Desmond is helping out a white burglar when he gets roped into robbing a house, which goes in a direction Desmond never expected! That’s cuz he’s not as charmed by the manipulative Josh Winters as he seems, and when push comes to shove, he demands a taste of Josh’s alpha male meat. Can Josh give it up?
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Desmond was glad he had gone through with the plan, but at the same time, he still wasn’t sure if it was going to work. There were a couple ways it could go wrong, ranging from disappointing to catastrophic. There were not a lot of ways for it to go right.
It was a cool December night in Sacramento, and Desmond was robbing a house. Desmond hadn’t come up with the plan, that was Josh. Desmond didn’t really want or need to rob any house.
He was here because he was desperate for Josh’s dick.
Josh Winters was a tall, ropy-muscled young man with a scruffy beard and a troublesome limp, supposedly from the time he “got shot running from the po-po”. He had variously told Desmond he was a Puerto Rican Boricua, a “mostly full-blooded” Arapaho Indian and a Sicilian mafioso’s son. Oh, and once, he said he was the former star of the Ecuadorian national soccer team. He was swarthy, seemingly white but not conclusively so, with a big mess of black hair and an unshaved chin, giving him a scraggly goattee like a pot-smoking goat.
Or possibly something stronger than pot. Josh said he didn’t do hard drugs, but Desmond was dubious.
The one thing Desmond knew for sure was that he shouldn’t trust anything Josh said. It had been clear that he didn’t even keep track of his lies, he kept changing his story because Desmond never called him on it and Josh never remembered that he had already lied about his race (which Desmond suspected was ‘plain-old somewhat-swarthy white-guy’).
So Desmond didn’t believe it when Josh had said that tonight was not about robbing houses. He said, “Don’t worry, dude, we’re not gonna rob no houses on Christmas Eve. I ain’t like that.”
Desmond just shrugged went along with it. He didn’t care, he felt bad about becoming a home-robber (or at least an accessory to home-robbing). But he would have agreed to anything because he was entranced by Josh’s deep, soulful brown eyes and that marvelous head of hair. It was dense and black and unkempt, shaggy, haphazardly cut and just the right amount of greasy. Desmond wanted to run his fingers through Josh’s hair.
Besides that, Desmond didn’t plan on actually stealing anything.
And so that was why Desmond was going along with it regardless of his qualms. He had been craving a taste of Josh’s meat since the moment they met.
The homeowner was in Michigan for Christmas anyway, so it was safe, or safe enough for Desmond.
“C’mon, man,” Josh said. He tousled Desmond’s hair and grinned. “Boost me up.” He definitely knew Desmond had feelings on him and was using it to manipulate him, Desmond thought, which felt creepy but also triumphant because Desmond was flipping that knowledge right back around to manipulate Josh. Desmond was gonna get a taste of that man’s dick and he was gonna avoid doing anything morally venal.
Or at least, that was the plan. But a lot could go wrong with it.
They were on the deck behind the house. The railing was high enough that, when Desmond climbed on top of it and then Josh climbed atop his shoulders, he could reach the roof. Desmond wouldn’t have agreed, but Josh had such a charming grin, and anyway, Desmond liked the idea of Josh pawing all over him as he climbed onto the roof.
Josh seemed to be taking every opportunity to touch Desmond — that was a serious attempt to manipulate him into helping tonight. It was working too. Desmond could see how Josh had gained that reputation: He had manipulated several young men into being accessories to serious crimes and then gave them up to get out of trouble himself.
So Desmond knew he was playing with fire.
“Are you gonna be able to get up there?” Desmond asked. The railing was narrow and tottery. It really felt impossible. Josh seemed to know what he was doing, but now Desmond was unsure. This could be dangerous.
Josh scoffed. “Man, you know, they used to call me Leopard, in my old ‘hood. Cuz I was such a climber and shit, y’know, I bet I could shimmy up that chimney. I’m just doin’ this cuz it’s easier.”
“Oh, wow…” Desmond hoped he sounded gullible enough. He very much doubted that Josh could shimmy up the chimney, and he doubted anyone ever called him Leopard. That was the kind of nickname people make up about themselves but don’t accept about others. Nobody should like their nicknames.
