — who later said his real name was Lemond — took his tie off and wrapped it around the back of Daphne’s neck like a lasso, and he pulled her closer to him as he danced. He puckered up as though to kiss her. He had good instincts though, and when Daphne frowned a little, he let go — obviously she didn’t want to kiss him. She was still fuming about the City Council’s zoning regulations.
So he kissed Mandy instead. She was coming up behind him, pretending for the benefit of the other girls that she was going to grab his ass. Then he turned around, took her in his arms and plowed his tongue into her throat and they swooned together like the hero of some romance novel.
Mandy squealed and grabbed at Lemond’s back. His shoulder muscles barely fit in that shirt, which looked like it could pop right off.
“Woo-hoo!” Avery danced with some of the more demure women, hoping to get the party going. Most of these women were too high-class to have ever seen a stripper before, and Avery thought they’d be more comfortable with it if they started off dancing with him.
“Dance with him!”
“Avery! Avery! Avery!”
Avery hadn’t even realized that some of the women were chanting for him to get the next dance — Lemond the Mahogany Miracle was surrounded by Mandy and a few other relatively bold women, while Avery and the other prudes danced in the other side of the room. Now they all began chanting for Lemond to come to him.
At first it seemed Lemond would refuse, that he would say he didn’t dance for men. But then he shrugged, took one step and ripped his button-down shirt off, buttons flying across the room. One button landed in Daphne’s glass of champagne, and she squealed in both shock and delight.
“Oh god…” Avery murmured to himself. Lemond had an impeccable chest, with big mountainous pectorals and a six-pack more perfect than Avery had ever seen. He looked good in his slacks, a big bulge plainly visible in his crotch. His chest was smooth, unblemished, gleaming with a few beads of sweat that had collected there as he danced.
Avery blushed and pantomimed a fishing rod, as though he had lured Lemond, who grinned and played along — neither could speak because the music was too loud. Lemond shimmied over to him, and leaned back to outstretch his chest.
“Body shots!” Avery shouted, and got on his knees right in front of Lemond. He put his tongue out, touching the firm flesh of Lemond’s waist just above his pants, while Mandy poured a bottle of champagne onto Lemond’s chest, so that it ran between his pecs and poured directly into Avery’s mouth.
“Hell yeah!”
“Body shots! Oh my god!”
That helped loosen things up. Avery was glad for that; it felt more like a party now, even if Daphne herself seemed glum. The girls took turns taking body shots off his chest, until those slacks were soaked with champagne.
Then he ripped the pants off, revealing his trunk-like thighs, toned calves and the sausage-hugging banana hammock he wore over his cock and balls. Avery’s jaw dropped — he had never seen such a huge package before. The banana hammock briefs were much too small for him, just like the suit, and if he hadn’t shaved it, most of his pubic hair would be visible. As it was, his heavy cock and balls weighed down the tiny spandex material so much that the root of his shaft was visible.
Mandy took her body shot with her tongue out, running over the round bulge of his cock through those briefs. The girls all squealed and clapped.
It was shocking, Avery thought, how the presence of a handsome stranger changed these women’s willingness to do stuff — he was quite sure that most of them had said they didn’t suck dick at a party last year — they had said oral sex was “oppressive to women in developing nations”; they certainly didn’t lick some stranger’s cock.
And now here they were, kneeling while a man whom none of them knew dragged his dick over their faces.
He was really very handsome, Avery thought, Mandy had chosen well. He was dimpled and charming when the music stopped, with a lilting, smooth voice. He came across like the streetwise older brother on a Nickelodeon kids’ show.
Finally, he let Daphne take that banana hammock off. She gingerly squealed, giggling, blushing, halting several times as she stuck one finger under the fabric and pulled it down. His thirteen-inch cock popped out, limp but meaty, and it slapped at her wrist.
“Oh my god! It felt like a leg of lamb!” Daphne screamed so loud that the “games maid” came to make sure everything was alright. Daphne held her hand up as though they were going to worship any body part that had touched Lemond’s body.
At last, the bachelorette party continued apace, and Avery felt right. Lemond flopped his dick all over Avery’s face — most of the girls hadn’t quite taken it that far, but Avery made it clear he’d love to. He even stuck his tongue out, chasing Lemond’s shaft as it heavily slapped him all across the face.
“Hmmmm… I’m not s’posed to let you lick it,” Lemond said with a wink. “My agency has a rule against that.”
“I just stuck my tongue out,” Avery said. “I wasn’t trying to lick it, it’s not my fault your dick keeps moving around all over my tongue.” He blushed, running his tongue from the root to the tip before Lemond moved on.
By then, some of the girls had passed out, or were nearly there. Even Daphne was half-asleep. Most of these girls didn’t really drink very often. A few glances of champagne was enough to make them sleepy.
Soon enough, the party was over. It happened quickly once it got closer — every time somebody passed out or called for a rideshare, there was one fewer person actually partying, which made the others more and more tired. Even Daphne “retired to her bedroom” with a guilty look on her face that suggested she was going to fuck herself with a dildo until she could forget about Lemond.
The only people left were Avery, Mandy and Lemond, and with the music off, all they ended up doing was sitting around and talking. Mandy was drunk, but neither Lemond nor Avery had had anything to drink. Lemond rolled them up a blunt with the weed Mandy had brought.
Before he lit it though, Mandy begged off. She said she had a headache and thought the weed would just make her throw up. She told them to go ahead and smoke it though.
Lemond talked about his career as a rapper as he lit it and passed it to Avery, who was entranced by that fat cock sticking to his thigh. Lemond, as it turned out, was more realistic than most of the aspiring rappers Avery had met — he wasn’t trying to be a gangsta, he didn’t care about street credibility at all — he was a kid’s entertainer. He had released an album of songs about counting, letters, body parts and colors. It had done well, he said — he didn’t make much money, but he was about to go into the studio for a follow-up, and this time, he had a much better contract.
“But for now, you know, I still gotta strip to make ends meet. This month is tough,” Lemond said. “There ain’t a lotta call for strippers in March. It’s been a dry spell.
“Oh that sucks,” Avery said. “I wish I knew of some more parties coming up you could strip at.”
Lemond shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. Lemme know if you get an idea,” he said. He handed over a business card. Then he sighed. “I guess I should go. Technically they hired me for another twenty minutes, but…”
“I… I have an idea,” Avery said. He licked his lips and looked at Lemond. “If you stick it in me, I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
Lemond looked at him as though his knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Then he shrugged. “Make it eight hundred.”
“Fine.” Avery considered haggling, but he could afford it, and Lemond had been so charming, he didn’t want to nickel-and-dime him.
Lemond sighed and leaned his head back as though this was a huge imposition and he was exhausted. Avery wondered for the first time if he had been working up to this — was he a hustler? He had been hesitant, yet willing, to dance for Avery all night, and now he was hesitant yet willing? If shaking his ass for Avery had been uncomfortable, why would he agree to plow into him? Lemond grumbled a bit, but it was too realistic, like Lemond knew the best way to get more money was to pretend he needed to be convinced to do it.
Oh well, Avery shrugged. That was part of being into rough trade, he thought, sometimes you got hustled.
“Your cock is so big,” Avery said as he picked it up with one hand. He sunk to his knees between Lemond’s legs, while Lemond lit up his blunt and took a deep drag off it. The fragrant smell of weed filled the air. Lemond’s dick was so big Avery couldn’t wrap his fingers all the way around it. “It’ll be a challenge to swallow.”
Lemond snorted. “You can’t deep-throat it, no one can,” he said like he hated having a big cock. But a smile flickered over his lips too.
“Well, I can’t wait to try,” Avery said. He let the tip fill his mouth. There was still a good ten inches of dickmeat left to slurp on, but Avery just focused on the tip at first.
“Man… I can’t believe I’m lettin’ a man jack me off,” Lemond said as he smoked on the blunt. “I ain’t like that, you know? Don’t fall in love with me. I can’t look, I gotta cover my eyes.” He leaned his head back and put one of his forearms over his eyes. He left enough room for him to keep smoking on the blunt.
Avery had to roll his eyes. This had passed the point of believability — Lemond was too focused on smoking weed to lie effectively. If he was really this nervous about being with a man, he wouldn’t be ignoring Avery to smoke the blunt. Who got off from a man for the first time, made a big deal out of it and then ignored it to smoke some weed?
But Avery wasn’t going to accuse him of being a hustler. He was plenty handsome, after all, that wasn’t a trick.
His dick firmed up in Avery’s mouth, but it was too big to really get hard without some serious deep-throating. Avery took a deep breath and used his own fingers to pry his jaw open the best he could. He let that massive rod slide down him.
“Damn, I never had a man jack me off like that,” Lemond said with a sigh. “You really get deep.” Then his whole body startled and he blurted out, “I mean, I never had a man jack me off at all.” He laughed nervously. “See, uh… Cuz it’s my first time.” His eyes opened wide as a visible shiver of pleasure ran up his spine. “Goddamn… You can get awful deep on there…”
Avery was an expert at swallowing dick. He had been practicing on loosening up his throat for years — he did exercises daily — and was glad to see that was paying off. He pulled off and hocked up a big mouth full of spit. Lemond watched with a cocky grin on his face. Avery moaned through the moisture in his mouth, murmuring, “Hmmm… I wanna taste your whole dick in my throat…”
Lemond licked his tongue. The clue was in his mouth, Avery saw, which was grinning and pursed, excited, glad to get a nice mouth, while his eyes showed the shock he was trying to display — he was a good liar, it was just hard to lie with your mouth. Lemond’s eyes had never been jacked off by a man, but his mouth was a hustler.
Saliva slid down his shaft as Avery slammed his head down. He choked but kept going, hands roaming up to Lemond’s gorgeous pecs. Soon he gagged over and over, producing more spit that helped lube up Lemond’s throbbing manhood, and his nose pressed into the shaved skin of Lemond’s crotch.
“Goddamn, holy fuck, you’re — shit!” Lemond’s voice broke, and he writhed on the chair he still sat on. His muscles all flexed and he grunted loudly. He dropped the blunt on the floor. Thirteen inches of stripper manmeat flooded Avery’s throat, stretching it and making him sputter. His jaw was sore.
Though Avery’s mind cried out for oxygen, he didn’t want to stop just yet. He didn’t mind his lungs desperation or the heaving, retching his body went through. The fact that this was slightly painful just made it hotter, he thought, and all the tension in Avery’s body was in Lemond’s too as he approached his orgasm. The only difference was that Avery’s lithe body twisted, while Lemond’s thickness flexed and firmed up. Lemond gasped and shifted around on his chair. Soon he was literally on the edge of his seat, licking his lips, gripping Lemond’s ears to keep his face angled the right way.
