being initiated – Mansploitation

The Fraternity Man

Shane is desperate to get into a hot frat party, and that means serving his pledgemaster, even if he’s got to bend over and take whatever he has to dole out! Can Shane get through his hazing?

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Shane Gibbons had never been more disappointed than when he found out the party was strictly for members in good standing of Kappa Kappa Pi. He was still only a pledge, which meant he wasn’t going to be allowed in. He and the other pledges would have to spend their Saturday night cleaning the Omega Omicron Tau house — cleaning the house was part of the payment to get the Omega girls to show up at the party. The Omega girls had to come because otherwise, no one else would come either.
It was funny — he had thought fraternity life was silly when he first came to GHU, but now it seemed essential. He joined the frat only because he felt lonely his first few weeks at college. He became paralyzed with fear that he’d never make any friends.
Fraternity. He corrected his own thoughts. As a pledge, if he ever abbreviated it frat out-loud, the punishment would be severe. He wasn’t going to be a frat boy but a fraternity man.
Now he was reliant on the organization to give him a social life. Without the his fraternal brothers, he’d never be invited to any parties. Brenda Fallow was going to be at that party on Saturday, and Shane was sure she liked him. She was always looking at him in the English class they shared. She stared at him, then blushed and looked away when he looked back. They had barely exchanged ten words in the entire time he had known her, but he intended to invite her to the party. If he was there with her, he felt confident he’d get to third base at least.
So he was desperate to be allowed in. It’d be humiliating to show up with Brenda and get turned away at the door of his own fraternity. So when Chad — the pledgemaster for the semester — said that they were considering allowing a few of the pledges in, Shane said he’d do anything.
“Come on, Chad. You don’t understand, this is the most beautiful girl on campus, and she likes me! She really does-“
“She does not, freshie!”
“She does too!” Shane squealed. He didn’t want to sound like a desperate little boy with a crush on a girl. “I mean… She looks at me like…-“
The upperclassmen all laughed, and Shane looked down at his feet. It seemed likely that Chad would refuse to give him an invitation, but Shane couldn’t just give up. He had been dreaming about spending the night with Brenda since the first day of classes, when they had partnered up to read a Phyllis Wheatley poem and make a presentation about it.
“Come on, Chad…” Shane said. He knew he couldn’t whine — Kappa Kappa Pi had special punishments for pledges who whined — so his mind raced as he tried to come up with something to offer in exchange for an invitation. “I’ll do anything.” He blushed as soon as he said it. He had meant he’d do anything like cleaning the house or doing Chad’s laundry, but judging from the sarcastic oohs and aahs of the other upperclassmen, they interpreted it as an offer to do something gross. It was gross, Shane thought, they had dirty minds, that’s what Shane’s mother would have said. She didn’t like what she called toilet humor.
“Anything?” Chad asked with a smirk. He loved playing pranks, especially making pledges dirty. He had cracked raw eggs on Shane’s face, farted on him, and made him lick the sweat out of his armpit. Chad laughed so hard when he made a freshman gag that his face turned red. Once he had nearly cried from laughing so hard because of another freshman’s gagging at the feel of a pubic hair in the back of his throat.
Despite their teasing, Shane did not feel like an outcast. The one benefit to frat life — and it was a big one — was that he always had friends. The hazing and the relentless teasing and the chores and the humiliations of Pledge Week, all of that was just an appetizer designed to whet the pledges’s appetite for brotherhood. That had seemed silly when Shane got started in Kappa Kappa Pi. He thought he’d never feel like a real part of this organization
But somehow Shane had indeed come to feel like he was close to the men in his frat. Even the ones he barely knew like Kyle and Fringe, he felt he knew them so well because they shared the fraternity life. They had gone through the same struggles. They had been hazed the same way back when they were freshmen; they had gotten through it. They had made lifelong friends with their pledgemaster. Shane was sure he would feel the same when he got through all of this struggle.
“Make him jerk you off, Chad!”
When someone said that, they guffawed as though it wasn’t a serious suggestion, but Shane blushed. He could tell from the look in Chad’s eyes that it was a more serious suggestion than the others thought.
Chad wrinkled his nose. “Good idea! Pledge, I’ll give you an invite to the party if you jerk me off,” Chad said, his face turning red as he laughed harder and harder. The other upperclassmen howled like they had never heard anything so funny.
The hazing was optional, so Shane could have backed out. One of his frat brothers was Jules Tremor, a Jehovah’s Witness who refused to participate in any hazing, oath-taking, holiday celebrations or drug/alcohol use — he was just as much a part of the frat as anyone else, and Shane felt like he was a brother. But Jules didn’t get invited to all the parties, and he was the only senior in Kappa Kappa Pi who was a virgin.
Shane did not intend to be the new Jules.
Shane dropped to his knees. “Yes, sir, Pledgemaster-sir.” He thought — and hoped — that if he just took Chad’s dick out and made it look like he was going to do it, Chad would tell him not to. That’s exactly what Chad had done to another pledge last week.
“Is he really gonna do it?!”
“That is some old-school hazing!”
“Get him Chad! Make him do it! Swallow his cum!”
He had to suppress a gag when he touched Chad’s cock to take it out of his pants. It was big and springy, like a fleshy slab of uncooked sausage. It was thick, veiny, warmer than Shane thought it should be. He had known it was big because Chad whipped it out often — in the group showers he frequently made everyone sit through — but Shane had never realized how big it really was. He blushed.
Shane had seen Chad’s cock on numerous occasions because Chad made them all shower together. Shane had always assumed he did that because he wanted everyone to realize he had the biggest cock in the frat, but Chad justified it by saying it increased camaraderie, which Shane had to admit was true. He had felt like an outsider among the seniors until the night they had gotten drunk together, crammed into such a tight space that Shane’s thigh pressed up against Deshonte Willoughby’s, making Shane nervous until he was drunk enough not to care. Then he felt so close to Deshonte it was like they had been friends since childhood.
The fraternity house had three bathrooms, but only two with showers and only one with a large group shower — considering that there were more than twenty people living here, they had to use the group shower for most everything. They could have taken turns and rarely been in the shower at the same time as anyone else, but Chad wouldn’t allow that. “Real men aren’t squeamish about seeing other real men. We can bond by showering together, increasing the ties that bind us, encourage us to celebrate our own masculinity and our brotherhood.” It all seemed like a bunch of nonsense to Shane, an excuse to show off Chad’s massive hog — none of the pledgemasters before Chad required mass naked showering — but no one was willing to tell Chad no on this point.
So Shane had seen Chad’s naked cock on many occasions. But there was a big difference between sneaking occasional nervous glances at it when he couldn’t manage to look away any longer, and getting a good look at it up-close in preparation for putting it in his mouth. But he still hoped Chad wouldn’t make him go through with it.
He looked up at Chad, hoping he’d say not to do it. But Chad just smirked.
“Get to it, pledge,” Chad said. He turned his hat backwards and pantomimed throating Shane’s face down. His limp dick and heavy, low-hanging balls slapped against Shane’s chin and lips. He chuckled.
Shane took a deep breath, sighed and opened his mouth.
“He’s doing it! Shane’s slurping on a cock for an invite!”
“Old-school hazing!”
The taste was not really as bad as Shane had thought it was going to be — it tasted a lot like pussy, he thought — but the texture was even worse. It was limp at first, and it hung in his mouth like a dead fish. It was long and thick and fleshy.
But then when Shane’s tongue touched it, it twitched. It stiffened and perked up. This texture, he thought, was much more pleasant. It was solid, like a flexed muscle. It felt strong, vibrant, confident, and the flavor became more savory and satisfyingly sweet.
He didn’t let on that he felt that way though. The upperclassmen groaned and grunted, expressing a mixture of shock, awe, pity and shame, all at once.