But Desmond didn’t mind the lies if it got him what he wanted: Josh’s toned twenty year-old thug body. Josh straightened the backwards baseball cap he wore as he climbed onto the railing and, nervously, onto Desmond’s hands, then up to his shoulders.
Desmond was just about to tell him to stop, that this wasn’t working, when Josh got the edge of the gutter and scampered up. It was graceless and he nearly fell a few times. It was obvious he had never done it before. But when he got up there he scoffed. “Told ya, man. Like a leopard.” He extended one hand and pulled Desmond up onto the roof too.
It was cold up here, and windy. Desmond walked with him to the chimney. Josh’s ass filled out his low-hanging jeans nicely, and Desmond found it difficult to tear his eyes away from those perky round cheeks.
“Man, I swear, I once forgot to check the chimney befo’ I climbed in, and yo, you best believe I got stuck in there. Thought I was gonna die for sure, man, fo’ real,” he said. “So I learned you gotta check it first.” He tossed a pebble into the chimney and grinned when it audibly landed all the way on the floor. “Alright, see, this is a good chimney. Let’s get in there, man.”
Desmond wasn’t claustrophobic, but even he found the idea of going in through a chimney a bit scary. He thought for sure Josh would back out and agree to just break a window (why not? This house was isolated enough the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but Josh insisted on the chimney). Luckily Josh went in first.
He slipped in feet first and landed with a loud oomph. He toppled forward out of the fireplace. Clouds of ash flew everywhere and coated the living room.
“Come on, man, jump on down,” Josh called out to him amid his loud coughing. The coughs turned into aggressive hacks, which was way too loud. It would have been quieter to shatter a window, Desmond thought. Going in through the chimney was a dumbass plan.
Desmond took a deep breath and did it. He had been expecting tons of time to feel claustrophobic, but of course it actually only took a fraction of a second to fall. The only difficult part was the cloud of ash that coated his face, lungs and eyes. He coughed violently for several minutes before recovering.
By then, Josh was already ransacking the house, running through the living room and kitchen, opening cabinets and doors in search of valuables. He cursed as he did. “Man, there ain’t shit here. Get to lootin’, man, while the lootin’ is good!”
Desmond already knew that there were no worthwhile things here to steal. All the valuables were gone from this house. Josh collected a few dishes he thought looked fancy — they weren’t, he just assumed any dish was probably worth money if it wasn’t made of plastic or paper and didn’t have any logos or fictional characters on it. He found some ordinary ceramic plates with blue flowers on the rim and a gravy boat with French words on it (French, he thought, was classy, so anything with French on it was probably worth something).
Now that he was in, Desmond was less nervous. He could still get caught, of course, but he had gotten through the hardest part. He watched Josh run around the house, cursing at the lack of pawn-able goods. “Man, fuck this place! They ain’t even got a nice TV! No X-Box!”
“How’s the upstairs?” Desmond asked, following slowly after him.
Josh sucked on his teeth, hurrying away from Desmond but calling out to him the whole time. “This place is fucked, dude. They must-a took everything with ’em, man, that sucks! I ain’t found shit!”
“Oh, that’s too bad…” Desmond said. He found Josh throwing clothes out of the dresser in the master bedroom. He had a bottle of loose change in his arms — maybe fifteen dollars worth — that he had found in the closet. He was hoping to find more hidden in the dresser drawers.
“That pisses me off!” Josh shouted. His face grew ruddy, and Desmond got nervous. Had he miscalculated? Josh punched the wall hard enough to make a hole, and he dropped the jar of change. It shattered, coins flying across the carpet. “I oughta fuckin’ slit their goddamn throats!”
Well damn, Desmond thought, that was an escalation.
“Hey, I found something good downstairs,” Desmond said, chewing on his lip as he came closer to Josh Winters. He decided to move his plan forward. He dropped to his knees and scooted to kneel right in front of Josh.
“What? What was it? Lemme see, I’ll tell you if it’s worth anything,” Josh said. He frowned in confusion at Desmond kneeling in front of him. “I got that ‘ppraising shit down. You know that? ‘ppraising?” It was apparent Josh had just learned the word appraising, thought it was obscure and didn’t quite know how to pronounce it.