At last, Avery pulled all the way off and gasped loudly, hoarsely, for air. He grinned at the shocked look on Lemond’s face. “Hmmm… Your dick tastes so good.”
“I know, baby.”
“You wanna stick it in me?” Avery said. He turned around, still heaving for air and dizzy from lack of oxygen. He showed off his bare ass, lowering his face to the floor. “C’mon, I wanna feel you inside me.”
“Hell yeah, lemme in there,” Lemond said. He wedged his dick between Avery’s cheeks. “You feel how big that is? Huh? You gonna take that whole thing in there? I bet you can.”
“I can… You won’t be gentle, will you?” Avery asked with a giggle.
Lemond chuckled. “Not if you don’t want, baby,” he said. He aimed his dick for the hole as he smeared lube over the shaft — he had apparently brought his own lube. He bit his lip and slid the tip in. Avery grunted and tightened his body instinctively, before taking a deep breath and relaxing it. He sighed. Lemond slapped one asscheek, then he grunted like he had forgotten he was supposed to be reluctant.
“Shit, you as smooth as any female, I like that in a man-” he winced and cut himself off again. “Not that I ever did it before. I like — That’s why I was, y’know, reluctant, I wasn’t sure I could handle a man’s ass. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh. Cuz… it’s your first time?” Avery said with a tense giggle. He had to suck in his breath to relax his ass more and more, as that entire thick shaft slipped in deeper and deeper. “That’s good lube,” Avery said between gasps.
“Yeah, it’s Shaft-Slipper, you ever heard of it? Good stuff, it’s what I always bring to shows.” He paused. “With women, I mean. Women pay for, you know…” He shuddered and his voice broke. His dick was all the way in now, all thirteen inches throbbing in Avery’s ass. Lemond backed his cock up, slowly at first as he began gyrating his hips.
“Women pay you for anal? You’re an… anal gigolo?” Avery giggled. It was getting easier to concentrate even with that forearm-sized cock stretching his asshole, and he felt thin slivers of pleasure flowing through his veins.
“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, some of ’em, uh… really love anal,” Lemond said.
“I… don’t believe you,” Avery said, his voice hoarse and breathless. He slid his ass back on Lemond’s cock. “You cornhole men for money all the time, right?”
Lemond smirked but shook his head. “I swear, you’re my first.”
Avery rolled his eyes. “No woman pays to get fucked in the ass by a thirteen-inch cock.” He grunted, reaching behind himself to guide Lemond’s dick in and out. “Only a man would ever do that.”
Lemond grumbled without answering. He wrapped one of his massive biceps around Avery’s head, so Avery’s face was ensconced in his stone-like muscles. His other arm held Avery’s ass firmly in place. “Women love me,” he said, ramming his dick in, the entire shaft in one motion that made Avery howl with pleasure. “They’ll pay anything for my meat…”
Avery’s cock throbbed, precum dripping onto the floor. Avery’s hands flailed, the sensations coursing through his body so intense he couldn’t even jack himself off. He was impaled on Lemond’s rock-hard shaft, and the best part was how Lemond seemed distant now, moaning, groaning, but still just heavy breathing into Avery’s ass — was Lemond really enjoying this that much or was he exaggerating for Avery’s benefit? It was impossible to be sure. Avery squirmed in his arms, gasping, licking, sucking all the sweat off his body.
“Hey… I really need the money, man,” Lemond said. He whispered directly into Avery’s ear. “I’m desperate. You wanna gimme another five hundred bucks? I’ll admit it, you were right, I’ve stuck men before. I’m not proud of it, I just… I need the money, and I need it now.”
“Oh god, stick it in me!” Avery slammed his own ass back and forth the best he could, but he was curled up in Lemond’s arms. Lemond was motionless right now, his cock standing up straight within Avery’s ass. Lemond breathed heavily, his hot air condensing on Lemond’s ear.
“I will. I want to. For five hundred dollars… I’ll do something nasty,” Lemond said. Then he whispered right into Avery’s ear as though it was a secret. “I’ll give you a reacharound and let you kiss me for five hundred dollars. That’ll be thirteen hundred total. No checks.”
“Okay, yes! Yes!”
“You got cash?”
“Not with me! Not all of it! I swear, I can get you the rest! I swear! Do it!”
“Don’t mess with me, man, I’ll mess you up, and not in a way you enjoy,” he said.
“I won’t! I’ll pay!” Avery felt tears in his eyes. He wiggled this way and that on Lemond’s crotch, but he couldn’t move forward or back because Lemond’s powerful arm held him in place.
Lemond thought for a moment, then sucked on Avery’s earlobe and said, “Fine.” He turned Avery’s head to the side, planted his lips on Avery’s and his tongue invaded Avery’s mouth. At the same time, his hand wrapped around Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke.
Avery had never felt anything like this. He had been swallowed up by Lemond’s massive body, and all he could do was take it. He’d never taken dick like this. Lemond’s tongue explored his mouth, while his hand expertly ran up and down his shaft. Avery’s fingers clawed at his stone-like body, which Lemond ignored.
The most intense orgasm of his life smacked into Avery like a train. He would have cried out loud but his mouth was clogged with Lemond’s tongue, so all he did was whimper. His ass loosened, then clenched tightly as Lemond plowed in.
Cum flew over Lemond’s fingers and onto the floor. Lemond had been holding off on his own orgasm, wanting to make Avery cum first — he’d been doing this often enough he had remarkable control over his cock. Once he felt that first spray of sticky cum on his hand, he rocked his hips back and forth a few more times and let his orgasm happen.
Avery shuddered and sobbed — he’d never cried during an orgasm before, but the pain in his ass was so intense he couldn’t help it, even if he didn’t feel the pain — he was aware it was there; he couldn’t help but be aware of the biggest dick of his life throbbing in his ass — it was like a distant pain that was happening to someone else, and Avery could sense it but not experience it.
Instead, he experienced an orgasm. Red-faced and panting, he accepted every drop of Lemond’s load as he begged for more. Avery felt cum trickling throughout him, Lemond’s sticky wad jetting into him deeply, seeping into his flesh until Avery could feel it all over.
His tongue slathered spit over Avery’s face, which was a little sour and salty because he had been slurping on Lemond’s dick earlier — Lemond didn’t like that, but he’d done this often enough it didn’t bother him as long as it was his own precum. He did gag at the taste, but he knew that just turned some men on even more. When he gagged, his broad chest muscles all flexed against Avery’s smooth back.
At last, Avery fell limp, and Lemond knew that meant he was done. He backed up slowly, grimacing at the sight of his shaft stretching out that tight hole. It was full of cum, which seeped out and coated Avery’s ass.
“Shit…” Lemond said with a dry chuckle. He slapped Avery’s cheek. “I’m glad I did that, even if it was… y’know, gross.”
“Right.” Avery was breathless. “And it was your first time.”
“Uh-huh.” Lemond stood. He wiped his dick off and put his pants back on. He didn’t bother to put his pants on too. “I’m all done, man, I’m off. So… I’m leaving.”
“Okay, cool,” Avery said. “Thanks for the dick… Your first time.”
“Right, yeah, first time. I jacked off a man,” Lemond said absent-mindedly. He wasn’t really trying to lie effectively now. “Gross. That was gross. Cuz I never did it before.” He sighed as he got dressed. “You gotta get your phone out.” He snapped when Avery didn’t immediately jump into action. “You got PayUp, right? Go get yo’ phone. You best pay me. Lemond always gets paid.”

The Tennis Pro

Rob helps a handsome tennis pro sneak around with a married woman, and in exchange Rob gets to swing on his throbbing alpha-male meat! Can Rob get away with this scheme and with a taste of this muscular ladysman’s masculine musk?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“The profit predictions for the Canal Street location aren’t as good, that’s the only reason I was hesitant,” said Clement. “But let me show you what the business analyst said about Garraty Avenue. It’s got real potential. There’s no gas stations within four miles, and it gets plenty of traffic. It’s near the community college.”
“Oh, that’s fascinating,” Rob lied. He disliked Clement quite a bit, but that wasn’t really a problem for him — he didn’t want to spend time with him at all. He was just doing this because it helped him reach his ultimate goal: Gabe Willcaster. Rob could already smell the stink of Gabe’s tennis gear.
Not literally. Rob was nowhere’s near Gabe Willcaster. He was in a cheesy “Pennsylvania Dutch” restaurant in Connecticut with the portly banker Clement Tale.
“Have you given any thought to per-gallon tolling versus sunk tanks?” Clement said. “Because sunk tanks are a better way to go in the long-term. We can get you a great deal on a building company too. It takes longer, but that’s just early time, you can get that back on less maintenance over the life of your gas station.”
“Tell me more,” Rob said. It took all of his concentration to avoid rolling his eyes.
But he couldn’t do that because Clement Tale had to think that Rob was for real. Rob was pretending to be interested in opening a gas station here in Orchard Range, Connecticut. He had no desire to do that. It seemed like a stupid idea. But Clement was trying to talk him into it because he was a banker, and that was what bankers did.
And anyway, Rob’s father was strongly encouraging him — requiring him — yelling at him repeatedly about it and sending him nasty emails — to start a business. He wanted to encourage an entrepreneurial spirit.
“How many employees were you going to hire?” Clement asked, and he really seemed like he wanted to know.
Rob thought he might fall asleep any moment now. This was so boring. How do people fall in love with boring fucks like Clement Tale?
Someone had fallen in love with him. Her name was Jessica, and Rob knew her well. She had genuinely loved her husband for a long time, and he had given her five wonderful children, all of them now grown. Clement had been cheating on her for years, and his mistress loved him too. Women were mystifying. What on earth could they have seen in him? He was sorta vaguely handsome in a generic older man sort of way. Not sexy certainly. Stately. Elegantly pleasant to look at.
He was rich. Was that really all women cared about? They stopped listening after they heard the word ‘banker’.
Who knows the ways of women? Not Rob. In any case, Clement had a wife who loved him and a mistress who loved him and actually a couple of spurned lovers who still loved him too. Mystifying but true. Jessica — that’s the wife — knew about the mistresses. Rob had encouraged her to sleep around too. What’s good for the gander is good for the goose.
So Jessica was having an affair with a tennis pro named Gabe, and that was where Rob came in.
