black men – Page 2 – Mansploitation

The Fullback

Malachi is a football fullback… and a Jew on Christmas! So when Avery runs into him at a Chinese restaurant, he’s eager to swing on Malachi’s massive alpha male meat. Can Malachi perform on Hanukkah?

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Avery enjoyed traveling during the holidays. He found it exciting, and he always met strange people and got into strange situations. He had gone to a Christmas Eve party for his extended family out in Florida and was heading back home to Sacramento. He decided to drive so that he could spend some time without his sister and her daughters — Avery lived with his sister’s family, whom he loved very much but occasionally needed a break from. They took a plane back to California. Avery rented a car and had one glorious week without the Frozen soundtrack dominating his life.
Let it go! Let it go! Let it goooooooo!
Avery was ready to let Frozen go. He was utterly sick of it. He drove west from Florida through Texas just so he wouldn’t have to see a lick of snow because he thought it would remind him of that movie, which he had positively adored when he first saw it. He dressed up as Elsa for Halloween. His nieces thought it was hilarious.
But his nieces performed the music from that movie (or really just that one song) so many times he would have gladly strangled every single character if he could. He would have supported a Constitutional amendment banning the song. He had even considered stealing his nieces’s copy of the movie (but they’d just buy it again). He was completely and utterly sick of it.
He awoke on Christmas Day in a cheap motel. Avery had hoped he might get a little excitement on this trip, and this motel seemed like a perfect opportunity. These sorts of cheesy motels in nowheresville — Hampton, Mississippi, in this case — were often crawling with muscular men who would gladly let someone like Avery service them.
But it seemed all the good ones were at home with mom, no doubt overeating cheesy gratins and dry turkey. Avery was disappointed. There was a tubby black guy in the room next door and an elderly white man down the hall. The motel clerk was fat and slovenly. Two tired-looking women shared another room. There was a nerdy fellow who looked almost cute, but he disappeared anyway, and Avery didn’t see him again.
So he just went out to dinner by himself. The only restaurant open on Christmas Day was the Chinese dive across the street from the motel. Avery intended to get some takeout fried rice and eat it while watching something arousing on TV — he wasn’t sure if there would be anything arousing on TV right now, but he wasn’t about to watch some Christmas special.
However, when he went into the restaurant, there was another patron there who sent all of Avery’s plans out the window.
The young man was tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, white but very swarthy. He had a curly mess of black hair, tangled and akimbo atop his head. He snorted as he shoveled rice into his mouth. He wore one of those little half-shirts that football players wore at practice, along with loose-fitting track pants. He didn’t seem to notice Avery. Nothing made him look up from that bowl of rice, except the pretty Chinese waitress who brought him a refill of ice-cold Coke.
Avery got his fried rice and sat down across from the young man, who furrowed his brow at him. “Sorry,” Avery said. “Is it okay if I sit here? No one else is really out today, but I hate eating alone.”
He shrugged. He looked uncomfortable, but he nodded, so Avery sat down. Avery introduced himself, and the man said he was Malachi.
“You a Jew?” Malachi asked.
Avery shook his head. “Nope. My family’s just doing a… well, it’s kinda complicated. My sister did a Christmas dinner at our parent’s house on Christmas Eve, and we’re doing… Nevermind, it’s not that interesting. I’m just celebrating Christmas like three different times this year, none of them on Christmas Day.”
“Oh.”
“You’re Jewish?”
He nodded. He spoke with a mouth full of rice. “You know what Samoans is?”
“Samoans? The people? They’re… people. From Samoa.”
“Are they Christian?”
“Uh… Yeah, I think so. Maybe. Mainly. I guess some are probably not,” Avery said.
Malachi nodded. He shrugged. “Don’t matter. There’s this Samoan guy… He gets all the chicks. He’s on my football team. I thought he wouldn’t celebrate Christmas. I thought he could get some Jewish chicks and give me one. Girls love him so much, they think his accent is sexy. Then he said he did celebrate Christmas, so he couldn’t be with me. He doesn’t even have a family out here, they’re back in Samoa. Fuckin’ asshole. He just didn’t want to hang out with me. He’s probably got Jewish chicks all over him. Girls fucking love him because of that accent and cuz he’s exotic.” He said that last word with a sneer. “He’s not even, really, I mean, Samoa’s way out there but he’s totally a normal dude. He’s into the fucking Kardashians and shit. When this cheerleader asked him how to cook some traditional Samoan thing, he had to look it up on Wikipedia.” He paused. “He’s got great hair, they like his hair. I’ll give him that one, he does have great hair.”
“Oh, you poor baby.” Avery smiled. “So you’re all alone? You’re the only nonchristian on your team?”
He nodded. “Coach says we have to do everything together, so now that they’re all gone for Christmas, I’ve got jack shit to do.”
“What are you doing for Hanukkah?”
He shrugged. “Nothing really. I’ve got a menorah set up back at my place. My mom’s sending me presents, but I’m not going back home for Hanukkah. Too expensive. I’m from California.”
“Really? Where?”
“Sacramento.”
“That’s where I’m from too,” Avery said.
“Oh. Cool.” Malachi bit his lip. Avery could see the thoughts running through his mind. He wanted to ask for a ride home, but he didn’t want to sound desperate, and he didn’t want to admit he couldn’t afford to pay for gas. Today was the first day of Hanukkah, so they’d get to Sacramento before it was over. Until it was an option, Malachi hadn’t realized how much he missed his family and wanted to see them for the holiday. “That’s cool.”
Avery cleared his throat. Malachi had finished his food, and he eyed Avery’s fried rice hungrily. Avery hadn’t finished it. He offered it to Malachi, whose massive fullback body bristled. He shoveled the last of it into his mouth in about three bites.
“So, uh… Malachi, I could drive you home. I wouldn’t ask you to pay anything in money,” Avery said. “But maybe… we’ll be sharing a motel room, so maybe you could let me have a taste of your cock?”
He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Nevermind. You’re not into it-“
“Wait, what?” His muscles all shook and flexed, rippling up and down his body. “Wait, what? What? What?”
Avery chuckled. He hadn’t meant to make Malachi so nervous. Malachi blushed and stammered. He looked to the Chinese family behind the counter as though they would jump in. They didn’t seem to pay any attention though.
“I just… I think you’re really handsome, and I bet you have a big dick. It’s no big deal. Whatever. Here, let me just give you enough money for a bus ticket,” Avery said.
“No. I’ll do it.” He gulped like he regretted it as soon as he said it. “I’ll do it. We gotta… I gotta call this guy.”
“What?”
“Nevermind. Let’s go,” he said. “Will you buy me some shoes?”
“Wait, what?” Now it was Avery’s turn to repeat that a few times.
“You’ll buy me some new shoes, right? I need sneakers.”
“Oh. Well… Yeah, sure. Okay. No shoe stores are open though. Tomorrow,” Avery said.
“Yeah. Tomorrow.” He seemed ambivalent and nervous about doing this, even though he spoke confidently. His hand trembled when Avery brushed up against it, like he was terrified of accidentally holding hands with Avery. He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything else. His eyes were downcast.
It took Avery an embarrassing amount of time to realize that Malachi wanted him to pay the bill. Avery smiled and did so. He loved paying for men because it always made them nervous and there was nothing alluring than a nervous handsome alpha.
“Did you want me to pay the bill?” Avery asked. “I can treat you.”
Malachi nodded. “Sorry. I’m not a very good Jew.”
The waiter took a long time to finally bring the bill, and Malachi told Avery some long rambling stories about Hanukkahs past. Avery had shockingly little interest in Hanukkah or Jewish holidays in general, but he liked the way Malachi’s big jaw and huge square cheeks worked up and down when he talked. He had a big goofy face like his chest was hollow, and he guzzled from a glass of water like a dying man in a desert.
He had been at his college weight room, Malachi said, that was why he wore his half-shirt and trackpants. He wanted to work out there alone today. He hadn’t even showered afterwards — he said the hot water had been turned off — so he smelled musky and funky, which Avery loved. He had to resist the urge to bury his nose in Malachi’s armpit and sniff.
“I’ll take a shower,” he said when they got back to Avery’s motel room. Malachi gulped and blushed. “Then we can… I dunno, whatever.”
“No. No shower, not yet,” Avery said. “Let’s do the whatever first.”
“Oh god… You’ll definitely buy me shoes, right? Any kind I want?”
Avery furrowed his brow. “What’s your deal with shoes? Is this a trick? I’m not buying like twenty thousand dollar sneakers or something, if that’s what you want.”
“No. They’re like two hundred bucks.”
“That’s fine.”
He took a deep breath. “It’s just… there’s this guy on my team. His name is Raython. It’s a stupid fucking name, and he’s an idiot. I hate him.”
“You hate a lot of your teammates.”
“They’re fucking assholes, every single one of ’em,” he said with a snarl. “Raython is always braggin’ cuz he’s got a sugar daddy. When he started bragging about it in September, I thought everyone would call him call him names.”
“A sugar daddy?”
“But no one called him any names about it! He brags about it! Got some old guy who swallows his loads and buys him shoes and clothes and jewelry! This guy bought him a car! A car! And he sold it, like an asshole, so he could buy some designer handbag for this girl. Fuckin’ purse that costs three grand. Everyone on my team thinks he’s like a fucking genius.”
“So you wanna get in on that? You want a sugar daddy of your own?”
“Hell yeah! I’ll show him up. You gotta buy me something else though too. Besides the shoes,” he said. “Maybe something Jewish. Do they sell blinged-out menorahs? No, that’ll look stupid.” He brought out his smartphone. “I’ll find something on Amazon. The WiFi doesn’t work here, does it?”
“It’s been hit or miss all day.”
“Well, I don’t have much data left on my data package. I’ll probably run out soon. I’ll find something quick. You can order it and have it sent to the college athletic department, that way I’ll open it in front of everyone,” he said. He was intently focused on his phone.
Avery at first thought he should let Malachi take a little time to find something he wanted. But then Avery realized that was silly — he had the entire drive to Sacramento to figure it out. It might take that long too. Avery was beginning to think Malachi wasn’t that smart — he hurried to search Amazon because it hadn’t occurred to him that Avery had a phone as well, and Avery could afford a much larger data plan.