“You wanna jerk me off next? You don’t have to stop there.”
But no matter what they said or how they jeered, Shane didn’t feel ashamed. He was doing this for Brenda, the most beautiful girl on the campus. If he and Brenda fell in love and got married, then this story about how he got invited to the college party at which they first hooked up would be sweet — it’d be something he laughed about, it’d be a classic story that he would clean up for most retellings, but close friends would know what really happened. It would be totally worth it.
When the salty and sour flavor of precum hit his tongue, Shane actually began enjoying himself. His frat brothers laughing at him were unpleasant, but they faded into the background. All he focused on was servicing Chad, his fraternity brother, and becoming one with him. All of those annoying brotherhood-sessions in which they sat in the shower and drank, naked, pretending they weren’t sneaking glances at each other’s cocks, all of those moments paled in comparison to this — Shane had never felt so close to another human being.
Chad had jerked upperclassmen off when he was a freshman. Maybe that was why he always brought it up and tried to come up with reasons to make it happen. He wanted to do it again, but with himself on top this time. Shane had forgotten about that story because Chad shared it one night when they were very drunk — that was one of those drunken-naked-in-the-shower-bull-sessions that everyone but Chad hated. The frat brothers who were left at the end of a party had gotten drunk, and for some reason they started to share secrets. Chad said that his pledgemaster had come to him drunk and demanded he mouth him off in the middle of the night during Pledge Week.
Now here was Shane returning the favor. It really wasn’t that bad, Shane reminded himself, even if he did sputter and choke a little when it plunged into the back of his throat. It felt uncomfortable at first, but his body relaxed and accommodated it.
Now he didn’t even want to stop. He didn’t exactly love it, but there was something satisfying about servicing his frat brother — must get out of the habit of saying “frat brother”; would you call your country a “cunt”? Then don’t call your fraternity a “frat” — and knowing that he provided all that intense pleasure wracking Chad’s body.
At first Chad had barely gotten hard at all, like he was too nervous to really feel good about the blowjob. But the more Shane did it, the more pleasurable it was for Chad, and his dick stiffened like a rod ramming down Shane’s throat. Chad’s face went from a mischievous prankster to a seductive lover, cooing and aahing as he fed his cock deeper and deeper. He looked like he didn’t want to let on how pleasurable this was for him, like it was better for his rep if he pretended he only did it to humiliate Shane.
But Shane knew that wasn’t it. He could feel everything going on in Chad’s mind through the throbbing of his cock in Shane’s mouth. He could sense that Chad loved this more than anything, that he was going to find a way to make it happen again and that he was going to move on — he was going to ram Shane’s ass.
That seemed extreme, but Shane knew he would let it happen. Not only was it worth it if it meant he’d get to spend the party with Brenda Fallow rather than scrubbing toilets at a sorority house, but he hoped it might even feel good.
“Damn, Chad, you are hardcore! You had better invite Shane to every party all year for this.”
But of course, Shane wasn’t going to make it obvious that he looked forward to getting a cock in his ass. He was still sensitive to his fraternity brothers making fun of him.
They were only teasing him because it made them nervous to watch Shane handle a cock. They tittered, peering closely at Chad’s massive, veiny shaft sliding down Shane’s throat. Shane was bigger than most girls and he had a neck to match, giving him plenty of room to swallow all of Chad’s manhood. He didn’t even struggle after some initial difficulties.
The other upperclassmen were nervous, Shane suspected, for two main reasons. First of all, they were worried about looking like they enjoyed watching this. They didn’t want to be aroused or even too interested. Secondly, some of them had likely done the same thing when they were freshmen — just less openly — and more than a few wondered if they could get away with shoving their dick down some freshman’s throat as well. The other pledges had crawled away, no doubt scared that they’d be put in the same position as Shane if they stuck around.
Sweaty balls slapping against his chin and that moist cockshaft sliding down his throat combined for an intense and pleasurable experience for Shane. He craved every drop of precum he tasted, and he loved the look of Chad’s athletic muscles writhing above Shane’s head.
Chad’s unserious laughter had given way to aroused moans, which he tried to suppress. He chuckled a little nervously, like was surprised by his well-lubed cock’s expert penetration of Shane’s throat. Chad took a deep breath.
A loud rattling sigh escaped from Chad’s mouth as he pulled his dick out. It throbbed, pulsated, gleaming with moisture. The smell emanating off it was intensely savory and mouth-watering. The judgmental laughter of the other upperclassmen faded into the background.
The sight of Chad’s bare cock again reminded Shane of all those brotherhood-bonding sessions in the shower. Chad’s cock was wet there too, plastered to the skin of his thigh. Now it was longer, harder, thicker, inviting and oh-so-tasty looking. Shane wanted to swallow it again, but he pretended to be nauseated at the sight of it.
“This is all worth it to get into that party,” Shane repeated both to himself and for the benefit of his fraternity brothers.
“Why, man? Why are you so desperate to go?”
“That girl, remember? You really think some chick is worth it!”
“She’s not just some chick! I’m sure she’ll… I think I love her,” Shane said, blushing when they all oohed and aahed like they were watching a romcom. His face turned beet red. “She’ll put out! I’m sure of it, she virtually said she would! I have to get to that party!” He felt bad about saying that because, if he and Brenda fell in love and got married, he would have to deny ever saying this. It would be totally unromantic to admit he came to the party because he thought Brenda would give up her pussy. Shane gave it no thought before blurting out, “I’m a virgin, okay?!”
The upperclassmen squealed and screamed with laughter. There was punishment in the fraternity for failing to lose your virginity by your senior year — it wasn’t technically allowed, but they didn’t kick you out, they just made you clean the house and teased you and did all kinds of terrible things, unless you were Jules and you could claim you were a virgin for religious reasons.
“Now I’ll consider giving you an invite if you get on all fours and bare your ass,” Chad said with a forced-casual laugh. Shane sighed, though he had known this was coming. He was both dreading it and looking forward to it. The other upperclassmen laughed along with Chad, with their own mixture of horror, curiosity and jealousy.
Shane was so excited he didn’t even consider saying no, even if he was also fearful of it. Just a few hours ago he would have been shocked and humiliated by this, but he wanted it more than anything now. He bent over on his hands and knees. He unzipped his belt and pulled his pants down.
“Bare that ass, freshie! You better work for that invite!”
“I hope this girl is worth it!”
Pain erupted in his ass when that massive senior cock slid into him. He sighed and hung his head low. At first he thought he couldn’t take it — this experience had all the pain he had expected, and none of the pleasure he hoped would come along with it.
But that only lasted a few seconds. Once he got over the initial burst of agony, he felt Chad’s manhood teasing his prostate. It was just the first inch or two of cock, but it felt so good Shane moaned. He couldn’t help but make it a pleasured, blissful moan that oozed desire and arousal.
The upperclassmen all fell silent. They were confused, maybe a little reverent, unsure why Shane acted as though he wanted this. It was, after all, supposed to be hazing, not a reward.
As more and more of that frat boy cock slid into him — excuse me, ‘fraternity man cock’, of course — Shane’s pain diminished more and more. With each thrust of Chad’s meat, every additional inch of fat prickmeat plunging deep into Shane’s ass, the pain was replaced by steadily mounting pleasure.
“Keep your chin high, pledge!” Chad said when he saw that Shane was hanging his head like a tired dog.
Shane lifted his head high. It was difficult to maintain his pride in this sort of situation, but the fact that he could do so despite the snickering of his frat brothers made him feel good about himself. He remembered all those lectures — many of them delivered naked in the group shower with that hoggish meatstick dangling between his muscular thighs — about fraternity pride and brotherhood. He wasn’t supposed to feel afraid or tortured or humiliated. He was among his brothers. They would support him no matter what.