Rob had been lusting for Gabe for years. When he finished with his silly distraction — that meeting with Clement was just to distract him so Gabe could go out on a date with the man’s wife — Rob went right back to the tennis club. By then, Jessica would be gone, and Gabe would have some free time before his next lesson.
He was a dark-haired, swarthy young man with a head of curly brown hair, sterling cheekbones and dimples that went out to here. He had a thick voice too, like his throat had been marinated in sherry. He was broad-chested and strong without being muscular, and smooth yet furry, charming, and he had a reputation — among the staff at the Rockhard Country Club — for seducing women.
Especially upper-class women.
That was why Gabe was dating both Jessica and — unknown to either of them — her daughter, Karen. Not to mention Mrs. Fletcher. And he had never broken up with Mrs. O’Connor either, he thought with a grin.
Gabe was exhausted after his date with Jessica. He spent hours with her, speaking sweetly, kissing her on the neck. She paid for dinner, of course — Gabe didn’t make much money — and she had bought him a shirt he liked, and she had even paid for his health insurance — she primly declared that it was a charitable donation and would be written off on her taxes. Gabe was pretty sure Jessica had no idea what that meant or how to do it. Her husband was a banker, of course he would be the one to do their taxes, or more likely hires an accountant.
She ran her fingers through his hair, and she swooned in his arms. Gabe loved making women feel like that, so he could them purring with contentment in his arms. He loved that he could make Jessica feel like that, and her daughter Karen — who was going out with him tomorrow night — and a bevy of other women.
Gabe whistled on his way back to the country club. He had met Jessica there, because he didn’t want to go to her house and be seen by her neighbors, family or butler, and she didn’t want to come to his house for the same reason — silly delicate Jessica actually thought Gabe was wealthy enough to have a butler and neighbors who gave a crap about whether or not Gabe was seeing a married woman.
Since he hadn’t gone home since finishing work, Gabe was still dressed for tennis, and his things were in his cabana. He wore short white shorts and a polo shirt that showed off the smattering of hair on his chest. The country club assigned him the cabana for “work” — he had put the bed in it himself, and he had wired it to play romantic tango music and he had even installed a little vibrating machine on the bed.
“Hey,” said Rob, sidling up next to him as Gabe unlocked his cabana. Gabe had to put down the tennis racket to get his key in the lock.
“Oh shit, there you are, hey, Rob,” Gabe said with a nervous chuckle. He sucked in his breath. He was both eager to get this over with and a little reluctant to do it right now — he’d been hoping to get in Jessica’s panties all night. That didn’t happen, it was just a date at a discrete restaurant.
“How’d it go?”
“Ah… It was a bust. Thanks for distracting Clement though,” Gabe said with a sigh. He went into his cabana and let Rob in behind him. The night was chilly, but the cabana was warm and stuffy, humid, like a blanket that smelled a little of male sweat, a little of sex and a whole lot of cologne.
Gabe wrinkled his nose and lit a scented candle, making the whole cabana smell of “elderberry sunshine” instead. He sighed.
“Oh no shit, she wouldn’t bang you?”
“You don’t have to be crude,” Gabe said with a leering grin, like he really enjoyed Rob being crude but didn’t want to admit it, just in case one of his female companions happened to overhear. He even looked around the empty cabana to check. The walls were those faux-reeds, somple plain mats that weren’t much of a soundproofing technology. Gabe’s cabana was set back to give him some privacy, but anyone who suspected him — like Jessica’s husband and/or daughter and/or any of a bevy of other jealous men, spurned lovers and private investigators.
There wasn’t much furniture in here either, aside from the bed itself. Tennis gear lay all around the room, shoes and rackets and pieces to the tennis ball machine that had broken last year. Rob sniffed the horny sweat from Gabe’s armpit.
“She wouldn’t allow you to make sweet, languorous love to her lovely lady-parts?”
“She wasn’t feelin’ it,” Gabe said. He sat on his bed and spread his legs. He knew what Rob was going to try next.
“I’m feelin’ it…” Rob said with a giggle. He came closer and stretched out on the bed next to Gabe. “You poor baby… You want a backrub?”
“Oh Yeah, yeah, I need that,” Gabe said. He sighed. This wouldn’t be bad. He had agreed to let Rob jerk him off. He spent a lot of time eating women out, and they rarely treated him like his own pleasure was worth considering at all.
Gabe lifted off his polo shirt, revealing a supple, taut chest with a gorgeous six-pack. He had a thin layer of fuzz right over his sternum, just enough to be visible. He used to shave himself as smooth as a seal, but he found women liked it better when he had a bit of chest hair.
He was sprawled out on the bed, and Rob climbed up onto him, mounting his ass so he could rub his shoulders. He cooed softly. Rob was eager to get started, but he didn’t want to push. He had been hoping to get a taste of Gabe’s hot body for a long time.
So it had been worth it to spend hours talking about gas stations with a stuffy fifty-something banker. Utterly boring.
He kneaded the well-muscled back of Gabe’s body, and Gabe let out a seductive moan. Rob leaned down and kissed his smooth skin. Gabe was strong with well-developed shoulders from the years he had spent playing tennis, but he didn’t have a bulky bodybuilderish body. He had stacks of meaty muscle overtop his shoulders, aand his shoulders flexed beautifully when Rob gently sucked on his soft skin.
His hair was immaculate too. Rob didn’t know how he could do it living by himself, because he always kept his hair at the same length, the same level of curliness, the same tapered ending above his neck, so there was never even a single stray hair on his back.
He went lower along Gabe’s spine, plastering his skin with kisses. A few hairs did finally appear there, over the small of his back, just above his ass. He wore white shorts now, above tennis shoes and short socks. Rob slowly untied his shoes.
Gabe stiffened up a bit. He’d never been with a man. It had seemed simple when he agreed to it — he often messed with females he didn’t especially find attractive. It would be nice, he thought, to get dome for the first time in a long time, to get to ram without regard for seducing women or maintaining a good image for the country club.
But it was hard to relax. He remained intimately aware that it was a man caressing his body, not a woman.
“Roll over,” Rob said softly, and Gabe did so. He lifted his ass so Rob could pull his shorts down, and his hefty cock — not obscenely huge, but big — popped out.
It was just slightly hard at the moment, far from erect, but still some lingering firmness from when he nearly got to fuck Jessica and a bit of a reawakening after that from Rob’s hands all over Gabe’s back. Gabe closed his eyes and sprawled out, arms and legs akimbo. He felt an urge to wiggle like a little boy, but he managed to resist, even though he was nervously ticklish to Rob’s petite fingers dancing over his skin.
“Hmmm… You taste real good,” Rob said with a throaty murmur. His hands kneaded Gabe’s chest and his tight, taut little pecs, which flexed beneath his touch. Rob kept giving his dick a half-hearted stroke, teasing Gabe to get him interested.
Soon enough Gabe’s eyes fluttered open and he lifted his head, supporting himself on his elbows. He watched his dick flop beneath Rob’s hand. “Hey did Clement say anything about Jessica?”
“Not really. He said his wife plays tennis,” Rob murmured softly. His attention was on Gabe’s dick.
“Cool.” Gabe couldn’t tear his eyes away from his cock. He cleared his throat. “It’ll get hard if you get it wet.”
“You can’t get hard from a handjob?”
Gabe blushed. “I… I mean…I can… I just-“
“Is it because I’m a man?”
Gabe nodded. “I mean, it’s cool, it’s just… weird.”
Rob giggled and smiled. He knew Gabe wouldn’t get hard like this. Rob was just teasing him, playing with his half-hard dick and massaging his muscles. He bent over and sucked off the sweat that was collecting in the forested valley between his pecs. It was warm enough in here — and plenty humid enough — to make him sweat just a bit.
Gabe smiled back to conceal his growing frustration — he just wanted to get hard and jerked off so he could go home. Or, he thought, he could just stay here. He had never slept all night in the cabana by himself. He’d shared the bed with women; he’d napped there during the day; he’d slept part of the night by himself after his woman of the week up and left during the night, but he’d never just slept in the bed.
It would feel so good to sleep alone. Tomorrow was Tuesday, when the country club didn’t open until ten o’clock, so no staff showed up until nine. He’d have plenty of time to sleep in.
Why do I want to sleep in? Oh god am I old? Do I need to settle down? I sound like Granddad, always talking about sleeping in until nine as though it was some special event to be celebrated and remembered forever! Oh god! I need to find a wife and settle down-
But Gabe’s anxiety vanished the moment his cocktip slid into Rob’s warm mouth. Gabe let out a long, low sigh as his dick rocketed into full erection. He’d been on the verge for so long it took little time to make it happen.
“Hmmmm….” Rob moaned, the sound blending in with the crippeting chorus outside.
His dick tasted clean, of coconut-scent soap and crisp night-time air — it tasted like the air outside of the cabana, away from the stale and humid, chlorine-soaked air. It tasted like a sleeping forest, Rob thought, but beneath that there was a certain funkiness, a little manly musk that made Rob croon and his knees go weak. It was the taste of tennis-jock, and it overwhelmed Rob with desire.
He slathered it with spit. He soon recognized that Gabe was desperate for some genuine affection, even if he would never admit it. He wanted someone to want to make him feel good, instead of just expecting him to lick their clitorises to orgasm again and again.
Gabe moaned out loud, more fully and more passionately than he had moaned with any woman recently. He gripped Rob’s head tightly, holding on as he rode him up and down. Grinding his dick deep into Rob’s throat, he made love to his mouth, plunging in and out, coating his tongue in creamy precum.
“Do you wanna ram me?” Rob asked, wiping spit off his lips. He smiled. Gabe was pale, wide-eyed and stammering. He looked like he was on the verge of orgasm already.
“Uh… I… I guess… I… I didn’t, uh… I want…”
“Just say yes or no,” Rob said. He rubbed Gabe’s dick against his face, slowly so he wouldn’t make him cum too quickly. He wanted to slow Gabe down so he could experience this for as long as possible.
“Yes.” Gabe gulped.
Rob smiled and laid down on his back. Gabe stood, standing at the foot of the bed, where Rob scooted until his feet could be in the air resting on Gabe’s broad shoulders. A lot of guys loved getting in behind men in this position because it looked and felt like fucking a woman. Of course, a lot of them disliked it because it put the bottom’s cock and balls squarely in front of the top’s eyes. Gabe couldn’t help but watch Rob jack off.