Now that he was closer, Desmond grinned up at Josh. “I’ll show you what I found downstairs if you let me do something.”
Josh looked at him warily. “Like what?”
“Let me taste your dick,” Desmond said. “Let me jack you off.” He grabbed for the waist of Josh’s jeans.
“What, really?”
Desmond nodded. Josh shifted his weight between his feet and cleared his throat. Desmond said, “Yeah, really. I can swallow you to the root. I can swallow anything,” he said.
When Josh sighed as though this was a huge imposition, Desmond unzipped his pants and let them fall to his knees. A thick uncut cock popped out, which Josh rearranged to more completely come out of the fly of his boxers, because at first it didn’t look very long, concealed by the fabric. Then he snorted like he didn’t care about Desmond looking at his dick. He swayed his hips, making his cock slap Desmond in the cheek.
“Man, you know you gotta pay me if you wanna take a swing on my dick,” Josh said with exaggerated reluctance. It was very obvious that he was going to say yes and just wanted to negotiate a good price. He looked around as though there might be an audience.
But there was no one to impress.
“Please…” Desmond smacked his lips, and he gingerly handled Josh’s dick. It was sweaty and clammy, and it twitched in Desmond’s grip. Josh must be horny, he thought.
“I ain’t into that shit. You better offer good money.” Josh looked down at his dick in Desmond’s hand as though he didn’t get how it ended up there.
Desmond shrugged. He stood up and straightened his shirt. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll just keep that thing I found downstairs.”
“What was it?”
Desmond got up stretched his legs. He yawned. “It doesn’t matter, it’s mine and I’ll only have it for awhile, until I make it to the pawnshop tomorrow. If you’re done, let’s go.” He took a few steps as though going to leave. He walked away from Josh Winters’s, who stood there with his cock protruding, waiting to be serviced.
“Man, what is it! What’d you find? I searched the whole main floor.” He scowled, his charming face gone. He wasn’t used to people telling him no.
“Let me taste your dick.” Desmond crossed his arms over his chest.
Josh’s cock was still out, dangling between his legs, in front of his fashionably saggy jeans. His square jaw worked up and down like he was chewing on his tongue. He was just slightly scruffy, the beard hairs extending down under the fabric of his shirt. Josh scoffed and clucked his tongue. “Man… How much is it worth?”
“It’s worth precisely one session of me tasting your dick. Taxes and fees may apply.”
“No, I mean the thing you found, how much is it worth in dollars!”
“I won’t know until I make it to the pawnshop. Until then, it’s an unknowable mystery,” Desmond said. “There are several economic theories of value, Josh. For example, Karl Marx promoted the labor theory of value, in which the price of an object is determined by the labor that went into it.” Desmond smiled at Josh’s furrowed brow. “So by that measure, this item is by definition worth the amount of work you’re willing to put in for it.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it’s worth less than that, and I’ll see what theory of value they prefer at the pawnshop.”
“Man, fuck you!” Josh threw his hands in the air. His dick jiggled and swayed. “Man, you owe me! I let you in on this job!”
“This job ain’t worth jack-shit!”
Josh shuffled out of the room, scoffing, rolling his eyes, his dick still out through the fly of his boxers, but his jeans were around his ankles. He didn’t seem to notice his veiny shaft bouncing with every step he took — he had a very animated gait right now because he was upset. He punched another hole in the wall. “Fuck you!”
“You wouldn’t even have found this place if it wasn’t for me,” Desmond said. He followed Josh into the hall.
“This place ain’t worth jack-shit!” Josh said. “C’mon, you gotta give it to me. What is it?” He turned around and came closer to Desmond. He reached into Desmond’s pockets and emptied them. Desmond just giggled as though Josh was flirting with him. Josh let go. “Man…”
“I didn’t put it in my pocket because I knew you would search me to steal it. And it’s not something that fits comfortably in a pocket. Just let me taste your dick. And stick me, you gotta stick it in my ass too,” Desmond said.
“Man… That ain’t what you said before. And that’s gross. I don’t even do that in prison.”