Even if he turned out to love getting it up the ass.
Judging from Chad’s gasping as he finally got the last of his dick inside Shane’s tight ass, Chad was surprised at how good this felt as well. He breathed heavily, and moaned every few seconds as pangs of bliss ran up his spine.
Chad began being ginger about it, refusing to touch Shane’s asscheeks any more than necessary, looking away as though it was too disgusting to watch. But that didn’t last long.
By the time his cock was fully hard and leaking precum again, Chad was fully into it, excited, eager to plow back and forth as hard and as long as he could. He held on to Shane’s pale buttcheeks, gripping them tightly and even slapping the flesh to watch those plump orbs jiggle.
Chad took off his shirt too, to give himself more leeway. He wanted to watch his cock slide in and out of Shane, whose ass loosened to accept it.
The tortuous pain was still there, but it was distant, like a faded memory. Instead Shane was overwhelmed by intense pleasure, rolling waves of orgasmic bliss that were so incredible he didn’t even notice his own cock get hard or his own hand wrap around it.
The upperclassmen were completely silent now. If it weren’t for the grunting and the frenzied rutting of Shane and Chad, the room would be entirely silent. Even the other freshmen pledges had returned and now stood there like equals with the upperclassmen — who normally didn’t allow pledges to stand with fully-inducted brothers — watching as both men moaned in sync with each other.
Neither Chad nor Shane needed to say anything when they both approached orgasm. They were in wordless communication with each other, and Shane could pick up everything Chad thought through the throbbing of his dick inside Shane’s ass.
So he could feel it when Chad’s balls crawled up in their sac, and he could sense the tension in Chad’s muscles. He could feel the jagged breathing where his exhalations condensed on Chad’s neck and shoulders. Meanwhile Chad himself sensed the overwhelming prostate orgasm that wracked Shane so hard it was almost painful. His muscles tightened and his hole clenched tight around Chad’s cock.
“Oh, nasty, is he gonna bust!”
“He’s gonna shoot inside him?!” That was one of the upperclassmen, who got down on his knees to watch as Chad orgasmed.
Cum sprayed into Shane’s ass, a big wad of it flooding his body in undulating torrents of bliss. It was hot and thick, and it coated his insides. Shane moaned. He had never felt anything so delightful. He orgasmed at the same time, pleasure emanating out from his prostate in waves. He spurted cum onto his hand and onto the floor.
He didn’t know how long it lasted. He was both acutely aware of everything around him — the awkward breathing of his fraternity brothers, the far-off beeping of a cell-phone whose battery was dying, the hum of the air-conditioner — while at the same time unable to pay attention to anything but the mind-numbing pleasure that flowed through his veins. It could have lasted for hours, he wouldn’t have known, and it could have lasted for years, he would have been fine with that.
Except, he thought as Chad’s cock finally pulled out of his ass, if he stayed like that for years, Brenda Fallow would never see him and fall in love with him.
Once blissful relief flooded him when Chad’s cock plopped out, Shane knew he didn’t want to do this again. It was fun to do once, though he would never admit how much he enjoyed it. But he didn’t want to feel a cock inside him again.
“Okay, brother,” Chad said with an exhausted sigh. “That was pretty good.” He chuckled softly to himself. Shane could tell that Chad was shocked by how good it felt. He was downplaying it for the benefit of his fraternity brothers. From the upperclassmen’s nervous laughter, it sounded like they knew this wasn’t some hazing torture. It was obvious that both Shane and Chad had enjoyed themselves.
But no one wanted to admit that.
Instead Shane cleared his throat. “So I can come to the party? Right, Chad?” He called him Chad instead of Pledgemaster or sir, but Chad either didn’t notice or didn’t care anymore. The old rules were out the window.
“Of course,” Chad said. “If the girl you like is going to be there, then who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
They all laughed, glad that this had happened but even more glad that it was over. Shane stood up, no longer eager to be a frat boy — he was now a fraternity man.

The Cocky Football Jock

Raython is a college football star who needs something from twinky barber Desmond. If Raython’s going to get into the frat of his choice, this cocky football jock has gotta let Desmond have a taste… and more of Raython’s throbbing manmeat! Can handsome prettyboy Raython perform when he really needs it?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Desmond knew who Raython Lake was before he came into the barbershop. Raython was the starting running back for the GHU Titans, and around here, that meant everyone knew his name. Desmond didn’t have to watch college football to know who he was. Raython entered the City Barbershop one sunny Saturday with the cocky strut of a man used to having skinny white girls on each arm. With dimples like those, Desmond knew that was exactly where he got that strut from. He was the kind of stud that girls fell head over heels in love with and guys hated from the moment they laid eyes on him. He looked arrogant, mean, bullying, haughty. Despite his handsomeness, Raython turned Desmond off from the moment he walked in.
Or rather, he turned him on, but also off. Desmond appreciated Raython’s physique, as probably all people did, you’d have to be a sociopath not to be allured by him, but he was mentally turned off by Raython’s personality and indeed his very demeanor. Something about the way he carried himself made Desmond want to punch him in the face. And then rub his shoulders and jerk him off. Then maybe punch him in the face again.
Raython was that kind of man.
“Yo, hey, you Desmond, right, my man?” Raython said. He flashed a grin and slapped hands with Desmond. He spoke like he was used to charming people and had no awareness that some people found him grating and off-putting, like he wasn’t even aware it was possible to dislike him.
“That’s right. I’m Desmond,” he said. He looked away and pouted, rearranging the selfies he had posted over his mirror, hoping to look nonchalant. Desmond didn’t like to let alphas like Raython have unbridled power over him. Raython did have such power over him, which was why Desmond spent so much energy acting nonchalant. He knew what Raython wanted, so he was going to make him work for it. Raython happened to arrive while the other barbers were out at lunch. Desmond was minding the shop alone.
“Well, I’m Raython, I was hopin’ you might jack a nigga dick, y’know… whatever….” He sniffed. “And you know… whatever.” He shuffled his weight between his feet like a man who was not used to being unsure of himself. “I got… other requirements, or whatever.”
“Requirements?”
“Yeah… You know… It’s, uh… Can we go in the back to talk?”
“I’m not really supposed to leave the front room until the other barbers get back,” Desmond said. He crossed his arms over his chest. He let out a wan smile. “Besides, I’m not sure I want to jack you off.”
“What? Why not?” He furrowed his brow. He had definitely not been turned down very often. He looked around as though there must be some emergency preventing Desmond from agreeing. He snorted and rubbed his nose.
Desmond shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re kind of a prettyboy. Not my type. Have you got the goods?”
Raython dropped to his knees and pulled his shirt off. He had a perfect chest, six-pack abs and a v-shaped torso. Again, he looked around the empty room as if this might be a secret-camera reality show. He flexed his biceps. “Yo, come on? You know it.” When that didn’t immediately work, he kissed each bicep, and he flexed each pec in turn.
And again, or rather still, he bestowed his arrogant gaze upon Desmond, who shrugged.
“Hmmm… Nice…” Desmond pretended to ponder it — Raython was a jerk, but Desmond did want to taste every part of his body. The college school year had only just begun, so a lot of new niggas were coming in this way. Desmond’s barbershop was the closest black barbershop to the GHU campus. It sometimes took awhile for the black men from away to discover where to get their haircut, but they inevitably came a-calling, and Raython was no different. Plenty of them probably had Cityside Barbershops back in their home ‘hoods. Most likely they all did. Most inner-city neighborhoods had a Cityside Barbershop, and most of those locations had a barber like Desmond, a small twink with a smooth, hairless body, a girlish shape and a willingness to service the alphas, thugs and jocks who came by to get their hair cut and their needs serviced. Raython had an expectant face on. Desmond’s hand roamed over Raython’s solid pectoral muscle, which throbbed beneath his touch. Raython smiled, flashing those dimples. Raython picked up Desmond’s hand and kissed it like a proposing prince.