Avery didn’t want to distract him with that though, so he didn’t mention it. He just got down on his knees and planted his face between Malachi’s legs. His track pants smelled very sweaty, which made Avery’s dick hard. He must have worn these whenever he worked out, and he either didn’t wash them very often or he had just sweated into them so much that no amount of washing would clean them.
The taste was salty and bitter and astringent, and it tasted so good Avery drooled onto Malachi’s trackpants. Above his head Malachi grunted and grumbled. He looked down with wide-eyed amazement as though he hadn’t thought Avery was serious.
“Damn… Raython said it was easy,” Malachi said. “But it’s weird. It’s not like a girl. Girls don’t… sniff my crotch. Like a dog.” He laughed nervously.
“That’s cuz girls don’t know what’s good,” Avery said. He smiled and stroked Malachi’s dick through his pants. It was hard almost right away — Malachi had that youthful vigor still, and he got hard at the drop of a hat. Circumcised, of course, but Avery didn’t mind that one bit. It was hefty enough to be meaty in Avery’s hand.
“Shit, my battery’s almost dead too. I don’t know where my charger is,” he said. “Damn it, I’m not gonna have a cell phone all the way back to Sacramento.” Again, it hadn’t occurred to him to ask Avery to buy a new charger for him. Malachi, Avery thought, was a real dumbass. It’s a good thing he’s handsome.
Malachi gasped and his knees buckled when Avery pulled his trackpants down and took his cock out. Once again, Malachi looked shocked that this was happening. He held his cell phone in his hand and tried to keep clicking on it, but he kept getting distracted. “Estimated time remaining: seven minutes,” he said with a chuckle. “I better find something nice in seven minutes. Do you know about black guys? What impresses black guys?”
Slathering spit up and down Malachi’s shaft, Avery didn’t really want to talk. But he felt an obligation to help. “He’ll be more impressed if you aren’t trying to impress him. I thought you wanted girls, not him. What does it matter what he thinks anyway?”
“Cuz he thinks he’s hot shit! He’s some old man’s toy, and he thinks that makes him special! He gets chicks but only because his sugar daddy pays for stuff. He takes ’em out to the theatre, man. Not like a movie, I mean like… musicals and shit.”
“Girls like that-“
“It’s fucked up!” Malachi threw his hands in the air.
“Okay, Malachi-“
“He thinks he’s a fucking gigolo, but he’s not. He’s a manwhore. If his sugar daddy wore a colorful suit, Raython would be a street-walkin’ rentboy,” Malachi said. He looked down and watched his half-hard dick slip into Avery’s mouth, but he watched with disinterest as though he was so intent on fuming about Raython that he didn’t even notice where his dick was.
Avery decided to just ignore it. Malachi would calm down and focus on his dick when he was ready. Soon enough, his cock did get hard. Malachi moaned and bit his lip. He brought his cell phone back up and looked through it some more. “He thinks he’s hot shit because he’s so popular. I’m popular too. I’ve got six minutes left to find something. What about a couch? No, no matter how expensive that is, Raython won’t care. Jewelry, Raython wears jewelry. But I’m white, I’ll just look weird if I wear jewelry.”
Avery flopped Malachi’s massive dick over his face. He slipped his tongue up Malachi’s body, licking sweat off his belly. His muscles twitched and flexed beneath Avery’s tongue.
“What about a butt-dial? What if I accidentally called Raython while you were here? He could hear you giving me money,” Malachi said. “Nah, he’ll just hang up, he won’t listen. He’s at Christmas with his family.”
Avery sucked on each of his nipples. Malachi still didn’t seem to notice, not even when Avery’s tongue traveled up to his neck. Finally when Avery suckled on his neck hard enough to leave a hickey, Malachi winced and pushed Avery back down.
He chuckled dryly, and a bit nervously. “No, no. Anything above the neck is a kiss, man, and I don’t kiss dudes.”
“Okay,” Avery said. He went back to his knees and sucked the sweat off Malachi’s heavy balls, which tasted clean and salty, like a well-used but just-washed jockstrap. Avery sucked every drop of moisture off, making Malachi groan and shake so hard he put his cell phone down.
Precum flowed down Avery’s throat. He gurgled merrily on it, deep-throating Malachi, who seemed to have at last forgotten about his cell phone. He watched with baited breath as Avery swallowed his entire massive rod. Avery’s throat squeezed around it, and Malachi’s muscles all flexed, then relaxed, then rippled as his whole body undulated. His hands fluttered behind Avery’s head.
“Jesus Christ!” Malachi said with a moan. “Hell, I ain’t know dudes could swallow so deep like that. Fuck…”
Avery giggled at the thought of a Jew exclaiming about Jesus on Christmas, but he didn’t want to stop licking Malachi’s cock, so he didn’t point that out. He nuzzled his nose in Malachi’s dense, kinky pubic hairs, his tongue slithering out to tease his entire shaft.
Ready to move on, Avery pulled off his cock. Malachi gasped. Avery smiled up at him. He pulled out a bottle of lube and worked some onto his ass.
“Ah, shit, down to less than four minutes,” Malachi said, picking his phone back up. “Are black guys impressed by dirtbikes? I know the Texans on my team are always bragging-“
“Malachi, stop asking me questions about black guys,” Avery said. “I’m paying you for your dick. You have to focus on that, at least a little bit.”
“Sorry, okay.” He looked genuinely chagrined. “I just only have three minutes left to find something.”
“You have a whole fucking drive to look it up, Malachi, and you can charge your phone in my car. If you do it good enough, I’ll buy you a Ferrari. I can afford it. You need to focus. No matter what you do, the other guys on your team will think you are a pussy if you do it to impress them,” Avery said.
He paused. “A Ferrari? Really?” He sighed. “I don’t think I can do it that good. Sorry.”
“Black guys are not impressed by humility, Malachi,” Avery said, still gathering his breath from that cock in his throat.. He lifted his well-lubed ass up and twinkled his hole in Malachi’s direction.
Malachi sighed. “I guess you’re right. Raython has to find out about this though. I’m only doing it to show him up,” he said. “But I’ll focus on you now. Okay, okay, I can do this,” Malachi said like he was trying to convince himself. He stroked his cock a few times, aiming a very serious face at Avery’s ass, as though it had displeased him by being attached to a male body. He sighed. He winced as he slipped his dick between Avery’s cheeks. Then he smiled. “It really feels like a woman’s ass. Raython always said, that but I didn’t believe him. I’m glad you’re not hairy.”
Avery was about to tell him again to stop talking about Raython, but then Malachi’s cock slid into his well-lubed ass. Avery grunted. A jolt of pain and intense pressure ran up his spine. They both moaned in sync with each other.
The pain slowly melted away, bit by bit with every thrust of Malachi’s cock inside him. It was replaced by an ever-mounting wave of pleasure, growing stronger each time Malachi got another inch of his massive meat inside him. Each thrust amplified the thrumming pleasure in Avery’s body too, which made him growl and paw and the air in front of his face.
After a few moments of awkward dysrhythmic gyrating, Malachi seemed to get his groove. He grunted and moaned as he moved, his rod ramming all the way in then pulling almost all the way out. Avery’s sensitive rim quivered and stretched to accommodate him.
The feelings ricocheting around in Avery’s body were so intense he couldn’t quite handle them. He tried to make feminine orgasmic sounds, since men always preferred that, but the sensations overwhelming him were too potent to control. He couldn’t do anything more than moan and squirm as he struggled to accept Malachi’s dick. Spasms of bliss wracked Avery’s body.
“God damn, boy, hell, you got a nice ass,” Malachi said.
“Oy vey,” Avery said with a giggle. “You got a nice cock, boy.” He leaned his head back and licked Malachi’s meaty pecs.
Malachi chuckled. “This is really easy. I don’t know why I was nervous. I should have been looking for a sugar daddy a long time ago.”
“Yeah. You should. Tell your teammates. All football jocks should have a sugar daddy,” Avery said. His face was red, his own cock throbbing in his hands as he furiously stroked himself off.
Tendrils of orgasmic pleasure shot through Avery’s body. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, but still moaned so loud he was sure that the tubby guy in the room next door heard. Avery squirmed in Malachi’s powerful arms.
“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” Malachi gasped like he was surprised to orgasm at all. His muscles flexed and stayed tense, which Avery loved — he licked Malachi’s chest while Malachi’s cock throbbed in his ass.
Avery felt the cum flowing through his shaft even before the first few drops of it sprayed into him. Then there was a torrent of hot, sticky fluids flowing through Avery’s body. He let out a long, low groan that made Malachi shudder, the motion of which kept Avery’s orgasm going and sent Avery over the edge. He shot his own load onto the carpeted floor of the hotel room.
But even though Malachi had begun cumming before Avery, Avery still finished first — Malachi had heavy athlete balls and a hefty, testosterone-filled body, so he shot a massive load that matched his manhood. It just kept on coming, flowing into Avery’s body and trickling throughout his innards. His creamy cum coated Avery’s flesh.
Finally Malachi was done. He sighed and pulled out, making Avery twitch as he collapsed onto the bedspread. Malachi chuckled.
“Well, shit…” Malachi said with a deep breath rattling his cavernous chest.
“You have a nice cock…” Avery said dreamily. He wiped that moist shaft clean with a tissue. Malachi watched him do so with a satisfied grin. His chest had re-broken out with fresh sweat, which Avery licked off his taut flesh.
Malachi flopped down on the bed. He picked up his cell phone again, eyeing Avery dourly as he allowed Avery to lick his muscles. He endured it like a man allowing a pet cat to lick him: with a certain amount of bemusement even though he was annoyed by it.
“Huh, the cell phone’s still working. I’ve still got data, a couple bars left,” he said. He shrugged. “It’s a miracle, I guess. What about…?”
“The Ferrari?”
Malachi nodded.
“If you can do me like that at least twice a day till we get to Sacramento, I’ll buy the Ferrari. Do you have a job?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll also pay for your insurance and gas, but only till the end of the school year. Then I’m taking the Ferrari back,” Avery said. “You won’t be able to afford to keep it going anyway.”
Malachi nodded. “Fine. As long as Raython sees it so I can tell him where I got it.”
“Good. And if you need a note from me to prove it to him, I’ll write you a note, sweetie,” he said. He kissed Malachi on the neck. Malachi bristled but allowed it. Avery smiled as he played with Malachi’s limp dick. “Happy Hanukkah. This is going to be a fun road trip.”
“Yeah,” Malachi said. “Happy Hanukkah.”