For some men, it was too difficult to stay hard while watching a man jack off. Gabe thought that might be him, but he instinctively refused to say it — he didn’t want to be less seductive; he didn’t want to turn away a conquest; he had a reputation to uphold, at least in his mind.
Besides, he told himself, you don’t have to look down.
Despite that, he did look down as he wedged his dick between Rob’s cheeks and slid in. He sucked in his breath because the side of his hand came tantalizingly close to touching Rob’s ballsac — he might have come into contact with a few curly hairs, but he managed to convince himself that didn’t happen.
His cocktip filled up Rob’s ass, and Rob immediately clenched. He struggled to take it in, not because it was so big but because Gabe was used to being extra-gentle. He stopped whenever he felt even a faint twinge of resistance from Rob’s body.
“Oh god, stick it in me, Gabe,” Rob said with a moan to get him going harder. He reached for Gabe’s cock, guiding it into his ass and holding it firmly. He tried to pull it, shoving it in, hoping to hurry Gabe along into him.
“Are you okay?”
“Ramming men in the ass is different from fucking women. Women have clitorises, it feels best-” Rob winced as a shiver of pain hit him hard. But he didn’t let that slow him down any. “They want you to focus on that, right there on the surface. But men have prostates, way down deep in there. You gotta go all the way in.”
Gabe grimaced and blushed but did so. The tension was too great to speak. He couldn’t decide if this felt amazing or gross — it was a bit of both at once, and both sensations coursed through his veins.
Amazing.
All of a sudden, Gabe’s dick rammed in the rest of the way as his inhibitions melted and Rob managed to suck him in. A grand wave of pleasure ran into Gabe like a truck, and he groaned loudly. He first tried to muffle the sound, then remembered that there was no one outside — the country club had been closed for hours, and even the night janitors were gone.
So he could be as loud as he wanted. Men like Rob didn’t even get upset if he acted barbarically too — so Gabe could growl and grunt, paw at Rob’s body and ram into him as hard as he could. He didn’t have to be seductive.
All he had to do was ram as hard as he could. He plowed into Rob over and over, back and forth. He hadn’t been able to really go to town on anyone’s tight hole in a long time. It felt good to act without regard for anything but his own pleasure and without a face shiny with old-lady pussyjuice.
Gabe laughed meanly for the first time in a long time, as an orgasm overwhelmed him and he sighed. His hot breath condensed on Rob’s face, Gabe leaning over when his knees weakened.
Pleasure exploded within Rob’s ass, and he shot his own wad all over his chest and belly. It coated him in a layer of creamy warmth. But even then, Gabe kept at it.
His dick slammed into Rob, and Gabe sucked in his breath. For just a moment — though it seemed to last forever — both men orgasmed at once. Gabe sometimes managed to do that, but it had never felt as real or as vibrant as it did now.
The most intense orgasm of his life, or at least his most intense since he started working here and banging married old broads, wracked Gabe’s body and made him shake from head to toe. He howled and screamed, pounding away at Rob’s ass with more force than he had ever thought someone could take.
At last, it was over. Gabe let out a long chest-rattling sigh, and wiped sweat off his chest. Rob sighed too, and bit his lip. His orgasm dwindled away to tense soreness because Gabe’s dick still throbbed as it limpened inside Rob’s ass.
“Goddamn, that was nice…” Rob said. He blushed. He giggled and slid away, moaning and blinking his eyes as exhilaration flowed through him and his ass emptied.
Gabe smiled and blushed. “I-“
The door opened. In stormed Clement Tale, the banker Rob had distracted earlier, the cuckolded husband of Gabe’s current women (or one of them, anyway) and father of one of Gabe’s other current conquests. Clement looked at the bed with his mouth agape as though it didn’t quite compute.
Clement had assumed he’d walk in on Gabe the tennis pro fucking his wife. He’d grown suspicious of the handsome tennis pro — why did his wife need years of tennis lessons anyway? She barely played! — and then doubly suspicious when Rob had seemed unserious at their meeting. He recalled Jessica’s odd tone when talking about her plans for this afternoon and evening, and Clement had been struck with the certainty that she was fucking that smarmy-faced prick Gabe.
His blood already boiled with rage over the adultery he thought he was walking in, and he couldn’t quite process that that wasn’t what he was seeing. “You manwhore! You wife-stealing bastard! How dare you seduce my…”
“Mr. Tale?!” Gabe shouted. He backed away from the bed, cock dangling between his legs. “I… It’s not what it looks like. This is my… cousin… He’s… staying here, and uh-“
Rob slid out of bed. Clement Tale looked at him curiously, head cocked to the side. It seemed like quite a coincidence that the flamboyant young man who had expressed interest in a gas station just a few hours ago was now apparently here in the room of the tennis pro Mr. Tale had been sure was stupping his wife until a few seconds ago.
Clement couldn’t figure out what it meant or in what way it might be an attack on him. Maybe the flamboyant young man was a con artist? But the plan was for him to invest. He was talking about buying a gas station. He wasn’t asking for money. And why would the tennis pro be involved?
Now Mr. Tale wasn’t sure of anything. “You… you… ingrate!” Mr. Tale shouted. He couldn’t think of what to accuse either man of.
“What are you doing here?” Gabe asked.
“I-I… I’m sorry to disturb you.” Clement backed out of the cabana, into the dark night. He still felt sure there was something he wasn’t understanding. But he had assuaged his concerns, or at least he was satisfied that Jessica was not at this very moment fucking her tennis pro. He couldn’t rule out any other moments. That mollified Clement as much as he was capable of being mollified in this moment, and he walked back to his car in stunned silence. Back in the cabana, Rob kissed Gabe again and again until Gabe signaled for him to stop.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Rob asked, still basking in the heat and the comfortable solidity of Gabe’s frame.
Gabe shrugged. He didn’t want to admit he was eager to make that happen. If he got to ram Rob again and again all night long, he would sleep so good. He allowed Rob to kiss and suck his chest clean, then they both laid down on the bed.
Now, Gabe was glad he wasn’t sleeping alone.
Rob sighed. He was going to sleep with Gabe all night in the bed, it seemed, in this cabana that reeked of Gabe’s lust. He nuzzled Gabe’s now slightly scruffy chin and wrapped one hand around his well-muscled chest.
“Hmmmm… Thanks, Rob,” Gabe said. “I really needed this.”

The Cop

Desmond has long heard tales of the cruel cop known as Officer Awful, but Desmond can’t wait to experience the kind of punishment Awful metes out! He likes to make men bend over and take it, which is exactly what Desmond craves.

Can Desmond handle the punishment Officer Awful has in store?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Desmond staggered down the road, pretending to be drunk. Well, partially pretending. He was drunk, just not extremely drunk. He staggered like he was extremely drunk. He’d had a few drinks to settle his nerves, which didn’t work. His heart raced. He had never done anything quite like this before. The city was quiet but bustling in the early evening. Desmond stood out both because he appeared to be drunk and because he was the only black man here.
Sure enough, the first part of his plan worked: Desmond saw the police car pull to a stop, and Officer Auffernan got out. He was tall and strapping, his broad shoulders barely fitting into the uniform shirt he wore. He was both a literal and figurative redneck, his tan skin having a ruddy hue from working outside. He had a military crew-cut, but his hair was a dark blond so it almost looked like he had a bald head.
“Young man, come here,” he said. He sounded both bored and aggressive, and Desmond shivered in anticipation.
He smiled, dropping the drunken act. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”
“You drunk…?” Auffernan asked, eyebrows furrowing as he realized mid-question that Desmond no longer seemed drunk.
“No, sir. But you can charge me with public intoxication if you want.”
He chewed on his lip. He looked like the kind of man who was not often surprised during the course of his work and didn’t much like it now that it had happened. “What’s yer game, boy?”
The way he drawled out the word boy made Desmond shiver again. This time it must have been obvious that it was sexual, and Auffernan bristled. Desmond felt cold and small, and he had to resist the urge to grope Auffernan’s broad chest right now, here in public.
“I probably shouldn’t say in front of all these people,” Desmond said. There were a few onlookers on the other side of the street. No one was close enough they could hear, but it certainly wasn’t private.
“I feel like you wastin’ my time, boy. So I’m gonna put you in handcuffs for now and take you down to the station. I’ll figure out why later,” he said. He slapped cuffs on Desmond, whose dick burst into life when Auffernan’s hands gripped his wrists.
As soon as he was in the back of the cop car, Desmond caught a whiff of leather and sweat and uniformed musk. He took a deep breath before Officer Auffernan got in the front seat and drove off.
“Well, boy, out with it. What ain’t ya wanna say in public?”
“I’ve heard you… sometimes take young black men and have your way with them, and-“
“You one of them Black Lives Matter folks?” He looked away from the steering wheel, frowning at Desmond.
“No, sir.” Desmond’s heart nearly pounded out of his chest. “I was hoping you’d have your way with me.”
Auffernan paused, then let out a long, booming laugh. “Well, boy,” he said. “First of all, I do not have my way with black men, or wit’ no one I arrest. That would be a crime.”
“Certainly.”
“Let’s say if’n I was gonna do somethin’ like that, I wouldn’t be targetin’ black folks. I love black folks. My deputy is as black as night,” Auffernan said. His squad car glided down the moonlit street. “But I don’t like thugs. I don’t like cocky thugs comin’ down here and making a stink in my nice little town.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You ain’t a thug.”
“No, sir.”
“So you see my problem, boy?”
“You won’t abuse me because I’m not a thug?”
“I ain’t say that. I don’t abuse no one.”
“Would it help if I acted like a thug?”
“Boy, you the queen of all the sissies.” Auffernan said. “I doubt you could pull that off.”
Desmond knew Auffernan was right. He could not pull off a thug act. He tried his best though. He leaned back in the backseat and gave off the disaffected air of a real thug. “You, pig, you best jerk ma dick like ya life depends on it, muddahfuckah-“
“That ain’t workin’. You about as thug as Urkel, boy,” Auffernan said. He sniffled and sighed. “You know I gotta charge you, right? I called this in. There gonna be questions if I just let you go.”
“That’s fine.”
“Gonna be a two hundred dollar fine,” Auffernan said.
“I can afford it.”
“Well hell, ain’t you the uppity kind? You loaded or what?” Auffernan said with a laugh. He made eye contact with Desmond in the rearview mirror.
“Not exactly loaded,” Desmond said. “But I can afford a couple fines.”
Auffernan pulled into the parking lot of the police station. It was a tiny building, barely bigger than an efficiency apartment. Auffernan dragged Desmond out of the back seat. Desmond struggled like a thug the best he could.