Raython leaned forward and kissed Desmond on the earlobe, making Desmond’s taut twink body shudder with anticipation. His lips stayed on Desmond’s sensitive skin, and Raython gently nibbled the earlobe. That made Desmond suck back a howl of desire. Raython’s muscles rippled and exuded heat behind him. Raython chuckled, his voice smooth and dry as a wind-swept rock, and he whispered in Desmond’s ear. “You can pretend all you want, but I know you want my dick. I can see it in yo’ eyes.”
He picked Desmond up in his powerful running-back arms and carried him into the backroom. Once they actually got past the door, it wasn’t realistic to carry him like that — the corridor was lined with shelves and was too narrow. So he hefted Desmond up over his bare shoulder like a sac of flour. Desmond squealed, and he clutched Raython’s powerful shoulders to stay on his back.
They went to the back storage area, which had a little more space. Raython put Desmond down and pulled a clipboard out of his bag. Desmond was dizzy. He kept his grip on Raython’s body for support, his hands slipping under Raython’s pants to tease his juicy asscheeks.
“Yo, uh… You gotta sign this.” Raython handed over the clipboard as Desmond goosed his ass, which Raython ignored.
“What?” This was the part Desmond knew about — he’d been in this area for awhile, and he knew about the Kappa Kappa Pi initiation procedures — but he didn’t let on that he was already aware of what was going on. He read the paper on the clipboard like he had no idea what it said.
The gist of it was that Raython had signed a bet regarding his skill at throwing a football, there was more football jargon involved, but Desmond skipped over it. The upshot of the bet was that some cheerleader was gonna fuck him in the locker room. The downside of the bet was that Raython had to cornhole “the man of his choosing, with light foreplay and a reacharound” — the document was written in some no-doubt weed-induced late-night fit of semi-serious pseudo-legalistic wording — if he lost.
As had come to happen, Raython had lost. He probably fucked the cheerleader in the locker room anyway. Desmond certainly would, if he were Raython or if he were a cheerleader.
“So you have to cornhole me ‘with light foreplay and a reacharound’? And I have to sign this thing, since none of your teammates wanted to come watch to verify it?”
Raython flashed his dimples again and shrugged. “Yep, that’s it. No big deal. They thought I’d be upset about it or some shit. I ain’t.”
“Have you ever done it before?”
“Nah, nigga. I got girls,” Raython said as though that should have been obvious. “I got females beatin’ down doors to get they mouths on my meat. Swear to God. White girls. Nice white girls.”
“So what counts as ‘light foreplay’?”
Raython groaned. “That’s, uh… up to you. But you can’t put nothin’ in my asshole. No way. And I ain’t putting my mouth on yo’ dick, nosirree. But that’s, you know… you can do basically anything else.”
“Hmm-“
“And no fingerin’ nothing — you can grope, but no fingers, and no, you know… No doin’ nothin’ gross. No peepee. None of that nasty-nasty, you know, like prison booty bandit shit. I ain’t no nigga’s fool,” Raython said. “I keep a firm veto. But you can do whatevuh.”
“I see… You said I can’t put nothin’ in your asshole, but does that include my tongue?”
Raython chuckled. His eyes opened wide. “No. That’s fine. You can do that. Rimjobs is fine.” He paused. “That ain’t ‘light foreplay’ though, nigga. That’s heavy. Medium at least. Girls don’t do rimjobs as foreplay.”
“Girls are dumb as donuts,” Desmond said. “And I don’t do light foreplay.” He licked his lips. “I start at a heavy medium.” He stepped forward and planted his lips on Raython’s. Raython jerked and stiffened, his muscles all flexing. He stood up straight, requiring Desmond to jump up and mount his muscular torso to keep his mouth on Raython’s.
That was not a problem for Desmond, who enjoyed climbing up Raython’s powerful body. The more Desmond wrapped his body around Raython’s torso, the stiffer Raython was and the more Desmond had to climb all over him in order to kiss him on the lips. Raython bristled, and he scrunched his eyes up, but he didn’t make Desmond stop.
Raython stood straight up like a statue. He didn’t kiss Desmond back either. Desmond gripped his shoulders and wrapped his feet around Raython’s chest. His tongue plunged into Raython’s mouth. Still, Raython just submitted as though he was paying attention to something else, like this kiss was a purely physical exercise of no more importance the bicep curls he no doubt performed daily in front of a mirror. His arms stiffly dangled at his side.
“Kiss me back. That’s part of foreplay,” Desmond said. He licked his lips. “That’s not how you kiss a girl, is it?”
“Nah, nigga.”
“Then kiss me properly.” Desmond kissed Raython on the neck with enough fervor to possibly leave a hickey, which was enough to get Raython to react.
Raython wrinkled his nose and nodded. He planted his tongue in Desmond’s mouth. He was actually an excellent kisser, Desmond was surprised because very handsome men were often bad kissers in general and were almost always bad kissers when Desmond got his lips on them, they got enough girls that they weren’t used to pretending to be passionate when they were not. Raython, however, kissed like he had been waiting for this moment.
No wonder all the girls on campus loved him. Desmond had no proof that was true, but he was certain it was.
Desmond lost himself in Raython’s arms and his mouth. Raython finally gripped Desmond’s back and ass with his hands, supporting him so Desmond could focus on kissing him. His strong hands dug into Desmond’s perky asscheeks, making Desmond wonder if he held onto girls’s asses so firmly. Desmond hoped so. That was exactly how he liked to be treated.
Eventually Raython gently pulled away. He licked his teeth with a cocky sneer on his face. “You kiss like a girl,” he said.
“And you kiss like a man. You’ve never done this before?” Desmond asked.
“Nope.” He put Desmond on the ground and turned around. He put both hands on the wall as though he was being arrested. He jutted his ass out.
Desmond pulled his pants down, baring that plump brown ass. It was perfectly round, soft and firm at the same time, with just a bit of hair on the crack. Desmond kissed each cheek, making them jiggle. Despite being cooped up in his pants until moments ago, his skin tasted clean and fresh.
A groan came from Raython, who spread his legs like he was expecting to be searched. Or maybe he just really liked Desmond kissing, licking and slurping on his asscheeks and didn’t want to show it, so he covered up his moan of desire with that annoyed groan. His looping, arching back muscles all flexed at once above Desmond’s head.
“You’re a lot more comfortable with this than I expected,” Desmond said. He spread Raython’s ass and dove his tongue right in. Raython’s hole was tight, and Raython yelped when Desmond’s tongue entered it. Even this deep in his ass, Raython tasted very clean, he must have scrubbed up right before coming here. He tasted of cologne, cocoa butter and soap, like a fancy girlish soap with flowers and fruit in it.
“My brother got a nigga…” His voice trailed off like he hadn’t meant to share this, but was distracted by the pleasure in his ass. “I mean…” Raython said, mumbling as he endured Desmond’s rimjob. Desmond giggled, glad to get Raython nervous again. He was just so arrogant and handsome that Desmond felt a deep, abiding urge to make him nervous.
Desmond rammed his tongue in deep. He used a finger to tease the rim, and Raython didn’t complain. Desmond didn’t actually push his finger in, since Raython had said only his tongue was allowed, but Desmond did rub his asscrack and the edge of his hole with one delicate pinkie finger. Raython’s voice rumbled like he was thinking about finishing his story about his brother’s nigga, but then all that came out was another simmering groan. Raython jutted his ass back, giving Desmond better access to lap at his butthole.