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!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

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 College Boy

When a college baseball jock’s party loses its chance to buy a keg, Forrest has only one option… to see if Avery will buy it for him in exchange for a swing on his massive meat. Can Forrest perform and Avery provide?

Read it now as an ebook!

Massaging the Baseball Player

When Byron the baseball player needs some good luck, he heads to the massage parlor to see if Avery will rub, lick and worship the luck into Byron’s throbbing alpha male meat!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“Is you into voodoo?”
At first Avery assumed he had misheard that. Why would he be into voodoo? Avery was a white man from right here in New Hampshire. He only recently found out voodoo was a real thing, not just a movie trope.
“Uh… Not really.”
“Oh.” Byron was a quiet young man with a juttingly handsome face accentuated by his ever-present blush. He was a redneck with a Louisiana drawl so thick you could make gumbo out of it. He was short for a baseball player, with broad shoulders that were sunburnt red, the color extending up his neck. He had a military buzz-cut, though he was not in the military, he went to GHU, where he was on the baseball team.
Unfortunately, Avery doubted he would get to touch Byron’s meat, not even here in a massage parlor. He was the kind of shy boy that would never allow that. He was probably a devout Christian (though Avery was surprised to see that he neither wore a crucifix or had any religious tattoos, which Avery would have bet money he had).
His fingers kneaded the tense flesh of Byron’s shoulders, making him groan and squirm as he relaxed. His muscles kept tensing up, then relaxing again.
“So you don’t know nothin’ ‘bout voodoo?”
“No. Sorry. I’m just a masseur.”
“Yeah. I’m from Louisiana.”
“Then it sounds like you should know about voodoo,” Avery said.
Byron chuckled. “Yeah. Guess so.” He rolled over then at Avery’s command, laying on his back. There was a towel over his bare crotch, but Avery could see the bulge of his half-hard cock. Byron had been too shy to get naked in front of Avery. It wasn’t a big towel though. Avery couldn’t tear his eyes away from that bulge.
“Are you… worried about voodoo?”
“No. Well, yes. Sorta,” he said. “I gots a game this weekend. A real ‘portant one, reckon. It’s a tournament game, and there’s gunna be MLB scouts. The Orioles, man. Orioles.”
“Oh yeah, cool. Good luck.”
“Yeah, thanks. I need luck, I do.”
It sounded like he was going to add something. Avery was quiet for a moment to give him a chance, but then Byron fell silent. Avery worked on his taut pecs, which rippled beneath his touch. Byron must have been working up to something, Avery thought, because he was holding his breath. Avery waited until it was clear Byron wasn’t gonna come out with whatever he wanted to say. Then Avery said, “I don’t have any luck to give you-“
“I know, I know. Look, I’s just — I went home last week, to Looeesyana. Just fo’ couple days. My sister got this court date cuzza her husband, he own a alligatuh farm — nevermind, it’s complicated, I went home,” he said. “And there’s… I ain’t a supuhstitius type, ya see? My family is.”
“Uh-huh.”
“My family do that, they… They got alotta supuhstitiuns and junk. I don’t believe ‘em. I don’t. But they do seem to work, ya feel me? They get it done. They work like a meatpacker on a Monday, man.”
“Okay…” Avery cocked his head to the side as his hands moved down Byron’s smooth chest to his six-packed abs, which were perfectly outlined even now, when he wasn’t flexing. Every minute or two though, Byron’s anxiety grew great enough that his muscles did flex, and his six-pack was gloriously visible.
“I don’t believe in ‘em, I swan. I been tellin’ my mama and papa that for years. So, uh, I ain’t tell ‘em, y’know…. Nothin’. I just… I wanted to get some luck, and I ain’t hanker for them to know. I went to these, y’know…” He whispered, “African Americans.”
“I see.”
“And they was, y’know, they got all kinda supuhstitiuns. I thought they was messin’ wit’ me at first, but I looked ‘em in the eye. They said it with a straight face, and they don’t mess wit’ that. You don’t even know, the blacks in Looeesyana are all about the juju — I mean African Americans. They don’t play games. They made me eat a crow.”
“They made you eat crow?”
“No, they made me eat a crow. It just tasted like chicken. But it was gross. They laughed but me, I ate it, and they said it would gimme luck.”
“Are you sure they weren’t messing with you? I don’t think crow tastes like chicken, they probably gave you chicken-“
“That’s what I thought, but they don’t do that, man, I swan. They take that ser-iuss. It sounded right. They wasn’t laughin’ at me,” Byron said.
Avery was very dubious about that. That sounded a lot more like a prank than a real superstition, but he didn’t see any reason to argue about it any further. It was clear Byron believed in it wholeheartedly.
“And, uh, there was anodduh, uh… supuhstitiun.” Byron’s face turned bright red. “It was — you know there’s like, spirits? Not demons! I’s Christian. I a Bible-believin’ boy. I don’t truck wit’ demons, nosir. But, uh, spirits is okay, they di’rent. And uh, some of ‘em is, like, Baron Samedi, you know about him, right? He famous. But a lot of ‘em are, y’know, more obscure. So if I can’t find a Wikipedia article ’bout one of them, that don’t mean he ain’t real. Spirits is real. They ain’t on Wikipedia.” He bit his lip. His dick was definitely rock-hard now, throbbing beneath the towel covering his crotch. Avery’s hands were down to his cabled-muscle thighs now, working the tension out of his tight muscles. “So, anyway, those-” he whispered again “-African Americans, they said there was a spirit who, uh… said I gotsta nut off without a woman this weekend, and I’ll pitch a no-hitter.”
“What?”
“If I do it, the spirit will make me pitch a no-hitter this weekend.”
“What? Those black guys told you that?”
“Yeah. I know you don’t believe me, you think ya yankee smarts makes you better than me-“
“No, Byron, not at all. I would never dream of talking you out of this,” Avery said, suppressing a smile.
“You think they’re messing with me.”
“Uh… Well… That doesn’t sound like voodoo, Byron. And even if it were, voodoo doesn’t work.” Avery paused. “But it’s none of my business. So come on, you didn’t need to take ten minutes to explain that. You didn’t really need to explain it at all. You definitely don’t need to convince me.”
“Oh.” He looked like he really wished Avery had said no. “Okay. Well… I’ll do anything to get in the major leagues, man. What if I can’t get hard?”
“You’re already hard, and I haven’t even touched it yet,” Avery said. He pulled the towel off. Byron gasped and covered his crotch. He blushed. Avery giggled. “Relax, relax, I won’t bite. You want me to turn the lights off?”
“No! No, no way,” Byron said. “I don’t want, y’know… I wanna see what’s happenin’.” He leaned back and covered his face with one arm. “Go ahead and do it. Go on. Oh, man, don’t make alotta sounds, okay?”
Avery smiled. He touched Byron’s dick, just a brief touch, then let go. Byron was still wriggling like the massage was going on, and he didn’t even seem to notice Avery had touched his dick. Byron lifted his head up, supporting his upper body on his elbows, which accentuated the size and power of his pecs. They bounced when Avery touched his nipples, and Byron’s eyes opened wide. He still gave little indication he noticed Avery touching him.
