The Stoner

Rob is at it again, letting a handsome young stoner stay at his place for free… free except for a swing on his dick! Kyle is willing to do what it takes for a free place to stay, a bag of weed and some beer money, making these two a match made in heaven!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob came back to his beach-side home on Maui with a bag of groceries, including the jalapeño spam that Kyle said he wanted. Rob hated spam, but he was in Hawaii, so he had been forced to adapt to his culinary environment — and the tastes of his new roommate. He placed the bag on the counter, then went into the living room to look at his latest conquest.
He was sprawled out on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Kyle’s rippling muscles were bronzed, and he smelled slightly of seaspray — he had already gone surfing and come back. He watched a documentary about a Filipino surfer, but he didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Kyle ran his fingers through his thick blond hair and scratched his balls. That sent a chill up Rob’s spine because he could see the outline of Kyle’s cock for a few moments.
Rob sunk to his knees beside the couch and handled Kyle’s dick beneath his shorts. He felt a twinge of embarrassment, as he always did. But he didn’t mind that, he actually kind of liked it.
“Horny again, huh?” Kyle scoffed. “Damn…”He placed his forearm over his eyes. He did that every time Rob started on his cock, but it never lasted long. Once he got hard and got into it, he didn’t mind sticking his dick in a man’s mouth. He just didn’t want it to seem like he was too into it.
Kyle lived on the public beaches of Maui, sleeping on friends’s couches whenever he could. He spent all his time either surfing, smoking weed or flirting with girls, mostly tourists. Now he slept on Rob’s couch. He was surprised that Rob expected his dick to be available a couple times a day, but Kyle didn’t mind. He was still young enough that his balls were full of cum and always ready to bust.
“Yeah, get it deep down there like that,” Kyle said with an impassioned groan when he felt Rob’s nose in his pubic hair. Kyle would never admit it, but Rob got him off better than any girl ever had. “Goddamn, man!”
His dick perked up in Rob’s mouth. Its twitching made Rob get even more excited. He started to rub on his own dick through his pants, while Kyle got hard quickly and spewed precum down his throat.
Soon Kyle had stopped blocking his eyes, though he still grumbled like he didn’t want to do this. In fact, however, Kyle had been the one who proposed it. Rob had a reputation for letting young men sleep on his couch for awhile in exchange for a taste of their meat. Kyle came to see Rob one night a few days ago. He was drunk then, and his dick had tasted sweet as candy when he was passed out like a log on Rob’s couch.
Now Kyle giggled as he watched Rob on his dick. Kyle picked up his lighter as though he was going to smoke weed, but his bowl was way over on the other side of the living room. He would have to get up and go get it. Kyle rearranged his weight as though he was about to stand, but then closed his eyes, moaned and leaned back.
“God damn, Rob…” He muttered like he was annoyed at how good this felt. Every time he used Rob’s name, it made Rob shiver with delight and made his cock pulsate beneath his own fingers. Kyle chuckled to himself — he got plenty of women, but they never so visibly loved the taste of his cock as Rob did. It puffed up his pride and his machismo, but at the same time deflated it because Kyle still had never turned on a woman as intensely as he turned on Rob.
The doorbell rang. Rob froze in fear as though he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, even though he didn’t really need to be afraid.
What about the weed? Panic flooded Rob’s senses. There was a large amount of illegal weed in here, he thought as he savored the flavor of salty precum coating his tongue. Rob had bought the weed for Kyle — or to be more precise, he gave Kyle the money so Kyle could buy it from his dealer; Rob was too much of a wuss and a nerd to know where to buy anything illegal. Could there be police here to arrest Kyle or Rob or both of them for possession of marijuana?
That seemed unlikely. The rational part of his mind said that it wouldn’t be that. The police wouldn’t have politely rung the doorbell, for one thing. Rob was too distracted by his love for the cock in his throat to calm himself down, however.
“Damn it…” Kyle leaned forward to look out the window. “It’s my boys.” His friends were out there, three young surfers like him. There was Pony the dark-haired and stormy youth, Yoritsune the punk-haired short one and Makana the pretty-faced indigenous Hawaiian. They were all lean and wiry, with flat bellies more from general waywardness, high metabolism and lack of solid food than from actual exercise.
Rob couldn’t see the young men because his face was still buried in Kyle’s crotch. Now that he knew it wasn’t the police, Rob didn’t care what happened — everyone in Maui knew that Rob would jerk off men who needed a place to sleep. Rob was fine with that, he wanted everyone to know, that’s how he found new guys.