“Your brother has a nigga?” As soon as Desmond said that, he jammed his tongue in and aimed it right for Raython’s prostate. He slapped his tongue at it, making Raython’s whole body ripple as pleasure coursed through him.
“He-eeeeee…” Raython tried to answer, but when Desmond’s tongue got deep in there, his words turned into a meaningless moan, as he was unable now to hide how good this felt. Raython even lifted one of his feet like a dog getting scratched in a sensitive spot. Raython’s knees buckled and he almost fell over. “Fuckin’ hell, man… When girls lick my asshole, it ain’t like this…”
“Girls probably lick your ass, not inside your asshole. Girls don’t lick prostates,” Desmond said. “Or at least, not the kind of girls you’d go for.” He smirked and did it again. This time Raython moaned and grunted so passionately his knees did buckle. Raython went down to the ground on all fours, his ass high in the air to give Desmond easy access to it. Desmond ran his tongue all the way from Raython’s taint to the small of his back.
“Yeah… Damn…” Raython said. He cleared his throat and chuckled. “Shit… Okay, swallow my dick now, damn.”
He got up on his feet again, and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes. Once again, that arrogant jock look was back. His fat cock was rock-hard — he must have really enjoyed that rimjob — and it twitched, visibly on the verge of spewing precum. Its twitches were synced with the rippling and flexing of Raython’s broad chest.
Raython opened his eyes when he realized Desmond hadn’t started yet. He touched his dick, then let go, then touched it again, then let go, and his hands fluttered in the air above Desmond’s head.
“And I’m just supposed to kneel on the concrete?” Desmond asked. He pointed to a pile of blankets on one of the shelves. “Make a little bed for us.”
“Man, I was just on all fours, I ain’t complain…” Raython rolled his eyes and sighed like a kid being told to clean his room, but he did what he was told. He got the blankets down and spread them over the floor. He even added a small pillow for Desmond’s knees. Then he laid down on his back at Desmond’s direction. “Man… We ain’t makin’ love, nigga. Like my brother.”
“What? Tell me about yo’ brother.”
“I ain’t s’posed to say nothin’. No snitchin’, y’know.”
“Your brother’s carrying on with a cop?!”
“No!”
“Then it’s not snitching, technically-“
“What do you know about snitching? You ain’t a gangsta? You a sissy.”
Desmond stopped with Raython’s cock in his hand, the spongy tip rubbing over Desmond’s lips. Desmond wasn’t really upset about being called a sissy. If you worked in a Cityside Barbershop and specialized in jacking off guys, it happened a lot. Desmond wasn’t worried about it. But Raython was a well-spoken and articulate young man in college, he should have known better. And besides that, Desmond thought he could get something more out of him if he made a big deal out of it.
“Donchu call me a sissy-“
“What? You is a…” Raython looked at his dick, throbbing in Desmond’s hand, and he flexed his hips to fuck Desmond’s hand, like he was only slowly figuring out why he didn’t feel Desmond’s mouth on his cock. “You’re mad?”
“You still haven’t told me about your brother and his nigga,” Desmond said. “Now I really wanna know,” Desmond said. He mounted Raython’s crotch and jousted his cock with Raython’s. Raython had a hefty piece of meat, but Desmond’s was substantially thicker. Raython wrinkled his nose like he was disappointed at the sight, and then he wrinkled it even harder when their precum mixed on his shaft. Desmond played with both dicks with one hand, while his other hand massaged Raython’s chest. “If you’re gonna call me names, we might have to move that foreplay up to ‘severe’.”
“Man…”
“I’m gonna keep jousting with you until you tell me what you were gonna say about your brother-“
He snapped, “My brother just got a nigga, okay? When he got outta lockup a couple years ago, he found some sissy dude. He brought him over. He live in my mom’s garage now. He rams his… He rans his ass all the damn time, man. He say it’s how real niggas is. He says thugs should have a couple females and one male. He out there in the garage goin’ at it, nigga. He do ram that boy so hard he knock shit off the walls in the house, man. Don’t you tell no one. He said I can’t spread it around. He said a man should have a couple females and one man but he should keep all but one female a secret. He ain’t keep his females a secret though. Or even his man really. Fuckin’ pansy-ass sissy… man.” His voice trailed off as Desmond swallowed his dick, just the tip at first but Desmond slathered his tongue upon it, and he choked up mouthloads of spit that ran down the shaft. Raython groaned and sighed, muscles relaxing now that he was being serviced again.
Desmond deep-throated him until his nose nestled in Raython’s hairy pubic bush. Desmond kneeled next to Raython, perpendicular to him. But as he kept working on Raython’s meat, he gradually spooned Raython until his cock was rubbing against Raython’s firm bicep. Raython either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Desmond’s precum smeared over his tattooed arms.
Precum flowed down Desmond’s throat, the bright salty flavor assaulting Desmond’s senses as Raython let out a rumbling roar of arousal. Raython gripped Desmond by the ear, guiding his head up and down at a slow but accelerating pace. He sucked on his lips and inhaled sharply as he did, like he had never felt this good. Desmond was proud of himself — that was his specialty, after all, he could make any man beg for more.
Eventually tears welled up in Desmond’s eyes, and he had to take a break to breathe. He gasped for air, stroking Raython’s dick furiously with both hands, while thick tendrils of spit connected Desmond’s face to Raython’s shaft.
“Holy fuck…” Raython moaned. “Shit… Why don’t girls do it like that?”
“Ugly girls do,” Desmond said. “Pretty girls don’t need to impress you with skill.” He giggled and massaged Raython’s chest before resuming his deep-throating. This time he openly humped Raython’s arm as he did. Raython still pretended he didn’t notice, even when Desmond’s dick smeared precum over his bicep, tricep and forearm, and Desmond even humped his armpit til it was greasy with precum.
Eventually Desmond was ready to move on, lest he blow his wad too early. He licked a trail from Raython’s cocktip to his root, then up his muscular chest. He nuzzled Raython’s neck, while Desmond’s bare cock spewed precum on Raython’s side, jetting it up to his ribs and all over his asscheek. Raython’s pecs flexed, one after the other.
“Wait… Are you gonna kiss me on the lips? You’ll taste like cock…”
“Does your brother kiss his man?”
“Yeah… He does nasty shit wit’ him. He says he only tops, but… I seen ‘im in there makin’ out and shit. Is that…?”
“Don’t worry, Raython. Don’t be so worked up about technicalities,” Desmond said. He kissed Raython on the lips again. This time, Raython was hesitant, especially when Desmond’s hard cock again pressed against Raython’s. Their precums mixed.
Raython was so focused on the kiss that he was surprised when Desmond sat down on his rod. His cock slid easily into Desmond’s ass. Desmond mounted him, facing him at first, but when Raython winced, Desmond knew that wasn’t going to work — Raython had to give a reacharound, but he wouldn’t do it if he had to watch as Desmond shot his load onto Raython’s face and chest. So Desmond had to ride him in a reverse-cowgirl position, facing Raython’s feet.
His ass hurt a little as Raython’s cock slipped in, but that lasted only a moment. His manhood throbbed and awakened a tingling sensation in Desmond’s asshole. Desmond winced and struggled to stretch himself open enough gradually he worked more and more of Raython’s meat into his ass. Each inch stretching into him sent a new wave of sensatiosn through Desmond’s body.
“Alright, nigga…” His hand hesitatingly closed around Desmond’s dick, which throbbed beneath his fingers.
Desmond giggled. He so rarely got a reacharound, it was always hot when it happened. He lifted his ass up and down, impaling himself on Raython’s cock while Raython began to stroke his rod. Raython’s thick hands wrapped around Desmond’s cock, which he didn’t need to handle much because Desmond was moving.