“I don’t no’mally take mah dick in front of strangers,” Byron said. “Just my teammates.”
“Hmmm… You guys always change together in the locker room?”
“Uh-huh.” Byron’s eyes moved down to his dick, just as Avery wrapped one hand around it. He gave it a stroke. It had been fully hard before, when he was covered by a towel, but he was more self-conscious now, and his fat cock had softened some. It was still part-hard, flopping left and right in Avery’s hand like a melted periscope.
It throbbed in his grip. Avery didn’t stroke it just yet, he simply held on like a handle. As long as he had one hand on Byron’s cock, it seemed Byron paid no attention to Avery’s other hand or his mouth. Avery kissed Byron on the pecs, just a chaste and dry kiss at first, then Avery sucked up the nervous sweat clinging to his skin, then Avery moved to his nipples. Even as Byron’s pecs bounced like a stripper’s over and over again, Byron stared at his cock resting in Avery’s hand.
Avery gave it a squeeze, and Byron jumped.
“Shit! Sorry, suh, suh, sorry fo’ the cussin’, I ain’t — I’s a Christian boy,” Byron said again.
“Okay. Christians are allowed to masturbate, right?”
Byron nodded a little too eagerly. He nodded with his whole body. “Oh yeah, yeah. Fo’ sh’ore. Kinda. Not sposedta do it all the time. Sposedta have a godly, you know, in the marital way, a bed, in the marital bed… wit’cha wife,” he said. “I ain’t married. It’s okay to, you know, you know, you know… mastuhbate.” It kinda sounded like he had never said ‘masturbate’ out loud before. He sucked in his breath.
Avery finally stroked his dick, just one time, rubbing his hand from the root to the tip, then back to the root, which he held onto with a firm hand. When he did, Byron jerked and twitched like he was being electrocuted. He gasped and grunted, and even those sounds had a Southern drawl and a Cajun lilt that made Avery smile.
Since Byron still had eyes only for his dick in Avery’s hand, Avery let his kisses move over Byron’s upper body. He kissed him on the neck even, almost hard enough to leave a hickey. He suspected Byron would be upset if he did though, so Avery stopped before leaving any marks on his neck. The thought of anxious-ass Byron trying to explain where the hickey came from made Avery chuckle to himself.
“No kissin’ on the lips,” Byron said, softly but firmly.
Avery nodded. He’d assumed that was a rule anyway, but it was nice to know Byron was okay with — and aware of — Avery’s lips all over his upper body. He even flexed his biceps now, giving Avery a pair of hard muscles to slather spit upon. He had a bicep bulge that was almost cartoon-like, Avery thought, wondering if that was genetic or what. Not since Popeye had anyone had such a bicep bulge.
Finally, Avery put both hands on Byron’s dick, and he slowly stroked with one. His other hand stayed tight on Byron’s cockroot, squeezing it enough to send little tremors of pleasure through Byron’s muscular frame. Avery’s left hand worked up and down the shaft.
His cock finally rocketed back to attention, despite Byron’s anxiety over getting hard, and Byron once again sucked in his breath. He lifted his ass off the massage table, then he forced himself to react again.
Byron looked horrified at his own dick as if he wished he had struggled to get hard. His veiny dickshaft pulsated in Avery’s grip, and his breathing kept speeding up until it sounded like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. His eyes bulged out. His muscles were all flexed rock-hard now, and they stayed that way.
As he stroked with one hand and held on with the other, Avery continued lapping at Byron’s now firm-tense torso and arms. He had never stopped flexing his biceps — he seemed to have not noticed Avery wasn’t sucking the sweat off his arms anymore — which gave Avery a chance to get into his armpits. The sweat there was especially musky and vibrant, wildly salty, and it gave Avery a heady rush. He sucked on both armpits. Byron must have noticed that finally, cuz he stopped flexing his biceps, then realized Avery wanted to suck on his armpits, so he raised his arms above his head, moving with clinical efficiency, like Avery was a doctor who told him to do so.
He had a boner, so it must have felt good, but Byron hadn’t yet given any obvious sign of that. He looked terrified of admitting it felt good. Then all of a sudden, Byron’s whole body bucked, and he again lifted his ass off the massage table.
“Ah, goddamn, boy, you got fingers like…” Byron’s voice broke and he blushed. “I dunno, I can’t think of anything with soft fingers. A baby, I guess, but that’d be creepy.” His cheeks were almost as red as his sunburnt neck.
Avery let go of his cock. Byron’s whole body twitched, and Avery smiled. Byron sucked in his breath. He was supporting his upper body on his elbows, but when he twitched, he lifted up and nearly fell off the table.
“Hmmm… I’m gonna use my mouth now, is that-?”
“Yes!” Byron nodded. “I mean, yeah. Fo’ sh’ore. Those African Americans said it would get me into the Major Leagues.”
“It won’t.”
“So I gotta, I gotta, damn, I got such a hardon. Sorry I just cussed. Sorry. I don’t — aaaah…”
“You didn’t cuss. ‘Damn’ doesn’t count. You did cuss earlier.”
“Those black guys said it, those black guys, those black guys, not all of them were guys, sorry, I was wrong, there was some girls. Women. Ladies. Females,” Byron said. He thrummed and licked his lips in anticipation, and his cock throbbed visibly, though Avery wasn’t touching it yet.
But now that it was clear Byron wanted it, Avery smiled and lowered his head. He bent over to make sure Byron watched as he planted his lips on the tip. It was just the tip at first, sucking on the piss-slit and slathering spit all over it.
It was hard as iron now, he was in no danger of losing his erection. Avery could tell Byron was concerned about that though. Young men usually were. You’d think they’d only be concerned about when they got old enough it might happen, but that wasn’t the case. Young men were always terrified of getting or not getting hardons.
Byron shook and trembled, his hands flailing above Avery’s head. Every time he accidentally touched Avery’s hair, he remembered he was with a man and moved his hand away. He closed his eyes every few seconds, then got overwhelmed and opened them again.
His cock was moving of its own accord now. Byron watched but didn’t reckon his hips pumping, gently, just barely moving, but moving enough to hump his cocktip on Avery’s tongue. It was soft and warm and moist, and Byron couldn’t believe the sparks of sensation erupting all over his body.
Those black guys were right, he thought but didn’t say, a man does do it better than any woman. Not that Byron had gotten that many blowjobs, he wasn’t like that. These black guys told him once to get a man to do it — not the Creoles who told him to do this as a voodoo thing, this was a different group of black guys he ran into when his team went to California for a game. They were yankee black guys, and they talked like black guys from a movie, and they said if your dick works, “you can always find a man to pay you money for a nut”.
Byron would never ask for money for it. But asking for favors from the spirits, that was allowed. In a Christian way, of course.
“Is you gonna sit on it?” Byron asked. He knew guys did that, put a dick up their ass, but it seemed weird, like an urban legend that would turn out to be untrue. Plausible but not real.
Avery nodded. “If you want.”