“Hey, Kyle, come on out. The wind is picking up. Good surf starting, should be a couple hours of perfect waves.” That was Makana, who had a handsome boyish face and naturally bronze skin, as well as a pretty lilting, syllabic accent. He was too boyish for Rob though. Kyle, on the other hand, was a strapping lad with hair like a movie star and a beautifully muscled body. He had a handsome, angular face with a slim nose, and his long limbs were well-muscled and wiry. Kyle exuded machismo and sweated swagger, which made Rob so horny he had wanted to jack off from the moment he first saw Kyle scratching at his balls beneath his shorts — he had been drunkenly swaying on the front porch then, right where his surfer-buddies stood now, and Rob had been hiding to look through the window, right where Kyle now kneeled.
“Go away, come back in like five minutes. I’m busy,” Kyle said, holding Rob’s head in place on his cock. As he spoke, he kept pumping his hips, gently, humping Rob’s tongue and his throat. His voice was tight and clipped. He had none of the slackadaisery he usually exhibited. Rob realized with a muffled giggle that Kyle didn’t want his friends to know what was happening. “Go on, I’ll be ready in a couple minutes.”
Rob was crouched between Kyle and the wall. His blood ran hot as he slurped on Kyle’s dick. He tried to make it difficult for Kyle to ignore, just as a sort of game — it hardly mattered, since Kyle had told his friends what he was doing. But there was a difference between Kyle telling his friends that it happened and Kyle being unable to leave because he was amid doing it.
Kyle groaned and pumped his hips instinctually, slamming his dick all the way into Rob’s throat. Rob sputtered, now wedged so tightly between Kyle’s crotch and the wall that Rob couldn’t move at all. He could even hear the motion of Kyle’s friends outside — if it weren’t for the wall separating them, they’d be so close they’d have gotten splashed by the spit that sputtered out of his mouth. But because of the wall, they didn’t know anything except that Kyle was behaving strangely.
“You don’t want to miss it. There should be some good waves in a little while.”
“Not that he’d catch a single one of them. Got no skills.”
“Fuck you, Pony,” Kyle said. He no doubt intended for it to be mean, or at least rude, but he was so distracted by his dick that his words sounded weak and half-hearted. He glanced down at Rob’s face, disgusted to see a man there, and shocked to see his precum running in rivulets down Rob’s cheeks and chin. “Hey, gimme a sec, lemme talk to them-“
But Rob didn’t stop swallowing. Kyle’s cheeks turned ruddy and he looked back to his friends out the window.
“We haven’t had really good surfing weather in months. What’s wrong with the weather these days? We used to have killer waves almost every day.”
“Guys, just go! I’ll meet you on the beach,” Kyle snapped. He blushed. A few beads of sweat appeared on his strapping chest, and he closed his eyes. He ground his dick down Rob’s throat, like he needed to hit it at every angle with every single spot on his shaft. He could have pulled out — Rob held him in place by his ass, but Rob was not strong enough to really force it. He was just barely strong enough to make Kyle have to work on it to pull his cock out, and it would be obvious to his friends that something was happening.
Kyle was still trying to play it cool. So he wiggled his hips, trying to get his dick out without moving too much, while Rob gripped Kyle’s muscular asscheeks. Rob even tried to get a finger in his asshole, but Kyle’s cheeks were clenched shut.
Then Kyle let out an impassioned moan. Now there was no denying what it was — a moan like that came only from the crotch.
Rob giggled as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He redoubled his efforts to swallow that cock better than he ever had before. He nestled his nose deep in Kyle’s crotch, nuzzling his pubic hair and his firm flesh. He slathered spit all up and down the shaft and licked the pulsating veins until Kyle gasped.
“Hey, what are you doin’ in there?”
“Oh, damn, you’re lettin’ your sugardaddy jack you off right now, huh?”
“Oh, that’s nasty!”
“You doin’ that right now? Right in front of us?”
“Holy shit, man, you are crazy!”
Kyle laughed and cheered. He pumped his biceps and ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair. He had always covered up his insecurity and anxiety about this situation, even when it was just he and Rob together, but now that his friends were here, Kyle seemed to feel a need to prove how copacetic he was.
“I’m makin’ him swallow my shit,” Kyle said with an exaggerated grunt. “Gonna get some dome off him. You guys wanna watch?”
“No!”
“Hell no!”
“No way! I don’t wanna see your dick, man!”
But Kyle ignored them. He couldn’t really plow into Rob’s face any harder than he already was, because Rob had been deep-throating him and had already swallowed every bit of Kyle’s cockflesh. But since the surfers outside couldn’t see that, Kyle pretended.
He grabbed Rob’s head and held it in place. He bucked his hips back and forth, pulling his dick all the way out and then slamming it right back in. Huge gobs of saliva stuck his shaft and dripped onto the floor as Rob swallowed.
“Yee-haw!” Kyle held on to Rob’s head with one hand and held his other in the air like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. He laughed and his friends joined in.
“You fuckin’ weirdo!”
“Ask your sugardaddy for permission to go surfing.”
“Hey! I don’t need his permission,” Kyle said with a sneer. “I come and go whenever I want. I tell him when I want to blow a nut. That’s how this works.” Of course that wasn’t strictly true, but Rob didn’t mind the lie. He loved being dominated by alpha males and would have been fine with it if Kyle came to him when he wanted to blow a nut.