It was an awkward handjob, both because Raython was unpracticed and because he wasn’t watching himself. He didn’t want to see his hand wrapped around another man’s cock.
“Does your brother give his man a reacharound?”
Raython murmured, “Yeah, nigga. I think so. He eats his cum,” Raython said. “You can’t tell no one that. Tell everyone I gave you a shitty reacharound too.”
“It is a shitty reacharound.”
“Really?” Raython sounded like he had never been criticized. To his credit, he tried. He sped up his stroking and even used his other hand, holding onto the base of Desmond’s cock and teasing his balls with a gentle touch.
“That’s better, thanks,” Desmond said. Then he threw his head back and moaned. He lowered his shoulders until he rested on Raython’s chest. He turned his head to the side and licked the sweat off Raython’s nipples as he squirmed atop his cock.
At last both men reached orgasm at much the same time. Desmond used all of the focus at his disposal to delay himself until he felt Raython’s rod spray his nut deep into Desmond’s ass. It was a thick, hot load that coated Desmond’s prostate in creamy goodness. It flowed into him in spurts, and each time Raython’s whole body gyrated, his massive muscles all flexing at once, swallowing Desmond up in his arms while filling him up with jizz.
Desmond shot his nut onto his own chest and belly, not to mention Raython’s hands. Raython groaned with the power of his own orgasm — and no doubt a little disgust at the cum dripping from his fingers. Desmond’s load spurted into the concrete floor, while Raython jetted burst after burst of cum inside him.
As soon as he was done, Desmond scooted up on Raython’s chest. He kissed him again on the lips. His body was especially hot right now, its heat seeping into Desmond’s flesh. Desmond wanted to curl up on his chest and sleep there like a cat.
But when Raython felt he had kissed him a reasonable amount, he gently deposited Desmond onto the blanketed floor. Then he jumped up and jogged in place for a minute.
“Alright, nigga, sign that shit. We went well beyond ‘light foreplay’. Don’t put that on there, just sign it,” he said. He sighed. “You best not tell no one ’bout my brother. Or ’bout me. Or ’bout nothin’ at all. Just keep yo’ mouth shut till I come back to fill it again.” He laughed his cocky laugh and wagged his dick between his cum-dripping fingers.
“Okay, sure.” Desmond was too tired now to keep teasing him. He signed the paper.
“You got a shower in this place? Or at least a sink? You can watch me shower,” Raython said with a wink. “I know you want to.”

Reacharound From an Aryan

Zach had to join an Aryan gang in prison, and now that he’s released, his only option is to move in with his hulking gangmate Tower. But it turns out sharing a bed with someone like Tower can result in a touch-filled night of man-on-man action! Can Zach succeed in satisfying Tower’s needs?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When Zach Waters joined the Aryan Way in prison, he was surprised at how low-key it was. Aryan prison gangs in the movies were always full of muscular skinheads bristling with tattoos and machismo, always on the verge of beating someone to death, so he assumed that was an accurate depiction of them.
But they were very relaxed. They encouraged him to shave his head and get tattoos but didn’t require it. He thought they might make him do something terrible like kill someone. But they never required anything from him except a few minor chores, mainly acting as a lookout while they ran a craps game. Zach got through his nine month sentence without any traumatic experiences. The worst thing was that he was responsible for losing a volleyball game against a mafia gang, and all of his fellow Aryans were given one free punch to punish Zach for his error. They mostly held back their punches, so it hurt, but it wasn’t agonizing and he didn’t have to go to the infirmary afterwards.
Zach had been so focused on getting through prison without being stabbed that he gave very little thought to what he’d do on the outside. That meant that when he was finally released, he needed to make a plan in a hurry.
And the easiest plan was to move in with Tower — Leopold Sales was his real name. Tower had been one of the Aryan Way’s main commanders behind bars. He was big and muscular, a porcelain-skinned marble-hard giant of a man with a carved body and crude Nazi tattoos covering his flesh. He had been released the same day as Zach. They were the only two white inmates to walk out of the state prison that day.
“You wanna stay with me?” Tower asked on the bus as they rode away from the prison. Zach had come to trust Tower well enough, so he said yes. He’d lived in the same cell block as Tower for nine months in prison. It seemed like no big deal to move in with him on the outside too.
It was only at that point, when Zach moved in, that he was required to shave his head and get an iron cross tattoo on his back. Tower said that he needed to adopt the uniform of his new tribe, and Zach had felt like an Aryan skinhead for so long that he didn’t complain.
He simply submitted that night to Tower shaving his head and drawing the iron cross to be tattooed at a later date. Only one tattoo shop in town would do white supremacist tattoos, so they had to wait for an opening. Zach was glad because he was in no hurry to get any tattoos, much less a nazi one.
“We’s skinmates now, brothah,” Tower said when he was done. He had a rough, ragged voice with an oddly black accent.
Before night fell, Zach’s sensitive skin tingled on his now-bare scalp. His head was so cold he shivered even in the warm night air.
He kept rubbing his bare head as he tried to sleep. When Tower had offered him a place to stay, Zach assumed he’d be sleeping on a couch somewhere. But Tower had a “safehouse” set up — it was just a ramshackle old shotgun-house outside of the city, with little furniture and not even a working refrigerator (there was a broken one, which kept cold things cold for awhile just because it was so well-insulated). The walls were stained with who-knew-what fluids. It looked like a crackhouse or an abandoned meth lab, but Zach didn’t want to ask what it was.
But Zach didn’t have a lot of choices, so he settled in and allowed Tower to shave his head. Then Tower presented him with drawings of several iron cross designs to choose from when he got an appointment with the tattooist.
The most pressing problem, however, was not the tattoo. The most worrisome factor was that there was just one bed. It was a double-sized mattress laying on the floor, no sheets or bedspread, just one ratty old blanket.
Zach had assumed he was going to sleep on the floor, and Tower would take the bed, but when Tower decreed it lights-out at nine o’clock, Tower motioned for him to get on the mattress. Zach did so, wincing and shrinking back as Tower brushed his teeth and showered.
And then Tower joined him on the busted old mattress.
“You scared of me or what?” Tower asked when Zach scooted away from. The thickness and firmness of Tower’s body made him seem so huge next to him.
“No, I mean… I trust you. It’s just…” Zach gulped.
“Then shut the fuck up. We been showerin’ togethuh for months, Zachary,” Tower said. He wrapped one powerful arm around Zach’s body, meaning Zach got a faceful of his armpit hair. Zach hated the name Zachary, but Tower had been calling him that since they left prison. “Don’t tell me you gettin’ squeamish now.”
“No.”
“Good. It’s a war, y’know, even out here. You probly just thought the Aryan Way was about prison, but that ain’t right. The war extends everywhere. We gotta fight, man, we gotta keep the struggle going. That means we spend our time and money winning, not buying extra beds or worrying about touching each other’s cocks,” Tower said.
“Oh. Okay. That, uh, makes sense,” Zach said. He never bought into any of that stuff about race war. He didn’t want a race war. He had only joined the Aryan Way for protection in prison and, now, outside of it.
“You know, in prison, we gotta protect ourselves from deviance,” Tower said. “That’s why we don’t allow nobody in if they get penetrated by a colored man.”
“Yeah.”
“But that ain’t a problem out here, where we don’t gotta get involved in no colored man,” Tower said. He lay on his side now, so close Zach could feel his body heat and his breath condensing on Zach’s cheek. The warmth of his heft cock was palpable too.
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Out here, we see women all the time, don’t we? You saw that slut walking down the street earlier, right?”
“Yeah.” Zach felt nervous, and excited, about where this was going. Tower had pointed out the girl a few hours before. She was stunningly gorgeous, dressed like a cheap whore. She was Latina, and Tower had spewed out a litany of abuse, which she luckily was too far away to hear.