“Yo, pig, get off me!”
Auffernan dragged him to his feet. He whistled. “You really like it when it hurts, huh?” He tightly gripped Desmond’s arm with one meaty hand, causing a twinge of pain where Desmond’s wrists were bound.
“Yes, officer. Pig. Go fuck a donut.”
As he walked him to the front door, Auffernan snorted in derision. “Shit, most thugs get more creative than that, boy.” He slapped his thigh.
“I’ll work on that,” Desmond said. He followed Auffernan inside the police station.
There was no one inside. It was just an open room with a few desks scattered about, and at one end was an office — Auffernan’s, presumably. The other end had two small jail cells. That was where Auffernan led Desmond. He added a second pair of handcuffs attaching the first pair around Desmond’s wrists to the cell bars, so Desmond was forced to face away from the rest of the station. “You wait there, bitch. Gonna make you show a little respec’.”
Desmond shuddered. He felt sure Auffernan was going to do it now, and his dick raged in his pants. He had trouble sounding like a thug when he was so horny and so desperate to be submissive. “Who you calling a bitch, pig?”
There was a loud clattering noise, then Auffernan loudly locked the front door. “You shouldn’t be comin’ ‘round to my town and insultin’ me, boy.”
“You evolved in a cave, cracker!”
That made Auffernan stop walking. His menacing cop routine vanished. “What?”
Desmond dropped his thug act as well. “It’s a Five-Percenter thing.”
There was another long silence. “What?”
“Five-Percenters. They believe white people evolved in a cave… Nevermind,” he said. “It’s just what I thought a thug might insult you with-“
“Ain’t all people evolve in a cave? Like cavemen?”
Desmond shrugged. “I dunno. I guess so.”
“Every black person I ever arrested was better at insulting me than you is,” Auffernan said with a sigh. “Even this deaf motherfucker I arrested a couple years back.” Auffernan was right behind Desmond now, unbuttoning his shirt. Desmond moaned.
Desmond could hear Auffernan taking his clothes off but couldn’t see him. The police station had become dark since Auffernan turned the lights off, leaving only the illumination of the emergency lighting in the jail cell.
“Sorry,” Desmond said. “I’ll try to get better.”
“You want something to bite on, boy?” Auffernan asked. He was right behind Desmond now, so close his breath condensed on Desmond’s cheek. He wrapped a piece of red vinyl cloth in front of Desmond’s face, like a tether he could bite on.
As Desmond opened his mouth to let it in, he realized what it was — a Confederate flag. That made him feel even hornier, and he wished he could take his pants off.
“Ain’t nothing racist about me using this flag, boy. ‘S just about culture and heritage, not race,” Auffernan said. “You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I use this flag e’ry time I got a northerner come down here, need to be reminded he ain’t from ‘round these parts,” Auffernan said.
“You fucking honky,” Desmond said. He meant for it to sound threatening, but it came out like a seductive groan as the situation made him aroused and panty.
“You gonna jerk me off, boy.”
“Yes, oh god yes!”
“T’weren’t a question,” Auffernan said. “It was a prediction.” He uncuffed Desmond from the cell bars, leaving his wrists cuffed together. He pushed Desmond to his knees. “You ain’t gonna bite me, right?”
“I won’t bite! I promise!”
“I’m sure you won’t. And you got nice soft lips, so I think I’m gonna like this,” Auffernan said. He had a wide, strapping body and a furry blond chest. He had unbuttoned his uniform shirt but not taken it off, revealing a Confederate flag wifebeater underneath, torn and stained with sweat around the armpits. Auffernan still wore his black uniform slacks.
“Can I lick your armpits, officer?”
Auffernan sneered in disgust. “Yes, but you can’t enjoy it. That’s gross,” he said.
“Fuck you, pig, you can’t tell me what to do. Muddahfuckah,” Desmond said. He smiled and attacked Auffernan’s left pit. He inhaled deeply and licked the hairs there, tasting the stale salt of past sweats sticking to his skin. He managed to gag in an authentic way — it was musky and disgusting in an objective sense, so it was easy to respond like it was foul, even if Desmond actually loved it. “Oh god yes,” Desmond said as he moved to the other armpit. “Don’t make me suck on your balls next.”
Auffernan chuckled. “You like swallowin’ white balls?”
“I like the taste of redneck balls.”
Auffernan’s eyes flashed darkly. “I don’t like it when people who ain’t rednecks call me a redneck. Seems kinda like a slur,” he said.
“Let’s talk punishment, hillbilly,” Desmond said before diving his head between Auffernan’s legs. He still wore his slacks so Desmond’s tongue wettened the fabric, which was salty and sour.
“Oh now, I ain’t a hillbilly. I ain’t that rural,” Auffernan said as he undid his belt. His pants fell to his ankles, and he had on a pair of white briefs, dingy and grayed. His cock and balls bulged, thick pubic hair sneaking around the edges of the fabric.
Desmond whistled. “You sure you ain’t part black? You got a massive slab of meat there, ‘specially for a redneck.”
“You just tryin’-a piss me off now, boy.”
“I’ve been trying to piss you off since you arrested me,” Desmond said. He used his teeth to bite the elastic of the briefs, then awkwardly pulled them down — he was still handcuffed, so that was the only way to do it. He had never done this with briefs before — only boxers, but he had ample experience with them — and it was awkward. Auffernan looked down at him with his arms folded over his chest.
“There’s a part of my ballsac-” the way he drawled out ballsac to last for what seemed like ten syllables to Desmond — “thass always itchin’ me, boy. I wanna see if yo’ tongue can scratch that itch.”
As much as a part of Desmond wanted to go right for the dick, which was plump and already stirring with a trace of erection, he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. He stuck his head between Auffernan’s legs and licked his balls.
They were thick and heavy, dripping with sweat — there was air conditioning in the station, but it did not seem to be effective, and the building remained extraordinarily hot, making Auffernan’s balls slippery. The sweat flowed from those hairy balls right down Desmond’s greedily guzzling throat. The musty, salty flavor exploded on Desmond’s tongue, and he gurgled as he savored it.
Auffernan pointed to the rear of his balls, having to awkwardly reach behind his own ass to get his finger there. “Right there,” he said. The spot was right where his scrotum met his taint, and it was covered in sweat-stickied hairs.
Without taking Auffernan’s overflowing ballsac from his mouth, Desmond stretched his tongue out to that spot. The taste was grimy and dirty, making Desmond moan around the flesh that quivered in his mouth. He had to strain to get his tongue out that far, but when he touched it, Auffernan grunted.
“Damn, you one hell of a ballslurper,” Auffernan said as though he was shocked. “Ain’t nevuh had no one suck my balls who really liked it, I guess.” His dick sprang to full erection above Desmond’s face, and it twitched every time Desmond lapped at Auffernan’s sensitive sac.
Goober in. Auffernan, you there? What’s up?”
Auffernan reached to the uniform shirt that he had placed on a nearby desk. He grabbed the radio mic off it and said to Desmond, “This is that black deputy I was tellin’ you about. He always messin’ wit’ pinkboys. Keep quiet fo’ now,” Then he spoke into the mic. “Hey, Goober. Nothin’ going on right now. I picked up a drunk boy. You might have some interest in him.”
A long pause. Crap. My wife’s gonna kill him. Rashaad right? He promised he wouldn’t drink outside the home. Was he on liquor? His mom made him promise only beer-
“Nah, stop, Goober, no-” Auffernan said until Goober stopped talking long enough that Auffernan could transmit. “Nah, not one of yer boys like yer son. I just mean he’s black.”
Oh, well, whatever. You givin’ him the standard welcome?
“Even as we speak,” Auffernan said with a chuckle. “He got a real sour look on his face, and he making these chipmunk sounds.” He held the mic near Desmond’s face so the sound of his moist sputtering could be heard. “You hear that?”
Not really. Just sounds like static. I’m sure it’s a pretty sound. You tell him to keep it real for me, Auffernan. I’m-a go serve that warrant now.
“Roger that,” Auffernan said. He put the radio mic down. Then he looked down at Desmond’s red face and bugging eyes. “You keep it real, okay?”
“Yes, officer,” Desmond said through the balls filling up his mouth.
“You ready to swallow that dick?”
His dick had gotten rock-hard from Desmond’s attention to his balls, and from his position underneath the massive cop, Auffernan’s cock took up almost all of Desmond’s field of vision. He gurgled his excited agreement around the ballflesh overflowing from his throat, which continued to send trickles of tasty fluids down Desmond’s throat.
He pulled away, keeping his mouth open so Auffernan could see the pool of drool and sweat that had collected in the back of his mouth. He stuck his tongue out and licked the entire shaft from root to tip. It twitched. With his tongue, Desmond traced the veins that ran up the side of the shaft. He choked up plenty of spit, which ran down Auffernan’s dick into his bushy forest of crotch hair.
Auffernan lost his disaffected pose, and he shuddered, pleasure visibly rippling through him. His arms were crossed over his chest, but as Desmond licked, he clutched at his body and played with his nipples as though uncontrollably aroused.
“Shit, yeah!” Auffernan muttered. “You do that good!” Desmond swallowed his precum-leaking cocktip, letting that mess of fluids in his mouth leak out and down Auffernan’s shaft to moisten it up. Auffernan sighed. He leaned against the cell bars. “Shit…”
Desmond began deep-throating him in earnest, working his dick all the way down his throat. He was an expert cock-sucker, so he didn’t need to gag on it, but he liked to, both because it was enjoyable on its own terms and because it made Auffernan get cockier, which turned Desmond on.
“You can’t handle this much meat, huh?”
He didn’t want to stop to answer, so Desmond just said ‘no, it’s too much!’ around the meat in his throat. All that came out was a gurgling sound, but Auffernan seemed to get the gist of what he was saying.
“Lemme lube it up some,” Auffernan said. He very slowly spat, letting a thick wad of saliva drip down, plopping onto Desmond’s upper lip as he slid down the shaft.
Desmond suckled the spit into his mouth as he stretched his jaw and got all the way down. Then he let that spit roll out down Auffernan’s shaft, as Auffernan grunted. His knees buckled. His balls crawled up in his sac as though about to cum, but then Auffernan removed Desmond’s face from his cock. He lightly slapped it.
“You’s tryna’-a make me cum too early,” he said. “I’m cornholin’ you in the ass, boy. Ain’t gonna let you cum neither.” He chuckled throatily. “You ain’t gettin’ outta here with an intact booty. No way. Not on Auffernan’s watch.”