“You got any beer money, man?”
“Hey, get him to give us money for beer!”
“You stick him in the ass yet? He’ll prolly give it to you if you stick him in the ass.”
“Maybe…” Kyle laughed like he was confident, but Rob could tell he was not. Kyle grumbled. He didn’t answer his friends. That was because he didn’t know if Rob would agree. After making a big deal out of the fact that Kyle called the shots in this relationship, Kyle couldn’t very well ask for beer money and be refused. That would shake the carefully constructed front he hid behind.
But Rob wasn’t about to make this easy for Kyle either. He continued slurping on that thick surfer meat, which smelled of salty seaspray and beach sand. He pretended he hadn’t heard the surfers talking about beer money. One of Kyle’s conditions for moving in here had been that he would not, under any circumstances, stick anything in Rob’s ass.
That guarantee, however, was losing its ironclad certainty by the moment. Rob could see nothing but the big beautiful cock in front of his face, but he could tell that Kyle was looking at him to gauge his chances. Kyle was willing to do it now, either because he really wanted beer or because he wanted to prove to his friends that he was rapacious enough to do so, or maybe he had always wanted to ramrod a man but needed a good enough excuse to convince himself it was okay.
“Come on, man, get more money outta him. Just like twenty bucks. We could get a bunch of forties with that.”
“I don’t want forties of malt liquor, Makana, I ain’t homeless.”
Rob grinned, ignoring the argument between Kyle and his friends. Instead, Rob called his father, who didn’t answer — that was normal. He didn’t answer most of the time because Rob usually called to make his father listen to Rob squander his inheritance. Rob hated his father, who in turn hated the lower classes. That was why Rob got into rough trade in the first place, to anger his father. So now whenever he could, while slurping off losers, slackers and white trash, Rob called his father and made him listen to it.
The voice mail recording beeped, and Rob made sure to groan extra-loud so his father would hear it. He didn’t know if his dad actually listened to the entire message, or if he just realized who it was and deleted it. He probably just deleted it, Rob thought, but it made him feel good to make the message as long and as loud as possible.
“Come on, Kyle do it! Get the beer money, man!”
“What’s the point of having a sugardaddy if you don’t get sugar out of him?”
“Fine!” Kyle barked at his friends. “For fuck’s sake…” He pulled Rob off his cock, and they both shuddered. Rob shuddered because he was disappointed that he didn’t get to taste that remarkable cock anymore, and Kyle shuddered because he didn’t want to ask this question. “Hey, uh, Rob…” Again his use of Rob’s name made Rob shake with desire. Kyle sneered at him. “You, uh… I’ll stick you in the ass, if you want. But you gotta give me some beer money.”
“Okay,” Rob said with a smile. He made a kissy face at Kyle, who looked away. Rob laughed into the phone. “I’ll give you beer money to stick me. There’s cash in my wallet. But you gotta cum in my ass and gimme a reacharound.”
Kyle scoffed as though that should have been obvious. “I don’t do that,” he said. “Only perverts give reacharounds.”
“Slam it in, Kyle!”
“No mercy! Ram him like a bitch!”
“Uh! Uh! Uh!” That was Pony, the dark-haired one. All Rob could hear was him grunting, but he guessed from the sounds and the way it made the others laugh that Pony was pantomiming fucking a woman in the ass.
When Rob turned around, his face finally poked above the windowsill, so he saw Pony, Yoritsune and Makana standing out there on the patio. He blushed at their shocked looks. He jutted his ass back onto Kyle’s erect cock. Rob decided to just try to force it — Kyle wouldn’t want to look like he wasn’t in charge of this situation in front of his friends.
Kyle took a deep, nervous breath. He rested his fat cock on Rob’s asscheeks at first. He looked out the window and steeled his nerves, not wanting to look like he was second-guessing himself in front of his friends. Rob moaned directly into the phone, which was still recording his voice mail, while Rob grabbed his tube of lubricant and greased his ass up.
Finally he was ready, his cock hard, Rob’s ass lubed up. Kyle looked very nervous as he pushed his dick into Rob’s ass. When he was finally in, he sighed in relief as though there was some chance he wouldn’t be able to find Rob’s asshole and he was glad he had succeeded.
There was a burst of pain in his ass, a familiar sensation to Rob. Rob had taken it in the ass from plenty of men in his time. It always began with this uncomfortable pain, which soon turned into waves of pleasure.
But as always, it didn’t stay that way. By the time Kyle’s dick was halfway in his ass, Rob felt his entire body loosen and tremble, as intense sensations wracked his petite frame. Kyle shuddered as well.
“I’m in!” he yelled to his friends, who clapped and hooted like Kyle had defeated a conquering army.
“Lemme see!”
“Fuckin’ gross! Make it loud, Kyle!”
Makana came right up next to the window. He tried to peer down and watch Kyle do it, but from this vantage point that wasn’t possible. Rob was back below the window and all Makana could see was a little of Kyle’s pubic hair. He still grinned broadly as though that was what he wanted to see.