“Yeah! It’s prolly — the black guys said…” Byron sucked in his breath. Precum exploded in Avery’s mouth, and he sucked down every drop. “It’s prolly the way, the voodoo — those black guys said… the Major League…”
“Oh, yeah, the Major League will love it if you ram me up the ass,” Avery said with a giggle, as he slapped Byron’s hardon on his outstretched tongue.
Avery loved precum. He let it fill his mouth, and he savored the bright, salty flavor. He stopped deep-throating Byron’s dick now, lest he accidentally trigger an orgasm before getting it up the ass. Young men could accidentally bust a nut in a moment, it would be easy to do. Avery had done it before.
But he couldn’t bring himself to stop tasting the intensely masculine flavor of Byron’s precum. There wa something intensely Southern about it, like you could taste the pawpaw and magnolia trees in it. Avery wondered idly what alligator meat tasted like. Byron’s brother-in-law owned an alligator farm, so he must have eaten it a lot.
But he didn’t want to distract Byron by asking. Avery pulled his mouth off Byron’s cock at last with a smack of his lips. Byron sucked in his breath.
“I’m gonna do it. Sit my ass on it, I mean. You’re sure you’re okay with that? I can just finish you off with my mouth,” Avery said.
“Yes!” Byron said. His cheeks were red as cranberries now, and he nodded his head overly enthusiastically. “Yeah!”
“You ever fuck a woman in the ass?”
“No way! I ain’t a pervert!” Byron said. “My priest — Father Alcide — he said that’s a sin. He said only a pervert does it.”
“Hmm…” Avery shrugged. “I don’t agree, but whatever, you have to make your own decisions, Byron.” He kept one hand on the root of Byron’s cock as he rubbed lube onto the shaft. “You let those black guys tell you what to do, you let some liberals tell you to call them African-Americans, you let your coaches, those scouts for the Orioles, your priest, you let everyone tell you what to do. You’re a grown man,” Avery said. “Take responsibility for your choices.”
“Uh-huh.” Byron didn’t seem capable of taking in life lessons right now. He was thinking with his erection, which was pulsating like it might expode any second.
The massage table was wide enough for Avery to climb up there without Byron moving to make room for him. That necessitated Avery to let go of his dick, which got Byron jibbering like a hillbilly again.
“Aaaaah, shiii… ship! Ship!” He closed his eyes. “I wanna nut so bad, shiiiiiiiiip!” His plaintive voice turned into a howl of desire, as Avery mounted him.
Riding a man’s cock in the reverse-cowgirl position was difficult, but Avery knew that was what big alpha males liked best. If they literally couldn’t see anything but Avery’s smooth, girlish back, it wasn’t as obvious they were with a man.
That didn’t stop Byron from laughing nervously as Avery got ready though. His baseball-toned muscles were tense, all of the looseness that Avery’s massage gave him having melted away because he was focused on ramrodding a man and fulfilling his superstition. Avery smeared lube on his ass to match the lube he put on Byron’s shaft, which was so thick Avery was sure he’d need a lot of lube.
Amid the sounds of the New Age music that still played, both men fell silent. Avery held onto Byron’s shaft with both hands, keeping it in place as he lowered his ass onto it. Byron kept his hands behind his head, his eyes opened wide and staring. He grimaced when his cock slid in, then moaned as a wave of pleasure hit him.
“Ship, man, that feels like a girl’s ass…” Byron said. “Ssssh…” He blushed at the realization he was shushing himself. He twitched and licked his lips. “Oh god, oh god, oh god…”
All at once, as his cock eased inch by inch into Avery’s ass, Byron realized that this superstition was silly. That was what he had thought even when those African Americans told him about it. But somehow as the game got closer, Byron’s faith in rationality — and his faith in Catholicism — diminished. He was willing to do everything to improve his pitching just a tiny bit. He made minor adjustments to training, diet, stretching, his daily schedule, everything was subordinate to baseball.
So it made sense, he thought, to do what he could superstitionally too. It’s not like it was even a big deal, he told himself, ramrodding a man was fine. Father Alcide said it was only a sin if it was uncontrollable, or even if you eschewed women for it, or if you were violent or mean or motivated by lust.
And Byron wasn’t motivated by lust. He was feeling lust, but he was motivated by a desire to play for the Orioles. Or whoever, the Astros, ideally, but they weren’t looking for a pitcher.
The pleasure flowing from his cock through his body felt just like it did when he made love to a girl, a fact that wasn’t as mollifying as Byron thought it should be. It just reminded him that “doing the premaritals” was sinful.
He oughta just get jacked off by men til he was married. It seemed so simple now.
“How does that feel?” Avery asked as he slid down lower on Byron’s cock. Intense pressure erupted in his ass, but he used enough lube that it slowly dissipated over time. It was followed by a low, melting surge of pleasure that grew and grew with every motion of Avery’s body up and down on Byron’s cockshaft.
“So good…” His voice broke, and he chuckled at himself. He stopped wiggling as his dick slid the rest of the way in, and Avery felt Byron’s kinky pubic hairs rubbing against his asscheeks. Byron’s hands flailed, then covered his face. “Ah shit, man…”
He must have been really horny — or embarrassment and anxiety turned him on — because Avery could feel his orgasm coming on almost right away. Luckily Avery himself was right behind, his prostate sending a wave of pleasure up his spine as Byron’s cock stimulated it.
Avery orgasmed quickly. He didn’t mean to, but he controlled everything about Byron’s body right now, and he could feel every inch of his jockish muscles flexing beneath Avery’s body. That made Avery moan and groan, stroking himself off until he shot a massive load that covered the linoleum floor beneath Byron’s feet.
It was Avery’s asshole clenching on Byron’s dick that sent him over the edge as well. Byron’s loud grunting and heaving grew frenzied, impassioned, and his hands gripped Avery’s back tightly. He held on as he lifted his hips up and really plowed Avery’s ass for the first time, letting Avery just stay there and enjoy it.
“Oh heck, yeah, this better work…” Byron moaned as he came. He hugged Avery from behind and held on tight.
Hot cum flew into Avery’s body, its creamy heat seeping through his flesh. He bit his lip and cried out, the sound dwarfed by Avery’s deeper rumbling grunts. They both sighed together as the sticky juices in Avery’s ass trickled throughout his body, coating him in Byron’s masculine scent inside and out.
Avery giggled. “You got a nice cock,” he said. “Are all Louisiana boys that good at this?”
His face was already red even before he came, and his orgasm made it even redder. So Byron didn’t show any reaction to Avery’s question even though it embarrassed him. “I dunno,” he said breathlessly, watching his cock plop out of Avery’s ass. “I never got cornholed by any Louisiana boys. Ship…”
“Well,” Avery said. He stepped off the massage table. “Lucky me.” He wiped off Byron’s sensitive cock and his own ass. He smiled at Byron. “Good luck at your game. If you win and want me to congratulate you, come back and see me. If you lose and want me to console you, come back and see me. Either way-” Avery touched his dick, which was so sensitive it made his whole body jerk, “-come back and see me.”
“I will.”