“Never, you fuckin’ pig!” Desmond said. He stood up, taking a deep breath now that his throat was clear. He grabbed the cell bars with his cuffed wrists and stuck his ass out a bit to give Auffernan a good angle. “I’ll fuck you up, officer!”
“Speaking of pigs,” Auffernan said as he rammed his dick in. A jolt of pain shot up Desmond’s spine, and he howled. Auffernan gripped him by the waist. “Lemme hear you squeal.”
Desmond squealed as loud as he could. He wasn’t sure how pig-like it was, but it was an animalistic squeal anyway. The cock in his ass pushed in a little farther, pulsating deep within him. It awakened a chord of intense pleasure that sounded up from his booty, traveling up his spine and hitting him with a wave of exquisite sensations.
“That ain’t a pig. You just squealed like a… big, retarded rooster,” Auffernan said. “Try it again. Like this.” Then he made a rough, honking noise — to Desmond, he wanted to say it sounded like an angry goose. But he didn’t argue, the pleasure exploding in his ass was too intense to form any words. He just made the sound the best he could.
Auffernan’s dick was all the way in him now, and Desmond’s prostate throbbed with every thrust of his cock. He squealed again, making that angry goose sound.
“Hey, here, make that sound again,” Auffernan said, shoving the radio mic in front of Desmond’s face. He pushed the ‘transmit’ button.
Desmond squealed as loud as he could to be sure the mic could pick it up. The pain was melting away now as his ass loosened up, and Auffernan’s cock flowed in and out easily. Auffernan slammed with all his mind, ramming Desmond into the cell bars with each thrust of his hips.
After a few seconds, there was a click, and then Deputy Goober’s bass laughter came out of the radio.
There a pig loose in the station, hoss? Want me to get the assholes at Animal Control?
“Nah, I got this piggie under control. He just makin’ noise to let me know he feel strongly ‘bout what’s happenin’ to him,” Auffernan said into the radio. Then he whispered into Desmond’s ear, “Alright, boy, I’m-a give you this flag to bite on again.”
The cold vinyl Confederate flag again pushed between Desmond’s lips. He bit down hard, which made the plowing a little easier to take. The fabric was thick enough to have some purchase, so he could relieve the pressure he felt with a strong clamp of his teeth on the flag. As he did so, he bucked his ass backward, forcing it deep onto Auffernan’s cock — he wanted to make this as good as possible for Officer Auffernan, who groaned appreciatively. That groan turned into a shudder like he was holding back his orgasm.
“Fuck yeah,” Auffernan said. He looked around as though checking for anyone else in the station, then whispered again. “Look… I learned somethin’ in the military, a sorta rule. I don’t follow it on the force,” he said. “Cuz normally I only cornhole pissheads.” He took a deep breath. His hands reached around Desmond’s body, squeezing first his nipples as though Auffernan hoped to find tits there. Then his hands roamed lower down until they came to Desmond’s rock-hard cock. Auffernan pulled away for a moment like he was scared. Then he resumed touching and even stroking Desmond’s dick with one hand, while his other hand held the flag in place in Desmond’s mouth. Auffernan moaned, sounding a little disgusted. “My drill sergeant said you can ram a man in the ass, but you gotta give a reacharound. It’s against the rules otherwise.”
“Really?” Desmond asked through gritted teeth, his voice muffled by the flag that was still in his mouth.
Auffernan shrugged. “I’m sure that wasn’t a real Army rule or nothin’. Just what my drill sergeant was into,” he said. “You ever tell anyone, I will get you locked up — not here where you gonna get rammed all the time neither, I’ll get you locked up somewhere terrible where the guards are all fat.”
“Won’t. Tell.” Desmond could barely speak. His ass was on fire with orgasmic energy, while his dick pulsated beneath Auffernan’s fingers. He wished he could prolong it, but he was already bucking and shooting his load. All it took was a few strokes from a massively muscled alpha like Officer Auffernan.
“Dang, boy, you nut fast!” Auffernan let out a wolf whistle.
Semen sprayed across Auffernan’s fingers and into the cell, dripping all over the floor and coating the cell bars in Desmond’s cream. Desmond groaned loudly, and then Auffernan did likewise, but with a more grossed-out tenor, his hand still stroking Desmond’s orgasming cock. He lifted the fingers of his other hand to Desmond’s face, where he wiped cum the cum off his hands onto Desmond’s cheeks.
Then he took both ends of the flag in his hands, pulling tight so Desmond’s head was forced upward. As though he needed to reassert his masculinity after touching Desmond’s cock, Officer Auffernan began pounding his dick in and out, all the way with each powerful stroke. That only continued Desmond’s orgasm.
“Take it, boy,” Auffernan said, growling through gritted teeth. Just as he was saying boy, his voice broke and the first jet of cum hit Desmond’s ass. He continued longdicking through the shoulder-shaking power of his orgasm.
Desmond shuddered and squeezed as though trying to hold on to Auffernan’s cock with his ass. A huge load of cum sprayed into his guts, and a seeping warmth spread to his guts. Desmond moaned along with Auffernan as jet after jet of white-hot cum coated his insides.
That orgasm seemed to last forever. Desmond’s had begun when Auffernan jacked him off and continued through Auffernan’s climax, and even now, Auffernan’s cock spurting out the last of his cum, Desmond writhed and gasped as ecstasy coursed through his veins. His prostate thrummed and hummed, and Desmond struggled against the handcuffs binding his wrists together.
At last, when his balls were good and drained, Auffernan pulled out and Desmond breathed a sigh of relief. His ass felt cold and empty. He stayed there, bent over and with a Confederate flag in his mouth — Auffernan no longer held on to it, so Desmond could have spat it out anytime. He didn’t want to though. He wondered how many other men had bit this flag while they got rammed. He hoped it was a lot. Maybe that was why Auffernan used it. Maybe he liked the flag soaking up all the ass-pain sweat and drool of the men he ramrodded.
Officer Awful. That was what they called him. Desmond had heard about that, and he came running to this tiny town so he could run into him.
As Desmond recovered from his orgasm, he turned his head to see Auffernan writing him a ticket. He was still naked, his sweaty body swaying, limp dick moist with cum and assjuice. Auffernan put the ticket in Desmond’s hand.
“Here you go, boy. That’ll be two hundred dollars. You can pay at the county courthouse.” Public intoxication was checked, but at the bottom of the list of possible charges, Auffernan had written in, inappropriate squealing, and checked that box as well.
“If I don’t pay, do I get to stay here?” Desmond asked with a grin and a gasp.
“That is exactly correct,” Officer Awful said.

Mafia Punishment

Tedi is an effeminate twink who never thought the Mafia would come to him to help dole out punishment. But when one of the Caprinelli family’s enforcers is proven to have snitched, Tedi is all too eager to get down and dirty teaching that uomo a lesson!

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Or read the whole thing here!

The wedding was a nerve-wracking affair, even for Tedi, and it wasn’t even his wedding. He was a long-time friend of the family, but the family in question was the family — the Cavollos. They were the most powerful Mafia clan in New Jersey. The Cavollos themselves had never acknowledged it, except for Sonny, and he only obliquely referred to it on a few occasions when he was drunk.
Tedi had grown up as Sonny’s best friend, and stayed with him in college and ever since. They had drifted apart only slightly as they each developed an independent life. But when Sonny got married, there was no one to be best man and compare d’anello except for Tedi.
The wedding was held in St. Michael’s Cathedral on Staten Island. It was a beautiful affair, and everything went exactly according to plan — with one exception: a groomsmen who was missing.
There were five groomsmen (il testimoni) who had come to the wedding rehearsal. They weren’t exactly friends of Sonny’s, but they were closest thing Sonny had to a friend besides Tedi — made mafia men simply didn’t have close friends. Tedi was an exception because he had been friends with Sonny for a long time, he was not in the mafia or otherwise involved in any kind of crime, and he was small, delicate and weak. Nobody treated him like a serious rival.
The five groomsmen were Francesco Lancinelli, Frankie di Pietro, Joey Rizzoli, Baldo Bianchi and Demetrio Collera.
Tedi enjoyed jerking them off once, along with the groom himself, during the bachelor party — they had sworn an oath to god not to fuck any stripper or whore. So they let Tedi jerk them off while a stripper ground her feminine wiles on their bodies. That had been a good night for Tedi, even if it ended with an argument (apparently there was a leak in their organization, and Francesco disagreed on who it likely was).
It was Francesco who had disappeared before the wedding.
The weirdest thing about that was that no one mentioned it. Tedi’s nervous mind noticed it just before the wedding began — he counted only four groomsmen. But he assumed the fifth was around somewhere, and he was so anxious about the ceremony that he couldn’t even focus enough to figure out who was missing.
Once the I dos were said, Tedi stood there in his lavender suit, just a few feet from the four burly Mafioso. He realized it was Francesco who was missing.
Francesco Lancinelli was the biggest, the least handsome and the toughest of the five groomsmen, and he had the most massive cock. Tedi loved jerking him off. He had a crude caveman-like face, with rough-hewn jawlines and perpetually stubbled chin, his beard hair always uneven due to a network of scars crisscrossing his neck and face. He had the kind of domineering personality and massive muscles that repelled women. Tedi felt sorry for him, but was also hopeful that he’d come calling to Tedi to ask for more dome in the future.
But now where was he? And why had no one noticed? His name was even listed in the program for the wedding, but no one remarked on his absence. It was only as the reception began that the horrifying thought he could be dead assaulted Tedi’s mind. Was that possible?
No, of course not. The Mafia was a lot of things, but they were not clinical and detached. If a groomsman had died between the wedding rehearsal and the wedding, it would have been announced; they would have mourned him at the start of the wedding; Sonny would have worn a black armband or something like that. They wouldn’t just proceed with the wedding like nothing had happened.
“Hey, Tedi, come on,” Sonny said once he had finished his traditional dance with his new wife. His voice sounded distant even though he was right next to Tedi. He had to scream to be heard over the crowd. He grabbed Tedi by the arm and pulled him away.
“Where are we going?” Tedi asked, but his weak voice was lost in the din.
He followed Sonny, whose body shuffled thickly — he had been putting on weight since he got engaged — in his tight tuxedo, which was plainly uncomfortable for him. He had loosened his tie, which hung around his neck. Much to Tedi’s surprise, he led Tedi out of the church and into the Italian-American community center next door.