“So we get tempted a lot, right? But we can’t be distracted by females. It’s their virtue we fight this war for,” he said. “Fine white European virtue. Hmm-hmm.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now that we ain’t in prison, Zachary, we ain’t gotta worry about the feds. But we do gotta worry about females distractin’ us from what’s proper.”
“Okay.”
“So how you wanna do that?”
Zach squirmed as Tower placed one meaty hand on Zach’s chest. He just rested it there at first, then slowly rubbed the smooth flesh. Zach shook with anxiety, dick throbbing as he realized what was happening. Zach murmured, “What, uh… what do you mean?”
“I mean, Zachary, that I want to get my nut off tonight,” Tower said. “Don’t worry, I won’t ramrod ya. I ain’t ramrod ya in prison, did I? I coulda. I ain’t want to, cuz I knew you would say no and I’d hafta force it. But out here, if you let me in that ass, I’ll give you a reacharound and won’t nobody be around to know you did it.” His hand crept under that blanket and grabbed Zachary’s dick. It was felt small to Zachary, but that didn’t slow Tower down at all. He gave its limp shaft a few strokes. “Sssh, Zachary… Relax, okay?”
“Well…” Zach sucked in his breath
“It’s okay. I won’t tell no one. Everyone in the Aryan Way does this, y’know,” he said. “It ain’t a big deal. I won’t bring it up ever again.”
“I mean… I guess so,” Zach said, his heart thumping.
“Oh, thank you, my man, this means a lot to me,” Tower said. He leaned down and kissed Zach on the cheek, much to Zach’s shock. Then before Zach could even respond to that, Tower straddled his chest. Tower was a good foot and a half taller than Zach and at least a hundred pounds heavier — a hundred pounds of solid muscle, shaved smooth and inked with amateur prison tattoos.
He had on a disintegrating pair of cheap, gauzy prison underwear, which he dropped as soon as his crotch was in front of Zach’s face. He had a massive cock — Zach had noticed that in the prison shower — which he flopped between his fingers. He wiped it across Zach’s lips and laughed at Zach’s gagging.
When Zach opened his mouth, Tower shoved it right in. It was already growing hard, as Tower’s prison-starved horniness took over. It tasted like sweat, Zach thought. Tower’s cock was salty and sour, and it brought tears to Zach’s eyes. He gagged to cover up a moan when that fat manhood pushed into the back of his throat.
Tower let out a chest-rattling moan, a sound midway between a grunt and a roar, but low and rumbling. The sound itself made Zach gag again because he could not only hear it in his ears, he could feel it in the throbbing of the cockmeat in his mouth. He was surprised to find his own cock had swelled to full erection.
“Oh damn, you’s a good skinmate, man,” Tower said. He sounded genuinely grateful. His massive pecs flexed. “Sssh, sssh, skinmate. That’s what we call Aryan brothers who spent time in prison together. Skinmate. You’re my skinmate, Zachary,” he said over and over, as though Zach was trying to say anything, or could have with Tower’s cock overflowing from his mouth.
Tower grabbed one of Zach’s hands and brought it up to Tower’s chest. He was a truly massive man, broad as a motorcycle, and each of his pecs felt like an overinflated basketball beneath his tight skin. He placed Zach’s hand on his nipple.
That seemed like too much, Zach thought — was he expected to play with Tower’s nipples? Surely Tower wouldn’t allow that. But then, he thought, Tower had kissed him on the face. Indeed, Tower had Zach play with his nipple, which grew hard beneath his grasp. Zach had never felt such a solid breast, with all the hardness of prison-sculpted muscle rather than the meaty goodness of a female tit.
Tower groaned again as he leaned forward. He grabbed the wall behind the mattress for support, and he began humping his hips forward. He throated Zach like that for what felt like an eternity.
The sour flavor of precum assaulted Zach’s senses. He guzzled it down and sputtered as Tower worked his dick deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hips.
“Yeah, you’s a good soldier in the race war, Zachary,” Tower said. He guided Zach’s other hand to Tower’s other nipple, which made Zach choke all over again. He could barely reach those mountainous pecs, which bristled with so much power that Zach felt like a weakling in comparison. “Spit up a little, okay?”
Zach didn’t even quite comprehend those words, but Tower had such an authoritarian vibe and he had been giving Zach orders for so long that Zach did as he was told without thinking about it. He let a big ball of spit roll down Tower’s shaft and collect in his thick nest of pubic hair.
“Good… Now gimme a finger,” Tower said. He grabbed one of Zach’s hands and slowly lowered it. “You remember what I said about this being a secret, right? That’s a secret that runs both ways. You gotta keep yo’ mouth shut too — I mean, shut once yo’s mouth is done workin’ on my dick.”
Zach nodded, the motion reawakening his gag reflex all over again. Tower’s dick was so moist now it made loud crackling sounds as it pushed down his throat, his balls dripping with wetness when they slapped against Zach’s chin.
Much to Zach’s surprise, Tower led his hand around to his ass. He had a thick, plump pair of cheeks, the flesh of which was cold and solid, like overset jello. Zach’s hand disappeared between those cheeks, and Tower separated his pinkie finger from the others.
The idea of fingering a giant alpha male Aryan like Tower was so unthinkable that Zach assumed he had some other plan, right up until his pinkie disappeared into Tower’s ass, guided by Tower’s own hand. It was so tight that Zach couldn’t get it in any farther than the first knuckle, but that was enough for Tower’s whole body to buck and squirm. His dick spasmed in Zach’s mouth.
“Yeah, Zachary, you know how to treat a skinmate right…”
Zach had barely inserted his pinkie a few times before Tower groaned as though he was orgasming. He bent his head back and slammed his dick all the way down Zach’s throat.
Tower’s voice was pinched and tight, like he experienced intense pain from the pinkie in his ass but still was overwhelmed by orgasmic pleasure. His dick pulsated in Zach’s throat, and Zach realized he was about to cum as the man’s balls lifted up in their sac.
“Hey, Zachary, I’m gonna blow my nut in a minute,” he said softly. He grunted a few times before continuing. “You gonna taste it. I know this is humiliatin’ for you, and I’m sorry to ask you to do this. It ain’t right. This is my fault, okay? I’ll get forgiveness fo’ it. You ain’t got nothin’ to feel bad about. You just showin’ respect for a man who’s been helpin’ you out since you got locked up. Okay?”
Then cum began to flow down Zach’s gullet. He savored the taste even as he choked on its sourness, the sticky texture coating his insides and flowing into his belly. He felt its warmth settling inside his roiling stomach.
“I know I promised you a reacharound when I ram you,” Tower said softly, breathing heavily as he finished his orgasm. His asshole clenched around Zach’s finger. “I’m still gonna do that. I steady nuts twice when I ain’t nut in a long time.”
As his dick stopped spewing cum, Zach thought Tower would pull out of his mouth. But he didn’t. Zach found himself unable to avoid reacting, and he choked again and again. Tower’s dick grew limp and clammy in there, but still he didn’t move.
It wasn’t until he was completely soft and relaxed that Tower pulled his cock out. Zach choked up a big ball of cum and saliva, which landed on the filthy mattress beneath himself. He was bright red from both embarrassment and lack of oxygen.
“You doin’ great, Zachary,” Tower said. He backed his body up just a bit, his sweaty ballsack resting on Zachary’s chest. Tower was breathing heavy too, those powerful pecs now dappled with his sweat. Zachary still tweaked one of his nipples, his other hand still finger-penetrating Tower. “You doin’ real great. And you ain’t actin’ like a new-skin at all. I’d nevuh accuse you of that. You actin’ like a guy showing respec’ to a bigger, stronger man. That’s right. That you fulfillin’ yo’ proper role. You believe me?”