The Gangs

Rob Winthrop invites a hundred big black thugs with big black meat to give him a big black experience! This is a once-in-a-lifetime no-holes-barred event he’ll never forget!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob Winthrop started getting nervous as he always did, when the guys filed in one by one to what Rob had called a “physique appreciation event”. A raucous pit of butterflies fluttered in his belly as the convention center filled up with men. There were a hundred of them, all swaggering thugs who concealed their own anxiety as well — Rob could sense it in the way they avoided eye contact with anyone and shuffled forward in line. They each carried with them the appropriate paperwork.
101 happened to be the fire marshall’s stated capacity for the convention hall, so it was packed tight with no room to spare, especially since part of the room was set off with a large table for them place their clothes on. When Rob instructed them to remove their clothing and get ready, they grumbled.
“Yo, when we gettin’ paid?”
“You best not stiff us, whiteman!”
Rob held up his hands for silence, his heart thumping. He had specifically sought actual thugs, not just thug-acting men — everyone here had a criminal record. There were robbers, muggers, home-invaders, drug dealers, pimps and even two convicted murderers. “No worries, no worries, I will pay all of you. I’ve got the first hundred dollars right here, you can take it when you get started. You understand the rules, right?”
“Yessuh!”
“We do it, fo’ real, man, don’t worry ‘bout that. I ‘xpect to get paid, mothafuckah.” They all laughed and slapped hands with each other.
“I’mma do this propuh, nigga!”
“Wreck that whitey!”
Rob grinned. They were enthusiastic again, and they started to take off their clothes. He re-explained the rules just in case they had forgotten. They were each required to ram him, ideally in both the mouth and ass, though a few had refused that and Rob allowed it anyway. Most of them agreed to do whatever else he wanted short of him penetrating them. They got a hundred dollars no matter what. But if the whole group — which included members of several rival gangs — succeeded in remaining peaceful the entire time, they’d each be paid a thousand dollars instead.
This would not be the first time Rob had paid more than a hundred grand for one physique appreciation event. He had plenty of money from the family business and his trust fund. He couldn’t imagine anything he’d rather spend his fortune on than this. His smooth twink body gleamed in the harsh light of the hotel convention hall, and he kept his hips angled to give a feminine curve to his body.
“Yo, whiteman, we gonna destroy dat ass! You know dat, right?”
“You ain’t gonna walk fo’ a week, man!”
Rob smiled. “That’s the plan, gentlemen.” He chuckled, and they all laughed, their deep and gravelly voices ringing out in the convention hall. The smell of bare balls and even a few drops of precum filled the air — someone must have been real horny, Rob thought, or just loved gangbangs so much he was already hard. A scent of malt liquor was noticeable too, suggesting a few of them had gotten drunk before coming in.
The person who got fully naked first was named Nathaniel Simpel, but he went by the name ‘Truck’. He was eager to get naked because he felt confident that he would have the biggest dick here and, he thought to himself, being the biggest-dicked-nigga at a hundred-man gangbang was really something to be proud of.
So he made sure to get undressed first. Then Truck turned around, standing next to Rob and waving his fat cock between his fingers — that way all the other thugs could see his gigantic meat, which swung between his legs and reached almost all the way to his knees. The chains around his neck jangled like Mr. T. He stayed like that, dick out where every nigga here gotta see it, as he thwacked it back and forth between his thighs.
“Yo, fo’ a thousand dollars,” Truck said, “I can guarantee we gonna stay peaceful long enough to bust a nut.” He laughed, a deep, booming barrel laugh that forced his shoulders back and his hips forward, flapping his fourteen-inch hog towards the other thugs.
Rob handed over the initial payment of a hundred dollars before he grabbed Truck’s fat cock. He gave it a long stroke, and Truck sighed in a highly exaggerated way, prompting laughs from the other men.
“Damn, nigga…”
“He into that, Truck is like that…”
Truck bristled and sucked on his teeth. They all looked at his cock, and a lot of them were hesitant to get naked now. Truck didn’t know that Rob had ensured all one hundred men were of appropriate quality — many of them were used to being the biggest man in any room, so seeing Truck’s legendary meat made them nervous, but everyone there had at least a foot of cock. That was another of Rob’s rules.
“Smells like ballsweat in here.”
“He playin’ wit’ that nigga dick.”
“Can you back up, nigga? Yo’ dick is touchin’ my leg…” There was some grumbling from the men now that they were naked. They were crammed in so close together that they were all over each other, limp cocks and hard muscles rubbing against each other as they pushed in closer to watch the action.
“You scared of my big meat touchin’ ya, huh? Don’t worry, he don’t bite. He treat you right if you just bend over, nigguh…”
“I swear to god, nigga, if you touch my dick one more time, I will lay you out!”
“Hey! No fightin’! All you niggas shut the fuck up. We all crammed into a li’l place, we all gonna be touching each other’s dicks. We all know that was gonna happen. Just chill out. None of us here is gonna ramrod no nigga. We ain’t in prison…” There was some tittering laughter, but aside from some grumbling here and there, the arguments more or less stopped.
Opening his mouth to tease the tip, Rob started slurping on the knob of Truck’s dick. It was veiny and so thick it felt like a muscle of its own beneath Rob’s fingers. He licked it and blushed as the watchings thugs whooped and laughed.
“He doin’ it! He handles dick like a slut too…”
“Shiiiiiiit!”
“That honky do it right!”
Rob reached out for another dick, grabbing a long, uncircumcised one. That was Rupert, the only Jamaican out of the one hundred — Rob loved Jamaican mandingos, but it was rare to find one who would ram him.
“Aw, mon…”
Rupert was as reluctant as any Jamaican, but he was desperate for money. He had grown up among American black men, who frequently boasted they didn’t mind being serviced by men, especially for money. So he was possibly the most nervous person here — none of these men would lose their reputations if word got out what they were doing, but Rupert would. He needed to repay some loans, though, so he had little choice. He sneered and looked away — Rob wasn’t even jerking him off yet. He simply thwacked Rupert’s dick against his face and made him joust with Truck. He suckled on both tips, licking both piss-slits.
When Rupert felt precum slide down his cockshaft, he gagged again. His dick was getting hard, which shocked him. He had wondered if he’d be able to perform, but now he had gotten an erection without even sticking his dick in any hole — this boner came from the friction of his dickshaft rubbing against Truck’s cock.
“Yoh buddy come like a… wet sponge, mon,” Rupert said, making some of the other men laugh. It did feel like a very wet sponge, he thought, with just a little give and plenty of moisture collecting on the surface.
Rob sensed that both Rupert and Truck were nervous about jousting. They both jumped when their cocks first collided, but both bristled with machismo. Neither wanted to admit they were self-conscious about it. Rupert especially didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that Truck’s cock was bigger than his or that Truck himself was thicker-bodied and visibly more muscular than Rupert’s lean frame. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest — it was easier when he didn’t have to see Rob suck on him like a sissy boy.
As Rob moved on from playing with both of those dicks to actually sucking on each one in turn, he felt thick, callused fingers lifting his ass into the air. A few of the thugs had said they didn’t want to ram Rob in the ass — Rob normally didn’t allow that; he could find enough men willing to hit him at both ends that he didn’t need to compromise — but in the end Rob had made some exceptions.
Luckily for him, one thug in particular was Samson Miles, who loved ass no matter who he had to ram. He was a middle-aged and massive, broad-shouldered thug with dark brown skin, a thick mustache and a deep, booming voice. He was grizzled like a shaved bear, with a deep and penetrating stare. Rob had found him as he walked out of prison a few days ago.