Then he breathed a sigh of relief that he was away from the crowd. Sonny stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. He leaned against the wall. The bulge in his pants suggested he was going to ask Tedi for dome — that was probably why he had left the church, Tedi decided, to get do it somewhere other than sacred ground.
But why did he want dome just hours before he’d be able to be with his wife in lawfully-wedded bliss? Was he really that horny? Maybe it was the stress, Tedi decided. He grabbed the bulge and smiled at Sonny. Tedi had long been jerking his friend off.
“No,” Sonny said. “That ain’t what I brought ya here fo’, man.”
“Oh?”
Sonny shook his head. He gulped nervously. “Come on.” He opened the door to a deep storage closet, piled high with boxes and athletic equipment. There was a crowd of men in tuxedos. Since they all wore the same clothes and had the same slicked-back black hair, Tedi didn’t quite recognize them right away in the dim light of the closet.
Then he saw that they were the four groomsmen. Frankie, Joey, Baldo and Demetrio all stood there, clustered around another tuxedo-clad man who was slumped over a chair sideways, so the arms of the rickety wooden chair supported his belly and chest.
After a few seconds, Tedi realized that the man who was slumped over was fully conscious, that he was Francesco and that he was tied up and gagged. His hair was slicked back like all the others, but his tuxedo was ruffled, torn in a few spots, and he had a fresh black eye.
“Hey, guys. What’s going on? What happened to Francesco? Is he okay?”
“No, he ain’t,” Sonny said with a chuckle. He stepped forward, pushing past Tedi in the tiny closet. He slapped Francesco on the ass through his tuxedo pants. “Francesco… He fucked up, Tedi. He’s the snitch. He’s been leakin’ like an old man’s dick.”
“What?”
Sonny laughed cockily. “I ain’t know a simpler way to say that, Tedi. He’s a snitch. He’s a person who snitches. He has snitched. You want me to translate into Italian?”
“Oh, I mean… Oh…” Tedi didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Sonny never really discussed Mafia business. He sometimes talked about the “import/export” business in ways that made it clear what he was really talking about, but he was rarely so blatant and open about it.
“We’re gonna punish him. We would do it ourselves, but…” Sonny said with a dry chuckle. “We ain’t want to. It’s my wedding day. My giorno sacro…”
“And I think it’s gross,” Joey said. He was the handsome one, the one who always had a girl hanging off his arm. He had deep dimples and smooth skin. “Francesco here is hairy come un barbaro, and if you think I’m shaving his ass, you got another thing coming.”
“Wait, so… You want me to…?” Tedi’s heart started pounding as he realized they wanted him to ram Francesco.
As if he had only just figured it out as well, Francesco squealed through the gag in his mouth. His muscles struggled against the bindings keeping him on the chair, and he fought so hard the chair itself nearly fell over. Sonny and the others laughed.
“So, how about it, Tedi?” Sonny asked. “You wanna wreck this snitchin’ rat?”
“Uh… Well… fuck, yeah!” Tedi said. He blushed as they all cheered. Francesco bleated, screaming profanity the best he could with what appeared to be underwear shoved in his mouth.
Sonny removed a pocketknife from his tuxedo slacks. For a moment, it looked like he was going to stab Francesco in the asshole. But he just sliced through the man’s pants, leaving a shadowy hole in front of his ass.
That wasn’t enough for Tedi. He liked ass, and he wanted to see it. He pulled on either end of the tear in the slacks, trying to rip the entire bottom off. But he blushed — the fabric was too tough, and Tedi was too weak. He strained for a minute or two before Baldo, the strongest one here aside from Francesco himself, grabbed the fabric from him. He ripped the entire ass of the slacks off.
Francesco had a beautifully thick ass, brimming with plump muscle and coarse black hairs. There was a big splat of scar tissue, vaguely circular or spiral-shaped, but distended by time, on his right asscheek.
“You want him to swallow your cum too?” Sonny asked. “Or are you just gonna go straight for the ramrodding?”
Tedi shrugged. “I… I mean, won’t he just bite down?”
“We got a plan for that,” he said. “He won’t bite.”
A part of Tedi didn’t feel confident in that. But he rarely got the chance to ram a man in the ass, especially not a big hairy macho like Francesco.
“I, uh… I just want his ass, honestly. I’d love to see him swallow some dick though. Would you guys ram his throat?”
They all looked around like no one wanted to do it but no one wanted to say no. Tedi blushed. Francesco heaved and screamed the best he could through his gag.
Demetrio laughed. “Ain’t you required to give yo’ friends favors on your wedding day, Sonny?” They all laughed along with him.
Sonny shook his head even as he said yes. “We, uh… Yeah. I guess we might as well. We’re gonna ram you in the throat, you little snitchin’ bitch.” Francesco struggled against the gag in his mouth, which Sonny pulled off. Francesco gasped for air, but Sonny spat on his face and barked for him to be silent. “I’m gonna give you a choice for how this ends, motherfucker. You can jerk us off and take it from Tedi, do everything he says, no matter how gross. You got that? Repeat it for me, Francesco, so I know you understand.”
“Sonny, I ain’t sellin’ secrets to the Caprinelli family-“
“You shut up! We found that book in your house, Francesco. We saw it. We got records from Tranquillo Caprinelli. We got a mole too, rat, and I ain’t tell you word one about it.”
“Sonny-“
“You know how I told you we was gonna hit the Caprinelli house on Saturday?” Sonny asked. “Well, they was waiting there with guns ready. They knew we was coming. Only we wasn’t coming, Francesco. We wasn’t coming at all. I told Demetrio we was doing it on Friday. I told Joey on Tuesday. Baldovino on Thursday, and Francesco the Saturday before that. But we ain’t hit them any day. I just waited to see when they thought we was coming. That was yo’ day, Francesco. What made them think we was gonna hit them on Saturday?”
“Sonny… We used to be friends…”
“Huh? You was gonna let me walk into a trap, motherfucker. They was gonna blow my brains out,” Sonny said. “So don’t you talk to me about friendship, or loyalty. Sputo sul vostro onore!” Sonny spat on his face again, and the others joined in. Tedi enjoyed watching Francesco’s moist, craggy face scrunch up and beg; he wrinkled his nose at the saliva dripping from his cheeks. His muscles were tense — at the moment, Tedi couldn’t have stuck anything in Francesco’s ass, which was shut tight with terror. But he wasn’t trying to. He caressed those plump cheeks and fingered the rim of his puckering asshole.
“Now I was tryin’ to explain your two options befo’ you in’rrupted me, Francesco,” Sonny said. “I’m gonna let you choose. Option One begins with you taking it in the ass from Tedi — and you better thank yo’ hairy culo di una scimmia that the rest of us won’t touch it, cuz that’s nasty — and jerking on dicks. You gonna swallow a mountain of cum. You ain’t nevuh gonna be a real man ever again, you’ll be a frocio zoccola. And then I’ll buy you a bus ticket to Las Vegas. You can sell your body or whatever, just drink yourself to death there. I don’t care what you do. That’s Option One, Francesco, questo è Opzione Uno. Can you tell me that in yo’ own words so I know you unn’erstand it?”
Sonny often spoke like this to the men under his command. Tedi didn’t usually get to witness it, but he knew it — Sonny wanted to make sure the pig-headed brutes who worked for him understood their mission, so he always made them put it in their own words. Sonny was arrogant and patronizing, so Tedi wasn’t surprised that most of the men who worked for him hated him.
“Sonny…” Francesco hung his head over the side of the chair. Sonny slapped him. Francesco sputtered. “I… I can… submit, and uh, let yo’ friend cornhole me. And jerk all you off. That’s Option One. You’ll let me go to Las Vegas afterwards.”
“You make it sound like a vacation. It’s more of an exile,” Sonny said. “But you’ll be alive. Opzione Due is less pleasant, but more final. Tedi here is gonna cornhole you hard. I just might order Joey to do it too, even if he don’t want to-” Sonny said with a laugh suggesting that wasn’t serious — Joey’s eyes opened wide and he turned slightly greenish; he was a handsome, cleanliness-oriented and organized man, deeply religious but with a bevy of loose women following him around every night, so he was the last one who would likely deign to ram Francesco’s hairy asshole. Sonny smacked Francesco’s ass, which quivered and twitched.
It also opened up. Since Tedi’s finger was waiting there at the entrance, he slipped it in. It was just his pinkie for the moment, and just down to the first knuckle. But Francesco’s face turned bright red and he let out an agonized roar. His muscles flexed against the ropes tying him to the chair. His asshole clenched on Tedi’s finger.
“You got a finger in che culo, paisano?”
“Yeah, Sonny. Just one finger for now,” Tedi said.
“Option Two, Francesco, has got one major benefit. We ain’t gonna plow you in the mouth if you ain’t gonna swear you won’t bite down. So you won’t have to swallow any Italian dicks,” Sonny said. “But we is gonna sell yo’ ass to the Bloods.” He cackled as Francesco squirmed and struggled against his bindings. He slapped Francesco’s face. “And you know what those moolies are gonna do… They gonna plow you with big black dicks. They gonna let some crackheads plow you, just to watch you squirm and collect diseases. They hate Italians, and they hate disloyal rats, so you is gonna wish you was dead. Then you will be dead. They’ll just toss you in the ghetto with black cum all over your face, maybe a crack pipe in your ass. They’ll make sure the cops put it in the papers that you was just a hobo killed by the moolie hobos you was jerkin’ off for pennies. Yo’ mama gonna curse yer name, Francesco.”
“Sonny-!”
“You can choose now, Francesco,” Sonny said. “Which one is it gonna be?”
Francesco let out a sob, then bit his lip. As he acknowledged his submission and finally gave up the struggle, knowing how this would turn out, his ass unclenched long enough for Tedi to get a second finger in there. Francesco yelped like a puppy in pain.
This time, Tedi didn’t just stick his fingers in to the first knuckle and stopped. He seriously fingered Francesco, ramming his fingers in until he felt resistance, and then just a little bit farther. He liked watching every muscle on Francesco’s body shake and tremble with each thrust of Tedi’s fingers.
“I’ll… take Option One,” Francesco said. “I swear… I’ll do it. I’ll jerk you off.”
“You swear an oath on yo mama’s name?”
“Yes. I swear… on my mother’s name,” Francesco said. “I’ll jerk you all off. I won’t bite down. Just… let me go. Let me move to Vegas.”
“You fuckin’ pansy,” Sonny said.