“Let’s hear those balls slap against his ass, man! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!”
It seemed Kyle was trying to slam his dick in in such a way as to make a loud thwacking sound, but he wasn’t entirely successful. There was some noise made when his balls hit Rob’s ass, but it wasn’t loud enough to be heard through the window, especially with Kyle’s friends carrying on.
The last of Kyle’s reluctance disappeared with the final few inches of his dick sliding into Rob’s ass. Then they were in perfect sync. Rob backed his ass up as though it was his job to pound into himself with Kyle’s cock, while Kyle flailed his hands like he didn’t want to touch Rob any more than absolutely necessary. He grabbed the ledge in front of the window and held on tight.
“Get enough money off him that we can bring something girlie to the party! Wine coolers!”
They were all pantomiming gangbanging a woman now. Pony still mimed out violently fucking a woman. All three bounced around on the porch, laughing as they ground their hips into imagined orifices.
“Don’t forget about the reacharound, if you want to get paid,” Rob said. He dragged one of Kyle’s arms around his body to his crotch.
Kyle wrinkled his nose but gripped Rob’s shaft. His hand barely touched it — just a couple fingers — but Rob was already on the verge of cumming, so he didn’t mind.
“C’mon, rub it, I’m not paying you if you don’t do it,” Rob said breathlessly.
Kyle grimaced and murmured to himself. He was glad his friends couldn’t see that he was giving a reacharound now. It was hardly the first time he’d touched another man’s cock — they circle-jerked sometimes, when they were drunk enough — but he wasn’t proud of it.
He stroked Rob’s cock with one hand loosely. He hoped to not make Rob cum, so Kyle could finish first and make Rob get himself off. But Rob was already so close that, basically as soon as Kyle gave Rob dick a few full-hearted strokes, it sent Rob over the line.
Rob’s own orgasm hit him suddenly, waves of bliss flowing through him. Rob sprayed a load into his hand and onto the carpeted floor beneath him. Some of it even landed on his cell phone, which still sat on the floor recording the sound of Kyle’s frenzied gyrating.
“You like this, man? This alright wit’ you?” Kyle asked with a cocky grin. He grabbed Rob’s wallet off the floor. He took all of the cash that was in it, more than a hundred dollars — way more than was necessary to buy a couple forties and some wine coolers — and passed it through the window. “I’ll meet you in five minutes. Just get to the beach.”
“You don’t want us around, huh? Why not? You gonna make out with your sugardaddy?”
The other three surfers were laughing. Their voices faded, suggesting they were leaving to go buy beer, but they kept calling Kyle a pussy as they walked away. Kyle blushed but ignored them.
Once they were gone, Kyle moaned like he had been holding that in and now needed the release. He started to grind his hips, forcing his dick in deeper. Rob cried out as intense aftershocks of his own orgasm rocketed through his body.
At last Kyle lost his final inhibitions. He grabbed ahold of Rob’s ass with both hands, holding him in place while Kyle pounded away at that tight hole. His huge, throbbing cock slammed in and out of Rob, who buried his face in the ground and kept his ass high in the air.
Cum sprayed in Rob’s ass. It was a hot, thick load, full of creamy heat and stickiness. It drifted throughout his body, trickling streams of manjuice seeping into every corner of his body. Rob let out an ear-rattling, hair-cringing moan as that cum just kept on filling him up.
It lasted for what felt like both a long time and not long enough, Rob thought. He felt a torrent of cum dripping into and out of his ass, and he savored it, making sure to aim all of the sounds he made — and that Kyle’s cumming cock made in his asshole — into the phone. Kyle’s dick slowly limpened inside Rob.
“Okay, thanks for the money, man,” Kyle said with a long, slow groan. He stood and gingerly let his cock slide out, then wiped his dick off. Kyle blushed. He tried to hide it, to look confident, like he did this all the time, but Rob could sense that he was relieved he had gotten through it without embarrassing himself.
“Thank you. That was amazing,” Rob said breathlessly. He hung up the phone and tucked it back in his pocket. Kyle either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Kyle grabbed the shirt by the door. He didn’t put it on, he just carried it — in case he needed to enter a store later. He slipped into his flipflops, ignoring Rob who laid there on the floor basking in the glow of his post-orgasm warmth. Kyle opened the door and grabbed the surfboard he kept out on the front porch.
“Leave some dinner for me in the fridge,” Kyle said before he stepped away. “I’ll be back later. Or not. If I find a girl, I’ll sleep with her tonight.”
He walked away before Rob could answer. Rob said, “Okay…” weakly, even though he knew Kyle had gone. He laid there and savored the feel of cum inside himself, resting his head on the spot where Kyle had been sitting earlier. It smelled like his ass.
Rob fell asleep there, on his knees and smelling Kyle’s body even though he had gone. He was glad to have met Kyle, but Rob was beginning to think it was time to move on.
He was ready to find a fresh new slice of rough trade who needed a place to sleep.