“Gonna plow you like a fuckin’ ox,” Samson said, laughing at himself. He was one of the few men besides Rob who got that “plow” and “ox” was wordplay, as he spent his incarceration reading, instead of chasing honeybuns and twink butt. His dick — just as long as Truck but not quite as thick — was already hard, and he guided it in without compunctions. He had been eager to get started. “See, nigga? This is how you do it! This is how you do it!”
In Samson’s eyes, he directed his words at Rico, a young prettyboy who been complaining about Samson’s jacking off — he was briefly in prison alongside Samson and was released yesterday with him. Rico was too nervous to pay much attention though, so he didn’t even realize Samson directed his words Rico’s way. At the state prison, most men messed with a few times, and Rico was no exception. But most of them had the decency to be ashamed of it. They didn’t bring it up, and they didn’t do it in public. They did it in hidden shadowy corners, or they set up a sheet as a curtain in their cell before getting started.
Samson, however, had never had any reluctance at all. He loved booty, and he didn’t really care whose ass he stuck his meat in. He slammed his dick into Rob’s ass, making a game of it as he tried to thrust so hard Rob couldn’t concentrate on the cock in his mouth. All Rob could do was keep his mouth open and let each nigga take a few turns on his throat.
“You like me in yo’ ass, sissy? Huh? I bet you do. I feel you, boy. I feel you good. I know you tryin’-a get my nut. Don’t you worry, boy, I won’t deny you dat. No way. Ol’ Samson gonna fill you up like a whore. You wanna be Samson’s whore? Course you do, boy. E’ry sissy wanna be my cumdump.”
Samson also didn’t see any reason to hold back from cumming. He had barely gotten started before he felt his orgasm approaching, and he wasn’t about to slow down — after all, if he didn’t cum now, he would have to do it after some other guys did. Samson didn’t mind having sloppy-seconds, or even tenths or whatever, but he would rather be the one who makes the seconds sloppy.
“Gonna make you real sloppy, sissy. Real sloppy.”
So when he came, he grabbed ahold of Rob’s hair, lifting his head up. Rob flailed and gripped tattooed brown muscles all around him, but the sensations were too intense for him to stroke. It was all he could do to moan and groan while Samson’s thick body rippled against Rob’s smooth back.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, at the same time that someone else finally finished on Rob’s face. So he savored the flavor as his mouth filled up, and cum flowed into his ass. It tasted thick and buttery, its heat seeping into his skin. Since he couldn’t concentrate, Rob didn’t swallow. Semen dripped out past his lips and coated his cheeks and chin.
“Ah, damn, now we gettin’ into it. We broke the cumdump in…”
Samson was just as nasty — he laughed as the other niggas told him to stop, to let them take a turn. Someone even tapped him lightly on the ass, his plump cheeks jiggling, like he was a tag-team wrestler whose partner wanted in.
But Samson didn’t want to give up his turn yet. He wanted to leave his mark. His deep, booming laughter echoed as he kept on humping his now-limp dick in Rob’s tender ass. That had the effect of making his load into a big frothy mess. It trickled out of Rob’s hole through the sides of Samson’s dick, and then when he finally pulled out, huge bubbling clumps of cum flowed out. It coated Rob’s asscrack in Samson’s creamy seed.
“There, niggas. Them seconds is real sloppy,” Samson said, laughing as the others groaned in disgust.
Someone else finished on Rob’s face. Now that his ass was empty again — however briefly — Rob managed to swallow it deep. He savored the cummy flavor flowing over his tongue, and he let most of it drip out past his lips to make a bigger mess on his face.
The second man in his ass must have been stroking himself off hard, Rob thought, because he came right away. Another thug pushed nakedly through the crowd, his erect cock throbbing. “Outta my way, niggas, outta my way, I’m gonna blow-” and he didn’t quite make it in time. The first wad of his nut hit another thug on the thigh, but the rest made it onto Rob’s face, where is smeared over the trio of cocks there at the moment.
“You nutted on my leg, nigga!” someone roared.
A fight nearly broke out. There was some confusion about who had cum on whom — or maybe several people had accidentally done the same thing, Rob couldn’t even tell how many loads he had taken yet.
“Yo, no fightin’!”
“If you make us lose this thousand dollars, nigga… I swear to God!”
“What?! Try somethin’, nigga!”
But the older and cooler heads among them prevailed. It helped that all of the gangs represented here had a few leaders who could provide order and ensure peace, and Rob had promised those leaders an extra thousand dollars — to be disbursed later, when no one else was around — if they made sure the gangbang went smoothly.
Rob was surprised at how quickly they reached orgasm as they went, and how many of them came mainly from masturbating. A lot of them must have been watching intently and getting hard even though there were no women around — and Rob had forbidden porn from the scene.
Two thugs came at the same time in his mouth, the salty-sweet flavor of their cum distracting him from his thoughts. Rob guzzled it all down but made sure to play with both dicks too, so a lot of that cum covered their shafts before he sucked it back into his mouth. Those two thugs were Gariah and Bammy, a pair of identical twins. They specialized in gangbanging girls, just the two of them, and cumming simultaneously — they had initially tried it on a dare (and had been unsuccessful at timing it on that first occasion), but now managed to do it with every girlfriend either one had.
“Damn, simultaneous nuts! That was impressive, niggas.”
The pain in his ass went away as another fat cock slipped in his ass. The stout, tattooed thug who did that — Uggs was what he went by — groaned in disgust as cum leaked out and coated his dick and fingers. But it didn’t slow him down at all, and the cum probably helped, Rob thought, because it was an effective lube.
As Uggs approached his own orgasm, a thug named Sharnell appeared suddenly. He tried to ram his dick in as though Rob might get double-penetrated, but both dicks were way too big for that. So he just jabbed his cock in the direction of Rob’s ass, spraying his sudden cumload onto Ham’s cock.
“Oh, nigga! Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I dunno, man,” Sharnell said with a sheepish chuckle. “I wanted to cum in his ass and… I guess I got… y’know, confused…”
“You thought my dick was his asshole?” Uggs asked to assorted laughter. It looked like he was about to add something else, but he groaned and his eyes fluttered. He sprayed his own load into Rob’s guts, pulling out and letting another thug — Delroy — plump right in before Rob’s asshole had a chance to relax.
“Ugh, sloppy fifty-thirds…?”
“Somethin’ like that, at least fifty! How’s that feel? Huh, nigga? Yo’ dick be swimmin’ in cum!”
Delroy groaned like he was disgusted, but it didn’t slow him down any. “Don’t care, nigga, I love booty!” He play-kissed the air and laughed, as he plunged his cock into Rob’s moist, meaty goodness, and he laughed nervously when a great ball of filthy cum splashed up onto his ballsack.
Then another thug got involved — at first it looked as though he and Delroy might argue over Rob’s ass. But then they decided to take turns. Delroy mounted Rob from up high, while the other thug kneeled behind him. They each pushed their dick in once, then watched the other do so, frothing up all those loads and laughing at the mess they made.
Finally the both of them finished, spraying their loads onto Rob’s asshole just as a third nigga came out of nowhere to do the same. They all clasped hands and cheered each other on, no longer bothering to try to avoid splashback from each other’s loads. The prissiest men had cum first, probably, and a handful had simply jacked themselves off and cum on Rob — disappointing, but Rob wasn’t expecting them all to actually follow through. If all one hundred men took five minutes each, Rob would have to spend more than eight hours on this, and not even Rob’s ass could take that much punishment.
“Damn, let’s make this sissy the nastiest! Lookit that! I ain’t nevuh seen no female get this nasty!”