“I dunno, Tower-“
“Hush, keep thinkin’ about it, man. Now take that finger out,” Tower said. He smiled, which was barely visible in the darkened room. He held onto Zach’s hand, keeping the pinkie finger extended as he brought it back to Zach’s face. “Lemme see you suck on that. That’ll get me going again. I wanna watch you taste my ass on yo’ finger, Zachary.”
“Oh god-” Zach said before Tower guided his finger in. He didn’t force it, he just showed it the path and Zach didn’t resist. The sour flavor of Tower’s asshole assaulted Zach’s senses as his finger entered past his lips. It tasted of ass-sweat and coppery body hair, and Zach’s entire body rumbled as he gagged.
The sight and sound of Zach’s gagging apparently turned Tower on — his limp dick jerked to half-attention as soon as it happened. Zach licked on his own pinkie finger, hoping he didn’t look too excited.
“Alright, I can tell you want this, you ready for it,” Tower said. He gave his own limp dick a stroke, and his body spasmed like it was painful for him. He was covered in sweat, and since his body was so smooth (above the waist at least), he was slippery as he slid behind Zach. He pushed Zach onto his side and settled down on the ratty mattress behind him.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” Zach said, his voice weak and wavering.
“Here, you can bite me if it hurts too bad, Zachary,” he said. He kissed the back of Zach’s head. His forearm was so sweaty that the salt brought tears to Zach’s eyes.
Then that rapidly firming cock pushed into his ass. Zach spasmed as pain erupted within him. He was shocked by how hard it was considering that Tower had just shot a nut a few minutes before. But his dick showed no evidence of that, aside from the smell of saliva it had before inserting itself into Zach’s ass.
Zach moaned again as he tasted sweat and forearm meat, and his ass screamed in pain-cum-pleasure. He felt like he was being torn in two, every nerve crying out with every sensation he could think of. He did scream in pre-orgasmic bliss, his prostate sending waves of pleasure through his body, but the sound was muffled by Tower’s forearm in front of his face. Tower grunted and snuffled like an animal, his sounds sounding impossibly loud because Tower was right in front of Zach’s ear. His chest was so smooth — shaved every other day — that it slid against Zach’s back like a wetwipe on a glass wall.
Tower’s other arm wrapped around Zach’s upper chest, very near his neck, and held him close. It was half-hug and half choke-hold, but not so tight as to impair his breathing. Zach squirmed as pain and pleasure overwhelmed him simultaneously.
When that hand on his chest drifted down, Zach didn’t know what was coming. Even though Tower had said he would give a reacharound, Zach was too engrossed in his own experience to remember that.
Until Tower’s hand actually wrapped around Zach’s dick. In that moment, three things happened at once — first Zach realized Tower was serious about giving him a reacharound. Second, Zach realized with an embarrassed shock that he was rock-hard already, from the stimulation of his prostate. The pain was so intense he hadn’t noticed his erection until Tower touched it. The third thing was that Tower laughed at him.
“You already heard, boy? You wanted this all along, huh?” Tower said. Zach couldn’t form any words because the sensations overwhelming him were too intense. All he could do was bite down hard on Tower’s forearm. Tower sharply inhaled but didn’t complain no matter how hard Zach gnawed on his muscular arm. “I’m gonna ram you hard then, Zachary, since you seem to be enjoyin’ this so much.”
Tower took a deep breath then, and he pounded his dick all the way into Zach’s ass. Zach bit down hard on his forearm, tears welling up in his eyes. Tower groaned loud and began ramming his dick in and out with long powerful thrusts.
His other hand furiously jacked Zach off. He had a well-practiced hand — Zach wondered how often he had given a reacharound — but his fingers were callused from work, from digging with a splintery wooden shovel handle on a prison crew. Despite the rough texture, it felt amazing to Zach, who experienced both agony in his ass and intense pleasure in his crotch.
Zach wished that he didn’t cum so quickly, but once Tower began stroking him off, his orgasm approached and Zach couldn’t resist. He spasmed and squirmed in Tower’s arms, but Tower shushed him and kept going. The thwump-thwump of his balls slapping against Zach’s ass seemed impossibly loud.
“Oh god, Tower…!”
Semen sprayed over Tower’s fingers and all over Zach’s thin chest. Tower laughed as it happened, and Zach squirmed. He gasped, his tongue slathering spit on Tower’s solid forearm. Tower didn’t express pleasure vocally, but Zach sensed it in the rippling of Tower’s polished chest muscles pressing against Zach’s back.
“Taste it, man,” Tower said softly as Zach recovered from the aftershocks of his orgasm, the agony in his ass only growing worse now that he didn’t have pleasure in his cock to distract him. Tower quickly rubbed his hand along Zach’s belly and chest, scooped up all of that cum and then smeared it over Zach’s face. “Taste yo’ nut.”
Zach gagged all over again, feeling like he was swallowing dick once more. He sputtered over the salty flavor, which was more intense now since he tasted it directly on his tongue rather than shot all the way down his throat. His face was covered in his own sticky goo.
Then Tower let out a low groan and stopped moving for a moment, with his dick deep inside Zach. He lifted his dick almost all the way out, and slowly reinserted it, inch by inch. Zach could tell this was it — he felt the cum flowing through the man’s cock as it filled up his ass again.
But he was distracted when it actually happened because Tower kissed him. It was the most shocking part, Zach thought, because it seemed genuinely affectionate. Tower kissed him right on the lips, inserting his tongue into Zach’s mouth and didn’t even mind tasting the semen that still coated Zach’s face.
Cum flowed into Zach’s ass. He was surprised at how big the load was, since Tower had already cum once. It was a torrent of thick, hot juice that trickled into every corner of Zach’s body. There was so much of it that Zach imagined he could taste it all over again.
Then it was all over. Zach didn’t know how long it lasted. He winced and blanched laying there in Tower’s sweaty, tattooed arms, feeling cum flow into him and drip down between his legs.
Finally Tower let his limp dick flop out, which was followed by a leaking flow of jizz. But he stayed right there with his arms around Zach, breathing heavily and letting his hot breath condense on Zach’s cheek. Zach groaned as relief flooded him. His ass had never felt better than it did in the first few seconds before a dull ache appeared within him. He squirmed again, but Tower squeezed him tight.
He kissed Zach again. “Thanks, Zachary,” he said. “That was nice. We’re gonna sleep like this, okay?”
“Uh… okay,” Zach said, mainly because he couldn’t think of a reason to say no, given everything that had already happened between them.
“Good. I promise, from now on, I’ll just ram you once at night, okay? No more double-duty,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll put a swastika on your chest too. We’ll get some guns. We got big plans, Zachary,” he said. “Tomorrow, we start gettin’ shit done.”
Zach’s heart pounded. He nodded, but didn’t say anything. He really needed to find a different place to live. While he enjoyed getting rammed by Tower, he didn’t want to use guns for any plan that Tower might come up with. It wasn’t worth the risk.
He lightly patted Zach on the cheek. “Don’t worry. As long as we’re together, it’ll be okay. You’re gonna take so much cock, boy, you gonna feel like a chicken coop soon. You’ll learn to love it. And we’ll have money from robbing Mexicans, we won’t be poor for long.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Ssh, now go to sleep. If you want, you can wake me up with a handjob. I love that,” Tower said. He nuzzled the back of Zach’s head as he settled in to sleep. His sweaty chest still pressed against Zach’s back.
Zach sighed and closed his eyes. All he could think about was the limp dick throbbing between his asscheeks, the stone-hard pecs and nipples rubbing against his shoulderblades and where else he might live.
For now though, he didn’t have any better options than to fall asleep in the man’s Aryan-tattooed muscles…