The Volleyball Player

Rob isn’t interested in volleyball, until he overhears that one hunky player is in need of a few dollars. That’s something Rob can provide, in exchange for a swing on his alpha male meat!

Can Rob satisfy this volleyball jock’s carnal desires?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Rob happily munched on a taco, sitting on a bench near the beach. He watched the sorority girls splash each other. The sun shone brightly, and it lay a blanket of heat upon the beach. He hoped it wouldn’t dissuade the men from coming out, and indeed, the women soon proved an irresistible siren. This splendorous slice of California beach always attracted more women than men. That’s because there were three university campuses nearby, and all three were mostly women.
By eleven o’clock, sun-tanned young men were gathering in dribs and drags, and they made eyes at the girls, who made eyes back at them, and then mostly nothing happened, but it was cute to watch. Rob was a little old for this stuff. They probably saw him as “the old guy over there”. Luckily, there were a few older guys — like really old — so Rob didn’t come across that old.
One of them shot Rob a look like he was a creep. He was a bit young and slim for Rob’s taste, with a face like an overgrown infant, but Rob might have made an offer to him anyway. But Rob soon became entranced by a developing drama. That babyfaced fratboy seemed to have a crush on one girl who wanted nothing to do with him, while a different, somewhat thicker girl was all over him.
There was also a handsome dark-skinned man with long messy hair. Was he Brazilian? Rob overheard an accent, but he couldn’t quite place it. The man had a perfect six-pack, which Rob adored. He was a great admirer of the male form.
But the Brazilian man — if that was indeed what he was — did not look like a good prospect. He flashed a wad of cash when talking to a girl. A handsome man with cash and a girl already swooning over him was not likely to be willing to let Rob swing on his meat for a few dollars. That’s what he was hoping to find today on San Guapo Beach.
Rob was patient. He didn’t mind waiting. He loved beaches. He would gladly spend all day, or even multiple days, hanging out and waiting for a desperate man who might let him take a swing on their meat.
As the day wore on, San Guapo filled with college kids on spring break, including plenty of hefty, tanned and muscled young men who needed beer money and a ride home. Girls were too drunk to fuck most of the time, so the boys were frustrated and horny. It was prime hunting grounds for Rob.
He decided to go back to his hotel a little before noon. This part of the beach was filling up with family-types — women in one-piece bathing suits, carrying babies, and balding gray-haired men with paunchy bellies — so Rob left. Once the evening came he figured he’d be able to go back out, the beach would be crawling with young studs once again.
For now though, he was at a loss for what to do.
There was a crowd of people near the hotel’s part of the beach. Rob was interested and went closer — he didn’t normally hang out at the hotel’s bit of beach because his experience suggested those were the most scrubbed-clean, unexciting and banal beaches of all. It was impossible to do anything fun with corporate security goons on the lookout everywhere.
The Top Inn Hotel staff was here, Rob could see them scattered about, looking terrified of the crowd they had created. But the onlookers weren’t focused on anything but the match:
Volleyball.
It was a volleyball game. It was important enough for ESPN2 to be there filming. Now that Rob saw that, he recalled having seen a sign in the hotel to that effect. Was this a pro volleyball match? Was pro volleyball even a thing? He had no idea. Maybe Olympics qualifying or something.
Rob pushed into the crowd to watch. There were two teams of six playing. One was clearly the “away-team” — they were either Australian or New Zealander, judging from the flags on their shorts. The other were presumably locals, or at least American.
With some graceful shoving and sliding through the crowd, Rob got to the front, close enough that he could see the action and hear the grunts of the players when they struck the ball.
But he got to the front of the crowd only moments before the match was over. He had little interest in volleyball itself, so he didn’t much care about missing the game.
What he was sorry he missed was the guys — especially one guy in particular.
He was on the US team. He was tall and broad-shouldered, built like a jolly truck, with a hefty frame and a perfect six-pack. He was long-legged and long-armed, and he wore only short black shorts that extended just a few inches onto his thighs. Rob could tell his shorts were so short he had shaved the top of his pubic hair or it would have poked out above the elastic.
That volleyball player had a physique that Rob ached to admire. He wanted to taste his sweat-dappled shoulders so bad it hurt. He needed him. He wanted to suck the scruff off him. The blonde volleyballer ran his fingers through his confused blond mop of hair and said something frustrated, his words lost in the thrum and clamor of the dissipating crowd — his team had lost, and it seemed he and his teammates were upset with each other. They good-naturedly smiled for the ESPN2 cameras and shook their opponents’s hands, but they didn’t like it. Rob could sense it in them.
Rob milled about. He wanted that volleyball player. The man was obviously handsome enough to get a girl if he wanted it, but he seemed depressed. The women flocked to the winning team from down under — not only had they won, they had adorable accents. And Rob had to admit, they also had physiques he could get down with.
But they were not for Rob, he had eyes only for his beloved blond buck. He just needed to find a way to get him. Rob bought a bottle of water and drank it as though it was an important activity he couldn’t leave and do, so nobody noticed he was milling around for no reason. He waited for the herd to thin, and the cameras went into a van parked at the hotel. The excitement, such as it was, disappeared.
The argument between the blond and his teammates erupted out in the parking lot. Rob had casually walked out that way when they did. He didn’t catch the beginning of the argument, but he saw it end.
“I told you that wouldn’t work! Why won’t you listen to me?!”
“Now we’re out ten grand-“
“Oh please, he was twenty minutes late, we nearly forfeited-“
“Maybe you ought to show up to practice once in a while!”
“Hey fuck you, none of this was my fault!”
“I’m the team captain, and I said we should-“
“Then it’s your fault!”
As they argued, they climbed into a jeep. At first Rob thought they were all going to squeeze into one soft-top jeep (with the soft-top removed, so there was plenty of room, more or less). It looked that way. But then just four of them slipped into that jeep, leaving two behind to continue arguing as though they didn’t notice the foursome in the keep was leaving without them.
“I told you that I had the better strategy-“
“But you never showed up to practice to tell us about it!”
“Oh come on, I skipped like two practices!”
“Yeah, but they were last week. You were out of practice today. You cost us that match, Hark!”