A lot of the finished guys held their clothes in their hands. They had all wanted to get dressed, but the first few niggas to finish stayed naked, watching intently, and the others just wanted to fit in. Nobody wanted to be the one who was so self-conscious he couldn’t handle being naked among the others.
They crammed in close to watch as the last few thugs finished cumming all over Rob. Their cocks rubbed against each other, leaving behind a residue of anal juices, cum and saliva. About half of them didn’t notice the dickmeat brushing up against each other, and the other half could think of nothing else.
Rob barely even noticed the final man approach. He was Tyrell, and he went last because he had bragged that he could. He didn’t meant to actually say he wanted to — what had happened was simply that he boasted how much of a horny mandingo he was, and the others had taken that at face value. Tyrell said he would ram anyone, in any hole, anytime, because he was a “real nigga” and “real niggas blow loads!”
When the others had teased him about going last, Tyrell instinctively agreed without thinking about it. That was not the first time he had mistakenly agreed to something due to his bravado, but, he thought as he approached Rob’s ass, this might be the worst time.
“Splash in!”
“Sloppy seventy-sevenths, nigga!!”
Tyrell bit his lip and slipped his cock in. When he was in prison last year, he had ramrodded a man several times. He had sloppy seconds once, and it was revolting. The other inmates teased him when he backed out and made the bottom wash up first, so Tyrell had changed his mind and slammed his meat into Rob’s ass so quickly that a big bubble of frothy cum had come up and popped. That had covered Tyrell’s crotch in sticky-white cum. He gagged then, but the other inmates clasped him on the back and encouraged him. ‘That’s how we do in this cell, baby! We get nasty!’ Tyrell had been proud of himself then. He even bragged about it to his father when he came for a visit, though his dad had smacked Tyrell in the face and told him “real niggas get nasty behind bars, but they don’t tell no one about it. What happens in there, stays in there.”
Tyrell gagged again at the feel of sticky cum dripping over his cock like alien goop. He was half-hard, hard enough he should be able to stick it in Rob’s ass, but he was nervous about touching so much cum. He didn’t know how many niggas had cum inside Rob, but it was at least fifty, probably more.
He tried to avoid using his hands, but his dick was not hard enough to just ram it in. He gingerly touched Rob’s cum-dripping asscheeks to pull them apart. There was so much cum there it was a bubbling out, no doubt making little fart-like noises though no one could hear that over the sound of niggas cheering.
“Get nasty, Tyrell!”
He took a deep breath and used his hand to guide it in. He gagged again but covered it up with a cough so no one knew how nervous he was. He prayed that he wouldn’t lose his erection. He couldn’t believe that he had agreed to go last — why didn’t he realize how gross this would be at the time? Of course the last nigga in a hundred-man slamfest was gonna get a nasty, loose asshole.
And it was loose. If it weren’t for the clumps of cum, Tyrell might have barely even felt the sides of Rob’s asshole. But as it was, he was just horny enough to stay hard as he forced his dick in. Great gobs of cum dripped from his fingers.
“Ah, shit, nigga, that is the most disgusting thing I evuh seen!”
Tyrell cheered. He liked hearing men clap and hoot at him. He knew they were teasing him, but he had always found that the best way to get past that was to pretend you loved whatever they teased you about. He grinned and growled. He even pounded on his chest, making his muscles jiggle as his hands dripped semen all over his dark brown flesh.
Finally, when he was on the verge of cumming, Tyrell groaned. He yelped as Rob pulled away from him, and his cock was temporarily visible to everyone — he had a big, brown veiny shaft that no one could see because it was coated in santorum. Dingy white cum, its pearlescence obviated by the anal juices mixed in, dripped off and onto the ground as his dick vibrated.
“Ah, shit, lookit that nasty meat!”
“That is one slutty sissy!”
Tyrell’s dick was only bare for a half a second or so, but that was enough time for everyone to see it. Tyrell himself gagged at the sight of his own meat soaked in other niggas’s cum. Seconds later, Rob turned around and licked a clean stripe on the underside of Tyrell’s dick.
The taste of ass-and-cum overwhelmed Rob’s senses. He groaned and moaned, letting out such a cringingly potent sound that everyone fell silent as they watched. The thugs leaned in, coming closer together, so everyone’s bare crotches and sweaty, gleaming muscles rubbed against each other.
“Ah shit, a champion slut for the ages!”
“You should teach my whores how to be this nasty, boy. You could give lessons and shit…”
“Ass-to-mouth! Ass-to-mouth!”
Rob licked every inch of Tyrell’s incredible meat. It tasted so bad and so good at the same time that Rob wished he had made them all do ass-to-mouth. He deep-throated that assy cock as he felt Tyrell’s balls crawl up in his sac.
After getting ninety-nine loads all over his body, Rob wanted to swallow this one. He moaned and gripped Tyrell’s asscheeks so tightly Tyrell couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. Tyrell’s massive dick throbbing in Rob’s throat before he finally shot his load.
His dick was aimed right down Rob’s gullet, so Rob didn’t taste any of that cum at first — he still tasted all the other cum that stuck to Tyrell’s cockshaft, but the actual fresh load was spurted too deep down his throat to taste it. Instead he felt it flow into his stomach, settling into a tight, warm, savory ball of lust deep in his belly.
“Oh, yeah, whiteboy, that is the way to do it…” Tyrell said with a moan, forgetting his anxiety about getting so much cum all over his body.
He kept on spraying. He leaned his head back and smiled at his fellow thugs as he finally finished, leaving his limp dick in place until every last drop was in Rob’s stomach. Then he pulled out, and Rob gagged again as that shiny shaft plopped out of his mouth.
“Hell yeah, nigga! You got him good!”
“Where’s our money? Huh, sissy?! We ain’t fight! We did what we s’sposed to,” someone shouted indignantly. Rob couldn’t see who that was, but whoever it was sounded annoyed that Rob hadn’t already given out the thousand dollars.
“Relax, relax,” Rob said, holding hands up for silence. “I haven’t even finished swallowing yet, chill out. I’ve got a thousand dollars for each of you. Why don’t you get dressed and form a line right here?” He leaned back and sighed.
They cheered and clapped their hands, waving their bare cocks in his direction. When this began, it was obvious who was in which gang because they clustered together. But now, that was no longer the case. They had seemingly forgotten about their differences and were lining up. They didn’t even notice that Rob had told them to get dressed first. Most of them were in line already, still stark naked.
That was fine with Rob, who stretched as he stood on his sore knees. Everywhere he looked were naked thugs, and he was already wondering if he could get any more action out of them.
He decided not to do that because it would take too long. He paid them with an app, of course, as he was definitely not bringing a hundred grand in cash to this event. As his phone whirred and worked, each thug had stand there while Rob paid him using one hand, his other hand caressing their muscles and their limp dicks.
All in all, it took nearly two hours to pay them all off, and by the time he was done, Rob was just about ready to go again. He smiled and leaned back in his chair.
Maybe I’ll do rednecks next, Rob thought. He had passed a trailer park on the way into Detroit, and that had looked promising. But first he wanted to simply sit back and finish basking in his post-orgasm glow.
And then he’d head over to the trailer park to get started.

Winston Steel & the White Man

Steel’s an alcoholic, an ex-con and an alpha male with mixed feelings about white men. His years in prison, dealing drugs and working on an oil rig have given him plenty of opportunities to form opinions on ’em. And he’s ready to share ’em all!

But that’s not the only thing he’s gonna share. Steel’s had legions of man-on-man experiences at the top and on bottom. He’s done it all, and you’re about to get every one of the macho, manly, hardcore and raunchy details!

Read it now!