“The price keeps going up, Josh. Inflation,” Desmond said. “So I suggest you agree now.” He casually walked towards the stairs. “I think I’m about ready to head home and hit the hay. I wanna be well-rested for my trip to the pawnshop tomorrow.”
“Man… ain’t there someone else…? I could get you Jake? He’ll let anyone swing on his dick, even this old fat lady with saggy-“
“That’s cuz Jake is fat and smells like cheese,” Desmond said. “I want you. No substitutions, unless you have access to 1980s-era Tom Cruise.” He paused. “Just so you know, I can swallow your whole cock, and I have an ass like that fat slut you hang out with wouldn’t believe.”
“She ain’t fat.”
“Well she sure as shit ain’t skinny.”
“And she ain’t a slut-“
“Josh, I know very well you’ll fuck any chick who picks up the bullshit you plop in front of them,” Desmond said. “I’m willing to pick that bullshit up myself, but I’m not going to pretend it’s a rhododendron.”
Josh’s harsh, judgmental eyes glared at Desmond. Finally he spat vituperously, “what’s a fucking rhododendron?”
“It’s a flower, Josh. There’s one in the front yard.” Desmond sunk to his knees. “You can just say yes, I know you’re going to do it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you lie like a dead cat, Josh, and you can just lie about this. You can tell people it didn’t happen,” Desmond said. “And as far as you’re concerned, if no one can prove it happened, it didn’t.”
Josh’s eyes twinkled. “Fine. But this thing better be worth some cash.”
“It’s not,” Desmond said. He put the cocktip in his mouth, made eye contact with Josh’s sullen face and started licking his dick. He picked it up and let the thickness of it flop onto his face, while Desmond ran his tongue up and down the shaft. He slurped the sweat of the root.
“What?”
“I don’t want to mislead you, Josh. You’ll struggle to exchange this item for cash,” Desmond said.
“Man, I swear, I’ll kick your fucking ass if there ain’t nothing,” he said. “I swear to Christ. I swear on my mama’s grave, I swear on-“
Desmond pulled the cock out of his mouth for a moment. “First of all, you can stop listing things you’ll swear on. Secondly, I know your mother. I broke a five-dollar bill for her so she could put a dollar in a stripper’s jockstrap last weekend. She knows perfectly well you’re not a gigolo, you know. You’re not as good of a liar as you think are.”
“Man… Just shut up and get back to ya business.”
“I’m pretty sure actual gigolos don’t brag to their mom about it-“
“Shut up!”
“And they don’t get their moms to pay their health insurance either-“
“I am about to knock your fucking head off, dude!”
“It’s the Christmas spirit!”
“What?” Josh flopped his hard cock over Desmond’s face, leaving a trail of precum.
“That’s the thing I found down here, that I was going to give you when we’re done,” Desmond said. “I found the Christmas spirit. It doesn’t have a monetary value.”
“Man…”
“I’m just telling you because I bet you’re going to want to finish this, right? Because you’re desperate to blow a nut? Even though you’re not going to get anything out of it but a ‘Merry Christmas’?” Desmond giggled. “That fat chick isn’t putting out, huh? Probably because you taste like a loser.” He turned around, dropped his pants and stuck his ass in the air. “Are you gonna stick it in me? Or go home and masturbate alone?”
Josh paused, then straddled Desmond’s ass. He grabbed Desmond by the back of the neck. “Man… I’m stickin’ you cuz real gangstas don’t let theyself get blue-balled.”
“The only thing you stole tonight was that jar of loose change and you broke that,” Desmond said as Josh wedged his dick between his cheeks. “Real gangstas don’t fail to steal loose change. 7-11 gives loose change away for free-“
“Fuck you!” Josh said, drilling his cock in, moving like he was on autopilot — if Desmond hadn’t pissed him off, he would have delayed, but as it was, his mostly hard dick rammed right into Desmond’s booty. As if he had been waiting for this moment, he sighed. His anger and frustration dissipated, and he sighed. His hot breath condensed on the back of Desmond’s head.
Desmond sucked in his breath as he reached behind himself to stretch his cheeks open.