“Don’t you make accusations, you little pisshole, you served the ball like a goddamn cripple that one time-!”
“I made one error the whole game!” That blond — Hark was his name, it seemed — threw his hands in the air. He was the handsome blond with a bashful tangle of hair and a perfect body. Rob was entranced by the beads of sweat clinging to the pit in the small of his back — there were presumably fine little hairs there collecting the sweat — Rob knew most men had that, but he couldn’t see them because Hark was blond and his skin there was light — and he wanted to suck up every salty droplet. Hark’s shorts had slipped a bit as he walked to the parking lot, so the top of his asscrack was visible. He had big plump cheeks that Rob wanted to put his face between and blow. His asscheeks were pale as porcelain, but his shoulders and his face were browned by the sun.
“Well it cost us ten grand!” the other guy said. He threw his hands in the air. “I’m walking back!” he snapped, as though he had any other choice. The jeep had gone.
Hark stood there watching him go. He put his hands on his hips and ran his fingers through his hair. He scowled, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He forced an awkward smile on his face. Then he turned around and nearly ran into a complete stranger: Rob.
“Ah! Hey. Hi,” Hark said with a grunt. He was normally charming and outgoing, but it was hard to restart himself after that fight with his friends. It took him a moment to switch gears. He had a naturally jolly face when it wasn’t tense with frustration.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m cool,” Hark said. He shrugged. “I just… Things didn’t turn out how they were supposed to.” He added, “Obviously”, because he assumed Rob was a fan and was as disappointed as he was that his team lost.
“You poor baby… you wanna tell me about it?”
Hark looked at him suspiciously. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Rob Winthrop,” he said. “Why don’t you come back to my hotel? I’ve got some weed. I’m not very good at rolling joints, but if you can roll one up for me-“
“Okay,” he said flatly. Then he blushed. “I mean… yeah, cool. I can roll joints. And I haven’t smoked in awhile cuz I was preparing for this match. Some good that did me.”
“I saw your match. You were really good,” Rob said. He didn’t mention that he watched about thirty seconds of it. “What was that fight all about?”
Rob of course didn’t really care. He was just making conversation. Hark explained to him all about the team’s conflicts as they walked back to the hotel, and Rob listened the best he could manage given the dullness of the subject. He had literally nothing to offer to a conversation on volleyball strategy and training regiments. Once Hark — Keith Harkness was his name, Hark to his friends — once Hark got into talking about it, his natural charm took over, and he forgot that this was a kind of weird experience — running into a random man and going back to his hotel room to smoke weed.
The smoking weed part was pretty normal for Hark. The rest of it was odd.
This wasn’t the first time Hark had met some fans he didn’t know and gone somewhere with them. It was weird that Rob was just one person and that he brought Hark back to his hotel room. Hark thought that was odd. But not bad, after all, and he really did want to smoke a joint. That would relax him after that disappointing match and the fight with his teammates. Later, after it was all over, he was stoned enough to get paranoid and wonder what would have happened if Rob was an axe murderer. But that did not occur to him until long after it didn’t happen.
“Man, volleyball used to be fun,” Hark said as they got to the room and Rob unlocked the door. Hark sighed. “I started playing volleyball when baseball got too serious in high school. People would get in fights about it and shit, Coach Shithead yelling at me. I just wanted to lay back and toss the ball around with my buddies, broh.”
“Uh-huh,” Rob said. He shut the door once Hark was inside.
“But now volleyball is all about making it to practice every day no matter what, and my girlfriend dumped me because I went to this match instead of her niece’s christening… it was complicated, but she’s got like, eight sisters, y’know, I can’t go to all their stupid shit. That’s like… all the time, y’know? They have so many kids — christenings like every week! I don’t have time for that! I went to her cousin’s friend’s baby shower! I didn’t get any credit for it because she got in a fight with her friend.”
“Uh-huh,” Rob said, rolling his eyes. “The weed’s in this box.”
“Hell yeah.” Hark’s emotions dwindled once he saw the weed and had a task to complete. He didn’t even just roll one joint. He was stuck on auto-pilot, so once he started, he rolled the entire eighth of an ounce into small joints. He was an expert joint-roller, despite his big sausage-like fingers.
Rob could actually roll great joints. He had only asked Hark to do it to get him in the hotel room. In fact, two joints Rob had rolled last night were sitting in the box. Hark didn’t notice them or realize it suggested Rob was lying about being unable to roll joints.
As Hark worked on the joints, Rob cleared his throat. “So… were you counting on the money from that match?”
Hark nodded. “I kinda need it. I bought this jet-ski last month, and uh… the salesman misled me about the monthly bill.” He blushed. “I mean… It was complicated. There’s fees and like… percents.”
“Oh, you poor baby,” Rob said. He patted Hark on the bare meat of his shoulder. It was firm and warm from the sunlight and moist from his sweat. “I could help.”
“What?”
“If you ram me in the ass and you make me feel good like I know you can,” Rob said, “I’ll give you two grand. I know that’s not as much as you were gonna make-“
“That’s more than I was gonna get it from it. We had six guys and ten grand, I was getting less than two grand out of it,” Hark blurted out. He bit his lip and shifted his weight uncomfortably, like he wished he hadn’t said that so eagerly. “Plus there’s taxes, I mean… you’ll be giving me cash, right?”
“Right. No taxes at all. So this is a lot more than you’d be getting if you had won.”
Hark laughed again, a nervous quaver in his voice. “That’s weird, broh.”
“I know,” Rob said. “I’ll jerk you off so good. I bet I do it better than any woman you’ve been with. I have a nice tight ass too.”
“Really?” Hark laughed. “I mean…” He blushed. “I guess… Yeah… That’s cool.”
Rob didn’t want to dawdle. He immediately pulled Hark’s shorts down — Hark had to lift his ass to give Rob easy access to his crotch — and bared his dick. He didn’t wear any underwear under those shorts. Rob had guessed as much seeing his cock and balls flop around when he had jumped and run across the volleyball court.
But it was nice to see it in person. He had a big meaty dick just like his body, all thick and girthy and strong, pale like his skin. His pubic hair was deep black though.
Hark sucked in his breath and held it in. His cheeks blushed a deep ruddy tone that made Rob laugh quietly. Hark held an unlit joint in his hand as he sat on the edge of the hotel bed, shorts down, looking like he expected to get smacked in the balls any moment now. He was ready to wince.