They all took their dicks out. A part of Tedi wished he’d get to jerk them all off, but he would rather ram Francesco. He had to move a box off the shelf to use as a stool in order to get his crotch lined up with Francesco’s ass. As he did, the other five jabbed their limp dicks into Francesco’s mouth, one after another.
Francesco gagged and retched so loudly Tedi wondered if it was audible outside this closet. He choked, sputtering as he spat onto the ground. Each of them had thick, long uncut cocks, which they seemed to have trouble getting hard at first.
They flopped their dicks against his face, like kids who had never gotten dome. But as they took turns forcing their dicks down his spasming throat, jousting nervously atop his face, they became more and more confident, and they egged each other on.
La bocca è la mia figa!
Tedi had no such difficulty, his dick was already hard even though he hadn’t touched it yet. He rammed his two fingers in and out of Francesco’s ass, while his free hand stroked the writhing muscles of his back through his tuxedo. Then he rammed a third finger in, ignoring the resistance he felt.
A ear-piercing scream rang out, and Francesco’s body burst out with sweat all at once. Tedi laughed along with the other mafioso, who looked away as their dicks got hard. They had all gangbanged whores before, and they all knew they had each let Tedi jerk them off, but they had never had their dicks out like this, with each other and without a woman in the room.
With Francesco bent awkwardly over the plain wooden chair — which loudly rocked as he struggled — Tedi had to climb on top of him to really get his dick in. He pulled his three fingers out and plunged in, his toes gripping the side of the chair as he crouched over Francesco’s bare ass.
The position was awkward for Tedi (and, of course, Francesco), but that didn’t detract from the arousal he felt. He even used Baldo’s shaved head for support as Baldo waited for his turn on Francesco’s mouth.
Costringerlo a soffocare, Baldo!
Tedi shuddered as intense pleasure rolled through him. The curly black hairs of Francesco’s ass were a tangle he had to push through, and he felt a few hairs rip out as he went. That must have sent another layer of pain through Francesco’s body which rippled as he struggled.
Frankie was a heavily tattooed thug, who normally wore his pants slung low and a backwards baseball cap, speaking in a black accent. He was Italian but he didn’t always act that way, which was something the others made fun of him for. But now he spoke Italian as he violently throated Francesco. It was he who came first, pistoning his dick deep into Francesco’s throat and laughing when he choked up copious spit and bile onto the closet floor.
Take it bitch, you fuckin’ snitch! Choke on that shit! Here, open that mouth up so I can spit in it some more…
The smell of cum filled the air before Tedi realized Frankie was actually finishing. Then he saw the pearly white stuff dripping from Francesco’s mouth, collecting in a puddle on the floor. Some of it splashed on Joey’s fine dress shoes, which he made Francesco lick clean. Frankie sighed breathed heavily, wiping his cummy cockshaft off on Francesco’s face.
“Lick that nut off my shoes, bitch,” Joey said. He smiled as Francesco gagged but did as he was told. His tongue haltingly caressed the expensive Italian leather shoes Joey wore, and he managed, with great difficulty, to force himself to lick the entirety of both shoes.
Mi permetta di usare quella gola, paisano!
As the others continued taking turns on Francesco’s throat, Tedi borrowed the knife from Sonny. He wanted to see Francesco’s bare muscular back, so he sliced through the tuxedo jacket, shirt and the dingy wifebeater he wore underneath.
“You couldn’t even put on a clean t-shirt for my wedding?” Sonny asked when he saw the undershirt. “You worthless sac of shit!” He slapped Francesco’s spit and cum-covered face, uncaring of the fact that he got his friends’ fluids on his hands. He just wiped his fingers off on Francesco’s face.
The more violently they went after Francesco’s throat, the more Francesco choked, the more they made each other laugh and the more comfortable they got shoving their dicks against each other. They tried to make him jerk all five dicks at one — which was obviously impossible, but they tried, ignoring the semeny residue that smeared between all five cocks.
Sonny was the one who rammed Francesco’s mouth most delicately. He didn’t want to get stains on his nice slacks, so he angled his body away the best he could. He gripped Francesco’s hair as he reached his own orgasm.
Tedi’s fingers massaged Francesco’s broad shoulder muscles. He had a Jesus tattoo over his left shoulder and an Italian flag beneath that. Tedi kissed them both as he pounded his dick into Francesco’s ass. The size difference between them meant that Tedi had to really hold on tight or slip off, especially as Francesco became so sweaty his back and ass were slippery. Tedi clutched and clawed at his beefy back.
When he shot his load, Sonny held onto Francesco by the ear. He slammed his dick in and out quickly, laughing as Francesco choked on each thrust. His choking turned into loud retching when Sonny shot a load right down his throat.
Assaggiare il mio sperma! Does it taste like yo’ mama’s pussy?
Tedi’s own orgasm was coming quickly, but he wanted to wait until the others were done. He loved watching their potent muscles ripple beneath their tuxedos, sweat beading on their tense faces as their orgasms rolled over their bodies. He could sense their nervous anxiety — none of them had ever cum like this; they all talked about how they would take a bitch if they were in prison, that had come up during the bachelor party, but this was the first time they actually had to perform without women around. Tedi could tell they were glad they hadn’t been impotent or small-cocked or unable to cum. He slowed down his gyrations, burying his face in Francesco’s back muscles as he flexed his hips, grinding so he hit the sensitive sides of Francesco’s asshole.
Then came Joey, who as usual was too squeamish to really get in there like the others — he hated filth and seemed to very much want to back out. He grumbled, jacking himself off. His face turned red when he finally came, and he stepped forward at just the last moment to spray his load right onto Francesco’s quivering tongue.
Questo è sporco…
Tedi watched as Francesco squealed loudly, his whole body palpably rejected the snotty cumload on his tongue. He sputtered and spat, but most of it clung to his mouth. Before he even could spit or swallow, Baldo pushed his dickhead in.
Baldo had a shaved head. He was short, but thick-bodied, built like a bull, complete with a squashed nose and cauliflower ears, both remnants from his former career as a boxer. Though his head was bald, he was the hairiest one there, and his chest hair poked out from under his tuxedo.
He didn’t seem to care about the cum still stuck to Francesco’s tongue and lips. Baldo plunged his dick in there, watching as his buddies’ cum stuck to the shaft. Baldo smiled and let out a low growl that made the hair on Tedi’s neck stand on edge. He felt Francesco’s asshole clench too, in that moment. It was a menacing growl, Baldo being the only one of the five who really seemed to enjoy Francesco’s mouth.
Tu sei il mio sperma grondaia…
That only left Demetrio, who was nearly done as Baldo pulled away. But first Demetrio made Francesco swallow all the cum in his mouth. He opened his mouth to show its emptiness to Demetrio, who cackled as he shoved his spasming dick in.
Mi permetta di vedere la tua bocca vuota, voglio vedere voi ingoiare tutto!
Francesco’s ass clenched again when Demetrio’s dick spewed cum down his throat. Francesco sputtered, his face turning brighter red as lack of oxygen joined the humiliation that already ruddened his features. His asshole remained clenched tightly as all five guys flopped their limp dicks on his face, making him smell their balls and lick the remnants of cum from their piss-slits.
It was the sight of that that sent Tedi over the edge. He lay atop Francesco’s sweat-covered body, clutching his muscles, his hair and the remnants of his tuxedo. He flexed his hips over and over, rejoicing in the tightness of Francesco’s ass, which he knew he was wrecking — if Francesco had relaxed his asshole, it would have hurt less, but Tedi knew from experience that his involuntary clenching made the pain worse, made the ache last for days afterward and ruined his sphincter. Francesco was always going to feel like a loose slut if anyone ever touched his asshole again.
Francesco sobbed, begging his former friends to believe his innocence, though he didn’t sound totally credible — even Tedi, who didn’t really know what was happening, thought he sounded like he knew he was caught. Tedi sighed, nibbling on the Italian flag tattoo over Francesco’s back, as his orgasm rocketed up his spine. It was an incredible climax, and it made Tedi shake back and forth like he was having a seizure. He grunted, losing his twinky delicacy.
He jabbed his dick in and held it there while the first wads of cum sprayed inside Francesco, who screamed and squirmed. There was a loud shattering sound, and then pain erupted in Tedi.
He was on the ground. It all happened so fast that Tedi had no idea what was going on at first. He lay there as he drained his nuts into Francesco’s straining ass, and Tedi realized that the chair had broken — Francesco was strong enough he had pulled hard and shattered the wooden legs of the chair.
When he fell, Francesco’s arms were beneath his chest, and his limbs were still tied to each other. So all he could do was writhe painfully on the rubble, while Tedi clung to his back and filled him up with his seed. He nibbled on Francesco’s back flesh.
Damn, Tedi, ti sei scopato lui così forte che lo ha rotto!
He lay there, enjoying the undulations of Francesco’s muscles and the clenching of his ass as Tedi’s dick grew limp inside him. Francesco roared his frustration anew, as though he thought he should be able to escape now that he had broken the chair. But he was still tied up, and now he was in pain because had fallen as well as because he had a dick in his ass.
His asshole quivered when Tedi finally pulled out. The others tucked their dicks away in their tuxedo pants, and Sonny lightly smacked Francesco on the cheeks. Francesco blubbered an apology — he wasn’t making clear words, but it sounded like he was finally admitting he was guilty.
“Thank you for being honest, finally,” Sonny said. He put the nasty old pair of briefs back in Francesco’s mouth, leaving him there on the floor with a bare ass and back, his body and mouth covered in cum. “We’re gonna go finish out this reception. I gotta see my beautiful bride. There’s a bus to Las Vegas at midnight. These guys’ll make sure you’re on it, Francesco,” Sonny said. He spat another big ball of spit onto Francesco’s face. “If we ever see you in New York again, I’ll wreck you myself, hairy ass or no, and then I let the blacks kill you. Got it?”
“Yes, Sonny.”
“Thank me for letting you do all this instead of just killing you, which is what my father wanted, by the way,” Sonny said.
“Thank you, Sonny,” Francesco said through his tears. His massive muscles were loose and slack now, like he had lost his manhood and could no longer use his strength.
“You’re welcome, rat,” Sonny said.
Tedi let out a cruel smile and a feminine giggle. “Sonny… is it okay if I stay here with him? I’ll… take care of his ass. I promise I won’t untie him.”
Sonny had a disgusted sneer on his face, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Do whatever you want with him. Frankie, you stay outside the closet to make sure Francesco doesn’t get away. The rest of you, come with me. We got a reception to finish.”
And they all walked out the door, leaving Tedi alone with a quivering pile of muscle.