From his awkwardness at penetrating, Desmond gathered that Josh had never had anal sex with a woman before, though he had definitely purported otherwise several times. He humped desperately now, slamming his still-clothed body into Desmond over and over from every angle, making Desmond wince and squirm.
Desmond didn’t mind a little pain and discomfort. It made the pleasure even better, and he didn’t mind Josh’s personality too much either — with a dimpled handsome face like that, he could forgive a lot. He got even handsomer the more frustrated he became too. That was nice. Women wouldn’t be able to look past his personality and fuck him anyway, but on the other hand, women were less perceptive of his personality and were likely to take his charm at face value. Desmond, on the other hand, didn’t have to like or be liked by the men whose bodies he worshipped. He was fine with letting a jerk ramrod him up the ass.
“You don’t have to go easy on me,” Desmond said, giggling as that made Josh roar and smack his cheeks. His cock was moving back and forth in Desmond’s ass, each stroke of it sending spasms of pleasure to rock Desmond’s body. Desmond let out a little cringing moan, unable to avoid expressing how good this felt. “Hmm, Josh…”
“I’m not goin’ easy on you, man, shut up…” Blushing, Josh redoubled his efforts to go at Desmond’s ass hard. He was desperate to assuage his own masculinity, which he felt required him to slam so hard and so good Desmond told him to slow down. But it soon became apparent that that wasn’t going to happen.
Now that he had calmed somewhat, Josh humped passionately, and he even kissed Desmond on the cheek (because he had seen a movie in which prison thugs kiss their prison wives and it seemed like a hardcore-gangsta thing to do). The feel of his closeness behind Desmond accentuated the feelings wracking Desmond’s body, as his cock stimulated Desmond’s prostate again and again.
He grunted right into Desmond’s ear. He kissed him again, this time on the lips — out of habit — and their tongues briefly interlocked before he pulled away mid-orgasm. Cum sprayed into Desmond’s ass, great creamy gobs of it that coated his insides.
“Damn…” Josh Winters’s voice broke, and he rammed with his hips hard, making his next cumwad spurt deep into Desmond’s insides. Desmond moaned as a wave of bliss flowed through him, and his hands turned into claws that dug into the carpeted hallway underneath him.
Cum dripped down his thighs and onto the floor. Desmond shot his own wad at the same time, draining his balls into a puddle beneath him while jet after jet of juice filled up his ass, his whole body tightening up as one of the most potent orgasms of his life hit him hard. Josh kept going until most of his wad had slipped out in a frothy mess that coated Desmond’s ass and slipped out on the carpet below.
“Goddamn…” Desmond said, sighing. He pulled away from Josh, who gasped when his cock finally came out. It was soaked in his jizz, which dripped down between Desmond’s legs. Desmond giggled as he was overcome with desire, while Josh simply grunted as though he barely approved of what just happened.
Josh rolled over onto the floor on his back. His dick flopped, half-hard but rapidly limpening. Josh’s face was ruddy and calm, like he was about to go to sleep. He lay sprawled out on the floor.
Desmond sat next to him for a moment and felt up his chest muscles. Josh watched like he didn’t understand why someone would want to touch him. Desmond smiled. “Sorry there wasn’t anything to steal.”
Josh shrugged. He stood up and tucked his dick away. “Whatever. I’ll find someplace new.” He paused and cleared his throat. “So, like… you can pay me two hundred dollars whenever.”
“What?”
“I kissed you and stuck it in you, you owe me-“
“That was not what we agreed to. I agreed to give you the spirit of Christmas, so here it is. Merry Christmas.”
Josh frowned. It was obvious he was used to people who were easy to manipulate. If Desmond had been this willful when they first met, he would have never spent more time with him. there was no point if he couldn’t get anything out of him. Josh sighed. He sat up, supporting himself on his elbows, and he used his shirttails to wipe his dick clean. Desmond shook his head at that. That was not an effective way to get clean. His shirt was not absorptive, and so of course it was now stained and soaked in all the santorum that had previously clung to his cockshaft.
Desmond smiled at Josh. “But you can come over and earn two hundred dollars the old-fashioned way.” He smacked Josh’s ass. “Trust me, it’ll be better than being a burglar.”