“Relax, Hark…” Rob said. He made his voice as feminine as possible to put Hark at ease. Then he lowered his head and kissed the tip of his dick.
It tasted like the beach, like flesh after sitting in the sun for hours. It radiated warmth, and the flavor of salty sand hit Rob’s tongue, as did the years of muscle-memory and strategy from Hark’s volleyball career. His hands roamed up Hark’s broad chest, while his mouth opened to swallow the tip of his manhood.
“Ah, oh…” Hark grunted like he had thought this would be painful and was surprised it wasn’t. He opened his eyes just in time to see Rob deep-throat him to the root.
A gasp escaped from Hark’s lips. He lifted his ass up off the bedspread, supporting himself on the palms of his hands. He was exhilarated suddenly, his anxiety vanishing in the face of the intense pleasure that rocketed through him.
He had been hornier than he thought. He was so upset about the match and nervous about being on TV, angry at his teammates and anxious at the situation with Rob that he hadn’t really given much thought to how this would feel. He had thought it was something he would just get over because he needed the money. It would be like mopping a floor — not pleasant by any means, but not the worst way to make a few dollars, and once you got started, you could just put on some Jimmy Buffett and think about something else.
That was what he did now. He put Jimmy Buffett on his cell phone, the tinny speakers filling the air and overpowering the sound of the dome. Hark had trouble concentrating after a few seconds because it felt so good. His hands shook with his cell phone hovering above his body before he could gain enough focus to get the music started.
The lit joint fell loose on the bed, both Hark and Rob having forgotten about it.
His dick rocketed to full erection in Rob’s mouth as Rob slammed his own head down deeply. His nose nuzzled the silky pubic hair of Hark’s crotch, while his hands reached up to tweak both nipples at once. Hark had big hefty pecs — Rob had been mesmerized watching them bounce when he jumped during the game, and now they bounced because they flexed under his fingertips.
“Goddamn!” Hark threw his head back and breathed through his gritted teeth. He laughed. “I never had dome like this.” He peered down at Rob, who greedily, moistly suckled on his dick as though trying to remove it. He slurped on it so hard it almost hurt, and Hark laughed harder to cover up his nervousness.
The sour and salty taste of precum hit Rob’s tongue. He guzzled it all down, making eye contact with Hark’s surprised face. The moist sounds of Rob gurgling on precum were loud enough to overpower the sound of Jimmy Buffett singing about the last mango in Paris.
“Are you ready to stick it in me? I wanna feel you inside me,” Rob said. He grinned and stood. Precum flowed freely down the shaft of Hark’s dick even though Rob wasn’t touching it now.
Hark clapped his hands, eyes giddy and heart beating. He’d never actually had anal sex — his dick was too big for any of his girlfriends to do that. He’d always wanted to try it though.
Rob rubbed lube into his own ass and bent over. He was going to sit on Hark’s lap, but Hark stood — he thought it seemed more manly to bend Rob over the bed so Hark could be on top.
“Ah, man…” Hark laughed again, as he always did when he was nervous. His cock throbbed. Precum dripped down his shaft. He ran his fingers through his tangled blond mop again, then watched Rob spread his cheeks. His tight dark hole winked, beckoning. Hark gulped. Was he really going to do this? Would he tell people about it? If not, he’d have to pretend he was still in need of money to pay for the jet ski.
Hark took a deep breath and slipped his dick in, just the tip at first. He felt resistance and stopped. He bit his lip. A bit more slid into Rob’s ass, which was well-lubed enough it felt like a trap, like quicksand and once Hark’s dick touched it, it was slowly sucked in more and more.
It was awkward, weird, his asscheeks strangely cold. It didn’t feel good at all at first — it wasn’t painful, it just didn’t feel like anything. Hark wondered if he was going to have to stop this.
And then a wave of pleasure hit him. He had been so nervous it didn’t happen right away. Once it did, however, it felt better than he thought possible. It was way better than being with a woman, he realized, because there was less pressure — he was so sure that Rob wanted him badly that it didn’t matter if Hark didn’t do it that good, or did it for too long or too short a time, or if his dick was too big, small, skinny or thick. He could just go with all his might without worrying about any of that.
He gripped Rob’s asscheeks and forced his dick in until his balls slapped against Rob’s flesh. A surge of sensations hit Hark, whose smile turned to an intense grimace. He let out a long low howl that was audible outside the hotel room.
Rob used one hand to jack himself off, while his other tightened into a claw that dug into the bedspread beneath himself. He panted, the potent feelings that coursed through his veins growing with each thrust of Hark’s dick into him.
“Oh god, shit, yeah, broh,” Hark cried out. He realized he was being loud — he had a deep voice so it carried well, it was difficult for him to say anything very quietly — but he couldn’t help it. It felt so good it was like losing his virginity all over again.
He sprayed a massive wad into Rob’s ass, great creamy wads of it coating Rob’s insides and seeping into him. Hark’s heavy balls crawled up in his sac, and still more sticky cum flowed into Rob.
Rob shot his own wad too, into his palm and on the mattress beneath him. But he stayed there, letting his ass get it hard over and over. Hark didn’t stop even when he was done. He kept moved his dick around as it limpened, turning all the creamy cum in Rob’s ass into a big wad of foamy juices that soaked onto the sheets.
“Damn…” Rob howled as loud as he could — which wasn’t very loud. When Hark’s dick finally plopped out, Rob sighed and shuddered. His exquisitely sensitive ass was so potent it hurt and he couldn’t breathe; it was all he could do to experience the climax rocketing around inside him.
Then, Rob collapsed in a sweaty heap on the bed. He looked up at Hark’s ruddy body. “You wanna lay with me for awhile? The cash is in my pants pocket.”
Hark didn’t respond for a long time. He was too engrossed in his own thoughts, trying to decide what to do — should he leave or stay to cuddle? Should he do it again? If so, should he demand more money? He found the cash in Rob’s pocket, but still wasn’t sure.
Then he saw that tender ass, plump and bare and ready for him to go again. “Aw, hell,” Hark said. He climbed into bed and lay next to him. “I guess I could give you your money’s worth.” He placed his arms behind his head, accentuating his chest muscles and baring his armpits. He looked surprised to see Rob smile and suck on his nipples. Rob licked his chest and his neck. Hark sighed. “Thanks, man.” He found the joint he had dropped earlier, which singed the pillow, and he puffed on it.
“No, thank you,” Rob said. For now, he thought, he was right where he wanted to be. He had found the kind of man he was hoping to find when he came to California.

possessating, burglarfy

Kayshawn done enforced some discipline on some homeboys in the neighborhood, and since he was pushing nineteen years old, ain’t no court gonna go easy on him.

Kayshawn Henderson got his foolish ass arrested, not for no kiddie charges neither — he was accused of burglary, possessating burglar tools, resisting arrest, arson, menacing a court officer and a whopping nine malicious-wounding beefs. Apparently, Kayshawn done enforced some discipline on some homeboys in the neighborhood, and since he was pushing nineteen years old, ain’t no court gonna go easy on him.

As they went back to the church, Kayshawn explained that he was extorted into working for the Crips. He had needed money to buy shoes to impress a girl — it always went back to impressing a girl, if you traced it far enough, in Malcolm’s experience — and so he done sold some weed for the Crips. They wouldn’t let him stop. They made him burglarfy some households in Norwood. They told him they was protecting him from the po-po.

From Malcolm the Burly Black Daddy

They got Asian hobos now. Asians! Wouldn’t-a happened before

Thumper smoked weed on the reg, did lines of coke now and then, snorted heroin once when he thought it was coke, and he did something unpleasant called salvia that caused reality to ooze and twist like funnel-cake batter in hot oil.

In his early years in prison, Thumper smoked weed on the reg, did lines of coke now and then, snorted heroin once when he thought it was coke, and he did something unpleasant called salvia that caused reality to ooze and twist like funnel-cake batter in hot oil. Once he got out though, he ain’t give none that no mind. The outside world was crazy enough for him.
They got Asian hobos now. Asians! Wouldn’t-a happened before. Bill looked at Thumper like a racist telescope when he pointed that out to him.

From Thumper on Parole

Tap-a-tap-tap, he snap-snackin’ on ya cash

Kids was phone-bullying other kids into stabbing they grandmas, lazy-eyed niggas was buying Russian wives on the phone, cauliflowery whiteboys be stealing the treasury on they phone and burning down schools, it happens, shit, look it up!

Thumper scanned books and told customers to swipe or insert they card. Two ways to pay: swipe or insert. Or cash, but ain’t a soul pay in cash all morning. Thumper thought paying with a plastic card was paltry shit. A proper nigga paid in cash. Cards was like a wheelchair for your wallet.

There’s cards you don’t even gotta swipe or insert. You just tap it around, and it goes ding. You could walk by a nigga, and he be dinging your card. Tap-a-tap-tap, he snap-snackin’ on ya cash. Bullshit. When Thumper told this one high-faluting ruddynut honky to swipe his card or insert it if he prefer, the honky said, “Nah, I’mma tap it, you trashy tapless nigger coming outta prison ign’ant and shit, I don’t swipe or insert, I tap, you don’t know nuffin, oughta put you back in a bitch-nigger cage to learn how to tap yo’ thing on the other thing”. He ain’t say that exactly, but what he said he said like Thumper was a piss-poor nigga for not guessing he was the kinda honky who tap steada swipe or insert.

You can pay with your phone now too. Swipe, insert, tap or phone.
Thumper don’t know how to put money into his phone, and he ain’t wanna axe, cuz they’d treat him a lost puppy and show him how and it’d take like a hundred steps, buncha passwords to forget, prolly gotto talk to a gravelchin nigga on the phone. Thumper don’t got time for that nonsense. He like having real cash he can count in reality like a real nigga living in real-time and real-space. One sunnyskin man did it though, hovering his phone around like a hypnotized helicopter, till eventually there was bunchesa buzzes and beeps and boops and the phone vibrated, and then the cash register said “approved”.

Ain’t even a real cash register, it was really a li’l computer that was really a big phone that was really just a monitor, but to the Puffin Books bitches it was a register. Everything was a phone nowadays. You best believe Thumper disapproved of that, disapproved hearty as stew.
The morning drifted on like time was a chore. Thumper’s mind wandered back to prison, where at least you paid in cash or like ramen noodle packets or something. That was better. Thumper wished the world would go back to barter. Like, I’ll trade you a cow for maybe… a thousand apples. But then what would you do with a thousand apples at once? Make cider maybe.
And cider’s delicious, so that’s fine.

World was going in the other direction though. Everything was more abstract, ain’t nothing physical to hold onto. News was on the phone and mainly talked about what people was typing into they phones — seriously, they do whole things on the news about what bunchesa nobodies said, like a serious-looking racially ambiguous reporter get up there and say “somebody named buttmama called for peace in the Congo, but then a non-somebody named noodlesucker said Congo niggas can go fuck a duck”, and then the news is over, and Thumper still ain’t got a update from Congo since Ali won the Rumble in the Jungle.

Kids was phone-bullying other kids into stabbing they grandmas, lazy-eyed niggas was buying Russian wives on the phone, cauliflowery whiteboys be stealing the treasury on they phone and burning down schools, it happens, shit, look it up!

Young folk don’t even smoke weed proper no more. They vape it. It’s like weed and email got combined. They done optimize smoking weed till there ain’t nothing left, you just look at this little doodad that lights up, exhale smoke that smells like sleeping by yourself for the resta your life, and you done. Don’t get high, don’t laugh at nothing, don’t run from the cops. Shit’s bullshit, nigga.

From Thumper on Parole

No coppin’ no feels on Goober’s watch

You ain’t in some flooze trap in a port town no more, son. You in civilized society now. Best act propuh.

“Then take her home. You got a right to despoil a female in yo’ own home, so long as you don’t drag her in there,” Officer Goober said. He wagged his finger at Buck. “This ain’t a red-light district. You on the mary-jane, son?”
“No! I ain’t a hippie,” Buck said.
“You ain’t under arrest, but I’m taking you to the jailhouse,” Officer Goober said. “You can sleep it off there. No charges filed. I understand you strugglin’ to recommendate to the civilian life. You gotsta get a handle on yo’self. You ain’t in some flooze trap in a port town no more, son. You in civilized society now. Best act propuh.” Then he added with a derisive sneer, “No coppin’ no feels on Goober’s watch, nossuh.”

From Buck the Conservative